#this one's for 2-D-rouge!

[soul-eater-novel]

P198

「はい、なんですアニキ？」 “What’s up, bro?”

「お前ひとつ、アンジーのところに行ってヤツらを引っぱり出してこい」 “Go over to Anji’s place and drag those guys out here.”

「ええっ！ アニキは行かないんですか？！」驚いたように、ヤム・クーが言った。 “Huh?! Bro, you ain’t comin’ along?” Yam Koo exclaimed, shocked.

「俺は面白いことがありそうな気がするんでここに残る。いいよな、マッシュさん?」 “I’m staying put. Got the feeling something interesting’s gonna go down here. Fine by you, right, Mathiu?”

「構いませんませんが…． ． ． 」不思議そうな顔で、マッシュが言う。 “Certainly,” the tactician replied, his expression bemused.

「ではヤム・クー、お顧いいたします」 “Well then, Yam Koo, we are all counting on you.”

「ちえつ、ほんとにアニキは気まぐれなんだから…」 “Tsk. Yeesh, big bro’s as fickle as the sea…”

ぼやきながらヤム・クーが階段へと姿を消す。 Grumbling, Yam Koo disappeared down the stairs.

そうしている間に皆が集まる。 Everyone else had gathered in the hall in the meantime.

ざわめきを鎮めて、マッシュが軍議を開く。 Mathiu quieted down the crowd and began the war council meeting.

もちろん議題は鉄甲騎馬隊攻略法だ。 The main topic of discussion was, of course, the issue of how to defend themselves against the armored cavalry.

「戦場に落とし穴を掘るってのはどうだい？」にやけながら言ったこそ泥のクリンに、レパントが言い返す。 “What if we dug pitfalls on the battlefield?” threw out the thief Kirin, smirking.

「ガルホースの跳躍力はかなりのものだ。穴に落ちたとしてもすぐに跳び出してくるだろう。お前のようなウスノロではないぞ」 “What kind of fool are you?” scoffed Lepant. “The gulhorse posses incredible jumping capabilities. Even if they did fall in the pit, they would just as soon jump out.”

「ガルホースだって動物だ。きっと天敵がいるはずだぞ。 “Gulhorse are animals. There must be a predator that preys on them.” Put in Kuromimi.

それを捕まえてきて放せばいいと思うぞ」今はクロミミだ。 “If we catch that creature, I bet we could unleash them on the gulhorse!”

P199 「それも一理あるが…」クワンダが答える。 “There is some merit to that idea…” Kwanda rumbled.

「ガルホースに関する情報は、テオの部隊の軍事機密だった。 “But all information related to gulhorses is a classified military secret because of Teo’s unit.

たとえ天敵がいたとしても、探るには時間がかかる」 And even if there is a natural predator, it would take us time to track it down.“

「ううむ…」 “Hrmm…”

何しろ相手は鉄甲騎馬隊、今まで誰もかなわなかった部隊なのだ。 Whatever ideas they might have, they were still up against the armored cavalry that no one had ever managed to defeat.

皆が知恵を絞ったところで、効果的な対策など見つかりそうになかった。 They all racked their brains, but couldn’t come up with any plans that seemed feasible.

マッシュを含め、皆が大きくため息をついた時ーー。 Mathiu let out the breath he had been holding in a giant sigh.

「そうだ！！」 広間にひときわ大きな声があがった。 At that very same moment, someone shouted loudly.

“Wait, I’ve got it!”

ティルが顔を上げると、フリックがメンバーを押しのけてティルとマシュの前に歩み出た。 Tir raised his head. Flik pushed aside the other members to stand beside him and Mathiu.

「思い出したよ、あるんだよ！！たったひとつだけ、方法が！！」 “I’ve just remembered! There is one way!”

メンバーがざわめいた。フリックが続ける。 Everyone broke into excited chatter. Flik continued.

「これはまだ、レナンカンプのアジトが帝国軍に襲われる前の話だが…。 “This goes back to Lenankamp, at the hideout, before we were being pursued by the Imperial Army…

実は俺、オデッサに頼まれて、北方の秘密工場に、ある武器の設計図を届け��行ったことがあるんだ」 At Odessa’s request, I had gone to the secret factory in the north to deliver the plans for a certain weapon.”

「武器…」不思議そうにティルが呟いた。 “A weapon?” murmured Tir in wonder.

やはりメンバーを押しのけ、ビクトールが前に歩み出る。 Viktor joined the fray, also pushing past the others to join them.

「武器ってお前、もしかして…」 “Ya don’t mean… that, do you?”

[ «-first // previous // next // archive // Ramsus-kun Scanslations ]

[onepiece-polls]

One Piece Crack Ship War - Round 2 Side G

KataSan edit made by @fivedayslater

RoRayShaRou edit made by @naniguini

Propaganda under the cut.

KataSan:

They both have Terrible Family Trauma that they deal with in different ways + insecurities about being seen as monsters + a chef and a food enjoyer = what's not to love. Also I'm convinced Sanji secretly wants to be carried around in a purse like a little dog and Katakuri is the man who could make it happen.

I like to imagine the what if scenario where sanji is arranged to marry katakuri instead of pudding and the shenanigans that would inevitably ensue.

RoRayShaRou: I think it would be cute seeing all of them together raising all the kids they adopted/had in cannon.

[characterswithcolorsnamesfight]

Best character with a color name

Round 2 Poll 8

"Rouge" is French for red

Ianthe means violet in Ancient Greek

[cryingpariah]

Was re-listening to the soundtrack to distract from *today* and this popped into my brain

[modermanpickle]

Ace meets rouge part 2

Part 1

[killjoy-prince]

So I'm on playthrough #4 of this game playing as Astarion this time around with the intention of romancing Wyll and man, picking all the good and heroic options as Astarion especially in Act 1 really is a case of "He would not fucking say that" bc Wyll likes all the good and heroic options and Astarion is. not that lolol

One thing is by chance I found a workaround on how to not make Wyll a devil and still keep Karlach alive. It worked but now im wondering if making him a devil would of been better narratively? Also I just got used to the horns that I kinda miss them. I do have a save thats right before doing the workaround but I did quite a bit of stuff so is it worth it?

[hivemuthur]

A Deer and a Man - Ch.2.

viktorxfemale!reader mature (overall explicit)

Ch.1. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5.

word count: 5,9K

tag: #d&m

summary: You are the eldest daughter of a noble family, soon to be married to one of the most eligible bachelors in the region—Viktor, the adopted son of House Talis. The arrangement is simple: a marriage that secures your family’s wealth in exchange for access to Hextech. What could possibly go wrong?

author’s note: This fic has some special hold on me, it made me sit down by the piano this week. Also, I've committed a playlist, you can check it out on Spotify. Super thanks as usual to @mithrava for consulting on regency historical accuracy and to @rennethen who beta reads!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

You hate to admit it, but you do anticipate. The last time you had awaited something with such feeling was when your mother departed to tend to your ailing aunt—or rather, to command her staff when she could no longer do so—and you and your sisters had run barefoot through the house, singing The Unfortunate Rake at the top of your lungs, much to your father’s amusement.

Now, dressed and polished from head to toe by your ever-diligent Peggy—though not without a spirited debate regarding the appropriate amount of rouge upon your cheeks—you allow yourself to drift into thought, chin propped upon your hand as you gaze wistfully at the passing landscape through the carriage window.

"Why do you look as though you are being led to the gallows?" comes the voice of your sister—the middle one. You glance up to find her brows lifted almost to her hairline and your mother wearing a look of mild reproach. "Should you not be overjoyed?"

