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ethereal-pie · 1 year ago

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bullfrog head cannons

I have seen no fics of this beautiful French man so I have done it myself

just a ramble of my thoughts in bullet point form

he is an american bullfrog, he not only looks like one but also there are tons in France

He enjoys warmth and gets grumpy if he is too cold

I feel like he doesn’t touch you all that much but adores cuddling

If given the opportunity he will burry himself in pillows and blankets ( bonus if they are weighted) especially during winter cuz of his hibernation instinct

He will insist you join him and promise it’s very comfortable

He isn’t slimy like his real world counterpart but his skin feels very moisturized

He gets cold super easy and shove himself under your shirt or jacket to soak up your natural body heat

You also don’t have to worry about it being too hot to cuddle as he is cool to the touch

He will insist you let him put his cold ass hands on your bare back to warm them up , he will pout if you don’t let him

Letting him do this will more then likely result in him having his head under your shirt and his face pressed into your back and his hands on your upper stomach

He usually avoids conventional touch based pda, the most normal pda you’ll get out of under normal circumstances is a peck on the cheek

Instead the way he shows touch based pda is by sitting on your shoulders

Although if he is super cold he won’t care all that much

And Unless your in a situation where being partners with him would put you in danger, he will be fairly vocaly affectionate

He will call you his beloved and other pet names

As well as praise, flirt and compliment you

Some of His pet names involve your name

He seems like a darling, my dear, love type of person

He will jokingly call you stupid ones as well

He has a lot of running jokes with you and will tease and joke around with you all the time, he just likes laughing with you in general

Some of your jokes might take a second to land with him in the beginning but as your relationship continues he will pick up almost immediately

He tries really hard to be cool cuz he wants to make friends but everyone being stuck on him being a frog annoys him a lil

He will complain about this to you at least once

He is trying to be cool and Poetic!

When he is mad he will begin to speak in a mix of French and English but he doesn’t really yell at all, he does talk faster tho

He will bath for hours but doesn’t like to shower

He cannot use certain soaps or he will get sick because he will absorb the chemicals through his skin

He likes the look of bubble baths but if he sits in them he gets sick cuz of the soap In the water

Given his accent I assume he speaks French but I think he can speak multiple European language, due to his job

He is very adverse to the idea of eating bugs, he isn’t scared of them but if someone offers him a bug he will be grossed out.

He is the kind of person to not only catch and release bugs he finds inside but he will have little convos with them too

You’ll hear in the other room “hello there my miniature friend.’’ And as he takes them outside “ I’m very sorry but you cannot stay here.”

His approach to flying bugs is far different, he will take NO PRISONERS

He is very efficient with a fly swatter and knows all the concoctions to lure and kill flys fruit or other wise

He avoids using his hands cuz of the bug guts

If you are afraid of bugs he will find it amusing but he won’t tease or torment you, he will just chuckle at how ridiculous you look up on the counter while he captures the invader.

He is very polite and kind to everyone he interacts with unless they have done something to warrant other wise

He will use French sayings in English instead of the English one because he is convinced that “ they are far superior”

Pins and needles are now ants, it’s raining ropes not animals, forget apples and trees, dogs don’t make cats.

If you use the English versions he will argue the French version is better

“ bolt of lightning explans the felling of it, love at first sight is so bland.’’

Please convert he will find it unendingly adorable every time

He does get cuteness aggression and will randomly shove his face into your chest and aggressively nuzzle into you whist squeezing you and violently kicking his legs and making a happy humming

He will be embarrassed the first few times he does this

He will get cuteness aggression from your cuteness aggression

If you bite him he will be very confused but won’t care all that much so long as you aren’t hurting him

You will probably be taller then him and honestly he likes it that way because when you hug him he feels like momentarily he is a totally encased by you

You can carry him but only certain ways

No toddler hold, with one arm and him on your hip

Piggy backs, shoulder sitting and standing are encouraged

You can only sling him over your shoulder in emergency’s

Same with under your arm

He doesn’t like princess carry’s cuz he can’t hold on to much and he wants to touch with max surface area

Carrying him by his armpits away from you has the same problem, he will struggle

He does enjoy if you hug carry him with both arms, either his face in on your chest or resting on your shoulder

I have made a helpful diagram ( I can draw but it’s just stick me cuz I’m lazy)

He will randomly start monologueing if given the opportunity

He will tell you about being an assassin but only if you ask

I think he is more likely to be with Someone who has prior experience with fighting

He feels nauseous after producing bubbles

He will lean on or try to be touching you while he recovers

You cannot truly surprise him, he will know something is up the moment you even begin to plan

He knows because you act slightly different

And hiding or sneaking something past him is also impossible

He has to actively try to avoid finding out what your doing

You’ve snuck something into the garage, I guess he isn’t going In There for a while

Hiding something behind your back, he isn’t even gonna face your direction while you hide it

You cannot sneak up on him either

When you try he will scare you by suddenly turning around and grabbing you

On the other hand he has scared and surprised you accidentally many times

hope you enjoy and this inspires more fic to be written of bullfrog

#Bullfrog #captain laserhawk #captainlaserhawk #bullfrog x reader #Bullfrog images #captain lazerhawk head cannons

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gatitties · 1 year ago

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Ok, I have this idea, the reader(preferably female) is apart of the white beard crew, but White-beard, thatch, Marco, and Ace are the only ones that know about her. She’s a shadow to the rest of the world. The marines and Government don’t even know about her. When Ace is sentenced to death, she makes an appearance because she doesn’t want her brother to end up dead. Not to mention, she’s Yonko level strong.

─Ace, Thatch & Marco x fem!reader (platonic)

─Summary: you refuse to let the only person who could see you die when no one else did

─Warnings: none

─ When you joined the crew everyone celebrated having a new companion to live adventures with, however in just a few days the majority seemed to ignore your existence.

─ Perhaps it hurt you a little that some of the pirates who were supposedly your family forgot your name, but over time you understood that here everyone had their groups and the group in general was so large that it was normal that not everyone knew each other.

─ Although it took you a little longer to adapt, it was thanks to Ace's bright and fiery personality that you didn't feel like a forgotten dog.

─ Ace being the only person you felt comfortable with, you found yourself behind him like a baby duck, which he found adorable, you reminded him of Luffy when he was a kid and followed him through the forest.

─ Of course, being with Ace meant being friends with Marco and Thatch, they didn't know you at first, but they ended up warming to you after a few weeks.

─ You didn't need anything more than those three idiots, the only three people who knew you, who wanted to know about you, who remembered your name, but above all the only ones who could contemplate your strength, they dared to compare you with their father, Whitebeard.

─ Regardless of whether you were a devil fruit user or not, you were someone extremely strong, but since your existence was barely noticeable, you preferred to keep a low profile regarding your abilities.

─ When Ace began to travel and not return so often your heart tightened full of anxiety, without Thatch after the accident with Blackbeard you began to get overwhelmed with Ace's well-being.

─ Which led you to spend many hours inside Marco's office, looking for some comfort, he would calm you down with some sweet words at the time, although it was inevitable not to show concern when the news that your friend had been captured and was going to be executed.

─ You weren't going to go through that, so even without being noticed you were piled up with all those who joined together to save a comrade, a brother.

─ In the middle of the fight you had no problem making way with violence and power, and it's not like anyone was paying too much attention to you since all the attention was on the one you deduced was Luffy, Ace's brother.

─ You smiled when you saw that both brothers fell outside the place of execution, although your face became gloomy when you saw how they continued to attack them, taking into account that they were generals of the marines, you should hurry up and advance to the front.

─ The feeling in the pit of your stomach made a lump in your throat as you saw how, being one step away from both boys, you saw in slow motion how admiral Akainu's lava-coated fist headed towards Ace's exposed chest.

─ You never thought you were holding back in some battles, but even you were surprised when you sent the admiral flying out of your brother's reach, both of them looking at you with their mouth slightly open, although Ace greeted you with a smile instantly.

─ The silence fell for a few seconds and for the first time you received looks from thousands of people, feeling completely self-conscious, you hurried to get rid of the chains that linked Ace's hands to your bare hands, the priority now was to get out of there in one piece.

─ Perhaps, after your feat, people would begin to look at you with different eyes, or simply, to notice more, after all, you were the savior of the son of the pirate king.

─ Oh if Thatch were here he would brag about his sister's strength like Ace and Marco did once they returned to the ship, where this time they celebrated as if everyone were going to become extinct the next morning.

#op #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x fem reader #request #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #whitebeard #whitebeard crew #whitebeard pirates #whitebeard x reader #whitebeard x fem reader #sfw #one piece headcanons #hcs #headcanons

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littlejuicebox · 10 months ago

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Puppy love.

Idk how this has become an almost nightly update, but I swear I have so many ideas for this little family, it's ridiculous.

Sorry for all the Dadstarion spam to the peeps that aren't into it. I promise I'm going to pivot now. I have to edit MWC and I'm aiming to get it up this weekend or early next week.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, Dadstarion, parenting, babies, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of animal death, idk what else but comment if you see anything

Summary: Three year old Gale finds a dog in the orchard, but there’s something curious about this interaction. Astarion is struggling with parenthood in the face of his child’s growing understanding of the world.

Word count: 1800

Astarion had, against his own wishes, been required to participate much more in this year’s orchard harvest than in years previous. Your swollen stomach certainly got in the way of performing too much manual labor and you’d enlisted your husband’s help for the more difficult parts.

“Darling, this is really more your thing.” Astarion sighs, crossing his arms as he assesses your pout. You’d just asked him to climb the ladder and pick apples from the taller parts of the trees.

“My love, I know you are such a wonderful father and husband that you wouldn’t dare say no to the mother of your children when she asks for help while she is currently incubating two of your precious offspring.” You respond sweetly, batting your eyelashes at your husband, “Unless you’re suggesting I should climb onto the ladder in my heavily encumbered state, dear?”

“I hate you.” He responds with a huff and a quick roll of his eyes while trudging toward the ladder.

“No, you don’t.” You call after him before nestling yourself into the picnic blanket with Gale. The silver-haired boy was playing with a set of wooden ducks that had been whittled for him by Halsin, simply ‘quack quack quacking’ as he took a break from his part of the harvest. His little fingers were stained red by the cranberries he’d helped you pick.

Astarion reluctantly picked apples from a handful of trees before he gave up and settled down beside the two of you, insisting he would simply hire people to complete the rest of the harvest.

“I’m far too hungry to continue, love,” He complained before delving into the picnic basket and pulling out lunch.

Your stomach growls in response to the smell of food carrying in the autumn breeze. Fine, he was right, it was far too much work for two adults and a three year old.