"I am quite overjoyed, Kitty, but I thank you for your concern," you reply flatly, rolling your eyes.

Kitty is, in every way, the daughter your mother wishes you to be. Her sole ambition in life is to marry well and raise a brood of children. You find it all terribly dull, though you suspect something within her will change when she encounters her first true disappointment.

Tess, the youngest, is far more like you. She has never betrayed your confidences to Mother. She sneaks you sweetmeats from the kitchen at bedtime, insists you look lovelier with your hair unpinned, and entrusts you with her dearest secrets, knowing they are safe in your keeping. It is for this very reason that she remained behind today, occupied with the practice of her calligraphy under her lady’s maid’s supervision.

"It would not pain you to smile, my dear," your mother remarks, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. A deception, you suspect.

Nevertheless, you indulge her. You summon your most winsome smile and compose yourself in your seat, all the while wondering—anticipating—what it is that Viktor wishes to say to you in private.

When the carriage draws to a halt, he is already there. Viktor stands waiting with his weight shifted to one side, the tip of his cane pressed lightly against the ground. The early afternoon light casts a warm glow over him, accentuating the deep brown of his coat—a fine, if somewhat modest piece, its cut more practical than fashionable. A dark waistcoat lies beneath, fitted neatly over his frame, with a cravat tied in a manner that suggests efficiency rather than vanity. His hair resists perfect order, a few loose strands falling across his forehead despite his apparent effort to tame them.

There is something almost careless about his appearance, yet not in a way that suggests a lack of pride. Rather, it is as if he simply does not concern himself with the rigid expectations of refinement. His gloves are well-worn, the leather of his cane handle bears the mark of frequent use, and yet—despite all this—he cuts a striking figure. Perhaps it is the way he carries himself, or the sharp focus of his gaze as he watches your approach. Handsome, undeniably so, but with a presence that unsettles as much as it intrigues.

And you find yourself grateful for the abhorrent amount of blush Peggy has pressed into your cheeks—at least you can blame the warmth rising there on that. Even more so when he grants you a fleeting glance and smiles to himself before turning to your mother.

“My Lady, it is a pleasure to see you again,” he says, bowing his head with practiced grace.

She responds with a measured nod, her expression unreadable. “Mister Viktor.”

Next, he turns to Kitty, who is already smiling prettily, her hands clasped before her. “Miss Catherine,” he greets, offering a slight bow.

Kitty dips into a shallow curtsey, her tone light. “Mister Viktor, I trust you are well?”

“As well as one can be, Miss,” he replies smoothly before his gaze finally lands on you. It is fleeting—just a moment longer than propriety demands—yet enough to send a thrill through you.

“Miss,” he murmurs at last, bowing once more.

You respond with a curtsy, keeping your chin high despite the quickened beat of your pulse. Acutely aware of how desperately the two halves of you claw at each other within your chest you clench your jaw and force yourself to blink.

Your mother clears her throat. “Shall we proceed?”

Viktor is silent for a moment, his gaze flickers between you and the path ahead, considering something. Then, with measured care, he speaks. “Ladies, might I request a moment alone with my future wife? I should like the opportunity to better acquaint myself with her.”

Your mother’s expression does not shift at once. Instead, she regards him with a pensive air, weighing the request. Then, just as swiftly, her features settle into the familiar, practiced smile of social grace.

“I see no objection, sir.” She turns to you, levelling you with an unreadable look. “I trust you will conduct yourself with decorum.”

You incline your head. “Of course, Maman.”

Viktor nods in gratitude before turning his attention back to you. With an ease that seems entirely natural to him—but utterly foreign to you—he extends his arm. You hesitate only for a heartbeat before slipping your hand through, the warmth of his sleeve pressing against your palm.

At once, your mind replays the moment in the music room—the ghost of his touch at your forearms as he steadied you when you stumbled. The surprise of it. The quiet strength in his grasp. The way you had looked at one another for a long time before pulling away.

Now, as your fingers rest against his sleeve, you are keenly aware of the space between you, and the fact that—however slight—he has just closed it once more.

You march forward leisurely and even though you can’t see your mother and sister trotting behind you, you wait for a long moment before coming up with something to say. You wait for so long, in fact, that Viktor beats you to it.

“How have you been?” he asks softly, your name following the question with an intimacy that startles you.

Your fingers twitch against the fabric of your glove, and you glance at him sidelong. “Well enough,” you reply, though your voice is not as steady as you wish it to be.

“Any new rebellious music you have come across?”

“Ah, that,” you chuckle, though you scowl inwardly at how flustered the sound is. “Sadly, I have had no opportunity to evade my mother’s hound-like hearing abilities. So, only little dancing tunes for my sisters—nothing of true note.”

“A pity,” he muses. “I quite enjoyed the Sonata.” His tone is contemplative, but there is in intention hidden not that too well underneath it. “And yet,” he continues after a beat, “it is for that very reason I asked to meet you.”

You arch a brow, affecting nonchalance despite the way your heartbeat betrays you. “Oh? Are you also a great admirer of music deemed unsuitable for proper ladies?”

“Absolutely,” he answers, the humour in his tone fleeting. “But I do have another, more pressing motive—if you do not mind me speaking plainly.”

“By all means,” you say, tilting your head towards him. “Do tell, Viktor.”

He gestures with his cane, the subtle drawing your attention to the promenade before you. Couples walk in neat little pairs, each shadowed by their requisite chaperone, the ritual of courtship unfolding before you like a well-rehearsed performance.

“The endless hunt,” he murmurs. “Men trailing after their prey under the pretence of romance.”

You huff a small laugh. “Why do you presume it is only men who do the hunting? Perhaps you are the deer, and simply unaware of it.”

Viktor glances at you then, his lips curving in an intrigued smile. “An interesting proposition.” His gaze lingers, thoughtful, before flickering back ahead. “I am, however, quite aware that this—” he inclines his head towards the scene before you—“is not the future I would have chosen for myself.”

His fingers tighten briefly on the handle of his cane. “Which is why I come to you with an offer of compromise.”

Your brows lift. “A compromise?”

“A contract,” he corrects. “Between us, and no one else.”

Your stomach tightens, though with what, you are uncertain. “And what, pray, would this contract entail?”

“Freedom,” he answers simply. “As much as may be found within the gilded cage we are about to share—for better or for worse.”

You glance up at him, studying the sharp lines of his profile, but say nothing.

Viktor exhales through his nose, as if steeling himself. “I would not ask you to be anything other than what you are. You may conduct yourself as you wish—the clothes you wear, the music you play, the company you keep…” He pauses, and you feel, rather than see, his eyes on you. “So long as I am afforded the same courtesy.”

A curious sensation unfurls within you, slow and uncertain. A flutter—a fervour, almost—on one hand. Yet on the other, something sinks deep and remains suspended in an inertia for which you cannot place the cause.

Your fingers, still lightly curled around his arm, shift almost imperceptibly, your gloved fingertips brushing against the bare skin of his wrist where his cuff has shifted ever so slightly.

Viktor stills.

His step does not falter, nor does he pull away, but for the smallest fraction of a moment, you feel it—a sharp, fleeting pause, as though you have startled him.

You tilt your chin slightly, affecting an air of curiosity. “And why,” you murmur, voice quieter now, “would you offer such a thing to me?”

He hums, the sound low. “You play your part very well,” he admits. “Colour me impressed. But I see that you are not wholly content, and I do not wish to make you miserable.”

His eyes flick once more to the couples ahead, his expression unreadable. “This,” he says, his voice measured, “has never been my desire. And I suspect it has never been yours.”