As you eat, you watch Gale attempt more than once to bite into an oversized apple his father had picked from the orchard. The child had the item cupped in both his hands, and he kept opening his mouth far too wide, sinking only his incisors into the fruit’s thin flesh.

You stifle a giggle as he bites down and sends the McIntosh flying from his tiny fingers onto the checkered picnic blanket.

“Gale, darling, perhaps you should ask daddy to cut that,” You suggest as you finish the last few bites of Astarion’s sandwich. You’d instantly devoured your meal; the twins kept you ravenous. Your husband offered half of his own to you with a peck to your temple and gentle brush of his fingers along your rapidly growing stomach.

The elf might be exceptionally self-serving when it came to his interactions with the rest of the world, but he’d always been particularly self-sacrificing for his little love.

Gale grunts dramatically as he bends to retrieve his food and then turns to look at his father. Astarion lifts his eyes from his book to acknowledge the boy with a quirked eyebrow.

“Daddy, I want the knife for I can cut this,” he says, eagerly holding out one of his hands, hoping his father will let him use the dagger.

“I think we have a few more years before you’re using blades, little prince,” Astarion responds while snapping his book shut. Then he reaches into the picnic basket to retrieve your old sussur dagger before wiggling his fingers, beckoning for the apple.

Gale groans, disappointed that he can’t hold the knife, but obliges and hands the McIntosh to his father. A few quick cuts later and Astarion is placing the sliced wedges of fruit down in front of the silver-haired boy.

“What do you say, Gale?” You prompt as the child begins eating the fruit.

“Thank you, daddy!” The three year old responds through a mouthful of apple.

Astarion ruffles the little boy’s curls, “You’re welcome, little prince.”

A soft whine comes from a few trees away, and Gale’s head lifts from his lunch to search for the source of the sound. His curious green eyes scan the orchard.

“A doggy!” He exclaims, immediately dropping his apple slice and moving to run toward the floppy eared mutt.

But Astarion snatches his son’s hand, halting him, “Gale, you can’t just go running after—“

“Come here, puppy!” Gale calls, ignoring his father. The dog immediately obeys, running toward the child with a wagging tail and lolling tongue.

You chuckle as Astarion wrinkles his nose in displeasure, protectively pulling his son back onto the picnic blanket and eyeing the animal suspiciously.

“It’s just a lost puppy, Astarion.” You murmur, watching the mutt closely as it slows its approach, cocking its head slightly in curiosity. It doesn’t appear to be past adolescence.

The dog whines again, its brown eyes focused on the little boy.

“She say she is hungry!” Gale exclaims before he crouches down to grab an apple slice, “Here, puppy!”

He attempts to toss the fruit to the dog, but doesn’t manage to get it quite far enough. The floppy eared creature slowly steps forward and takes the offering, watching your family cautiously.

Another whine comes from the puppy after it finishes the apple slice, and Gale crinkles his white eyebrows while turning to look at his father.

“Papa, she say her mommy is hurt!” He explains, lifting a small finger to point to the back of the orchard, “Over there!”

You and Astarion exchange shocked glances. A silent conversation ensues between two pairs of eyes that know one another better than anyone else. Is the little boy actually communicating with the dog?

Astarion stands, his eyebrows furrowed, intent on confirming your suspicions. He heads in the direction your child pointed, toward the edge of your property located just more than fifty paces away.

Without his father holding him back, Gale runs to the mutt and begins to chatter excitedly, cooing praises of adoration as he pets the creature. You watch your son curiously as the animal licks the remnants of Gale’s lunch off his hands, her tail wagging happily.

When your husband returns, he’s got that same furrowed brow. Gale is distracted by the dog as Astarion calls to you, “Gwann.”

Dead.

You crinkle your eyebrows, mirroring Astarion’s puzzled expression, and then turn your focus back to your son. He must be able to communicate with the dog, there’s no other explanation.

“It looks like coyotes must have gotten to her,” Astarion explains, his voice low as he also assesses his son, “And before you even suggest anything, no, Tav. Absolutely not. The twins are almost here, we won’t have time to—“

“Daddy!” Gale calls, running back towards his father, his new dog friend in tow, “Where her mommy go? We can help!”

Shit.

Astarion brings his fingers to anxiously pull at his own ear.

Nine hells.

They’re adopting the damn dog, aren’t they?

“Well, Gale…” Astarion starts, and he flicks his eyes to you, flailing his hand open in an exasperated gesture as he struggles to come up with an explanation, “Her mommy is sick and had to go to the… animal doctor. So… I told her mommy we would watch her until she got better.”

A lie, yes. And not a particularly good one. But Astarion isn’t about to explain death to his three-year-old.

The little boy’s eyes widen in excitement as a grin spreads across his face. He turns to look at the puppy, and somehow he’s able to figure out the dog has no idea what his father said, so he repeats the gist of it to the floppy eared mutt. The dog listens and cocks its head curiously, but then seems to give some indication of agreement.

Poor little thing.

The two of you exchange glances again. You’re going to have to discuss this once Gale goes to bed.

“Come on, darling, get your toys and let’s head back inside,” You tell the little boy, “I’m sure your new friend is very hungry; we can find something for her there. Daddy is going to pick a few more apples and then join us.”

As the three year old is grabbing his toys, you exchange another pointed glance with your husband before thrusting your chin in the direction of the dead dog.

“Haudh,” You murmur. Grave. You want Astarion to bury the animal before the puppy winds up finding her dead mother and tells Gale. He nods his understanding and bids the two of you goodbye, waiting until you are out of sight before heading toward the back of the orchard.

And here he thought he was done burying corpses.

Later that night, you and your husband are in bed after just putting your son and his new companion, Apple, to sleep. Gale had chosen the name while he helped you bathe the puppy.

Astarion had rolled his eyes and whispered to you, “I don’t know which is worse, Scratch or Apple.”

But he’d started referring to the dog by that name, regardless.

The elf closes his eyes and presses his fingers into the sockets with a soft groan, “I didn’t know what else to say, Tav. We couldn’t very well tell our extremely sensitive son that the pup’s mother died. You know how he would’ve responded. All the saplings in the orchard would’ve been knocked down.”

You can’t help but laugh at your husband as he works through the events of today.

He snaps his eyes open and glares at you, raking his hands through his curls and completely ruining them in the process, “It’s not funny, dear.”

“It kind of is, my Star,” You shrug, moving forward to press a gentle, comforting kiss to your husband’s lips, “But I love watching you try and protect Gale’s soft heart.”

Astarion shakes his head at you with a belabored sigh, “Parenting is impossible.”

“Perhaps… but we’ve done other impossible things, haven’t we, my love?” You whisper, and the twins roll in your stomach, signaling their assent.

Astarion sighs again and nods, bringing his hand to rest upon the swell of your abdomen. He smiles as he feels the movement of the two little ones within.

“Sometimes I think you just manage to convince me anything is possible, little love. And I’m so foolishly enamored with you that I’ll believe anything you say.” The elf says through a lopsided, exhausted grin.

“And apparently I’ll do anything you say, like moonlighting as a farmer and digging a damn grave for a dog,” He continues, his nose wrinkling in displeasure, “You’re lucky you’re cute, darling.”

You chuckle; the phrase reminds you of the times before Astarion so willingly told you he loved you, back when the two of you had no idea what you were doing.

In many ways, the two of you still don’t have a clue.

But you have each other. And just like every time before, you would figure it out. Together.

#astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #dadstarion fic #dadstarion #papastarion #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female reader #astarion reader insert

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i-hate-people-1 · 9 months ago

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~Mid to West~

Eddie Munson x Henderson reader road trip AU

Pairing:Eddie Munson x Henderson reader

Warnings:none

Words: 1,800

A/N: Had this idea a while ago finally decided to write it down.

Dustin wanted something; you knew it. He’d been doing your chores, letting you use the bathroom to get ready in the mornings without complaining, letting you take the first shower, folding your laundry, which he knew you hated doing.

You hadn’t said anything, not one to look at a gift horse in the mouth. However, it finally came to a head when Dustin came into your room with this morning tray in hand (the one your mom always used to bring you breakfast in bed on your birthdays or when you were sick). a bowl of honey nut Cheerios, a glass of orange juice, and a bowl of mixed fruit sit on top of it.

“I made you breakfast,” he said as he walked to you.

You gave him a strange look as he sat it on your nightstand. It was the weekend, so you had just been lounging around reading your new book since you woke up. “Why?” You finally asked, sitting up against your headboard, taking the food and starting to eat, still looking at him quizzically.

“What can’t a little brother just do something nice for his older sister, whom he loves so much?” Dustin defended unconvincingly.

"Yeah, they can, but you don’t,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Come on out with it, shitbird, you wait much longer. I’ll have finished my food, and you’ll have to wait till you can make a whole other meal,” you joked, popping a grape into your mouth.

"Alright, fine,” Dustin sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed. “I do want something, and I want you to really think about it before you say no.” He trailed off, avoiding your gaze.

“Okay?” You egged, kicking his shoulder lightly, ready for him to get on with it.

"Well, you know how summer break starts next week, and I’ve outgrown science camp, and there’s no way mom would let me fly. You know how much planes scare her, and Susie’s parents wouldn’t let her either, but Mom would probably let me if you went to and drove me." Dustin paused, seeing the confusion on your face. “Would you take me on a road trip to Utah to visit Susie over the summer? Well, not the whole summer, but while it’s happening." Dustin finished rambling, looking at you hopefully with his best puppy dog eyes.

"Ugh,” you groaned. "Really, Utah, come on, it’s like the asscrack of America.”

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s Florida.”

“I don’t even have a car; how are we going to get there?” You asked, both loving and hating, the way your little brother's eyes lit up.

“Don’t even worry about that; I’ve got it covered. Is that a yes?” He asked far too excited at 8:30 in the morning.

“It’s a yes if you can find us a car and somehow convince Mom to let us go,” you told him, condescendingly.

“Yes! Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you; you're the best sister ever!” Dustin exclaimed, hugging you tightly.

"Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes as you tussled his hair. “I know, and don’t you forget it.”

***

That’s how Dustin found himself here, cleaning up after hellfire, about to ask Eddie if he’d be willing to drop his summer plans to drive him and his sister to Utah so he could see his girlfriend.

By some miracle, Dustin had convinced his overprotective mother to let him go, and Eddie was the last piece of the puzzle. Well, at least his van was deciding that even if it wasn’t the most reliable, it was the most spacious, meaning you’d have to spend less money on motels along the way, and you could fit more people, Lucas and Steve, on the top of his list to invite once he got the older boy to agree to this somewhat questionable plan.

“You’re oddly quiet, Henderson. What’s going on in the ginormous head of yours?” Eddie asked teasingly as he packed up his dice and began sliding his books into the book bag he’d had since his freshman year.

“What are your plans for the summer?” Dustin blurted it out, unable to keep it in any longer.

"Umm, I don’t know. Maybe plan a new campaign. I'm going to try to deal at some of the parties and make some extra cash. You know, I really enjoyed my last summer before I’m hurdled into a life of adulthood,” Eddie said, shrugging and throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m ecstatic about finally graduating, but now I have to actually grow up. It's a bummer." Eddie sighed jokingly, getting ready to lock up. They had one more hellfire meeting before school was over; it was all oddly emotional for him.

“Well, how fun does a road trip to Utah with your favorite little buddy sound for summer plans?” Dustin propositioned himself, smiling hopefully at him.

“Like actual hell,” the older boy deadpanned, walking out of the old drama room.

"Oh, come on, please, it’ll be fun, I promise, and me and Y/N really need your van,” Dustin pleaded, following after him.

“Y/N will be there?” Eddie asked, stopping in his tracks and smiling brightly when Dustin nodded. "Well, why didn’t you say so sooner? Utah sounds great!” Eddie exclaimed.

"Really, you only want to go for my sister?” Dustin asked with mock sadness in his voice.

“No Dustin I only want to go for your hot sister,” Eddie paused, laughing at the way Dustin’s nose wrinkled in disgust at his words. "Besides, you only want me to go for my van,” Eddie pointed out as they began walking to the parking lot.

“Fair enough,” Dustin shrugged, walking beside him.

“So where’s Utah, like Canada or something?”

“Oh my god,” Dustin mumbled, shaking his head, already regretting asking him to come.

***

After a week of anticipation a graduation ceremony where you, Robin, Eddie, and Nancy walked the stage and a lot of time spent making Eddie look at a map, it was finally time for your trip to begin. Dustin had been practically bouncing off the walls all morning, and he was excited to spend what you had calculated to be almost 23 hours in a car, not including stops.

Somehow, you ended up with six people coming on your little road trip: Eddie, Dustin, Steve, Robin, and Lucas.

Lucky for you, the Wheelers already had plans to visit the Byers, so you didn’t have to shove two more in there, and Max was going to summer camp.

You could practically hear when Eddie pulled into your street loud vehicle blasting music and erratic driving, doing nothing to keep him stealthy.

“Are you sure you guys really want to go?” Your mother asked you for the hundredth time. “Maybe you should stay.”

Dustin threw his head back, dramatically letting out a groan. “Come on, Mom, we talked about this. We’re going to be fine. You’ve got to give Dusty Buns a little freedom, plus I’ll be with him the whole time.” You paused walking over to Dustin, who was giving your mom puppy dog eyes, pinching his chin in between your fingers. “Besides, who could say no to this face?” you coed, knowing that as overprotective as she was, she had a hard time telling him no.

"Okay, okay, just be careful and call me,” she conceited, pulling you both in for a hug that you gladly returned as Eddie stopped his van. “I love you both; be careful,” your mom said, finally heading inside after one more hug for the both of you.

"Alright, come on guys, we’ve still got two more stops,” Eddie yelled from the van.

“Come on, DustyBuns, your damsel awaits,” you said, ruffling his hair and walking to the van.

***

After a few hiccups, I.E. Steve packing everything he owned you were finally on your way out of Hawkins Eddie driving you sitting shotgun with Dustin Steve Robin and Lucas in the back.

“I can’t believe this was the best way to spend my summer,” Robin groaned.

"Oh, come on, you guys, stop acting like we’re not going to have a blast,” Dustin said. "Besides, we’re already out of Hawkins, so you’re stuck,” he told you guys, mockingly pointing at the leaving Hawkins/Hell sign.

“Oh yeah, I guess we are,” Eddie said, distractedly casually flipping the bird to the sign as you passed it. “I guess you can probably come out now, red,” Eddie said, making everyone look at him in confusion.

“Finally!” You heard making all of you jump and shriek as you saw a figure jump out of the pile of blankets sitting in the corner of the van.

“Maxine Mayfield, what the fuck are you doing here?!” Steve yelled, clutching a hand to his chest.

"Yeah, she’s supposed to be at summer camp,” you scolded, seeing the smirk grow on Eddie’s face.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart, I couldn’t let one of my sheepies rot while we had all the fun,” he said, wiping the smirk off his face to pout at you comically.

"Yeah, Eddie was just helping me,” Max said, working her way to the front of the van and joining Eddie in looking at you pitifully. “Please don’t tell my mom I want to spend the summer with you guys.”

"Yeah, come on, doll, can we keep her?” Eddie asked hopefully.

"Yeah, let her stay,” Dustin and Lucas said, joining the side of Eddie and Max.

"Yeah, come on, we could use another girl." Robin joined in, leaving only you and Steve.

“Aww, what the hell, yeah, let’s let her stay,” and now you’ve lost Steve too.

“Please?” Max said one last time you looked at the whole van teaming up on you, eyes wide and sad as they waited for your answer.

And you almost held your ground until you looked at Eddie, his big brown eyes peering into your soul. His bottom lip jutted out.

"Fine,” you sighed, making the whole van erupt in cheers.

“Thank you, thank you,” Max said, hugging you.

“You’re really the best!” Dustin Lucas Robin and Steve all cheered one after the other as they went to talk amongst themselves, happy to have added a member to the group.

“Thank you, you’re my hero, princess." Eddie’s words caught your attention, finding his eyes already on you and smiling brightly.

"Oh, shut up,” you laughed, rolling your eyes as your face flushed at the nickname “And look at the road before you kill us all.” You finished pushing his chin to make him look at the road as you both laughed.

“Alright, road trip, baby, let’s go!” Eddie yelled, making the van erupt in cheers once more. You joined them this time, happy to be spending the summer with people you cared about.

Boy, were you guys in for it…

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hannahbarberra162 · 4 months ago

Text

Squace of Hearts

18+ MDNI

on Ao3 Part 2

(I found this image on Facebook, I can't find who made the collage).

For my Ace loving Nonnies. Thank you for 100 followers! This was supposed to be a one shot but...it's a two shot. Fluff and smut.

Synopsis: You run into your childhood friend, Ace, at a bar on some nameless island. You remember him being cute, but nothing like this. Sparks fly between you (literally) as you rekindle your childhood crushes.