“You did not jest about speaking plainly,” you remark, though there is a note of something in your voice—something faintly wistful coming from an unknown place you are not certain you wish to explore.

You suppose you ought to be offended—particularly by such a frank allowance for debauchery (and the expectation of reciprocation on his part). Yet what strikes you most is not the proposition itself, but rather his own unwillingness to partake in this experiment, despite claiming the title of a man of science.

He turns to you at once, his brow drawing together. “Forgive me. Have I offended? That was not my intent.”

You shake your head, exhaling softly before tilting your gaze up at him. Unable to give him the answer just yet. Unable to lock that part away. “Which one are you?” you ask, fixing your gaze on promenading couples.

Viktor only looks at you, his head tilts slightly in your direction and you can feel his breath ghosting around your temple.

“A deer,” you continue, “or a man?”

His lips curve, though his expression remains thoughtful. “A man, undoubtedly,” he says. “But my deer is not a woman to be conquered, nor wealth to be obtained. Progress only—science.”

You consider that for a moment before asking, “And which one do you think I am?”

Viktor studies you then, a searching sort of scrutiny in his gaze. “I think,” he begins, then pauses, as if weighing his words. “A man, as well. You simply do not yet know what it is you are hunting.”

You swallow and let your face display honesty for a flicker of a second. A tremendous feeling of being watched and seen by someone who barely knows you makes you both grow and shrink—one part of you laps at it, eager and hungry, the other, shy and defeated, steps back cradling her heart in her hands.

A pause, then—

“I accept your offer, Viktor.”

***

Days pass as you mull over the new terms of your arrangement, the weight of it settling upon you like an ill-fitted gown. The household is abuzz with the nonsensical pressures of wedding preparations—your mother and sisters significantly more enthused than you.

You find yourself torn between the promise of freedom and the threat of imprisonment, for what Viktor has proposed holds both in equal measure—a double-edged sword poised to cut you both.

Each of his conditions is something you never dared to dream of, having long resigned yourself to the certainty that you would never marry, certainly not for love. That naïve conviction held firm until your mother—ever pragmatic—brought you back to earth. In time, you had learned to accept your fate, to dream, however cautiously, of a husband who might tolerate your eccentricities, just as your father does. And perhaps, if fortune were kind, one who might even grow to love you, as your father so clearly loves your mother.

But with Viktor’s proposition, such hopes dwindle by the day. The reality that awaits you is one in which you must learn to be content with the love you can provide for yourself.

He comes and goes, paying you little visits, bringing flowers for your mother and, on occasion, Jayce for your father. And once, Jayce brings his mother, and the meeting nearly rends you in two—to witness what mothers can be. How gentle they can be, how kind. Even to a child not their own. Ximena Talis holds only love for Viktor in her heart; it seeps through her eyes, through the tenderness of her hands when she pats his back and smooths his cheek, telling him how proud she is.

A fraction of this kindness reaches you when she takes your hand and tells you what a good boy he is. How sensitive and clever. And it wounds you deeply to see how enraptured she is by the idea of Viktor finding someone who will love him as she and Jayce do—blissfully unaware of the pusillanimous little mercy he has devised to ensure the success of your sham.

Yet you do find excitement, somewhere within you. At the thought of the music you will play freely, at the great fire you will make to burn the tighter half of your short stays (you must keep some for when your mother visits), at the hairpins that will go conveniently missing on the way to your new house, and the books you will read lying in the grass. It is not all so miserable.

It comes and fades, just as Viktor drifts in and out of your thoughts, lingering in the late evening hours when your night-bound self cannot cease conjuring visions of what your life will be in mere days. After many nights spent ruminating, you resolve at last that such sentiments are not worth troubling your heart over. You must stand by your acceptance of Viktor’s offer.

So you endure the dress fittings, the flower selections, and the cake tastings that your mother drags you to, a sad smile fixed upon your face, telling yourself it will all be over soon. And indeed, when the day of your imprisonment— which is also the day of your release—arrives, you find the skin of your face intolerably tight with powder and a smile affixed there, despite the wetness lingering beneath your eyelids.

You regard yourself in the mirror, refusing to let nerves take hold of you. It is only last-minute jitters, you tell yourself, even as the ultimate version of your daylight self stares back—her hands clasped into fists, her hair arranged into the most meticulous bun you have ever seen, her breasts bound by the most vile short stay you have ever had the misfortune to wear. All of it wrapped in a blue dress, a fabric of your choosing—the only compromise your mother allowed in the preparations.

Your mother has left the room to inform your father that you will soon depart for the church, while your sisters flit about you, giggling and teasing about how you will step before the altar a child and leave a woman grown. The words tighten your chest, and you wave them off with a sharp breath.

"Please, it is hard enough to breathe without all of you crowding me."

"Are you going to bring shame upon Maman now? See, Tess? We should have placed our wager while there was still time," Kitty jests, but you find no laughter within you. Tess only frowns, visibly troubled, as a child might be when confronted with emotions beyond her understanding—or perhaps because she understands them all too well.

"I will fetch Maman," she says, watching the colour drain from your face despite the rouge upon your cheeks.

"No—" you snap, grasping her shoulder firmly. "I need Peggy. Tess, I beg of you."

Tess nods solemnly, throwing Kitty a warning look as severe as a seven-year-old can muster. Kitty huffs but follows her out, leaving you alone with your trembling hands and a heart that pounds so furiously it makes your chest feel even tighter. Before you can give in to the swooning sensation creeping up your spine, the door creaks open once more, and Peggy peeks inside, brow furrowed in concern.

"Everything all right, Miss?"

"No. Peggy, no," you cry, barely managing to keep your voice from breaking. Your eyes burn, but you force them wide, desperate to keep the tears from spilling and ruining the painstaking work of rouge and powder. "Why do I feel so wretched? It is as though something inside me has died."

Peggy steps further in, hands hovering uncertainly at her sides. "Oh, Miss, whatever has happened?"

You shake your head, pressing your fingers to your temples as if you might will away the frantic mess of thoughts swarming inside it. "I am such a fool. I was so certain I could go through with this, and I know there is no undoing it, but—" A shuddering breath, a helpless glance at your reflection. "I was ready to simply be a wife, to accept my place, but then he came along, and I, like a simpleton, began to hope. I let myself want."

Peggy's face softens, though hesitation lingers in her posture. "Oh, my dear child… but you shall be a wife, and I daresay you shall be happy."

You let out a brittle laugh, one that holds no mirth. "I shall not. I shall not be loved, nor truly known. I shall live in a grand house beside a husband who has no wish to understand me. I shall grow old in loneliness, without affection, without companionship."

Peggy presses her lips together, as if choosing her words with great care. "And how, pray, can you be so certain?"

You inhale sharply, fingers curling into the folds of your skirts. "Because he told me so. He offered me terms, a bargain. I—foolishly proud—accepted." The confession tumbles from your lips in a rush, bitter and breathless. "A life in which I may do as I please, so long as he is granted the same. No expectations, no obligations. Not in our conduct, nor our company, nor even the way we dress. And you—" Your voice falters, the words lodging in your throat. "You will not even be there to comfort me."

For a moment, Peggy says nothing, only watching you with an unreadable expression. Then, gently, she reaches for your hands, pressing them between her own. When she speaks again, it is not with formality, but with quiet insistence. She speaks your name.

"He would be a fool not to see you for what you are. And trust me when I say this—" She squeezes your hands, warmth and certainty in her grasp. "To fall in love with you takes mere seconds."

"It has already been seconds since we met," you mutter helplessly, sniffing as your brows furrow.