(I know there is a portal fruit already. This one is a little different.)

~~~

“Come on, Squace. I taught you to cheat better than that,” you said with a purr as you leaned your forearm against the top of the wooden chair in front of you. A man with an orange cowboy hat perched on top of shaggy black hair paused as if frozen.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” yelled Twin-Blade immediately, throwing all his cards in the air. The other Whitebeard Commanders sitting at the round wooden table didn’t seem as fussed.

“How could you not know it yoi? Ace isn’t good at cheating, we just let him because it doesn’t help him win anyway,” replied The Phoenix calmly. Meanwhile, the man sitting in the chair you were leaning on whipped his head around, eyes wide.

“Is it really you?” he said, standing up and turning around to get a look. Squace looked like the little boy you’d left behind on Dawn Island, but had clearly grown into a man. And what a man.

“In the flesh,” you said with a wink. Ace grinned widely and hugged you, picking you up and swinging you in a circle. You laughed as he swung you, it was so nice to see him after all these years. He set you on the ground and looked you up and down.

“You look great!” You laughed again and gave him a grin.

“You’re not looking so bad yourself there, cowboy,” you said as you flicked the brim of his hat. Ace smiled as he blushed at your compliment. And there he was, the boy that you’d had to leave behind all those years ago. You’d never forget that face.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to this beauty?” Twin-Blade had evidently relaxed since his outburst and was flashing you a toothy smile.

“Oh, right. This is Dreamy. We grew up together on Dawn Island.” You laughed again.

“Aww, no one’s called me that in a long time, I missed it. But I guess you probably haven’t been called ‘Squace’ either.”

“Come, sit with us for a moment,” requested Izo. “I have so many questions about how all this happened,” he said, gesturing to Ace as a whole.

“Don’t want to interrupt your card game,” you said with a twinkle in your eye.

“C’mon, we haven’t seen each other in years. I wanna catch up,” Ace pleaded with those puppy dog eyes you’d never been able to say no to.

“If you insist,” you said, grabbing an empty chair and hauling it to the table at which they were seated. You sat next to Ace, so close your thighs were almost touching. You knew Ace, of course, but the rest you only knew by their wanted posters.

“So, you two grew up in the same town yoi?” The Phoenix asked. You and Ace exchanged a look.

“Not exactly. I lived way up in the mountains, Ace lived a little closer to the town.”

“Then how did you meet if you were living so far apart?” You smirked at Ace, ready to tell the childhood story. He tried shaking his head to stop you.

“Dreamy, don’t. It’s embarrassing,” Ace whined.

“I must, I must! I caught Ace spying on me when I was bathing in the river. So I broke his nose,” you said, reminiscing. The other men at the table laughed uproariously, while Ace turned as red as the beads around his neck.

“I mean, I set it for him afterwards. He didn’t complain about it too much either. After that, we were thick as thieves. Right, Squace?” You patted Ace’s cheek affectionately, and he leaned into your touch. You weren’t going to embarrass him too much but a little ribbing was always fun.

“Why do you call him Squace?” Izo asked curiously.

“Ah, because his forehead is almost perfectly square. So square plus Ace, you get Squace.” His friends laughed heartily, Twin-Blade even with some tears in his eyes. Ace groaned.

“Then why does he call you Dreamy?” The Phoenix asked with a sly look. You had a feeling he already knew.

“Because I was the dreamiest girl he’d ever seen in his whole life ,” you said with a smile, putting your palms under your chin, your hands framing your face like a flower.

“All right, all right, enough with the kid stuff,” Ace said, still red as a tomato.

“I’m just teasing you. I missed you a lot,” you told him in a sweet tone. “I’ve been keeping up with you, I have a copy of all your bounty posters. I got worried when I stopped seeing the Spade pirates, but it seems you’ve found your place,” you said gesturing around the table.

“Oh, sorry. Let me introduce everyone. This is Thatch, Izo, and Marco. We’re all Whitebeard Commanders.” Ace looked proud of himself and his friends. He had a right to be, it was incredibly impressive. They inclined their heads at you and waved as Ace said their names. Good looking buncha pirates, you thought.

“Pleased to meetcha,” you said, saluting them with a finger. You’d been working on the Grand Line for years, but you’d never run into Whitebeard Commanders before.

“Do you really have all my posters?” Ace asked, flabbergasted.

“Mm-hmm. In my best waterproof trunk for safekeeping. I take ‘em off the walls as soon as they’re updated, only taking the best copies. By the way, I saw Luffy’s starting to make a name for himself.” You weren’t as close with Luffy, Ace hadn’t brought him up the mountain that many times. Still, you kept the kid’s posters too.

Ace beamed with pride, “yeah, he’s left Dawn Island too.”

“Does he still want to be -”

“The King of the Pirates,” you and Ace finished the sentence together. Even though you’d only met Luffy a handful of times, he’d mentioned his dream…a lot.

“You’ve gotta tell us more about Ace as a kid,” Thatch begged.

“Nah, that’s long behind us, I wanna hear about life with Whitebeard . ” You didn’t want to embarrass Ace too much in front of his crewmates. You did have quite a few Ace stories up your sleeve, but you didn’t want to injure his pride. Ace puffed up as he told you about how he was the Second Division Commander, how he’d tried to kill Whitebeard for 100 days, how he’d met Red Haired Shanks and thanked him for saving Luffy’s life, how he’d gotten his devil fruit on Sixis along with a first mate, and many other tales of adventure. He didn’t mention how attractive he’d become, how his lean muscles moved when he shifted, or how his adorable freckles made you want to kiss him all over his face.

Your cheeks hurt from so much smiling and laughing at his tales. Now you were seeing the other side of Ace you’d missed. As he told his stories, he had swagger, confidence, charm, and humor. It was easy to see why people liked him and how he’d risen to prominence so young, he was effortlessly charismatic. Even when you were kids, you knew he’d do something great with his life. You didn’t have as much confidence about your own path. As he talked about his current life, you noticed all the other Commanders egging him on to tell more and more stories. They obviously cared for him and supported him. You were happy for Ace - he had a hard childhood, born under an unlucky star. He seemed to have found a new family to love him, which he deserved in spades.

“But what about you?” Ace asked, “what have you been up to? Are you on a pirate crew?”

“Can’t you tell I’m a Marine?” you said sarcastically, gesturing to your outfit. You were wearing a very short dress, tall ass-kicking boots and had a knife strapped to your thigh. “No, I’m just joking. I tried the pirate thing. It wasn’t for me. I’m a mover.”

“A mover? What does that mean?” Ace asked, tilting his head like a puppy. He was so goddamn cute, you wanted to eat him up. You remembered him being a good looking kid, but nothing like this.

“Just what I said. I move stuff. For a price.”

“Like, you pick up couches and pianos and stuff?”

“Something like that,” you replied cryptically. You were building anticipation, but you wanted to show off a little for Ace. Ace looked at you with just as much admiration as he always had and it did something to you. You’d missed the feeling of being someone’s crush and you wanted to relive it.

“You look smaller than you were at 15. How do you move heavy things?” Ace asked, looking you up and down. You absolutely loved it when he gave as good as he got.

“Oi! I’m not smaller! You just got bigger! And besides, like this,” you said, bringing your hands out in front of you. You turned your right and left hands one after the other, like you were twisting a doorknob. A blue portal opened under a beer that had just been set in front of Thatch. The full glass fell into the portal, coming out from an orange portal you’d opened right in front of you. You grabbed the beer before it smashed onto the table, and took a sip. Ace’s mouth was hanging open. You gently closed it for him with your palm. The other Commanders were looking with sharp interest.

“I ate the move-move no Mi,” you explained. “It allows me to, well, move things. I can open a blue portal and anything that goes through it comes out the orange one. It’s handy. So I made a business where I move large or difficult things, for a high price. That’s what I do.” Well, that was one of the things you did.

You could see Ace bubbling with questions. You looked at him indulgently, and said “go ahead, ask.” You answered question after question about your devil fruit from both him and his friends. How big could you make the portals (no size limit, but the larger the portal the more energy it took to operate), how much could you fit through the portal (no limit, but it did come out the other side the same size), can you move people (yes, including yourself), how far can you cast the portals (as far as you can see with your naked eye), and was there anything between the portals (no, they were directly connected, no space in between them). You showed off a few tricks, having your hand come out of the table, taking Marco’s glasses off his face and putting them on your own without getting up, simple things like that. After a long while you had enough, you didn’t like talking about yourself all that much. Besides, you had work to do the next day.

“Alright, alright. Listen, Ace, I’ve gotta go now but I’d love to catch up more. How long are you on this island?”

“Coupla days, I think. Are you staying here for a few as well? Can we meet up for dinner? Here? At 6? Tomorrow?” His voice was going up in pitch the more questions he asked. He was so flustered, you couldn’t help but smile. And tease him just a little more.

“Mmhmm, that’s what’s nice about working for myself. I can leave - or not - when I want. See you tomorrow, cowboy,” you said, kissing his cheek and sauntering away. Ace blushed again. So goddamn cute.

~~~

Ace POV

Ace, along with most of the bar patrons, watched your hips swish out the doors of the bar. He hung his head. “Alright, have at it,” he grunted. He knew he was due for a large amount of teasing from his brothers.

“Nah, that’d be no fun. First crushes are a sacred thing, man.” Thatch clapped Ace on the shoulder. “Everyone remembers the first person who set their heart aflame,” Thatch said wistfully, grabbing at his chest. “Leo, I’ll never forget you or your washboard abs.”

“True, mine was a girl named Aiko,” Izou chimed in. “I met her at a soba shop. We spent one summer together, enjoying each other’s company at night.” Izou put his chin on his hand, lost in his own thoughts.

“Isabella did it for me,” Marco replied. “I saw her in a swimming suit when I was 10 and I was done for. We get it yoi. Besides, what’s there to say? She’s pretty, powerful fruit, fun to be around. Did she really break your nose?”

Ace was surprised at their mature responses. He thought they’d be eating him alive for all the information you’d brought up or for how hard he’d tried to impress you. There was something about seeing you again that made him feel exactly as he did when he was a boy. You were so cool, so charming, so sexy. He had always tried to impress you, but he never felt like he measured up. Maybe now he could redeem himself.

“Yeah, she did. She was so angry she punched me in the face, still completely nude after getting out of the river.” Ace still remembered your perfect boobs from that day. He had thought about them…many times over his teen years.

“High spirited,” Thatch said, looking for a waitress to order another beer.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Ace thought back on some of his memories with you. Most were fun, hunting, trapping, foraging, things like that. You’d taught him how to play cards, how to cheat at cards, how to tie knots, how to do a lot of basic things that no one had bothered to teach him. You were a shining spot in a rather bleak childhood and he’d held onto your memory dearly. Yes, he had Luffy, but he’d always been watching over Luffy, protecting him. Until you left, he felt like there was someone watching over him .

“When was the last time you saw each other?” Izou asked, swirling his sake gently.

“Oh, well, we met when I was 11 and she left when I was 13… so she would have been 15, I think? She sailed off the island and I didn’t hear from her again. We’re only a couple years apart in age.”

Marco furrowed his brow. “She set sail at 15 yoi? With her family?”

Ace shook his head. “No, she lived alone. No family. She just up and left one day,” Ace said, shrugging. It had broken his heart when he’d realized you really weren’t coming back for him. The two of you had talked endlessly about leaving Dawn Island, but he always thought you’d do it together.

“So, she lived by herself as an orphan child, in the mountains, and set sail alone at 15? What the fuck was happening on your island yoi? She’s lucky to be alive and not enslaved.” Ace hadn’t really thought about it that way. It was all normal to him - he was basically feral until Makino and Sabo had helped him. Why did you set sail so young? Maybe he’d ask you tomorrow.

“And what about those portals, man?” Thatch exclaimed, getting his hands on a frosty glass. “Really interesting. I wonder if she fights with ‘em. Like you think you’re gonna slice her but bam! You’ve just stabbed yourself in the side.” The others agreed, and talked about various applications they’d use it for. Marco, of course, was curious about its medical application and if it could be used surgically. Ace’s imagination ran wild when he saw your power. He really wanted to see more of it in action.

“Well, you’re all gonna hafta wait to find out,” Ace declared. “None of you are welcome to meet up with her tomorrow.” He folded his arms across his chest.

“And why is that Squace ?” Izou said with a grin. Ah, there it was. It was bound to happen sooner or later. He knew with the kind of details that you’d shared there’d be no way they could resist the bait.

“Yeah, show us your forehead!” Thatch reached for Ace’s neck, trying to get him into a headlock. Thatch wrestled with Ace playfully while Izou and Marco watched, cheering Thatch on.

“We wanna see the square yoi!”

“Is that why you have those curtain bangs? And wear that hideous hat?”

“C’mon Thatch, aim for his sides yoi, he’s ticklish!”

“Don’t let his dreaminess get in your way!”

It was all good fun. Ace wasn’t using his fruit power and Thatch was a good wrestler so it was pretty even. They had to stop when they smashed a table and got in trouble with the waitress. Afterwards, they walked back to the Moby Jr, where they were all sleeping for the night. Maybe Ace should rent a hotel room for tomorrow? Nah, that would be too much. He didn’t know if you were actually interested or just being a flirt. Either way, he was looking forward to seeing you tomorrow night.

~~~

Your POV

You took your time getting ready to meet up with Ace. You were traveling through the Grand Line alone, so you didn’t have a ton of stuff with you. You were always ready to leave at a moment’s notice, grab-and-go style. Even so, you put in your best effort. He was so good looking, he had to have a lot of experience with women. You wanted to live up to his expectations. You gave yourself a final twirl in the bathroom mirror and left your hotel room. Well, not exactly your room, you weren’t paying for it. You just portaled yourself into empty rooms and it usually worked out just fine.

Ace was even better looking in person than you’d seen in his posters. Sure, you pulled whenever you wanted to, but this was Ace . You’d thought about him so many times over the years, the sweet kisses you’d shared together as you “taught him how to kiss properly.” He was so special to you, really the only good thing that had ever happened to you on that shithole island. Sure you could be witty and flirty, but beneath that was an intense desire to not completely fuck this up.

You arrived at the bar around 6 and took a seat. You didn’t see him yet, and portaled yourself a beer while you waited. It was always amusing to switch things around and watch people’s confusion. You had just switched a guy’s fork and knife back and forth for the fifth time when you spotted Ace through the window. You’d enjoyed meeting his fellow Commanders but hoped they wouldn’t join in. You smiled and raised your glass, showing him you were there. He smiled that beautiful 1,000 watt smile that made your heart stop. He walked up to your table and plopped down.

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” You couldn’t stop yourself, teasing him was so fun and easy.

“What’s going on, Dreamy? Starting without me?” You grinned and portaled him a menu to look for something to drink. Ace took the menu cheerfully.

“What are you drinking? Looks good.”

“Oh, ah, I just sort of grabbed it, I’m not sure where it is on the menu.” You didn’t offer to take the menu either.

“Isn’t that nice, you taking care of me on the first date?”

“ Is this our first date? I seem to recall some other times we were together…” The two of you spent hours together, drinking and chatting, reminiscing over old memories. It felt you’d been separated for months, not years. You’d clicked since the moment you’d met as kids and things were no different now.

After your first round, he handed you the menu again. “Whatcha thinking about drinking next?” You glanced over it but didn’t take it from him.

“You pick, I don’t care.”

After a few hours and many drinks, you were tipsy and wanted to get a little more forward with your flirting.

“Ace, let’s get out of here. I wanna take a walk.” You didn’t wait for his response, just made a large portal, grabbed his arm, and brought him through it. You held him up by his waist since it was disorienting the first few times to go through a portal. He sagged against you, looking a little worse for the wear.

“But what about the bill, we didn’t pay -”

You waved off his concern. “I left money on the table. I know you’ll be here a few more days, I won’t getcha banned from the place. Don’t worry about it.” You weren’t lying, you did actually pay for the drinks you’d ordered. With someone else’s money. Usually you’d just portal yourself some money from a marine base or some noble’s house when you needed some cash. So what? It wasn’t like the Marines or some fat cats would miss a few thousand Beri. You weren’t exactly a pirate, you didn’t have a crew or your own boat. You just sailed around for work, taking what you wanted and then leaving. It was similar-ish to piracy but not exactly the same. Your moral compass didn’t have any objections and your wallet didn’t either.

Ace recuperated quickly and was excited at having gone through a portal. You could tell he was going to start asking you more questions, so you put your hand on his shoulder and backed him into the brick wall right behind him. You put your hand on the wall behind him, even though he was taller than you.

“Ace, you wanna try something I’ve been thinking about?” Ace nodded solemnly. You slowly inched your face closer to his, bringing your mouth near his face. Ace put his hands around your waist, bringing you closer. You gripped his bare shoulders tightly and exhaled into his ear. Ace shivered but didn’t move. You knew what he thought was going to happen but you couldn’t resist.

“Do you wanna try joining our devil fruit powers together?” you whispered seductively into his ear. You thought you’d tease him but he quickly turned the tables on you. He leaned back further against the wall and leaned his foot against it, like he was getting comfortable. He moved one of his hands from your waist to behind your neck, pulling you even closer.

“I can think of something else I’d like to do together,” he whispered as an answer. You loved seeing this side of Ace. Maybe he’d gotten his footing after catching up with you at the bar. “It’s been a while since my last lesson. I’d like to show you what I’ve learned.”

“I’d like that too,” you said huskily. He brought both of his hands up to cradle your face, bringing his lips down to your own. You were looking up at his freckled face, yearning written all over yours.

“I can tie a monkey’s fist knot in under two minutes,” he said, ghosting his lips on yours as he spoke. He didn’t kiss you, just released your face from his hands and returned them to your waist. Your mouth dropped open and he closed it with his palm, like you’d done to him. It was your turn to flush while he smirked. Oh, he’d grown up all right.

Once your face returned to a normal color, you punched Ace in the shoulder. “That’s not funny!”

“I think it’s pretty funny,” Ace said languidly. You huffed, but smiled after. You liked playing the game as much as he did.

“I do wanna try combining our powers though, for real. I wanna see if we can send flames through a portal.” Ace’s eyes lit up.

~~~

It wasn’t even a big fire on the Moby Jr., you didn’t see what the issue was. It was put out pretty quickly, too. Besides, Ace had set the ship on fire before, you could see the scorch marks on the deck. Yes, it was late at night and everyone was sleeping but you had successfully combined your powers, wasn’t that interesting? The Phoenix apparently did not think so.

“What were you thinking yoi?” Marco said, shaking his head at the two of you. You felt like you were being scolded by a parent. You were gonna let Ace take the lead on this one.

“Um…we were trying to see if we could find a new battle strategy?” Ace answered, trying to see if that would satisfy Marco.

“Why would you want to battle our own ship yoi?” Marco replied, exasperated. You snickered, what a bad answer. “And you, Dreamy,” Marco said, rounding on you, “I expected better from you.” Your laughter stopped in the face of the stern half transformed Phoenix in front of you. Dang, this is what guilt felt like.

“We can fix it in the morning. What do we need? Wood? Money?” You weren’t worried. You could get those things no problem. There was a Marine base on the other side of the island, easy pickings.

Marco had a chilling grin on his face. “Oh no, yoi. You have to buff that out by hand. Sandpaper, vinegar, that kind of thing. See you tomorrow, bright and early yoi.” Marco walked away, smoothing his feathers. You glared at Ace behind Marco’s back.

“What?! It wasn’t all my fault! I don’t control the portals!” You weren’t actually mad, it had been really fun to blast things with fire, even if it meant more work tomorrow. And yes, maybe you had partially been at fault. But it’s not like you were going to disobey the First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, so you’d be working with Ace tomorrow morning to fix the ship. You’d had worse jobs. You put your arm around his waist and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Guess I’ll be under you tomorrow, Commander. Maybe for the whole day,” you said silkily.

“I can be a stern taskmaster, hope you’re up for it,” he cooed.

“I’ve been known to enjoy a little strict supervision now and again,” you murmured close to his ear.

“Goodnight, Squace.” You turned to him and stood on your toes, asking with your eyes once more for a kiss.

“Goodnight, Dreamy,” as he leaned in to capture your lips with his, you escaped through a portal at your feet in the last second, leaving only the echoing sound of your laughter.

#ace x reader #reader insert #x reader #portgas ace x you #ace one piece #one piece fluff #op x y/n #ace x you #you x ace #fluff and romance #fluff and smut

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alt-wannabe · 1 month ago

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MCSR Pokémon Teams

some explanations included but largely based on vibes alone

i got a bunch of suggestions from mutuals so if that’s you hiiiii thank you :3

(disclaimer i don’t know shit about competitive so these teams are nawt viable for that at all)

- i knew i wanted him to have an electric type and i landed on rotom for its various forms and versatility

- pangoro because i wanted him to have a fighting type and also bc of pandas in AA

- blastoise is a full soul read idk

- hatterene bc of the colors

- porygon z also for the colors and also bc it seemed fitting (this was a gigabrain lompleg suggestion everyone say thank you lompleg)

-deoxys speed form i feel is self explanatory

-ngl a good half of this team is straight vibe picks with no like REAL reasoning

- durant is silver in color everyone say wow

- gogoat as a callback to his skin w the horns

- the hair on the zoroark reminds me of how people draw his hair

- when i asked in chat he said his favorite pokémon was dragonair so he gets one

- flygon’s little eye things make me think of glasses

- shuckle

- a lot of people were of the consensus he should have a water type, i picked tentacruel largely bc the things on its head match flygon’s eyes ngl

- banette reminds me of phantom house of nightmares fulham for some reason

- british football playing pokémon from the british region

- similar to fulham and dragonair, fruit likes goomy so he gets a goomy

- iirc he had an event skin where he was a vile plume

- tinkaton gives me huge fruit energy that thing is a little deranged (in the best way possible)

- he’s associated with bats fairly often so he gets a crobat

- bellibolt’s goofy lil face reminded me of :]

- weavile is agile i don’t have that much more reasoning

- mr rime is here because i despise the pokémon mr mime

- and also gold suggested it would be funny as an alternative

- inteleon and metagross are both pure soul reads

- moots thought hisuian arcanine would be good to a.) give him a dog pokémon and b.) represent captain mime and i agree

- i’m gonna be so real the entirety of my reasoning behind sceptile is sometimes when mime gets snarky i basically imagine that’s his facial expression

- look at linoone’s color scheme and tell me i’m wrong

- couri likes milotic so he gets a milotic

- espeon and starmie are both purple and give off couriway energy to me

- shiny pidgeot can fly and is in couri colors!

- delphox is a reference to my mcsr d&d stuff where i made couri a wizard

- idk why sandslash i just like him

- shot-in-the-dark pick city, population: reignex

- i basically only have reasoning for 3 of these

- ursaluna is a bear

- emboar reminds me of piglins and hoglins in the nether

- low key toxtricity was a suggestion i was a fan of

- other than that i made choices based off gut feeling alone

- purple cat liepard yay

- mismagius makes me think of that super cool vio art of raddles as a necromancer

- gardevoir is pretty enough said

- hydreigon and toxapex were both purple and had fitting energy imo

- noibat reminds me of her blockwars purple phantoms skin

uhh that’s all i’ve got for now! maybe more later or if you have teams for people i didn’t come up with you should totally add them onto this post :3

#again i had lots of help from mutuals just bouncing ideas around w me #so thanks y’all :D #mcsr #feinberg #silverrruns #fulham #couriway #fruitberries #reignex #talkingmime #raddles #hbg

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lizardlicks · 1 year ago

Text

Momo surprise

“I’m a little worried about Momo,” Aang said to his friends as they gathered around the morning campfire and started preparing for their day. “He’s been acting kind of off lately.”

The lemur in question was fussily nosing around Aang's abandoned bedroll in tight circles. As the group of teens watched, he laid down in a curl, chirped unhappily then got up and resumed tugging and scratching at the bedding. “How can you tell?” Sokka asked. He was by no means a lemur behavior expert. To him all of Momo’s actions were strange. It was possible that Aang's Avatar-ness gave him some kind of spirit connection to flying lemurs. Unlikely, but still possible.

“He doesn’t have as much energy, even though he’s sleeping more.” Aang explained, frowning. “You don’t think he’s sick, do you?”

“Maybe it’s the climate?” Katara offered helpfully. She wasn’t a lemur expert either, but she and Sokka had struggled the first few weeks with adjusting to the Earth Kingdom’s warmer weather. As far as she or anybody else knew, Momo has lived his entire life in the towering, windswept peaks around the Southern Air Temple, so maybe the sudden change had affected him too, she reasoned.

“It’s because you’ve been giving him too many treats,” Sokka told Aang matter-of-factly. Lemurs were outside of his wheelhouse, but he'd helped the older boys with conditioning the polar dogs for sled pulling every fall. Spoiled pups turned lazy and fat, a hard lesson to learn for the littler children who only wanted to express their love.

“You think so?” Aang looked contrite.