"People make strange decisions when they are afraid," she says with a soft, knowing smile. "And in my experience, men are the easiest creatures to spook."

A tear escapes the prison of your lashes, and before Peggy can react, you startle her with an embrace. She hesitates for only a moment before wrapping her arms around you, and you cannot remember the last time you were held with such tenderness.

Then, with gentle hands, she tilts your chin up and says, "Come now, let us put you back to rights before your lady mother starts to sulk, hmm?"

Peggy sets to work with quiet efficiency, dabbing away stray tears with the gentlest touch, mindful not to smudge the careful artistry upon your face. She smooths her thumbs over your cheeks, fixing the powdered rouge, then reaches for a fresh handkerchief to blot any lingering dampness. With delicate hands, she adjusts the loosened strands of your hair, tucking them back into place with a precision that belies her station. The soft murmurs of reassurance she offers are meant to soothe, yet they do little to quell the tight knot in your chest. You watch her through the mirror, unblinking, as she works—fast, methodical—restoring you to the poised young lady your mother expects to see walk down the aisle. When she finally steps back, her eyes sweep over you with a quiet sort of pride, as if she has mended something far greater than a few ruined curls and a streak of moisture on your cheek.

The remainder of the time slips past in a haze, your body moving through each step as though it belongs to someone else. Your sisters return, chattering brightly, their excitement so stark against the hush in your own mind that it feels almost deafening. Your mother arrives moments later, beaming, and claps her hands together at the sight of you, exclaiming over your appearance without noticing the effort it took to make you look so flawless. You offer her a small, obedient smile, a perfect replica of the one you have worn for weeks now and allow yourself to be ushered out the door. The carriage ride is a blur of voices and silk rustling around you, the weight of expectation pressing against your skin like the stay laced too tightly around your ribs. By the time you arrive at the church, you are exactly as you ought to be—composed, lovely, and utterly unreadable.

The heavy church doors are pulled open before you, and a hush falls over the gathered assembly. The murmur of conversation, the rustle of clothing, even the faintest shifting of feet upon stone—everything stills as you step into the dim, vaulted space. The scent of aged wood and melting wax mingles with the perfume of fresh flowers lining the pews, a sickly-sweet contrast to the sharp awareness tightening your chest.

Light filters through the tall, stained-glass windows, dappling the aisle in shifting colours as you take your first step forward. Your father’s arm is steady beneath your fingertips, a firm anchor, but it does little to ease the weight pressing against your ribs. Your gaze lifts, drawn forward, past the unfamiliar sea of faces, past the faint blur of expectation, to the one person who matters in this moment.

Viktor stands at the altar, rigid as a statue, his hands clasped before him. He is dressed finely—your mother’s doing, no doubt—but the cut of his coat, the carefully pressed folds of his cravat, feel like a costume rather than something truly belonging to him. His face is unreadable at first, his expression schooled into an impassive mask, but then—then his eyes meet yours.

Something flickers there. A hesitation, barely perceptible. The faintest parting of his lips, as if he might speak if the weight of the room did not demand silence. His gaze drags over you, slow and searching, taking in the meticulous artistry of your appearance, the delicate lace framing your face, the blue silk wrapped about you like a second skin. You expect nothing from him, and yet—his fingers twitch at his side, as if resisting some impulse even he does not understand.

And then, just as quickly, it is gone. He schools his features once more, his posture remains stiff, and whatever moment had passed between you vanishes into the hush of the church.

The priest turns to Viktor first.

“Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

A silence, brief yet all-encompassing, stretches across the nave. Viktor’s gaze remains steady, locked upon yours as he answers, his voice even, assured and the words strike you with reverence you did not suspect him to have.

“I will.”

A breath catches in your throat.

“Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?” The priest turns to you.

You part your lips, but for a moment, no sound emerges. It is not hesitation, not truly—it is the finality of it, the weight of a thousand expectations pressing down upon your ribcage. You feel Viktor’s gaze on you, unwavering and waiting.

Your fingers tighten at your sides, nails digging into your palm.

“I will.”

The words leave you quieter than intended, but they are spoken. A shift of movement behind you—a sigh, perhaps your mother’s—reaches your ears, but it is distant, inconsequential now.

The priest nods, satisfied, and gestures for your hand.

Viktor steps forward, extending his hand to you, palm open. Your fingers feel unsteady as you place them in his, the warmth of his skin seeping through your glove into the coldness of your skin. He holds your hand with gentle firmness, neither possessive nor hesitant—simply assured.

He speaks first, his voice steady, the words carried by the hush of the chapel.

“I, Viktor, take thee to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a fleeting motion, barely noticeable.

It is your turn. You inhale, the breath unsteady, and repeat the vow, your voice carrying a note of quiet conviction.

“I,” you start, then speak your name quietly, “take thee, Viktor, to my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

As the final words leave your lips, Viktor’s grip remains unwavering and warm. The rector nods and Jayce steps forward, placing a golden band into Viktor’s open palm, while his eyes remain fixed strictly on yours.

He slides it onto your finger slowly, its weight featherlight and yet impossibly heavy. There is finality in it, a truth that cannot be undone, and when you lift your gaze, Viktor is still watching you, his lids hooded. His mouth parts, and he speaks the finals words softly, almost intimately and for a moment you feel like it’s only you and him, holding hands in this vast, echoing space.

“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship,” he recites between breaths, the honesty beneath it rips through your chest. You wonder if it’s at all possible for this man to be so rehearsed that he can proclaim his worship to you in such a tone, while feeling none of it. “And with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Before you can breathe, the priest proclaims, “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.”

And so it is, final and done, when your heart hammers in your ears as you sign yet another contract—the Register—to bind you not only in the holy matrimony, but also in the legal one. The rest is a blur, as people outside the church whistle and clap upon your emergence and the carriage takes you all back to your house for the reception.

And you brace through it as your day self—bright, charming, and polite. Thanking your guests and being the picture-perfect bride, making your mother and father proud. You smile until your cheeks ache, laugh when it is expected, and accept well-wishes with a gracious nod.

Ximena Talis is among the many to take your hands in hers, her warmth enveloping you like the motherly embrace you once yearned for. “My dear, you are radiant,” she says, pressing your fingers gently. “Viktor is fortunate beyond measure. I have always known he would find someone exceptional.”

The words settle in your chest like lead. You murmur a soft “Thank you, my lady,” but the sentiment stings. Fortunate? Perhaps, but not in the way she imagines. You wish you could believe in the same happiness she does.

Across the room, Viktor lingers at the edge of the gathering, ever the observer. His gaze flickers towards you, assessing. He sees the perfect illusion—the grace, the charm—but does he notice the way your hands tighten in your lap when no one is watching? The way your laughter sounds hollow?

At last, he steps close enough that only you can hear him. “You do not seem out of place,” he remarks idly, reaching for a cup of tea.

You do not look at him as you reply. “Neither do you.”

He hums, tilting cup as if he were looking for an answer within it. “I expected you to be more resistant.”

“I have learnt when resistance is futile,” you answer smoothly, placing your empty cup on a passing tray. “And you?”

He glances at you, just once, before bringing his glass to his lips. “I have always known how to adapt.”

A small smile curls at the edge of your mouth, just enough to be seen by those watching, just enough to be mistaken for joy. “Then we are well-matched indeed.”

His lips quirk, as if in amusement. But he says nothing more. Instead, he lingers close enough so that the heat of his body transmits to yours, and unlike you, Viktor cannot blame his reddened cheeks on powder blush.

You try to read anything within his expression, but the only thing that gives him away is the almost imperceptible tightness of his jaw.