“Yup,” Sokka said as he reached to snag a piece of star berry off the board Katara was using to prepare their breakfast. He snatched his hand back with a squawk when she smacked him.

“He is looking a little pudgy, Aang,” Katara said without taking her eyes off the food. Poaching brothers were too wily to be given that kind of an opening.

“Monkey feathers. I just can’t resist him when he gives me The Eyes.”

“I know,” Katara agreed. “He’s weaponized his cuteness.” “You’re going to have to.” Sokka nimbly dodged a sister elbow, but he still didn’t quite manage to snag any tidbits from Katara’s pile of fruit. “It’s for his own good.”

Momo, apparently noticing he was being talked about, finally abandoned the bedding to perch on Katara’s knee. “No, bad lemur!” She snatched her cutting board up and held it over her head. “No more extras for you!”

Sokka whooped in victory as he snagged a slice of moon peach and popped it into his mouth before Katara could adjust her defenses. “You’re on a diet, mister,” he informed the lemur as he sucked the juice from his fingers.

Momo chittered and pinned his ears back.

“Sorry, buddy,” Aang said regretfully as he scooped Momo up and tucked him into the crook of his elbow. “I already gave you a big handful of lychee nuts when you woke me up, you’re gonna have to wait until lunch time for more food.”

Aang could never quite tell just how much human speech Momo understood, but the lemur appeared to grasp something about the situation. He curled his tail around and grasped it anxiously, cooing at Aang with all the force of The Eyes that one tiny flying mammal could muster.

Aang held strong. For all of three seconds. “Okay... well. Maybe a couple berries wouldn’t hurt?”

--------

“AAAAAANG!”

The young monk bolted upright in his bedroll at the sound of his name, startled out of a sound sleep. Sokka was loud. Loud and very upset.

“What!? What is it?” He blinked several times, then rubbed at his face, trying to get his eyes to focus on anything distinct before he realized the reason he couldn't see anything was because dawn was still hours away. The moon hung in the sky, a crescent barely thicker than a thumbnail, with no light to offer. Hedgegoosebumps broke out across his arms. Aang hugged himself as the night pressed in, suddenly no longer a sheltering veil, but full of hidden threat from enemies he couldn’t see.

The sleeping lump to his right rustled and shifted as Katara sat up in her bed roll. “Sokka-haaah,” her voice stuttered, breaking off with a yawn. “What's wrong?”

“What's wrong? What’s wrong!?” Sokka was rapidly climbing in pitch with each repetition. “Why don’t you look at this situation and tell me, huh?”

“Uhh.” Aang squinted into the dark and tried to make sense of their camp. Appa was still peacefully snoring several yards away, completely oblivious to the sudden chaos. Katara was wiggling and shuffling her way out of her sleeping bag, growling unflattering things at Sokka under her breath, and Sokka. Sokka was standing in the middle of their sleeping circle. He looked like he was holding something, but Aang could not for the life of him see what it was.

“We can't see anything without light, Sokka,” Katara groused. She finally won her struggle with her sleeping roll and started patting around for her bag. “You couldn't have lit a fire before you started yelling loud enough to alert the Fire Lord himself?”

“Oh, gee, why didn't I think of that! Could it possibly be because I'm dealing with Aang's mess over here!?”

Aang didn't remember leaving a mess. In fact he'd been careful to pack up everything before turning in for the night just in case they had to make a quick getaway. A few too many lost supplies had trained him quickly.

“What are you talking about?” He asked while stretching, less alarmed now that he knew Sokka was just. Well, being Sokka. They weren't being attacked, there was no life or death situation he had to fight through in the pitch dark.

Katara, having retrieved some kindling from her pack, scooted over to their banked campfire and began to poke the coals awake. She had apparently given up any hope of going back to sleep until her brother was sorted out. Even Appa was starting to rumble awake with the commotion.

“You said Momo was a boy!” Sokka hissed.

Aang. Blinked. “Yeah?” he said, uncertainty clouding his mind. He must still be dreaming, why would Sokka wake up the whole camp to debate their pet’s gender?

“Then explain this!” Sokka shoved his cupped hands out, away from the protective shield of his body, just as the fire flared with a pop and Katara's satisfied grunt.

Cradled in between his palms, fur still sodden and sticking, was the teeniest, tiniest lemur Aang had ever seen.

#sokka #aang #katara #momo #the gaang #minific #atla fanfic #atla #avatar the last airbender #lizard writes stupid things

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melodiclune · 5 months ago

Text

And Then There Were Two

--------------------------

@trafficzine 5th Edition: This is my piece!!! A retelling of the Pearl and Scar duel.

There's a secret task I had to follow writing this... can you tell what it is?? (Answer at the end of the piece.)

-------------------------------------------------

Pearl never wanted to make it to the end.

Everything she’s done, had been for her Mounders, her loyalty had dictated it so.

Mumbo had died first, to the posts round the bend. Then Bdubs and Joel in the same fell swoop, barely a moment to process it, a tale of woe.

They left Pearl to ally with the one person on the server with no real friend. With Gem now gone, she already knew how this would go.

But when she offered Scar her life earlier, he opposed the idea vehemently. “I refuse. We go out together. I genuinely don’t want to win that much anyway,” he declared. Nobody else would know the pain and exhaustion fighting solo brought, honestly. And she had respected his words, looking ahead.

A duel he had wanted, so a duel he’d get, she thought, raising her sword unwillingly. Here, with just the two of them left, Scar looks at her, bow drawn.

The dogs had to go first, Scar decided. Pearl watches as he sets off the TNT, the shadow of her past win clasping her heart in phantom pain. With nobody left to die but them, Scar lets his arrow loose, resolute and undaunted. It lodges into her side, the sharp fall in her health telling how little time she had before she’d be slain.

She weaves in and out of the swarm of mobs, sword at the ready by her side as she laughs at the poetry. What a fight, between two crazed fools who remember the hollowness of living in total isolation. Neither of them fighting for the win, and their duel being the final one nothing short of irony. She darts away from the crowd of zombies and spiders, avoiding embers from their sunlit flames, but not escaping the fire in Scar’s expression.

His eyes are bright, filled with grief she recognises in herself. His shots fly everywhere, frantic just as he is. And there’s nothing she can do but mourn. In her emotional haze, her own sword strikes miss.

One of his determined arrows finally lands, square in her shoulder, the burning pain screaming from the force in the shot. She ignores the sting (it’s nothing she hasn’t felt before), turning to swipe her sword angled with the sunlight to start a fire. Scar makes a shocked sound, indignant as he douses himself with water, her strike all for naught. The numbness in her shoulder spreads; she can’t lift her arm high up now, her situation dire.

Pearl never wanted to make it to the end.

Everything she had done, had been for her allies.

She sees the defensive instinct backing every action that only someone with no one has, and chooses to treat him as a friend. She sees the slow, deep breaths Scar takes, the breaks in his voice and forced banter, and identifies the weariness she once held in her own scarlet guise.

There’s gold fruit glinting in her inventory, all she needs to rejuvenate herself, with a quick bite and swallow. It’s all she needs to last longer than Scar, clearly exhausted from all his fights (victories) on their last day. Instead, she leaves it untouched, looking at the dance he wishes to lead with valor alone, choosing to follow. There is no doubt who remains standing after this, but she’s ready to accept her fate as it comes her way.

But then she gets a little too close, and he sets the TNT down in a quick moment that sends her heart into a fright. Swiftly backing away is all she can do, the boom behind her loud and terrifying. It’s enough to have her disregard all logic, expression lighting up in a mirror of his desperation, and she turns her sword into him with all her might. But it’s enough for Scar to strike another arrow into her heart, brutal and damning.

Arrow after arrow, swipe after swipe, they trade blows, but Pearl knows he has more health than she does. His kill on Gem had ensured it. Her measly two and a half hearts wouldn’t last her much longer, and so she raises her shield as she goes. He draws another arrow from his diminishing quiver, lips pulled into a thin line as he sets it loose, only for Pearl to counter the hit.

“Behind you,” he says, tone lined with concern that Pearl knows to doubt.

A split-second long look back, and then she’s turning back with the smallest smile on her face.

“Oh, you really tried it right now,” she replies, but she sees something worth calling out.

His call may have been fake, but hers are something he ought to listen to with grace.

“You better look behind you,” she starts carefully, voice lined with concern she knows he’s not going to trust easy. “Uh Scar, look behind you. I’m serious.”

To his credit, he does, however uneasy.

But it’s frenzied in a way that she knows means he’s scared of turning his back to her, and she can’t blame him. He misses the zombie, choosing to aim one of his incredible arrows straight at her. She skips across quickly, shield at the ready as the projectile sails past her, but the margin is slim. And yet, after everything, she wants him to be safe, for his victory to occur.

“Behind you Scar,” she starts, but it’s too late. He’s nocked another arrow, and this time it lands its mark with ease. It sends her flying back, and she knows it’s time for her to meet her fate.

“Ah, jeez.”

Pearl never wanted to make it to the end.

Everything she had done, had been for the people she loves with loyalty.

It’s inevitable, how she falls into the ravine she missed earlier, truly something to reprehend. (The same, frantic turn Scar had done, and suddenly she realises why it felt so familiar to see.) A chuckle barely leaves her lips, oddly subdued. Things had gone just as she wanted them to, and the fall makes her feel oddly free.

Pearl never wanted to make it to the end.

Everything she did, had been so that nobody would ever be as alone as she was, in this terrible game that stole their spark.

Before she hits the ground, she can only hope Scar sees the zombie that’s making its way towards him without prelude.

And then she does hit the ground, and all is dark.

#traffic zine #life series #melodies #secret life #secret life smp #pearlescentmoon #goodtimeswithscar

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intervalart · 1 month ago

Note

Hey, it‘s that same anon again! *is gripped by you* oh wow okay haha 😅 do you…do you also wanna talk about Mad’s headcanons? I have ONE about him, that he’s from San Francisco (and i guess also that he’s Spanish 😅) you can talk about these guys as much as you want. They’re in my head too 😁

SORRY ANON, I HAVE BEEN FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE IRL, YOU DON’T EVEN WANNA KNOW HOW DUMB ITS BEEN.

But here I am! It’s now! So here’s some Mad Dog Headcanons!

I also hc that he’s from San Francisco actually! But I Go a bout it slightly different. xD For one thing, I hc that he’s at least half Chinese (possibly half so that he’s at least Passing so he doesn’t get slurs heaved upon him immediately upon entering a room), so he knows Some Cantonese™, but his family wanted him to speak English whenever possible, so he's kinda rusty on it. (He probably knows some Spanish too, but isn’t as fluent as Sundown)

But let’s start from the top;

(Some stupid pictures of the stupid dummy to break up the cut)

His mom used to be… well, a prostitute. If you called her that to his face he’d probably kill you though. (She wasn’t the nicest or gentlest lady since she’d had a hard life, but she still instilled “respect women” into him since she’d seen all kinds of shit in her old job.) Because of this, Mad Dog never knew his dad, lived with his mom, aunt, and probably an uncle (a large family overall), and had to live down jeers from other kids about his mom being a “woman of the night”.

He was driven to prove himself though, cuz he couldn't stand to inherit the fish shop or be around his stifling family, he wanted to do more with his life and make it his own. So he basically worked his ass off to be anything but blue collar. Refined, educated, wealthy, etc. (if anything to distance himself from his past as much as possible)

Eventually, he got himself a gig in the theater, sometimes acting on stage with his troupe members, other times working backstage with all the fly system. (Which is why he’s both a total fruit cake [theater kid], and why he’s good at traps and technical stuff when helping set the traps). He was basically living out his dreams… until the theater was foreclosed and shut down. (I want to write a comic about this someday, but drawing backgrounds gives me agita)

He hit the booze, coping from the perceived failure of his career, but he was too proud to go back to his family’s fish shop (cuz remember, he's the most stubborn guy ever, and I don’t think his relationship with the family is Great™), so in an act of desperation (despite protests from his theater pals), he picked himself up by the bootstraps and started bounty hunting to pay the bills.

He was crafty with it, so it worked in his favor for a while… But there’s a distinct point in time where he hasn't had to kill a man yet, and a tiny part of him wonders if he can. Like… he’s acted it out on stage, and he’s stood up for himself multiple times in fights, but he’s never been directly responsible for killing anyone. (yet)

This goes out the window pretty quick though, cuz quickly proves he can kill a man when it's in self defense. (his trip to the bounty board in Texas was not uneventful, and his dandy-ass is painting a target on himself with how he dresses lmaoooo)

After that, he quickly builds his reputation and, it kinda goes from there lol. So now time for bullet points.

Mad Dog wants you to think he got his name because of his stubborn personality and unwillingness to let go of his target (It is, partly), but he actually got his name because in one of his first bar fights in Texas, he absolutely 100% bit a guy. (He doesn’t talk about that part as much.)

He’s is a pretty good cook! Since the family had a fish shop, he learned how to cook them, but he expanded on his own culinary vocabulary himself.

However, he’s not very good at sewing. His mom or his aunt would usually fix his clothes for him, the theater had a seamstress/costumer, and he always paid for tailors to make his suits for him. He just never had a reason to learn.

Also, his taste in food can make him a bit of a food snob. He always insists that he do the cooking, cuz he is… Not impressed by Sundown’s cooking.

He is also a good dancer, but instead of from dodging bullets like Sundown regularly does, it’s for fun and fancy purposes (see also Texas Jitterbug).

I have actually previously discussed this, but I actually think that Mad Dog miiiiiight not be the most accurate shooter on his own, so he relies on the longer barrel of the Buntline Special to improve his accuracy. (Even though trying to use it for quickdraw is really REALLY stupid, but that’s another post).

Tying into stupid things…. ugh. -holding my head-. He’s clever. He’s crafty. He’s tactical. He can come up with some of the smartest and ingenuitive things you’ve ever seen. And he is the stupidest motherfucker on the planet. Bro ABSOLUTELY has high INT and low WIS. He wears a BLACK SUIT IN THE DESERT FOR FUCK’S SAKE. AND EYELINER. IN THE DESERT.

Anyways, that’s all I’ve got for now, and again, this is not tying into AU iterations, where things will be slightly different (especially in BBFF and Roleswap… And Duende AU, but that requires knowing OC lore)

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk, now I’m gonna go throw MD in the wood chipper, bye.

#live a live #anon ask #answers #long post #head canons #headcanons #live a live mad dog #mad dog live a live #tw: flashing gif #for the end there #not art

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andromedism · 5 months ago

Text

June 2017

“What’re you doing, bro?”

“I’m twirling!” Charlie yells over the booming bass, a blur of rainbow beads rattling around his neck. They shimmer in the strobe lights, casting specks of refracting light across his army jacket and his upturned face.

The dance floor parts slightly, a red sea of narrow-faced gays scowling at him as he overtakes their space with his revolution. It’s making Mac dizzy, but he needs to stay sharp.

“He’s twirling!” Dee confirms. She’s swaying at Mac’s side, a large rainbow flag tied around her neck. One of her gaudy fake lashes is sticking to her eyelid.

They’re both tipsier than Mac; the stale beer tolerance they’ve built up at Paddy’s is an unworthy match for the dangerously fruity drinks The Rainbow hands out like candy during Pride. Mac’s a pro by now and can knock back watermelon daiquiris with the best of them, but tonight isn’t the night for dicking around.

He grips Charlie’s shoulder, stopping him. “Take it easy. You don’t wanna pull trig on the dance floor, dude. People’ll get pissed.”

It’s not that this dance floor hasn’t seen its fair share of vomit—it has. Much of it, Mac’s. It’s just that the hundreds of glittery bodies swaying to the house music are giving him vertigo, and he didn’t really want to come, and Charlie and Dee cannot be left alone together without committing at least one felony. If one of them angers the wrong gay, he’ll have to bust out his jiu-jitsu training, and this isn’t the venue for that.

Someone needs to reign them in, be the straight man in the gay bar, and it has to be him—there’s no one else, anymore.

“You’re being such a buzz kill, man! This is your night!” Charlie cries, nodding his head to the beat of the music. He hasn’t stopped moving since Elton John’s tenor broke through the speaker on the first parade float earlier that afternoon. Mac’s always loved how Charlie absorbs the musicality in everything; tapping his feet to the rhythm of the leaky tap in the bar or pulling a piano riff from thin air after sniffing paint. It’s second nature for him. And then there’s Dee.

“Yeah! This is your night!” she parrots. She takes a swig from the penis-shaped cup she’s spilled the contents of on everyone in her orbit since they arrived. Mac has no idea where she got it from. The Rainbow doesn’t supply these. “Hey, this is blue flavored. What fruit is blue? Mac, d’you know?”

Charlie whirls on her, tipping back onto his heels as his legs catch up with his upper body. “Now hold on a minute, Dee. Why are you asking him, huh? Feels homophobic for you to assume he’s the fruit expert, here.”

“I’m not—” she huffs loudly and rolls her eyes in that eerie way that reminds Mac she’s someone’s twin, “—I’m not saying he’s the fruit expert ‘cause he’s gay, dipshit! I just—he’s been working out a lot and eating boring health food. Thought he’d know his fruits.”

Charlie turns to look at Mac, eyes skidding over his biceps. He doesn’t pay attention to things like this. If Mac showed up at the bar tomorrow with D-cups and ass implants, he wouldn’t bat an eye and doesn’t now. “He hasn’t been working out.”

“Yeah, he has! My god, do you pay attention to anything?”

They’ve been doing this a lot: talking about Mac like he isn’t standing right in front of them. His own friends treat him like a dog, hinting they’ll take him for a walk without saying it because they think if he hears the word, he’ll scamper around excitedly until they leash him. Or put him down.

Charlie plants his hands on his hips. “Well who’s to say between the two of us, I’m not the one with the fruit expertise?”

“Oh, what do you know about fruits, Charlie?” Dee challenges, walking up on him.

Charlie bounces on his toes as he shouts in Dee’s face. “I know a lot about fruits! I know a lot about fruits! My areas of expertise are bird law, woodworking, and then fruit—”

“Woodworking, what the hell are you talking about!?” Dee shouts back. She’s gesturing so violently that blue liquid is flying everywhere. Mac is strategically dodging drops of it as he steps forward to break them up.

It’s just then that the song changes and Charlie shoves his hand over Dee’s mouth to silence her. “Shut up! Shut up! Dee, shut up.”

She pushes him away, spitting wildly. “What the hell is on your hands!? Glue!?”

“I said shut up!” Charlie shrieks. He takes a deep breath and extends his arms, palms outstretched like a prophet. “I have to twirl about this.” Before Madonna can get a word of Express Yourself in edge-wise, he’s spinning again, off into the crowd.

Mac steps forward to follow him, but a sharp, quippy ‘Hey, boner!’ stops him in his tracks. When he turns to look at Dee, she’s staring at him. It’s so unnatural that he can only blink back at her. These past few years, they haven’t paid much attention to each other—only to fight like cats; their dynamic always defined by their gravitational proximity to another man.

“Are you—are you talking to me?”

“Yeah, duh. What’s up your ass?” She accents her question with a long swig from her dick cup. There’s a familial likeness there that keeps Mac from ever looking her directly in the eye.

Mac crosses his arms, standing a little straighter. “Nothing. Just trying to keep you two safe.”

She arches an eyebrow at him, dumbfounded. “From who?”

And yeah, that’s a good question. The threat level in the room is pretty low. Mac knows because he assessed it when they first walked in.

He shrugs. “I dunno. Anyone could be lurking here. Spies, henchman, a ninja maybe—”

“A ninja?” she interrupts, and there’s skepticism in her tone that makes him nervous. Why can’t she mind her own business?

“They could be anywhere, Dee. You don’t understand because you’re thinking like a civilian.” He taps his forehead for good measure.

“You’re a civilian, jerk ass.” She pulls the little umbrella out of her cup and twirls it in between her fingers. “You’re thinkin’ ‘bout your buddy, huh? Yikes!”

He’s been trying really hard not to think about anything at all; the door in his apartment that’s always closed; the room behind it that’s always empty; the one-way ticket to North Dakota that made it all so.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah y’are.” She shoves the dick cup in his face until he takes a swig. It feels like water going up his nose.

“Holy shit. What is this, Windex?” He eyes the sloshing blue substance, suspiciously. Maybe it will poison her and she’ll stop asking him so many pointed questions.

“No, it’s a blue lagoon. I got it from Estevan.” Dee flicks her hand behind her lazily, and Mac follows the direction of her flippant gesture into a crowd of strangers.

“Who’s Estevan?”

“He’s over th—” She turns to point at an empty space on the far wall. “Oh. I could’ve sworn he was…” She cocks her head back at Mac. “Hey, what d’you think was in those edibles?”

Mac swallows dryly. “I don’t think those were edibles, Dee.”

There was something kind of wonky about the little pink gummies Frank dropped into each of their palms, hours earlier. ‘You kids stay woke and don’t mix these with poppers or you’ll end up ass up in an airfield,’ he’d said before descending the stairs to a sketchy basement bar with Artemis. He hadn’t meant it in the liberal sense. There’s nothing woke about Frank. If Mac had a dime for every homophobic thing the guy said today, he’d be able to buy everyone in the bar a round. What’s the word for that? Reparations, maybe?