Before you decide what to make of it, you are pulled back to your bridal duties—an obligatory dance with your father comes first.

He observes you all the way through it, as if trying to decipher how unhappy you are. “Know, that I have never been more proud of you,” he says, holding your hands firmly.

“And why is that? I have achieved nothing today, Papa, I merely got married,” you jest, but your father sees right through you. He breaks the rhythm of the dance to pull you into an embrace and whispers into your ear, “It’s not that you got married. It’s how you’ve done it. Of that I am proud.”

You gasp quietly and let yourself be held. It helps you to get through the rest of the rituals—dancing with uncles and other relatives, until a brief reprieve comes in a shape of Jayce. He grins down at you with a lopsided ease. “Look at you,” he teases, his voice light despite the tension that flickers beneath. “The perfect bride, the perfect wedding. You’ve even got the perfect brother-in-law.”

You let out a quiet huff, only half amused. “Are you fishing for a compliment, Jayce?”

“Wouldn’t need to if you’d just admit I’m your favourite already.”

You move through the dance with ease, though his hand tightens slightly on yours as he lowers his voice. “You’re all right?”

A pause. You should lie, as you have been all morning, but Jayce is not so easily fooled. “I will be,” you answer, quiet but honest. It is the best you can offer.

He nods once, accepting that for what it is. “If he ever gives you trouble, you know where to find me.”

It is an unnecessary promise—Viktor is not cruel—but you do not dismiss it.

As the dance concludes, you step away, your role in the festivities almost complete. Before the hour grows too late, you press a ribbon into Kitty’s palm, her eyes lighting with delight as she fastens it to her wrist. Tess is more reserved when you pull her aside, brows knit in deep thought before you even place the pearl in her hand.

“You’ll be back soon, won’t you?” she asks. Her fingers curl around the gift, her frown pressing deeper.

You smooth back a stray lock of her hair, forcing a smile. “Of course.” Even you are not certain how much truth sits in those words.

At last, it is time to take your leave. The final goodbyes begin, your family gathering around, and just as you think the moment has passed without incident, your uncle—already too deep in his indulgences—lifts his glass with a booming voice.

“Well then! Since they will not dance together, they must at least seal the night with a kiss!”

Laughter ripples through the guests, some echoing their agreement, others clapping their hands in delight. A glance at your mother tells you she will not intervene—this is not so improper a request that it can be denied. Your father only sighs, while Jayce grins at Viktor, clearly entertained.

There is no way out of this. You glance at Viktor, only to find him already watching you.

He does not speak, but his gaze is searching, flicking over your expression with unreadable intent. A flicker of hesitation—barely a breath—before he shifts closer.

The moment stretches unbearably thin.

Then, Viktor leans in.

The kiss is light, brief, barely more than the press of his lips against yours. It is proper in every sense, exactly what is expected. And yet—something in it snags deep within you. The warmth of him, the feather-light brush, the way his breath lingers against your skin a second too long.

Then, so soft only you can hear, Viktor murmurs against your lips—

"It’s all right."

You do not know why the words unsettle you so.

By the time you pull apart, the guests are clapping, laughing, toasting the moment as if it were nothing at all. You school your expression back into place, accept the briefest of bows from Viktor before he steps aside, and let yourself be guided forward, toward the carriage that will take you away.

[damnfeelings09]

DNA - Shadow's version

A.N: Hey! just so you know, this is pt. 2 of E.T

“Does he tell you he loves you when you least expect it? Does he flutter your heart when he kisses your neck?”

They had approved Shadow for field missions. The presentation at the HAR training center and the fact that he had healed so quickly had convinced Commander Hillsprung that it was time to explore his abilities. The first mission was merely for reconnaissance. They would send Shadow to Prison Island, the GUN research cradle that had been destroyed years ago, or at least that’s what they thought until they started receiving signs of life two weeks ago. You were happy; Shadow wouldn’t be locked up in those four walls 24/7 anymore, but that also meant you wouldn’t see him anymore. Your role in the investigation was complete, and your services were no longer needed. Now, they would focus solely on military training.

“and my heart won't beat again If I can't feel him in my veins” A month had passed since the last interaction you had with Shadow, the memory of his kiss still fresh in your mind. How you managed to attend, check patients, clear medical records, and keep the GUN clinic’s inventory was still a mystery to you. You’d only crossed paths with the hedgehog twice.

“And he just takes my breath away B-b-b-breath away I feel it every day And that's what makes a man Not hard to understand”

The first time was when you were on your way to the clinic after registering your entry. Shadow was walking with a group of soldiers, a bat named Rouge, and a giant robot. For a second, he looked at you, stopped as if he wanted to walk towards you, but his companions called him to leave the building. Oh how you wished he had come and get you. It was inexplicable what he caused in you, a feeling so foreign.

“Nothing more to say It's in his D-D-D-D-DNA”

The second time was when you were having lunch, sitting in the GUN garden while reviewing the Gamma team's follow-up studies. He walked right in front of you, not paying attention to you. You wouldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt, but what else did you expect? Now Shadow was a GUN agent, and there was no time for anything else. Still, how would you explain to your body what was happening? How could you make it understand that you weren’t in danger and stop the tachycardia before your heart ran out of your chest after him? It didn’t make sense. You had only kissed once, so why couldn’t you forget it?

“Fingerprints that leave me covered for days, yeah, hey, yeah Now I don't have any first degree But I know, what he does to me”

Friday night, you were finishing the paperwork for the week. The fatigue and stress were killing your shoulders, and you were ready to go home. You turned off the light in the office and were about to close the door when a loud noise made you open it again. There was a mess; your stationery shelf was on the floor, and surgical clamps were scattered everywhere. You followed the trail of chaos and found the black hedgehog leaning on the examination table, with one of his hands covering his left arm.

“What the heck… Shadow?”

“I’m glad to see you too, doc”. Shadow looked tired, dust all over his fur. He glanced behind you, acknowledging the mess he had made “Sorry”. he said, shaking his head toward the papers on the floor.

“What happened?” you asked, approaching slowly, moving cautiously as if you feared breaking something fragile, but at the same time, you didn’t want to pull away from him. You knew what that small gesture of closeness meant for both of you, and although you tried to stay professional, you couldn’t help but feel the proximity between you two as something more “Weren’t you supposed to be on a mission?”

“Tch, ‘ve been in Prison Island, for three days. It wasn’t my best moment, I must admit, I underestimated the area.” – He removed his hand, revealing an arrowhead embedded in his flesh. You quickly asked him to get on the table while you gathered the necessary tools to remove the object.

Although Shadow wasn’t bleeding, he wasn’t regenerating as he usually did either. You took the Kelly clamps and carefully removed each piece of the material, placing it in a jar for reaserch. You could feel his intense gaze on each of your movements, his warm breath making your bangs fall over your eyes. Your hands trembled as you remembered the last time you both had been so close. Trying to shake those thoughts from your mind, you looked up, only to find his pure red eyes staring at you, examining you.

“Perfect in every way I see it in his face Nothing more to say”

“I don’t think that’s true,” you said, looking away to return to your task of bandaging the wound. “I’ve seen you, even with your eyes covered and hands behind your back, you can feel danger from miles away.” Shadow sighed, turning his face toward the wall. “I did it for you. I wanted to see you.” Your heart skipped a beat, almost dropping the extra gauze in your hands. Shadow’s hand gently positioned itself under your chin, lifting your face so your eyes met. With every passing second, your cheeks felt hotter and hotter.