He looks to his side to ask the person who’s always standing there, the person who always knows the answer. There’s no one.

Dee pokes Mac in the pec with the toothpick end of the umbrella. “Look, I don’t care if you go home and sob into his pillow every night—“

“Estevan’s? I still don’t know who that is.”

Dee furrows her brow. “Est—what? No! Not Estevan’s! You know who! And you can mope about him all you want on your own time! But tonight’s supposed to be fun and you’re shitting on everything!”

“I am not shitting on everything!” Mac shoots back. He holds up the dick cup, pointedly. “You’re the one collecting souvenirs like a tourist! You should really give that kid her flag back!”

“Finders keepers!” Dee clutches at the ends of the flag and wraps them around her body, possessively, cocooning herself like a big ugly moth.

“You didn’t find it! You stole it!” She’d ripped it out of a college girl’s hands in line outside and told her to suck a fat chode before parading past the bouncer. If Mac’s retained anything from the Star Wars prequels he’s been marathoning in his now-infinite free time, it’s that not all heroes wear capes, and not all people who wear capes are heroes.

“Oh don’t make this about me!” Dee snaps. “We’re doin’ your thing tonight and you’re not even enjoying it, like an ungrateful asshole!” She gestures broadly to the dance floor, the ends of her pride cape flaring out around her in a blur of color. “Look around you! Everyone’s having a great time but you! If I were you, I’d be dancing my ass off! Not thinkin’ ‘bout my loser roommate.”

Mac clenches his fists. “He’s not a loser, Dee! He’s a dad!”

“What’s the difference!?” she yells, stomping her feet like a toddler.

There’s a huge difference, obviously–and she’s too drunk and dumb to see it. Dads can’t be losers. Take Mac’s for example. He’s a total badass. What, with all of his tattoos, and his secrets, and his criminal record? Bad. Ass.

Mac shoves the dick cup back into her hands. “Can we stop? Can we stop!? This is stupid! You’re drunk, we’re all high, Frank totally poisoned us which is probably a hate crime, at least in my case! This night has been shitty and I wanna go home! I’d rather be finishing Revenge of the Sith right now and that’s saying a lot. I’m gonna go find Charlie.”

“Whatever! Go do that! But remember, the night wasn’t shitty until you started shitting on it!” As Dee flings her hand out, liquid sloshes from the dick cup and hits Mac’s chest in a cold splatter.

“Hey!” he cries, grasping at the wet fabric of his tank top. “Oh god damnit, Dee!”

She cups a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I fucked it.”

“Yeah, you fucked it! Get me something to clean this up! Shit!”

“Fine!” She starts to tromp off, but then stops. Turning on her heels, she walks up into Mac’s space and jabs a sharp finger into his chest. “Stop. Shitting.”

They scoff at each other before she’s off again, stomping into the crowd. Mac flexes his fingers, fighting off the urge to trip her as her pride cape blurs with the other rainbow apparel. It’s just him, now. Him and a hundred other gay people. That thought alone is enough to unnerve him from his sticky spot on the floor.

Mac drifts aimlessly through the flock of sweaty bodies, eyes fixed on the blue stain blooming over his heart. Something’s kicking in: the edible, or Dee’s molotov cocktail, or the big horrible feeling he has in crowded rooms now that there’s no one to turn to and say ‘ It’s crowded in here, huh? ’.

The DJ has switched things up, opting for a slow song. People are pairing up to dance a boozy waltz. Bodies slotting together, hands grasping for broad shoulders, and Mac, all alone, covered in glitter and suspiciously blue liquor.

A couple in matching leathers bumps into him in the scramble, muttering apologies. A server lifts a tray of tequila shots high above their heads as she skirts past him. She’s wearing a tee shirt that says 'Love who you love' in big bold lettering. How? That’s all he’s been asking himself his entire life. How do you love someone the way they need it? How do you cope when they leave? How do you come out without immediately locking yourself in a brand-new box?

There’s a lull in the crowd finally, a clearing in the musky haze, where he can take a long deep breath. He blots at the stain with clammy fingers to no avail, barely noticing the hands ducking into his line of sight to press a napkin to his shirt.

“She’s so fucking annoying.”

Everyone sounds a little like this these days, so he doesn’t react anymore. In coffee shops, and grocery stores, and clubs like this one, Mac hears the familiar pert inflection that used to fill the space between him and the other end of the couch. And every time he turns to look, the face isn’t right.

“So annoying,” Mac agrees. “You know her?”

“You might say I know her better than anyone,” the stranger says with a theatrical inflection. He was always so dramatic.

Mac is still staring at the long, slim fingers fussing with the stain, the manicured nails grazing his bare chest as they hold fast to the fabric, lighting his skin up with goosebumps. He shifts on his feet. “Wow, you that close with her? Dee Reynolds? Bro, that’s—”

“Look at me, asshole.”

He won’t.

Because this is the same nightmare he’s been having for months. And it ends badly. It always has. It will never be different.

“Mac,” the stranger says, softly, in that tone he used to take in their kitchen at midnight, when they’d have tea together after a long day at the bar, when they’d share stories they’ve heard each other tell a million times like secrets. “Look at me.”

To Mac’s great pleasure and horror, he is just as easy to look at as he was the last time they saw each other. The vivid club lighting is cutting through the moving shadows, catching the arc of his cheek, the soft curl of his hair, his prim mouth set in an intent line.

As dancers and servers pass them by like ships in the night, Mac can feel it: the gossamer thin thread keeping him tethered to reality snapping as those slim hands drop the napkin and press hot to his neck, pulling him forward.

“What are you—” Mac starts, but it’s no use, because Dennis Reynolds, South Philadelphia’s most infamous ghost, is kissing him soft and open-mouthed in the middle of a gay bar.

And everything is blue like the sky on an autumn day when they were children, and Charlie would push him on the rusty swing set in the park. That fluttering deep in his stomach, as he’d dropped back down to earth, returning to him now like an old friend. Returning to him now, like Dennis.

And there’s something unnervingly gentle about the pale hand, reaching up to brush a stray hair off Mac’s forehead as they press closer to each other.

And Mac is gripping at the collar of a familiar button-up for dear life, wanting to anchor them both in this moment so that he won’t wake up in a cold sweat, any minute now, legs sticking to his sheets.

And the planets are all marbles, rolling out of orbit into the black universe, where everything tastes like the lip gloss Dennis left on the counter when he walked out of Mac’s life.

You never text me back, he wants to say. You never call. But he can’t speak, he can only sigh into the mouth of this beautiful, horrible stranger, who is kissing him like it’s the last time they’ll ever see each other. Maybe it is. Fear bubbles up in Mac’s throat at the idea that this is the closest he’ll ever be to Dennis again: hallucinating his likeness in crowded rooms he’ll never be in for all of eternity.

But when the stranger breaks the kiss, it’s still Dennis; still sharp lines and a rigid brow, pursed lips, and something rare and open in those wide, blue eyes flickering out as the mask is tied back on.

In all of Mac’s dreams, they don’t get this far. They don’t kiss. He always wakes up before they do it. Which only means one thing:

“This is a nightmare,” Mac whispers. It’s all he can think to say. It’s the only explanation.

“Yours or mine, buddy?” Dennis says softly. It’s quiet enough that Mac shouldn’t be able to hear it, but he does because he’s watching Dennis’ mouth so intently he could probably draw it later, from memory. His eyes linger there as Dennis turns in the other direction, walking away before Mac can take a breath.

“Wait!” Mac calls after him, trying to catch up, weaving through the crowd. It’s so like Dennis to power walk out of any compromising situation. Mac should know - he’s seen him do it a million times and not once has he been able to keep up. The guy’s got the stamina of a show pony. The last time he did it, he didn’t come back, and Mac’s reliving it again, for the hundredth night in a row. Remembering everything he didn’t say, or tried to say but it came out wrong.

“Dennis, wait!” Mac calls again, shoving the server from earlier aside as she walks between them. “Move, bitch!”

One moment he sees Dennis’ silhouette in the crowd, curls haloed by the overhead lighting, fingers digging into his palms in that way he does when he’s nervous, the arc of his tensed shoulders, shifting through the masses. The next, he’s gone.

“There you are!” Dee’s hand is on Mac’s shoulder, spinning him around. She and Charlie are staring at him with twin looks of concern. “Where the hell have you been!? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Everything is ten times louder all of a sudden like someone ripped his headphones out of his ears at the gym.

“I was…” Mac presses his hand to his mouth. His fingers are trembling. “Did you two see him?”

“Who, Estevan?” Dee asks, head cocked inquisitively—yes, like a bird.

“Estev—no. No.” Mac lifts his hand from his mouth to his forehead, massaging the skin there. It takes everything to move, suddenly. He feels like a bug, suspended in amber. “Guys, I think those edibles were laced with something.”

“I think you’re right, man.” Charlie says, “I just spun so much I wore a hole in the dance floor”

“It’s true,” Dee says, “I tripped over it and got blue everywhere.”

“Yeah, it’s everywhere. There’s blue everywhere,” Charlie adds.

Mac’s heart is beating so fast he can feel it in his ears, over the beat of the poppy synth music. Reality has rushed back in, the bar buzzing with energy once again. Maybe it always was.

“I—I think we should call it a night, guys. I need to get some air. I’m seeing things.”

Dee and Charlie exchange a look. Maybe they’ll take him for a walk after all. “Yeah,” Charlie says, “I think that’s the right move. Not that this hasn’t been so fun!”

“Oh! So fun!” Dee parrots, unconvincingly.

“But yeah, let’s go.” As Charlie motions toward the door, Dee flashes a bundle of paper towels.

“Oh, I almost forgot, I brought you this for the—” she stops, staring at Mac’s chest. “What the hell? Did you change your shirt?”

“No, why would I…”

He looks down, padding at the spot where there was once a blue stain. Now, nothing.

They all look at each other, letting the beat of confusion hang between them before deciding at once: “The edibles.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Dee says. She flares out her cape dramatically and leads them through the crowd.

Mac trails behind her, eyes unfocused, the desire to be curled up on the couch watching Anakin burn to death in the lava river greater than he could have ever imagined. ‘I hate you,’ he’d said. ‘I loved you.’ Obi-Wan had replied. It’s where Mac had left off.

A wet napkin gets stuck to the sole of Charlie’s sneaker. He kicks it off and stumbles after them. “So wait, who’s Estevan?”