“It's all about his kiss Contaminates my lips”

“I missed you,” Shadow said. His voice as soft as velvet, enveloping your ears in a delightful way. At that moment, it felt as though the world had stopped existing, like a bubble surrounding you both, a little world where it was true that the ultimate lifeform, had fall for you. The glow in his eyes was hypnotizing as they moved from your eyes to your lips over and over again. Oh, how you wished he would take the first step, that he would press his lips to yours once again. You longed for the sensation, the pressure of his lips on yours. Shadow had the power to make your legs turn to jelly with just a glance, and how you loved it when he looked at you. The hedgehog slightly curved the corner of his lips, probably reading your thoughts, slowly getting closer to you, shortening the distance between you more and more. In a moment of clarity, you pulled away from him.

“Our energy connects It's simple genetics”

“Wait,” you said. – “This can’t be. We are… coworkers. If anyone finds out about this, all of GUN will come after us.” You lowered your gaze, a silent tear running down your right cheek. Shadow stood up from the table, now a bit taller than you. He grabbed your shoulders and faced you. “To hell with GUN and the planet. Nothing matters if you’re not with me.” His voice was fierce, the fire lighting up his eyes. It was then that you stopped resisting the desire of your heart and gave in to him. Shadow initiated the contact, placing his lips on yours.

“I'm the X to his Y It's the color of his eyes”

You had never been struck by lightning, but you were pretty sure this was what it felt like. Thousands of volts instantly running through every inch of your body as Shadow wrapped his arms around your waist. Your hands searching for the crook of his neck deepening the kiss. A warm sensation like tingling crossing your fingers. Orange sparks coming out of Shadow's quills, small electric currents making their way through his fur looking for a home.

“He can do no wrong No, he don't need to try” His tongue breaking through your lips, linking with yours, starting a battle you could not win. It was intense, both trying to devour each other's mouth. His grip becoming stronger at your waist, you could feel the vibrations of his body with the little moans that Shadow released. The ecstasy of the moment only equated to the energy accumulating between you, going from being soft, light and warm to a stronger discharge, a feeling that did not cause damage, but if it activated every fiber of your being, as if all you needed to live was this… was him. Little by little strands of your hair were lifted thanks to the static between you. The tips of your fingers curving inwards product of electricity.

The lack of air causes you to pull away from him, taking a deep breath, gasping, feeling the relief fill your lungs. You watch him, his quills raised, the reddish tips glowing under the light of the lamp. How can he look even more handsome like this? A few seconds later, Shadow is once again devouring your lips, your chest hitting against his firm one, holding you, the cold of his inhibition rings sneaking down your back. His canines fit gently into your lower lip causing a groan on your part, and a growl makes Shadow’s chest vibrate

“Made from the best He passes all the tests”

Suddenly, the tips of your fingers burn, the stings causing small burns, your heart races uncontrollably, and you could swear it will stop at any moment, but it wouldn’t matter if you died of a heart attack in the middle of the kiss.

“Got my heart beating fast It's cardiac arrest”

It was too much, the emotions, the beating of your hearts, the taste of your lips. Shadow’s  spikes channeled all that energy, illuminating his body with a reddish-orange hue like the sunset, the pressure accumulating in the air. In a second, a spark flashes, the atmosphere seems to compress, as if everything were about to break. Then, a blinding flash lights up the surroundings, and the sound of the explosion is deafening. The reddish light overflows, sweeping everything in its path, each of the lights in the office exploding, leaving the entire city in darkness.

“What the hell…? Did you do that?” you ask incredulously to the hedgehog who has you trapped in his arms.

“Well, you made me,” he whispers. You couldn’t see him clearly, but you knew, from the tone of his voice, that a big, mocking, triumphant smile was spreading across his face.

“He's from a different strain That science can't explain I guess that's how he's made In his D-D-D-DNA”

[neonpaperlanterns]

That was so sweet and melancholy and ahhhh, I'm happy you posted it. 🥹♥️

♡ This post of @neonpaperlanterns broke my heart so much, it reminded me of a little thing I wrote. I changed it a bit, since @neonpaperlanterns was interested, I decided to share it here. I know some things doesn’t make sense like they didn’t knew the gender but let’s pretend! ♡

♡ Pairing: Portgas D. Rouge x Gol D. Roger

♡ CW: Fluff, expecting a baby, sadness, accepting death

♡ Tag list: @neonpaperlanterns @stillxnunpxidintern @help-i-lost-my-sock

“Roger, you need to be realistic. This illness is slowly killing you. I’m a doctor, not a miracle ass-worker, you refuse to stop drinking, the illness has progressed so much in the last few months, I can’t do better than that.”

Roger wouldn’t want to hear those words by Crocus but definitely, he knew this moment would eventually come; his illness was deadly. Crocus has been able to slow it down, but couldn’t do it forever.

“How much time do I have left?”, ended up asking Roger, with a look full of hopes.

“Three months if you’re lucky," he replied.

Three months.

His heart dropped. Rouge, his secret wife, was currently four months pregnant. That was a secret between them. Their little treasure.

As soon as he said four months, those words resonated in his head and he couldn’t think about anything else.

Right before they head to their last voyage, Roger had to stop at Baterilla to have, at least, one last night with the love of his life, Rouge.

How would he announce it? He had no idea. She knew he was sick but didn’t know how bad it actually was. Despite the illness, despite the age gap between them, she still decided to have a baby with him because he was the love of her life.

“Roger! I’m pregnant! We are having a little baby!”

Those words she pronounced. Her eyes filled with tears of joy. It was definitely one of the happiest days of his life, he was absolutely thrilled to become a father! Day one, he was already picturing himself holding this baby, showing it the sea, taking naps, traveling the world.

And I won’t even see your face…

Before heading to Rouge's house, Roger stopped to get hibiscus flowers and went to her house. Before he could even knock the door, Rouge opened up and hugged him.

“Roger, my love, guess what! We are having a little boy!”

Caught by surprise, Roger couldn’t hold back his tears and held her back. He was so happy, he wouldn’t stop babbling about his future son.

“Of course he will be a pirate! The best one, better than me! And he will find One Piece! Hahahaha!”

“My love, what about letting our son follow his own path?”

Rouge and Roger were decorating the little room for their future son. A cute little room, all painted in blue to represent the calm ocean. Roger bought a giant whale plushie from one of his travels. Since he knew they were expecting a baby, he was always bringing little gifts. This is why the room was invaded by multiple plushies.

He built a ship crib and painted it by himself; he never was very crafty but he gave his whole heart to build it and paint it himself. It had to be a little ship for his little future pirate. He was, sometimes, gently pushing the crib to see it gently rocking back and forth.

“For the nights where he can’t sleep, the crib will gently rock it back and forth, just like a ship on the waves. Cradled by the ocean.”, he said with a gentle smile.

Rouge approached him and smiled, looking at the end result of the freshly decorated room. They were proud of themselves because this room has been painted and decorated by them, with all the love they had for this baby.

After dinner, Roger got sick; he almost fell down, coughing blood. With a sad look, Rouge helped him. She knew how sick he was but it saddened her to see her beloved in such a bad shape. Afterwards, they went to her bed to relax. She was laying in his arms while he was caressing her long strawberry pink hair.

“Crocus told me I have three months left, my darling.”, he admitted. “This is…this is probably our last night together. I’m so sorry…it escalated so fast.”

Despite his tough look, Rouge could see the sadness on his face. She sighed and gently caressed his face.

“I was expecting it. You weren’t getting better…”

“I won’t even get to meet him, my little treasure, Ace…”

He gently caressed her belly and for the first time, they felt a little move. They looked at each other and smiled, Roger couldn’t hold back his tears.

“Ace…I’m so sorry I won’t get to meet you. Please know that I love you. I love you so much”

His voice cracked. It was the first time that Rouge would see him cry. They both cried so much that night.

“My love, I promise I will do anything to protect Ace. I’ll talk about you everyday, I will raise him here and he will know how great you were.”

“I hope he will understand…my darling, I don’t want to reach the point where I’m slowly dying. When I’m king, I’ll retire in glory and surrender myself to the marines. I-I hope you understand.”

She nodded, in tears. As much as it broke her heart, she understood that it was the best solution to not see him suffer.

Everything after that night escalated fast; Roger became the king of the pirates a few weeks later, disbanded the crew and surrendered himself to the marines, as planned.

Alone in his prison cell, waiting for death, the only thing he could think about was his unborn son. The tears rolling down his face.

Ace…when your mother announced to me she was expecting a baby, I was filled with happiness. Maybe becoming a father has been a dream of mine. My son, my treasure. I wish we could’ve met. My only regret is to think that I’ll never hold you in my arms, tell you how much I love you. I feel like since I’ll never meet you, I will never become a father officially.

You will hear a lot of things about me. You might hate me. I never wanted you to be born with the pressure of being my son and this is why I asked Garp to take care of you. A newborn bears no sins and whatever you decide to do, I’ll be your biggest supporter.

I loved you Ace. You were my treasure.

Alone in Ace’s room, Rouge caressed her belly, looking at all the plushies and playing the lullaby of the mobile hanging on the crib.

“Ace, you can’t come out yet, the marines, those monsters, are killing every pregnant woman and every newborn. But don’t worry, you’ll be fine, we’ll be fine, we promised him.”

She wiped off her tears and held the baby for 20 months. For love.

As the newborn was crying, she caressed his cheek with her shaking hand.

“Ace…I love you. We loved you so much…”

[st4rnikka]

I just had an idea for a Sonic fanfic!

IMAGINE SONIC BEING A GUN AGENT, BUT HE'S ACTUALLY PERFECT IN HIS JOB.

And it all started when Sonic's friends went out on their own to find themselves and explore. Sonic gets bored, and goes out to see if eggman up to something just to discover that he is doing nothing(really doing nothing, Sonic verified and discovered that he was in vacation LMAO)

And muses thinking "I'm so bored I might just join GUN secretly and do missions for them alone for the fun of it." And then just stops and goes like "Wait a minute..."

And that's how Sonic joined GUN secretly, the commander would use this little secret as blackmail against Sonic BUT, he's simply too good at his job. Non-ironically Sonic uses his mind when doing his missions and just like him his mind is VERY fast, so imagine how long it would take him to make up things or decisions? Very little time lol :D

Also GUN did question why Sonic didn't want to team up with team Dark and do his missions completely alone, just to hear Sonic laugh and be like "Need my own time alone sometimes"

And they do keep it a secret to the point of giving Sonic a codename and a fake name, and also to the point of not even Rouge being capable of knowing. Everyone just mutually agreed after Sonic came back from numerous missions that would take months to finish after just 2 days, that they must keep this perfect agent a secret and maintain him entertained to not leave GUN after getting bored again.

They call him Blue Devil or Aeolus (The wind god from the greek myth)

He keeps this a secret for actually a very long time, except he's not even trying to keep it a secret he just doesn't mention it and act natural. If you see GUN start to act more politely with Sonic or obey orders from him, no you didn't.

Okay that's it for the secret agent Sonic fanfic idea. I really would love to read a fanfic with this is there one out there that I am unaware of???? If not, WHY DID NOBODY THINK OF THIS😭???!!!!

[thebunnednun]

THE ONE PIECE MASTER LIST

I do not own the image.

It all started with the clown.....

Somethings to know:

Many of these are from when I first started out as an author so please have mercy on them!!!

I write for all characters except doffy unless you wanna beat him up.

In my AU for this world, the stories are happening around the same time or after each other.

Ace and White beard are alive but I do typically write Gold and Rouge as being deceased because they deserve peace after everything they went through.

Cora or Rosi is alive as well and serves as a father figure for Law.

Mihawk is a father figure for Perona and Law and Shanks is a father figure for the ASL brothers and miss Uta.

Garp is typically a grandpa figure.

The usual fandom or in jokes still stand so don't worry.

My readers are typically female or gender neutral.

The straw hats crew

Golden afternoon (Monkey D. Luffy x Crew mate! Reader)

Polar tang babies

Make you mine!~ (Trafalgar D. Law x Cheeky~ Crewmate! Reader) SPicY

Sweet dreams!~ (Trafalgar D. Law x Hot Doctor Wife! Reader (Modern Au))

Buggy's balls

Lovesick (Angst)

Throw me Overboard (Fluff/Suggestive)

Enchanted Meeting:

Hawk eyes Mihawk

Whispers of the Heart: Prt 1, prt 2, prt 3, prt 4, prt 5,prt 6, prt7,

Shadows of the blade:

Daddy Shanks

If you really love me, let me go: Part 1, Part 2

Dancing Under the Stars (Red-Haired Shanks X Bar/ DanceClub Owner! Reader)

Mi Corazon, Rosinante

Whine me up! (Modern cora x Bartender! Reader)

Baby Kobi

Unexpected Dinner Guests! (Koby x Straw-Hat! Reader)

Workin his ass off Sabo

Bound by Justice (Marine Reader)

If you only knew how much I love you (Sabo x Straw-hat! Reader x Ace)

Gone Fishing! (Sabo x Sea creature Straw-Hat! Reader) And part 2

Ace with his shirt off Portgas

If you only knew how much I love you (Sabo x Straw-hat! Reader x Ace)

Carnival Confessions

Pizza rolls (fluff/suggestive/romantic)

Smoker c0ugHinG his lungs out

My medic! (Smoker x Nurse! Reader)

Katakuri His donut lordship

In the Arms of a Stranger (Charlotte Katakuri x Bride! Reader)

Multi character fic's for the men

Tempted to touch part 1, and the part 2 (Contains Benn Beckman and Kidd)

More to be loading soon! I take requests and would love for you all to send me your ideas or prompts.

I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW, I need to get the Ladies of One Piece on here. I've got some fic's in the workshop but please request some.

If you do request please see my rules page here!

Overall, this should be a safe space for everyone to enjoy and have fun while reading.

I also have a ko-fi now if you'd like to support me. :3 Not mandatory but always appreciated.

Pssst, my ao3 is alive and open for all readers.

Okay that's it for now, see you all soon, bye!! <<33

-Angellica (Angie) Thebunnednun

[the-sonic-crew]

Hey Everyone! It's Sonic ;D You can talk to most anyone in our world~! characters are below <3

The amazingly talented mods:

👀- @rednexxsaysthing (Blog creator)

💛- @happyfacelol

🦆- @bootyshakerrr9000

🐜- @un-death-ful

💀- @edgyhedgie

🌒- @itzvio

Sonic~ Good for goofy questions, good for advice on anything but feelings, good for cheering you on, gets off topic

Tails~ Good for academic questions, good for advice on bullies/jerks, good for tips on mental health

Knuckles~ Good if you need someone to feel angry with you, good at listening, sometimes good with advice

Amy~ Good listener, good advice, sometimes gets off topic with questions, good for mental health advice

Dr. Eggman~ Good at being an asshole

Shadow~ Good at listening, good advice if he likes you, good for food recs

Rouge~ Good for fashion opinions, not good at listening, good at promoting body positivity

Omega~ Only responds in binary code, good at listening, holds all the knowledge in the world.

Silver~ Good at answering questions about the future, good at helping with anxiety, good at listening

Blaze~ Good at giving advice, sometimes gets suspicious if you ask really personal questions

Vector~ Likes talking about himself and his agency (and his kids), good at listening and giving advice on self esteem

Espio~ Great at listening, great at advice, won't tell you much about himself

Charmy~ Not good at listening or advice, very hyperactive, loves meeting new people and answering questions

Cream~ Good at listening, very sweet, loves talking about her friends

Vanilla~ Good at listening and advice, very sweet, loves talking about her daughter and friends

Metal Sonic~ Doesn't talk, only responds in motions

Whisper~ Helpful, good advice, nervous

Tangle~ Bouncy, excited, empathetic

Maria~ Sweet, gives good advice, a ghost

Dr. Starline~ Evil, sassy, snarky

Big~ Huge, dorky, lovable idiot. (we use BIGGEST TEXT for him)

Agent Stone~ Will somehow always find a way to make the conversation about Dr. Robotnik

Rules:

1. Don't bring up politics please

2. If you're a zoo, sexist, racist, homophobe, transphobe, etc. Get off our page

3. Keep in mind we have no affiliation with SEGA at all, no characters belong to us, and since some of the lore is a little wonky lots of answers will be head-canons

4. BE KIND TO THE MODS! If you have any issues, you can send an ask to @rednexxsaysthing

5. OC asks take a varied amount of time depending on the mod, bear with them

If you happen to send an ask that is too intense or violent (with no trigger warnings, or even with trigger warnings if they're extreme) then I'll send you a message and kindly let you know

(If you're in anon mode it'll just be deleted and unanswered)

You get THREE (3) warnings, if you use them up you will be blocked

This does not go for asks about YOUR PERSONAL mental health, but things where people are brutally torturing the characters is a bit over the top.

Thank you!

Message from one of the Anons on here!:

Just remember everyone! Its ok to feel worthless everyone has those kind of moments where you just want to disappear, what matters is you get help, you reach out to whoever you want to talk to

Its also ok to cry, holding in your tears is not good and i am speaking from experience, it hurts more to hold in your tears than to let them out

You all deserve so much more in life no matter what anyone says keep chasing your dreams and prove everyone wrong!

[onepiece-polls]

One Piece Crack Ship War - Round 2 Side H

Propaganda under the cut.

ShaRouge:

Two hot ladies who are associated with the Pirate King and his First Mate. I'm just saying, if so many people can ship Roger/Rayleigh (and rightfully so), their female counterparts should be shipped together too. It's balance! Also, imagine a universe where Ace is raised by Rouge and Shakky. That's a universe that I want to live in.

their husbands are fucking so it only makes sense.

Shanks x Dragon: Luffys father figure and actual father; I just think it’s a funny idea.

[petrichal]

One Piece fic rec!!

I wanted to do a fic recommendation post for a while now, so here it is :3 (no pairings, big focus on the ASL brothers especially):

Fire Founds a Home in Us | CaissyMax - Ace, Sabo, and Luffy are pirates together, and Ace runs off to confront Whitebeard without either of them. Sabo tries his best to catch up. (^ Ace and Sabo share a devil fruit)

wild heart | taizi - Sanji, during his time on the Orbit, meets the brothers on Dawn Island.

Love Rescue Me (M) | olive_ger - Ace becomes a Warlord of the Sea on the Navy's behest, and is tasked with taking down the remaining members of Roger's crew. I canNOT recommend this enough it's so interesting

The Chief of Staff Dreams of Freedom (T) | KayHau - (starts off with the Celestial Dragon visit to Dawn Island) After a series of events that led to him being branded a slave, Sabo is appointed Chief of Staff for the estate of the Celestial Dragon he's working under. A compelling look on the conflict his position brings as someone who's (very secretly) working for the revolutionary while he has to keep up with appearances.

glass wings (shattered) | theprodigypenguin | complete - Ace and Luffy meets up with Sabo (some time after the 2 years since Marineford) and witnessed first hand how Sabo fares with his countless traumas. A dive into Sabo's mind which I really like.

Past and Present Ghosts | irlflowershopau - Sabo travels back in time just as Ace is about to lose to Blackbeard on Banaro. (The Sabo we know now and Ace from 2 years ago interacting, their dynamic>>>> !!!!!)

close calls (or, monkey d. dragon's no good, very bad day) | isntitlupintic | complete - Luffy gets captured by Outlook and Dragon catches wind of it.

lighting turns sawdust gold (T) | younglegends | complete - Ace and Sabo reunion one-shot except I'm so enamored by the prose and the imagery that I'm telling everyone to please read this it's so good????

Cinnabar (T) | SaturnineArbiter | complete - Where Ace is part of the Figarland family and is brought to Mariejois from Impel Down. (AU where Rouge was a Celestial Dragon)

the storm has come again (T) | Sroloc_Elbisivni | complete - Imu turns back time but didn't account for everyone with the Will of D to be dragged along with it. (spoilers for Egghead!)

[doc-art]

Part 2 of the D&D sketches longposting.

Continuing from the last D&D post, we begun an investigation in the mining town and started to find links to Lolth and the doppelgangers enlisted to cause problems for us and the people.

Half of us investigated the town while the other half checked out an impending force of goblins (and other creatures) massing a way from the town.

We found and killed one of the doppelgangers, along with catching another that was partnered with that one.

The other half of our gang found their siege prep camp and did some... sabotage to the camp.

Also our tabaxi, Rebecca, rolled a bit awkwardly while we were keeping watch on our doppelganger captive.

After handling all that we got back together and helped prepare the town for the siege the goblins were planning to do.

Our party's dwarf also snorted a mix of gunpowder (and something else) to get high. He'd also done magic mushrooms at one point, too.

The siege was intense, but we came out on top in the end.

Afterwards, Lloyd scored some fresh armor from one of the hobgoblin captains. Our goblin rouge, Zzrez, collected some loot. We also saved a couple people who the doppelgangers were trying to replace.

Earlier while we fought and captured the doppelgangers, the store that one of them was occupying burned down. The owner of said shop did not know her store burned down (she was captured and replaced) and Lloyd broke the news with tact.

We saved other folks who were trapped underground in a mine (again, abducted by the doppelgangers to be replaced). Lloyd did not stick the landing on the way down.

The dragon eggs we got a while ago also hatched, and they were wonderful little critters. One of us, Sildar, a recruited member from Kingdom's Alliance did not like the dragons.

Our Not Insane dwarf cleric also proved his sanity.

Continued in the next post!

[sanctuary-sonic-au]

Ok so, this AU DOES have lore-

This post may change/expand in the future:

Edit: @genderfluidsnail is helping me with ideas on Discord lol 👈👈

-First off, unlike my usual AUs, it’s not a serious or very in-depth AU in terms of lore. It’s just an AU I made for fun because I’ve been having a blast drawing Sonic Characters as their actual animals lol. If Sonic lore is broken, please remember this is an AU (and a MOSTLY non serious one at that).

-It Takes place on the Space Colony ARK, but Instead of it being for what its purpose was in the games, the ARK was made to research and study these unique animals with powers (aka the Sonic cast). ARK’s name being a reference to Noah’s Ark (because animals) with it essentially being a giant animal sanctuary as well as a research lab, complete with many large enclosures uniquely built for every animal!

-Regarding asks, please keep in mind if ya got questions regarding lore or how some characters would even work, I may not know all the answers YET because of how new this AU is lmao. I’m still brainstorming and concepting like crazy at the moment 👍.

-Regarding asks again, some art made for asks may take longer than others. It all depends on my motivation really.

Character refs so far: