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glow-worms-are-believers · 10 months

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Mistaken Identities (dp x dc)

Danny had been doing his thing, looking around, making sure he didn't alter anything in the past, minding his own business. Officially, this was supposed to be a trip to gather more blood blossom samples for Team Phantom to study, but he had ended up being a little sidetracked. Apparently though, puritan times made for beautiful forests, sue him if he was enjoying a moment of peace in his otherwise crazy life. So here he was, relaxing for the first time in way too long when this guy just barged into the clearing. Danny straightened up with a yelp which had the guy stopping in his tracks before he turned to look at Danny.

"Be not afraid, child. I mean you no harm," the man said.

Danny squinted as he looked up at the half-shadowed face of the man that seemed vaguely familiar.

"Boy?"

"Uh-" Danny managed as he realized he was supposed to answer. "Oh yeah, no problem, man."

The man tilted his head which directed Danny's attention to his weird buckle-hat. Sobering up as he recognized the clothes from his previous jaunt in the past where Sam had almost gotten burnt at the stake, he mentally congratulated himself for turning back into a human before his nap. He really didn't want to end up trapped in blood blossoms by witch-finders again.

"Are you lost?" The man said, as he edged closer. "Do you require aid?"

The halfa jumped to his feet. "Nope!" Danny said before letting out a nervous laugh. "No aid, I'm all good. Thanks though."

The man opened his mouth to say something before another voice, higher pitched stopped him. "You are back!" A woman wearing a simple dress, with a few birds fluttering around her like a Disney princess approached them.

"Annie," answered the man.

"Come," she said before leading him away with only a glance towards the teenager. The man let himself be dragged away, but not before a last few words. "If you are ever in need of assistance, please do not hesitate."

Danny waved his hand. "Yep. For sure, dude. Thanks!"

Then before the man had turned away completely, the woman grabbed his hat playfully which revealed his face completely to the weak moonlight, and coincidentally to Danny's view. The couple disappeared between the thick foliage as Danny sat, struck dumb with what he had just witnessed.

"Oh my god," he whispered to himself. "That was Bruce fucking Wayne."

Danny had seen enough rag magazines and newspapers with his face printed on the cover to recognize the billionaire for sure. What the hell was he doing in Puritan times? Then, it hit Danny like a brick. Natural portals. They weren't common, or stable and they'd been known to spirit away people randomly. Clearly, they also had some pretty severe side-effects including amnesia considering the old-timey speech pattern Mr. Wayne was using.

There was only one thing for it, Danny clearly had to bring Mr. Wayne back to the present. Not only because it was the right thing to do, but also because a missing billionaire was bound to attract a good amount of attention and if anyone connected this to the ghost zone... Well if the GIW was bad now, Danny didn't want to know what other kind of unsavoury people would pop up if ghosts were better-known. Just imagining the Justice League getting involved was giving Danny the shivers. No, the best thing to do was get Mr. Wayne back to his time and hope he wouldn't remember much of what had happened and wouldn't dig into it further.

Just as he was nodding to himself, he heard a scream coming from not too far away. He transformed before flying towards the noise, only to find the woman he'd seen before with Mr. Wayne being captured by a bunch of men wearing the same kinds of hat.

"She's a witch! Burn her!" He heard someone yell. "Hang her dead!" Someone else said.

This was giving Danny some major flashback to Sam's very own witch burning and without wasting a second, he phased the woman right out of their grips and flew them away from the angry mob.

As soon as he landed and let go of the woman, she turned to him and gripped his arm instead. "You have to help him!"

"Help who?" Danny asked, wincing.

"Mordecai!" she said, her grip tight.

"Is that the man who was with you earlier?" the teenager asked.

The woman nodded before pointing southeast. "He is in the caves, fighting the dragon!"

Danny didn't waste anytime before flying in the direction she had pointed to. Going intangible helped with speed, and he phased through the ground, going straight for the aforementioned cave. He just phased through when he caught sight of Mr. Wayne. As he got closer, he could feel some sort of energy radiating from the man. Just then, the energy started building up and Mr. Wayne started to go transparent. Panicking, Danny did the first thing he could think of and absorbed the mounting energy to himself. It felt like a shot of adrenaline except way, way stronger and for a moment everything blanked out, before the world came into focus again. When he looked around, he couldn't find a trace of Mr. Wayne, but from the energy left over he could tell exactly when he had landed. The Golden Age of Piracy.

"Goddamit!" Danny yelled as he once again felt Bruce Wayne slip through his grasp as he stole away the potent energy from the billionaire's body before it could follow wherever he was going next. First it had been pirates, then the Wild West and lastly it was 20th century Gotham, clearly the natural portal had been all kinds of fucked up for Mr. Wayne to have been dragged from time period to time period. It was a miracle he was even still alive, the poor man! Danny let out a harsh sigh as he parsed out through the information the energy had left him with. This time he'd gotten the information for the two next time-jumps, which meant, Danny could get ahead of this for once and finally catch Mr. Wayne before he could jump again.

With a steadying intake of breath, Danny took out the Infiniv-map and set his destination before he let himself follow through. As he got through he could hear a bunch of different voices, all talking over each other.

"-distortions mean what I think it-"

"-not fair!"

"-time is breaking-"

"-only leave his body once he's dead."

Danny paid no mind as he locked eyes on Mr. Wayne who was lying in Wonder Woman's arms, in a black bodysuit, looking worse for the wear. The same energy as before was emanating from him, though this time it was even stronger. Danny approached carefully, invisible before he put a hand onto Mr. Wayne's chest and concentrated on drawing all the energy into himself. It wasn't like the other times, the flow was faster and he was having trouble staying focused as more and more flew into him. His brows scrunched in concentration, and unbeknownst to him, the invisibility dropped.

All the heroes in the room turned to look at the suddenly appearing white-haired teen who had a hand on Batman's chest. As they stared in confusion, the teen started to glow. It grew brighter and brighter before everyone had to shield their eyes as there was a pulse of bright light that died down almost immediately after. Wonder Woman had to blink the spots out of her vision as she felt the weight in her arms start to shift and let out a groan. "Bruce!"

She set him down and helped him put his head between his knees, as she gently stroked his back. Superman settled on his other side while Red Robin just sat in front of him, still half-believing Bruce was really back.

"What happened?" Bruce mumbled. "The omega radiation, I thought-"

"I'd like to know that too," Green Lantern said before he turned towards the glowy kid who was still blinking his eyes as if to chase away afterimages.

"His energy signature is the same as Darkseid," Raven said, her own eyes having not left the teenager since he had appeared.

"You don't mean..." started Superman as all the heroes turned to look at the kid slowly. The latter finally looked up as if sensing he was the focus of many eyes and cringed as he met the combined stares of the Justice League.

"Yes," Raven answered. "This is Darkseid's son."

#my guy Danny has no idea what is going on #at least nobody's shooting at him #he would still like to know who is that Darkseid guy and why do these people think he's his dad #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny is Darkseid's son #(at least that's what the justice league think)#this is what happens when you absorb unknown energy willy-nilly #it's just not sanitary who knows where that energy could have come from tsk tsk #I just read Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne #so just know this is entirely based off of that #('that' being that period when Bruce was lost in time)#roxpox #roxpoxwrote

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cloudseeker14 · 1 year

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Pink in The Night (Scaramouche x Fem!Reader)

Summary : After Teyvat had been wiped clear of the memories of the sixth harbinger, the Wanderer heads towards a place of thoughts of reminiscence; hoping to find the only one who'd ever understood him.

Genre : Angst, Romance

Scaramouche walked ahead, trodding a path of moss and grass. Squirrels scurried away with every step he took with his wide hat fluttering in the wind.

He had escaped from the Fatui, left behind his dire thirst for vengeance and was now a shell of the harbinger he had been with only memories of his exploits. Memories that only he would remember for the world has spun ahead without him.

He was a lone Wanderer, the nature was his humble abode. He had no name, no home and didn’t have anyone’s arms to go running into as the night grew cold.

Well, no one except her.

He could see a harbor appearing before him, huts rising beneath the clear night sky. Pin pricks of light shone as families slumbered inside, lost to the land of dreams.

Scaramouche hurried beneath the archway, his pathetic excuse of a heart growing warm at the thought of seeing her.

At the thought of hearing her laughter.

At the thought of feeling her touch as soft as the silk flowers that filled the air with their scent.

He turned around familiar alleyways, a path that his feet had lead to countless times; a haunting melody of his past.

Would she remember him? Remember the nights that they spent together and the rough kisses shared beneath the moonlight?

Scaramouche was afraid to find out the answer.

At last, he arrived at a house with rose vines that crawled along the rooftops, their alluring fragrance drawing him in.

Scaramouche took in deep breaths and cleared his throat, ignoring the way his chest seemed to tighten at the thought of seeing her face.

He knocked on the door thrice, loud and clear in sharp contrast to the flurry of questions flying across his head.

Does she still remember the love she had for me?

Scaramouche needed her to, for the notion of not being the object of her affections left him in a cold sweat. If she looked at him like a stranger even after holding him close to her chest at a past which seemed like it was an eternity ago, he wasn't sure what he'd do.

The door swung open with an ear piercing creak and there she stood, the woman that had once melted through the cold defenses of the sixth harbinger, locks of hair falling across her face.

Scaramouche gazed into her eyes, waiting, yearning and even pleading within himself for a sign of recognition.

Yet nothing came, only a look of confusion.

Y/N stared at the man before him, the way his blue eyes seemed to twinkle like the stars in the sky and the billowing clothes that adorned his frame.

"Excuse me, do I know you?" She asked, wariness evident on her features

It felt like a hole had been ripped open in the place where Scaramouche's heart should have been. Screams threatened to rip from his throat as memories of small hugs, shared chuckles and the way her hand had felt in his flashed past his eyes.

They were being set aflame, falling apart to ashes.

"Sir?" Y/N asked, eyebrows furrowed "Do you need anything?"

Scaramouche swallowed the bile that threatened to rise up his throat before replying. "I'm just a traveller and I'm very tired after my long journey. Do you know where I can find a place to rest?"

Please, laugh in my face right now and tell me you're joking. Tell me that you obviously remember me.

I can't lose you too, the only thing that made this tapestry of lies worth living.

"Just keep walking ahead and you'll find the Crescent Inn, it's a very comfortable place, I'm sure you'll like it."

He looked down, tears welling up at the rim of his eyes. His lips trembled as he forced himself to stare at the ground at his feet.

"Are you okay? Do you need a glass of water?"

There it was, that familiar concern that had drawn Scaramouche to her in the first place.

He met her questioning face. "No, it's just been a tough day. Thank you and I'm sorry if I bothered you."

Y/N smiled weakly before slamming the door on his face. Scaramouche turned around and left through her house's gate. The ground beneath him seemed to be tumbling down with every step he took.

He'd made it past her house before collapsing onto the ground, bellowing curses to the wind as tears ran down his porcelain face.

He damned the gods, their lies and torments and how with each of their intervention, they'd ripped apart any chance for him to hope in this world and had forced him to leave a trail of regrets.

Scaramouche had scoured marshes, crossed deserts and climbed the most ruggedy of mountains to find Y/N, only to lose her yet again.

"Scara, look at me."

"Why do you even care for me?" He asked haughtily "A mere mortal like you, do you really think you could satisfy me?"

"You and I both know you aren't fooling anyone with that rude act of yours."

Scaramouche stepped closer to her, brushing the hair from her face with his slender fingers. "Fine, then can you love a puppet, a broken creation like me? I don't even have a heart to give you."

"I love you just as you are, you're more than enough for me." Y/N held his hands, slowly caressing his palm

"Even if it meant tearing Teyvat apart, you're the only one for me. No one else could ever compare to you in my eyes." She continued, a light hue of pink sprinkled over her face.

"I'm not a good person, Y/N. I've killed so many people and I will have to keep doing so. I could harm you, maybe even ruin you and I don't want to do that to you."

"Scaramouche." She muttered, holding onto his hands even more tightly.

“Even my own creator, my mother didn’t want me. I’m not even sure if I’m capable of loving you to extent you deserve without a heart.”

“Enough.” She pulled Scaramouche into a tight embrace, engulfing him in her affection. “I don’t care about your mother or what the world would think of me if I stood by your side, all that matters is that I get to spend a lifetime with you.”

Scaramouche stiffened, muscles tensing as Y/N wrapped her arms around him. “A lifetime would never be enough for me. I would consider your death as the utmost betrayal.” He said, straining his voice to keep its composure.

The darkness of the night couldn’t hide the hurt that flickered on Y/N’s face.

“But at least let me have this.” He whispered, voice soft and vulnerable as the facade of the powerful harbinger shattered into pieces like shards of glass. Scaramouche buried his face into the crook of her neck, nuzzling against her soft skin.

"We can stay like this for as long as you want." Y/N hesitantly placed her hand atop Scaramouche's head, running her fingers through his hair. "As long as an ounce of life exists in my body, my heart will always beat for you."

The sixth harbinger pushed away, the thoughts behind those blue eyes unreadable as he allowed his gaze to wander. "Do you promise that?"

Scaramouche knew promises were worthless in the face of the monster known as time, but he still wanted to hear it.

"Of course I do." She smiled and with such a simple gesture, she managed to completely untether the course of Scaramouche's world.

He didn't know if it was the way the moonlight shone of her face or if it was the alcohol making his mind fuzzy that allowed him to even consider the daring thought that entered his head.

Perhaps he had lost his mind because he placed his lips upon hers, as tender as a fleeting butterfly.

She tasted like honey and Scaramouche allowed himself to drown in the feeling of her body against his and the way his hands fit perfectly against her waist. He’d never been a believer of the gods but at that moment, he couldn’t help but pray that this would last forever.

Scaramouche wanted to laugh at the wind, at the irony of it all. He certainly hadn’t grown wiser about trusting mortals after three betrayals.

Three betrayals and he still wanted to go crying into the arms of a human.

Three betrayals and he'd still allowed himself to let her escape from his grasp.

Every leaf and bird of the forest seemed to sing the words that Scaramouche had been terrified of saying when he was somebody that she used to know.

The breeze seemed to whisper in his ears, taunting him with the three words which if he'd said, might have changed everything.

I love you.

But it was too late and those words would forever remain sealed within Scaramouche, shut within the fortress of his unspoken desires.

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lastchancestardomm · 1 month

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Weirdos

League Of Villains x Child!Reader

Word Count - 1.7K

Warnings: References to past child abuse. One mild swear word. Found Family League Of Villains. OC-insert. Italics.

Status - Not Beta Read

A/N: Enjoy... *vaguely gestures* ...this. I've fallen back into an obsession, and this is the only way I cope. Asami Gumi, our protagonist, had a mom who fucking killed her dad (but shh that's sensitive). I love the League so much, and I've been rooting for them since they were introduced, so I thought I might publish this after getting back into My Hero. Anyway, some kind of snippet is coming up so watch for that ig.

Just as she stepped into the base, all eyes snapped to her. Their silence was exactly what Asami expected, and she wanted nothing more than to disappear. She tried tilting the baseball cap upon her head down, so that they couldn't see her face, as she meekly placed the plastic bag on the table.

"Sorry I'm so late, here's the– the food. I'm going to go wash–"

A heavy hand came down onto her white mop of hair and she gulped, tears already welling in her eyes.

A grave voice. "What happened to your face?"

Dabi's voice lowering a whole octave is the scariest thing in the world. Asami was left defenseless, silently begging him not to hit her. Because if he hit her, she will cry.

She hiccuped. "N-nothing..."

"That's also not the jacket you left with earlier! Don't you lie to us." Twice adds from across the room. She's not a liar; why would she lie?

Asami hadn't been staying here for too long, and she didn't believe they cared about her other than when she would go get their food.

"Asami," Kurogiri crosses his arms over his chest with a stern look. "Take the jacket and the hat off. Now."

She can't refuse them when they're all piercing her with their murderous gazes like that. They've been nice enough to keep her here, but they're still villains. Still bad people. She couldn't say they didn't scare her in the slightest. Asami was deathly afraid of what they might do when they see what happened to her.

She slowly, and quite carefully, removed the jacket first. Please don't hit me. The action revealed a few scabbed-over cuts and some bruises on her arms, and the small, circular burn scars on the top of her hands. Those were old. Those weren't important.

When met with silence, she took off the cap too; scrunching her eyes shut and preparing for the worst. More tears came to her eyes yet didn't fall.

"What. Happened?"

Asami flinched at Dabi's harsh question. She avoided his eyes, hands fidgeting idly. No! Don't hit me!

"Answer me, kid."

She picked at a scratch on her palm. "I– I got caught in a– in an attack with Heroes. I got a bit–"

"A bit what!?" Twice slams his hand down on the table as Asa jolts. "Your face has a giant sore! What had hit you?"

"Or who?" Dabi questions, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Asami backs away, defensive about the whole situation. You're gonna hit me, aren't you? "It– it wasn't on purpose! Something... uh– hit the ground and went flying at me–"

"You could've gotten hurt worse than that!" Dabi booms at her, stepping closer. "Why didn't you block it in time? Or at least get out of the way?"

She felt herself getting smaller and smaller by the second. Don't yell. It's bad. "I was running, and I heard someone screaming behind me and I wasn't– wasn't paying attention."

"Aw, Dabi, you don't have to be so harsh," Toga prances up behind Asami, and gingerly wraps her arms around Asa's quivering shoulders. "You're being scary again, tone it down a notch." Yeah. Scary.

"Yeah, stupid. You're going to OP on the yelling. No one wants to hear your mouth," Shigaraki pipes up, seemingly unbothered by the whole ordeal and instead choosing to focus all his attention on his handheld console.

Dabi whirls to face him. "What'd you say, Vaseline? How about you say that with your chest?"

Shigaraki stands up angrily, yet minding the console he held, "I wonder what burnt chicken ashes tastes like–"

Shut up! I said you're scary when you yell! Shut up!–

"Enough, you two!" Kurogiri booms out, "There are more important matters than your pointless bickering."

"Yeah! Our poor birdy Asa got hurt," Toga coos, rubbing over the purple-pink mark on Asami's face. She winces when Toga's fingers brush over the sore spot, yet Asami can't bring herself to push her away. She's too afraid of what the consequences might be. "Daww... that's gonna leave a huge bruise for weeks." As if it wasn't already bruising.

"I'm gonna destroy whichever Hero who caused it," Dabi turns back to her. "Who was it? Was it Endeavor? Best Jeanist? Mirko? One of them U.A kids??"

"I– I don't know. I didn't see them clearly," she squeaks. He's really going to kill her now.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DIDN'T SEE THEM?!" Blue embers spark from his palms.

NO! DON'T HIT ME! PLEASE!

Asami recoils, scarred hands flying up to protect her face. Although, she stumbled back onto Toga, who catches her with a tiny hum of empathy. For a second, it seemed Dabi's rigid expression softened.

"Hey, hey, take it down a few notches," Twice wraps an arm around Dabi's shoulder. "No need to be so abrasive."

"I'm s-sorry I got hurt, I– I'll try to be more careful next time," All the tears that had built up behind her eyes dribbled down her face. She's mortified. She doesn't want to know what happens if they see her crying.

"Aw, look what you did," Twice exasperatedly motions towards Asami's bowed head. "This is what happens when you're such a tsundere– hiding your feelings all the time."

"Come here, Asami," Kurogiri motions to the empty barstool next to Shigaraki. "Let me take care of your wounds."

"But," she blinks back to clear her vision, "I deserved it, didn't I?" Shouldn't I be in trouble? Why didn't you hit me yet?

"Oh shut up, stop being an emo," Toga pushes Asa towards the chair.

She ends up seated at the bar, finally realizing that her ears and non-injured parts of her face were hot with embarrassment. She continues constricting herself inwards, uncomfortable with her surroundings. Not to mention how perplexed she is.

Shigaraki spares Asami a sideways glance, before mashing his buttons nonchalantly. "That's one hell of a bruise, you're gonna look worse than me for a while."

She can't tell from his tone if he's insulting her, trying to make a joke, or failing miserably at an action of comfort. But someone's tone usually always flew over her head.

Kurogiri places a first aid kit on the counter. "I'll do your face first," he pulls out a few cotton swabs and some kind of disinfectant solution. "It may burn," he gently warns.

Twice leans his arm on the other side of her, "What's with that face, Asami? You look worried."

She paused for a moment, looking down at her feet. You guys are going to hit me. But you haven't yet. I'm scared you'll hit me when I'm not looking and make me cry.

"I'm waiting for you guys to do something to me."

The entire room freezes, sent into stunned silence. The air gets tense, sending her into another heart-racing mini panic. You're gonna hit me now! Don't hit me! I'm sorry!

Twice is the first to interrupt the silence. Even the soft hand he places on Asa's shoulder causes her to jump. "I don't know how things were before you met us, or if that's the kind of impression we give," he shoots a look at Dabi, who simply crosses his arms and looks away, "But that's not how we do things. It was an honest mistake. How could you have known that would happen? We're just worried about something bad happening to you."

So you won't hit me? I don't trust that. People always hit me.

She hesitantly looks up. "You– you guys– you won't?–" Asami starts quivering again, getting nervous. She can't believe them. Her mom told her that, too, but still hit her. She should just shut up.

"We promise. No one is allowed to hurt you under our protection." Kurogiri comforts, swirling a cotton swab in the disinfectant.

She perked up at his words. She still was a tad reticent, but spoke. "You mean, I'm not just some kid you have running around doing your chores? I- I'm not annoying?"

"You make it sounds like you're a stray cat or something," Shigaraki comments. "Though, you are usually quiet, and do require a moderate amount of attention..."

"Of course you're not just 'some kid', silly! You're one of us!" Toga's sweater-pawed hands envelop Asami's torso in a hug. "Dabi's just being a meanie because he doesn't know how to show affection. He should still really apologize though,"

"Yeah, Dabi!" Twice adds with a flourish. "Come and apologize to my poor child!" He grabs Asa's head and forcefully pushes it into his hard chest.

Dabi sighs heavily, like a child forced to apologize; rubbing the back of his neck as the two look at him expectantly. "I shouldn't've yelled at you, kid. I didn't know you'd be scared like that."

Toga quirks her brow smugly at him, and Dabi groans. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," It's weird being smothered by a group of housemates who might as well be strangers, isn't it? But somehow, it blooms some warmth into Asami's chest. Silently, a few more unshed tears fall down her face, but no one is worried. She's not worried.

"Alright, you get the first bite of grub," Twice eagerly opens up the bags of food and rips open one of the containers, pulling out some disposable chopsticks to feed Asami.

Kurogiri gently blots at her face with his first aid supplies. "Toga, stop wiggling, you're moving Asami!"

Toga's grip around Asa's waist doesn't loosen at all, in fact tightening, as her face snuggles into Asa's back. "Ey, Twice, it's no fair you get to feed Asami first, I wanna do it!"

It's at this moment when she feels like Dabi and Shigaraki are the most normal out of all of them, until they start bickering over a container of noodles and begin destroying things so Kurogiri needs to reprimand them again. Eventually, the others who were off somewhere else return and the chaos kicks up. Even so, among all the prodding, poking, squeezing, fighting, pulling, bickering, and smothering; Asami wonders if this is what family is supposed to feel like. What a real family is supposed to feel like.

A secret smile only she can see tugs at her lips. Nah, they're just a bunch of weirdos.

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 5 months

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Part 16 the Straw Hats and Eri!Reader meet Camie the Mermaid and Pappag the Starfish, along with a former enemy now friend Hachin (Who treats them to some delicious Takoyaki) after fighting Duval

She and everyone else were shocked about Duval’s face reveal, but she was the only one willing to comfort Sanji since he was the most ‘traumatized’ by the shocking reveal (Which made him bust out crying over the kindness of his ‘Baby Sister’ since she’s so kind for worrying about his feelings) *I snorted when I saw Brook drop to the floor laughing*

Sanji also made sure to help Reader enjoy eating her Octopus Fritters (And wiped any sauce that got on her face) though he would gush when she fed him some of her Fritters to him (He feels honored by how Reader is such a kind and sweet girl)

Their next stop is Sabaody Archipelago! (Not knowing of the looming danger that’s ahead of them)

-Your brows furrowed, sitting between Robin and Chopper, a frown on your face, “Ark-e-pel-lego?” Robin giggled softly, as you had been having trouble trying to pronounce archipelago (I swear I’m not projecting at all- lie).

-Nami had told everyone that the ship would be docking in a place called the Sabaody Archipelago, and it was the gateway between where you had been traveling all this time, to the New World.

-A dark shadow appeared over the ship and your eyes went wide as a massive sea beast rose out of the water and Luffy quickly charged in, dispatching it quickly.

-Your eyes went wide when it spat something out and Sanji quickly dashed forward, catching a mermaid! Sparkles were quickly surrounding you as the beast swam away, now afraid of Luffy.

-Camie was so pretty! You had never met a starfish before, until she introduced you to Pappag and she Camie was so kind to you, shaking your hand, “I’ve never met a human child before!”

-Sanji was flirting, “And I’ve never met a mermaid before!” question marks surrounded your head before you went to speak, wanting to remind him of Kokoro, but Usopp put his hand over your mouth, giving a weak smile, “Let Sanji have this.”

-You were scared when Camie said that her friend, Hachi, who you remember from Arlong Park, running over to Nami who immediately kneeled, hugging you close, but Nami was surprised to hear that Hachi had changed- opening a takoyaki stand.

-However, when she tried to call Hachi, to come and get her and Pappag, someone else answered and you froze, hearing the voice telling Camie that they were going to sell Hachi to the auction house, as fishmen and mermaids always sold for a lot of money.

-Luffy turned to Nami, leaving the decision to her. Nami squeezed you close before nodding softly, knowing that the crew could easily handle Hachi if he were to try anything against any of them or you.

-The Flying Fish were so cool! You couldn’t help but watch, from the safety of Nami’s grove, after you were told to hide, as you watched your family fight against Duval, who was really angry at Sanji for some reason, while they were trying to rescue Pappag, Camie, and Hachi at the same time.

-Your jaw dropped as you saw Duval’s face, seeing that he looked like Sanji’s wanted poster, which didn’t look a thing like him, but Duval was furious at the similarities.

-Brook was laughing loudly as he landed near you, after taking care of some of the Flying Fish riders, holding his stomach… or where his stomach would have been if he had one, while Sanji was yelling at him.

-Duval was prepared to catch everyone onboard Sunny, wanting to sell everyone, knowing that the auction house would love seeing fishmen, a mermaid, and a heavily wanted crew.

-After the battle had been won and you were all on the Sunny, Duval now a friend to the Straw Hats, as now he was extremely beautiful, in his opinion, Hachi was treating everyone to Takoyaki.

-You could see Nami was hesitant and angry with Hachi being on board, which he knew, but she did tell him that his Takoyaki was yummy at least.

-You were sitting on Sanji’s lap, as he was pouting lightly still, however he was helping you eat the Takoyaki, blowing on it as it was a little too hot for you.

-Seeing your cheeks fully, looking like a little chipmunk, quickly turned Sanji’s mood around, smiling down at you as he wiped your mouth, “You really like those don’t you?”

-You nodded rapidly, “It’s so yummy! I’ve never had anything like it before!” Hachi couldn’t help but smile, thanking you for your compliment which did surprise you- he wasn’t scary like he was before.

-Your eyes went huge as you approached the archipelago, seeing the towering mangrove trees and the massive floating bubbles, staring with Chopper, Luffy, and Usopp, all of you with sparkly eyes as Hachi told Nami that to get to Fishman Island, they would need to get the ship coated to travel under the water, and that he would take him to the best person he knows for coating.

-You were excited to explore the island, not hearing the dangers of this place, with the World Nobles and other powerful pirates, as well as marines on top of it. You just wouldn’t wait to get off the ship!

#eri reader #luffy #zoro #nami #usopp #sanji #chopper #nico robin #franky #brook

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smartycvnt · 8 months

Text

End of the Line

Title: End of the Line Pairin: Kara Danvers x Reader Prompt: 1. "Aren't you supposed to be taking it easy?" + 2. "You have got to be more careful. I can't think about what would happen if I lost you." R WC: 769

Supergirl was supposed to be indestructible. She was the unstoppable force of good to combat the immovable object that was evil. Y/n had seen Kara through a lot, but she had never seen Kara so close to actual death before in her entire life. Y/n had carried Kara's back to the DEO, where they hooked her up to all sorts of machines that tried to figure out what it was that was killing Kara. Alex looked just as distressed as Y/n, but without nearly as much of the guilt attached. Y/n had been the one who was out in the field with Kara. Y/n was the one who should have shielded Kara from whatever that big, stupid beam was that had been coming towards them. Instead, Y/n had let Kara shove her out of the way to take all of it.

"The good news it hat she will pull through, but she needs to take it easy for a while. The two of you can go in if you're like," the doctor said. Alex rushed in with Y/n hot on her tail. Kara was sitting up in the bed now, but she looked smaller and weaker than she should have. Y/n didn't even know it was possible for Kara to look so human.

"You have got to be more careful. I can't think about what would happen if I lost you," Alex said. She was quick to hug Kara while Y/n just stood back playing with her own hands. Kara reassured Alex that she was fine, but kept her eyes on Y/n. It didn't take superpowers to notice that Y/n wasn't quite right. Even Alex had been picking up on the tension coming from the metahuman, but she had been afraid to say anything. Y/n's powers weren't completely figured out yet, and Alex was certain that outbursts triggered certain uncontrollable side effects.

"You're going to be okay?" Y/n asked. Kara nodded as she sat up in the hospital bed. Alex told Kara what had happened, but Y/n couldn't understand a word of it. Everything sounded like Y/n had her head shoved inside of a bubble. She could see Alex and Kara staring at her, which was when Y/n took off running. She wasn't quite sure where she was going, but a little over an hour later, Y/n finally stopped running. She was still somewhere in National City, staring out at all the lights as she sat on the edge of a building.

Y/n stared down over the edge of the building towards the sidewalk. She wasn't invincible, nor could she really fly either. It was more like making big jumps and leaps into the air. Kara teased her about it, how Y/n could jump just high to hurt herself if she tried. It was like her powers couldn't agree on whether or not they would help her. Y/n wasn't organized like Kara. She had been created to rival her, but Kryptonian DNA was something unlike anything that a human machine could synthesize. She was a mistake, and it wouldn't take too much to fix her creator's mistake, especially not from that high up.

"You are not an easy woman to find." Kara sounded out of breath, like she had flown all over the city looking for Y/n. "Please come away from that ledge, you're scaring me."

"Aren't you supposed to be taking it easy?" Y/n asked as she stepped backwards towards Kara. The two of them stared at each other for a moment before Kara pulled Y/n into a hug. "I assumed flying is not taking it easy."

"I had to find you before you did something stupid," Kara mumbled as she fell into Y/n's arms. Y/n supported as much of Kara's weight as Kara would let her as they moved towards the door Y/n had come up through. Y/n tried to pull it open, but the door didn't budge one bit. "If you don't mind waiting a bit, I can fly us back to the DEO."

"Hmm, I guess you're good enough company," Y/n teased. Kara scoffed, but neither woman could hide the smiles on their faces as Y/n kissed Kara's cheek. Y/n still felt like she had nearly screwed over the whole world by letting Kara die, but that feeling was beginning to subside as she held Kara in her arms. There was still a chance that the world could be good, at least for another night.

#my writing #supergirl x reader #supergirl #arrowverse x reader #arrowverse #kara danvers x reader #kara danvers

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maxybabyy · 9 months

Text

and I'm afraid it's you - Charles/Max, 2194 words, gen day two of @lestappenweek 2023 prompt: soulmate au

“Charles? Are you coming down too, mate?” But Charles doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to get any closer to the goose, briefly considers following that guy over the side of the boat. “Are we even sure that it is not a regular goose?” He yells back and tries not to flinch when the goose shifts. “Maybe we should call animal control, no?” “Why don’t you come down and find out?” Fuck off, Charles wants to say, wants to flip him off and see how far this celebrity thing really gets him. But there’s no time. The goose flaps its wings, once, twice, and lands gracefully on the railing he had been leaning on. It honks softly, waddles down to sit on the bench instead. Fuck.

The goose appears on the lower deck of the boat, with a honk and a waddle as it finds its footing on the slippery surface.

“Fuck no,” someone says and jumps over the side of the boat, the splash of water drowned out by the goose’s honking somehow on beat to the music. The goose doesn’t follow him, waddles past another group to get to the small staircase.

Charles has only seen a handful of soulmate geese. Romantic creatures with little to no chasing involved, nudging their person along until it could take flight again – a job well done. This does not look anything like that.

The stairs are too steep for the goose’s legs, the edge of the steps catches on its feet and forces it back on deck. The long neck tenses, bill opened to let out a loud honk at another failed try. It bleeds frustration, and Charles almost feels bad for it. But he’s only twenty-three, he doesn’t need his entire life decided for him already. Someone else must fall on the sword today.

He goes up another flight of stairs, watches as the goose snaps its teeth when someone attempts to approach.

“It doesn’t want any help,” she says with a frown. She tries again with her palms upturned, tongue clicking awkwardly like she’s catching a chicken and not a beast of a goose. “Is there another way up?”

“It’s a goose,” someone else says. Charles only knows three people on the boat, and now he’s trapped here with a bunch of strangers and a fucking goose. He really shouldn’t have come. “Can’t it just fly if it wants to come up here?”

“Or maybe you all could just come down here so we can get this over with,” Marc yells back. He nudges the goose up with his foot, but that’s as far as it gets. Its stomach protrudes and bumps into the next step, forces it back down on deck. “I’m not gonna spend my day doing this. Get down or get off my boat, yeah?”

People come down in groups, skip the last few steps to make it to safety far away from the stairs. But the goose doesn’t move, keeps watch by the step. Charles tries to imagine it in one of those bearskin hats the royal guards wear, long neck swallowed by dark fur until there’s nothing left by a wide feathered body.

The crowd is thinning, and the goose still honks. If he squints really hard, he can almost believe the goose isn’t staring at him. Maybe the goose needs glasses too.

“Charles? Are you coming down too, mate?”

Charles knows he’s special. A lot of people want to be friends with Formula One drivers, Ferrari even more so. He knows if he was anyone else, he would probably already have been thrown out, with or without a goose under the arm.

But Charles doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to get any closer to the goose, briefly considers following that guy over the side of the boat. “Are we even sure that it is not a regular goose?” He yells back and tries not to flinch when the goose shifts. “Maybe we should call animal control, no?”

“Why don’t you come down and find out?”

Fuck off, Charles wants to say, wants to flip him off and see how far this celebrity thing really gets him. But there’s no time. The goose flaps its wings, once, twice, and lands gracefully on the railing he had been leaning on.

It honks softly, waddles down to sit on the bench instead. Fuck.

Upon closer inspection, the goose is kind of cute.

Its feathers are ruffled from the previous tantrum, and Charles is all too aware of the teeth occupying its mouth and tongue. But there is something charming about the way it waddles between his legs, the slap of webbed feet as it follows him around.

No one has approached the upper deck since the goose had landed, but Charles doesn’t mind. The sun is hot on his skin, and the cooler is still full of beer. He can have his own party.

The peace doesn’t last, abruptly ended by the goose honking fucking murder.

“Hey uh, maybe you should go home, mate.” Marc says. He hasn’t touched the second staircase, staying safely on the first deck. “You know with the goose and such.”

“It’s doing fine, I think.” Charles says, strokes its long neck and only narrowly avoids getting napped. “Maybe if you have some water for it? Of course, it will go for a dip if it gets too hot, but –“

“Mate, the vibes up here are rancid,” Marc says, winces. “A few of the birds thought you were gonna come say hello, figured maybe they would have a shot with the goose here and all. But you’re just up here drinking alone. It’s pathetic, mate.”

Charles chokes. He feels the goose by his side tense up, readying another honk.

But Charles feels exhausted, burnt out and useless. He wants to call his mother, ask her to come pick him up, knows he cannot. Knows she would be disappointed with how he’s acted today, towards the goose and otherwise.

So he stands, with whatever dignity he has left, and takes the stairs two at a time. He doesn’t turn to see if the goose is following, hears the patter of feet on his heels and knows he won’t be alone tonight. Doesn’t fully hate the idea of it, of someone else in his empty apartment. Even if it is a fucking goose.

His mother is predictably mad that he broke quarantine, barely cares about how the goose hasn’t stopped honking since he let it into his apartment.

“You cannot do this, Charles.” She says, terse and scary-quiet. “You are being selfish and a dumb, foolish boy. It is not only you. You cannot see anyone now, not until we know that you are not sick. Not your brothers, your friends, me. You cannot!”

“Maman, please!” He begs, ignores how the goose has been pecking at his collections of helmets. “I met my goose today,” he says instead, dizzy with relief when she takes the bait.

Sandra from PR invites him to a Zoom meeting with his agent and an FIA representative who is half asleep the entire call. It’s a watered-down version of what he probably deserves, of what the FIA would have done if he wasn’t who he is, from a team with the legacy it has.

“We’re counting on you to make this right, Charles.” Sandra says in curt Italian. “Do not let us down.”

Charles won’t, couldn’t even if he wanted to. He has a goose now.

Charles doesn’t pretend to know anything about viruses or zoonoses – the transmissions of disease between animals and humans, he learns – but he cannot risk infecting his goose. He’s spent too long reading articles about zoonotic COVID, of the mink suspected to be infected.

He clicks his tongue and the goose whips around, feathers ruffled and neck lurching. “Mink and geese are not the same. Of course, you will not become sick,” he promises, rubs along the feather of its neck.

The honk is soft this time, the goose wrapping its neck around his shoulders.

Charles comes back from his grocery run to a ruined apartment.

“You cannot come!” He had begged, blocking the door so the goose wouldn’t follow him out. “You cannot wear a mask, so you cannot come to the store! You will become sick.”

The goose had cared little, tearing apart the pillows of his couch and knocking over the helmets it had been pecking at. Now, the goose sits on a nest of shredded clothes, a moat of trophies built around it.

“Oison, that is not for you! Bad goose,” he says and reaches for the trophies, puts them away safely. He grabs what looks to be his prize from Austria but flinches back when the goose lets out an ear-piercing screech, body trembling with anger. “You cannot keep that, it is mine. I won it.” But the goose does not stop, lets out another demonic sound as it continues to stand guard over the trophy.

His sanity is already half gone from self-containment, and the goose only makes it worse.

It cannot go outside even if it must, to lead him to his soulmate. It gives chase in the tiny hallway of his apartment, but it too must realise Charles has nowhere to go but in circles. It frustrates them both, but Charles cannot risk it.

The goose takes to patrol the front door, pecking nonsense into the wood like Charles is somehow going to comply with its terms. Instead, he spends most of the day barricaded in the bathroom. Water-resistant earphones deep in his ear as he tries to drown out the honks.

Charles has to take out the earphones to dry his hair, rubbing the towel over his head.

He’s almost dressed when he pauses in his step. There are no honks, no pecks, or screeches of frustration from being cooped up, nothing but peaceful silence. It makes Charles’ heart seize in his throat.

“Oison? What are you doing, stupid animal?” He yells and runs to the living room. His mind flashes with imagines of opened windows, of doors left agape. All the ways the goose could have escaped. But instead of a prison break, the goose is curled up in the safe arms of Max Verstappen. “Max?”

“Hello Charles,” Max says and strokes a hand down the long neck of the goose. One of his bandanas is tied around it, a neat bowtie making the goose looks fancier than it should. “This is of course a lovely goose you have.”

“What are you doing here?” He cannot help but ask, ignores the beady-eyed stare the goose turns on him. “I did not know you were still in Monaco.”

Max smiles, bends down to kiss the top of its head. “Pierre was of course worried that you were not picking up your phone. His girlfriend has symptoms, so always he could not come himself. But he knew I was staying alone in the apartment.”

At some point, his phone had made it into the nest of the beast. Charles had been too much of a coward to get it back.

Now he sinks to his knees opposite Max, watches with sweaty palms how Max handles the goose with ease. “You are really good at that,” he says, swallows when Max turns to frown at him. “Goose handling, handling the goose, I mean.”

“I think he likes me,” Max says.

Charles shrugs, “You can have him. He is very loud.”

Max looks at the goose, curled up in his lap like it hadn’t been acting a fool for the past week. “Do you know who your soulmate is?”

Charles chokes, and then shakes his head. “Of course, it cannot go outside. I would not know what to do if it got sick, the doctors would not care, and then I would never know.”

Max stares up at him, and Charles cannot breathe. Because it cannot be –

“You think we would not know if we were soulmates?”

“Always, the goose is correct,” Max says with the same steadfast confidence that he does everything with. It makes Charles dizzy. Delirious, delusional too. “If the goose says we are soulmates, I think, of course this must be true.”

“You are not joking?”

Max shrugs. He moves the goose to the couch, makes sure it has a view of the space between them. “We have of course already done it, so it should not matter. This way we will know for sure.”

“Know what?” Charles asks, licks his lips.

Max kisses him softly, and Charles knows then that he is correct.

He meets him halfway, pulls him closer to his chest until Max has to crawl into his lap, curl his arms around him to keep him close. It’s wonderful and great, and Charles never wants it to end. But then, it doesn’t have to. Max is mandated to kiss him now, to be by his side and probably eventually like, love him with all his heart.

It makes Charles dizzy all over again.

The goose is gone when he opens his eyes again, the window agape where Max must have opened it. Must have known how this would end.

Max kisses his cheek and gets to his feet, says, “You should pack your bags, and then we will go to my apartment.”

“What?”

“I have of course my cats. It will be easier for you to come to us than for them to get used to a new place,” Max elaborates. He picks up the lone trophy still in the abandoned nest and smiles. “Unless you of course want to be here alone still.”

Charles swallows, shakes his head. “You want me to move in with you?”

“We are of course going to be together forever, Charles. Always, we should start now.”

Charles laughs, takes the hand Max offers to help him up. “Yes, of course, Max.”

#lestappen #lestappen fic #my fic #fic #my writing #lestappen week 2023 #lsw23 #day two #soulmate au #lestappen week summer 2023

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hqmillioncorn · 16 days

Text

Blow me away!

As Babycorn rounded a corner with a wallet full of gil her eyes caught of sight of something absolutely horrifying. The image of her good friend B'ig Nunh in miniature form. Which would have been pretty scary on its own but Babycorn was so caught off guard by it that she believed it not to be a toy- But instead that someone had taken B'ig Nunh and shrunken him to be S'mall Nunh. How was his name going to be B'ig Nunh if he was so small?!?!!? As Babycorn held him in her hands and wailed loudly the shopkeeper could only look at her, very confused and afraid.

Lalapril 4/12 Zephyr with @windupiceheart 's vertical height and b'ig nunh

babycorn and cherrypit try to fly a kite and run into some besties :)

It was a particularly windy day in the Lavender Beds today. The wind was so strong today that hanging up laundry to dry would probably be too dangerous.

That was how Babycorn had successfully gotten out of having to do that particular chore. Instead she and Cherrypit decided to spend that time doing something way more fun.

Something like flying the new kite they bought yesterday!

Babycorn adjusted the ribbon holding her ponytail back. Her hair had been blowing itself in front of her face ever since they first stepped outside and it was getting really annoying at this point. “Ready Cherry?” Babycorn called out. She bent down and picked up the end of the kite line.

In front of her Cherrypit was holding onto the kite itself. He had been waiting for this moment ever since yesterday. Cherrypit was practically vibrating with excitement, “Go! Go? Time to go?!”

Babycorn looked up at the wisteria tree hanging above them. The leaves (or whatever those things were) blew in the direction towards Cherrypit. “Okay! Go Cherrypit!” Babycorn shouted.

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!!!” Cherrypit shrieked. His pent up energy was finally released as he took off running out of the mansion’s front entrance and down the hill. His laughter echoed throughout the entire ward.

Babycorn, meanwhile, was just glad to be along for the ride.

Seeing as she was currently just getting dragged by her feet across Cherrypit’s entire path she assumed that he must have been too excited about the kite to remember that he had to let go of the kite at some point. “He’s so cute…” Babycorn smiled as she was dragged across a small puddle of water.

Her shoes were all wet now but the good news was that the wind would probably dry them out soon.

Babycorn wondered just how far Cherrypit would run, not that she minded it but lunch was supposed to be in a few hours or so and she didn’t want to miss it. It was spaghetti for lunch today!

She looked in front of the path that awaited her and recognized two of the people near the marketboard.

“Oh!”

It looked like Cherrypit had recognized them too, as he was running around them and Babycorn could hear him laughing from where she was. In other news it looked like waving at his friends had caused Cherrypit to let the kite go. It took no time for it to take to the air.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!! Verticaaaaaaaaaaaal!!” Babycorn yelled as she continued to be dragged by the remaining kite line. Any second now she was sure to stop. “Hiiiiiiiiiii!! B’iiiiiiiiiiiiig!!!!!”

Vertical looked behind her and watched as Babycorn was dragged by her feet across the path in front of her until she came to a complete stop. “hey babycorn.” She waved at Babycorn as B’ig Nunh popped in from behind her. “Hey Babycorn!” He greeted her the same.

“Hehe!” Babycorn laughed to herself and swayed in joy in the wind. “Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!” She kept greeting her friends over and over, she was just really happy to see them. Almost as happy as Cherrypit was. He had run over to stand next to Babycorn to join her in swaying back and forth happily.

“What are you two up to today?” B’ig asked. He remained totally still as Cherrypit jumped on top of his hat and started to swipe at his heart shaped pom.

“I’m flying a kite today!” Babycorn looked particularly proud of it.

“Kite! Flying a kite!!” Cherrypit added.

Vertical looked up at where Babycorn was pointing. “cool kite.”

B’ig instead started from the end of the kite line in Babycorn’s hands as his eyes traveled up the line all the way to the kite itself.

Then B’ig almost burst into flames when he realized that the kite that Babycorn was flying was distinctly shaped like his pair of couerl briefs.

Just like, three times larger than usual.

“W-W-W-Where did you get those?!?!!?” B’ig was going to cry. His biggest fear was that Babycorn had somehow broken into the laundry room again.

“Huh? Get what?”

“THOSE!” B’ig Nunh yelled at the top of his lungs and pointed up at the kite high up in the air where anyone in the Lavender Beds right now could simply look up and see it.

“Oooooh! That!” Babycorn laughed to herself and Cherrypit started laughing alongside her not too long after. “I bought it!” she explained, pulling on the string of the kite to keep it steady.

“where did you buy something like that?” Vertical asked in place of B’ig, who at this point had decided that he was going to just lie down on the ground and cope.

“There was some little pop-up store in Limsa Lominsa that was selling a bunch of B’iggy things! Like this kite! And this!” Babycorn held up a fan that had B’ig Nunh’s face on it alongside some text that said ‘Never give up!’ or something like that. Babycorn waved the fan at her face and giggled, “Me and Cherry bought out the whole stand with the allowance Lunya gave us yesterday!”

As Babycorn continued to laugh almost manically, B’ig Nunh visibly grimaced. This whole B’ig Nunh merch thing was probably not going to go over well with Tataru if she ever found out. The danger of him having to pose for another calendar for next year was far too real for his liking.

As B’ig Nunh was thinking about what other ways Tataru could profit off his existence, another strong breeze came right at them.

The wind was strong enough to pick up the kite and lift Babycorn up from the ground. “WAaaAAAAHHHHH!” Babycorn shrieked in terror. Being dragged along for the ride was one thing but she wasn’t a big fan of being too high up from the ground.

“watch out.” Vertical acted fast and grabbed Babycorn before she could fly up any higher. “don’t worry. i got you.” She wasn’t about to let her good friend Babycorn Corn fly up into the sun to never return.

“We got chuchu!” Cherrypit climbed ontop of Vertical’s head and grabbed a part of Babycorn’s skirt, specifically part of the long ribbon that was attached to it. “Got Bebe!” Cherrypit lightly tugged on the ribbon. He didn’t want to tear it off the skirt.

“Uwuabwaubwua…Thanks you guuuyyys…” Babycorn cried as Vertical gently set her back onto solid ground.

“there you go.” Vertical carefully let go of her, making sure to hover her hands around Babycorn just in case another strong gust of wind suddenly came barging in. When it looked like the coast was clear she took a step back and sighed.

It looked like Babycorn was going to thank Vertical once again but as soon as she opened her mouth, her eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh!” Babycorn reached into her back pocket and from out of it she pulled out a small object wrapped in paper. “I forgot I got you something Vertical! I think you’ll like iiiiit!” Babycorn stretched her arm up to reach Vertical but came up very short.

On account that Babycorn was very short.

Vertical instead bent down herself to grab the gift from Babycorn. “thank you babycorn.” She inspected the wrapped gift closely before beginning to unwrap it. There was something very familiar about the shape of the gift.

“As soon as I saw it I just knew I had to get it for you!!” Babycorn excitedly tapped her feet on the ground. “It was the only one left too! Can you believe it?!” She must have really lucked out. Babycorn was well aware of how popular B’ig was so of course it being almost sold out made sense. It must have been fate!

When all of the very ugly wrapping paper was finally off Vertical saw what it was that Babycorn had been so excited to gift to her. “oh!” It was a one-of-a-kind knock off B’ig Nunh bobblehead figure. Its head wobbled in the air as it gave whoever was holding it a thumbs-up.

B’ig felt a little flattered about it but he couldn’t help but think if his head was really that big. Probably not. “Wait, these were almost sold out?!” He had to admit they were cute but just how many were they selling to have them sold out so quickly?

“Yeah!” Babycorn danced happily in place. “I bought almost all of them except for this one so they were almost sold out!”

“Ah.”

Vertical Height held the small B’ig Nunh in her hands as she looked back and forth between it and her real-life bestie B’ig. “its kind of cute isn’t it?” Vertical poked the oversized head of the B’ig b’obble head and watched it wiggle around.

“I’m cuter.” B’ig grumbled to himself.

Vertical poked the B’ig bobblehead more. “they got the color of your briefs wrong.”

“They WHAT?!”

Vertical held the B’ig B’obblehead lower so he could get a good look at it. It was just as Vertical said, the color of his couerl briefs had been colored in wrong.

Instead of a metallic blue they were a purple-ish pink color. “I haven’t worn that color in years!” The people that made this knock-off must have missed last year's Hot B’ig Nunh calendar where he was clearly wearing his signature metallic blue couerl briefs.

Babycorn raised her hand. Specifically the one still holding onto the kite. “I can go back and tell them they got the color wrong if that’ll help!” Anything to help her good friend B’ig Nunh!

“NO ITS OKAY!”

B'ig Nunh knew in his love-filled heart that Babycorn would have definitely gone and done that if he didn't stop her in time. And that was absolutely terrifying.

#lalapril #lalapril 2024 #Babycorn #Cherrypit #Vertical #B'ig #the idea of bootleg b'ig nunh merchandise makes me laugh way too much #and babycorns room is filled with it she cant tell the difference #if any of her friends have merch she owns pretty much all of it #my other idea was since its gentle breeze was to write the joke of the drawing statty did once of doctor b'ig and babycorn #cause trauma center but naahh #maybe next time anyway that kite got stuck in a tree later #sorry b'ig nunh didnt die in this one i ll do better next time i promise :((((

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p3sephone · 2 years

Note

🧁 = “You’re so pure and beautiful” with P. Parker please

Hello there! Here is your request, and I hope you're gonna enjoy this one! If you want to request more of these ones, please look at this.

Summary: you always help everyone, and it seems Peter is kinda tired of it.

Words: 806.

Warnings: unwanted touches, hints of stalking, little bit delusional Peter. This has dark themes, if you don't like this or if you're a minor DO NOT READ. Only +18.

Note: if you'd like, feedbacks are always welcome and appreciated! Also thank you for the love I've being receiving this days. Helps me feel better with some shit I'm handling. <3

⊱⇱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

You shared a knowing look followed with a little laugh at your colleague, before continuing to fix the bar counter. By now it was closing time and you couldn't wait to go home and take a shower. Today had been particularly stressful and busy with customers, but your friend sure knew how to cheer you up. You heard her phone vibrate, so you warned her. She thanked you briefly and then answered her phone, and her smile broke down. You knew she was having a lot of trouble lately, but she told you she wasn't ready to talk about it yet. When she looked at you in an almost guilty way you realized that she had to go away immediately, it had to be important. You gave her the best of your smiles, gesturing to her without too many words. She smiled at you again as she took off her work apron, then hugged you. "I don't know what to do without you." she exclaimed running, retrieving her purse from the back. "Oh, you definitely wouldn't be so happy every day!" you yelled at her carelessly, knowing that now all the customers were gone. Only the closure was missing. She raised the shutters of the bar, throwing you a kiss that you "collected" with a smile, watching her go. You sighed happily, continuing to do your job. By now it was almost finished, you would have gone home. You turned around to put all the glasses back in their proper place, then turned around to retrieve the last one. You jumped in fear when you saw a young boy on the threshold of the door, bend down and enter the half-open shutter. You let out a nervous chuckle, politely asking him to leave. When he looked up you could recognize him: Peter Parker. You knew him, he went to the same school as you. You gave him a short apologetic smile, now much calmer: you knew that working late at night was not exactly the best and like the others you were afraid of so many accidents. But Peter Parker? No, he was perfectly calm, he could not have killed a fly even if it had been buzzing around him all day. He chuckled nervously, taking off the hat that prevented you from recognizing him earlier. "Sorry for the time, I just saw you and… I went in to say hello, that's it." he smiled kindly at you and you reciprocated, even if you had the urge to turn up your nose. You were happy, but so tired and the last thing you needed was a social interaction with someone. "Thanks Peter, this is very kind of you." you briefly replied, still trying to formulate a sentence to politely send him away. It was really late and you just wanted to go home. "You, um… you were very nice before. When you let her go." You have stopped arranging the glasses and turning your back to him, slowly turning towards him. Now he was slightly closer, but that wasn't what bothered you: your colleague had been gone for 15 minutes, the shutter had been half open ever since. Was he watching you all that time? You couldn't stop the chills that went up and down on your back. You let out a nervous laugh, too nervous. "It's just that when a person is in trouble you always have to help, right?" Right sentence at the very wrong time. He smiled at you almost arrogantly, as if he had the most diabolical plan in mind. "Sure, you're right. And you seem in trouble to me. You're so pure and beautiful, and I can't let all these people take advantage of you. It's already the fourth time you let him go about her problems, you punctually help people who don't even say hello by lending them notes. Honey, you should learn better. " he cooed softly, still moving closer until the counter was the only thing separating you. You swallowed hard, reaching for the phone with your arm. You wanted to call the police, send him away. He was scaring you.

He frowned, suddenly jumping on the counter and then exactly where you were. You tried to run but he grabbed you around the waist, delicately, so that his grip wouldn't hurt you too much. "Don't, don't worry, I'm here. I'll always take care of you, my little angel." he said those cheeky, sweet words to you as he covered your mouth so you wouldn't scream, as he left sloppy kisses down your cheek, running down your neck. Tears flowed inexorably from your eyes as you struggled, looked out for someone. It was empty, it was late, dark. You sobbed harder as you felt his hands squeeze you even more, whispering sweet and false promises in your ear.

#dark peter parker #dark peter #dark! peter parker #dark peter x reader #dark peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker #dark marvel #dark avengers

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agentplutonium · 4 months

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Percy Jackson and the Olympians Live Blog: watch this PNO book obsessed nerd watch ep three of Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Spoilers under the cut. You’ve been warned.

- FUCKING GABE BEING THE ORACLE THATS SO FUNNY

- “and a bag of these things. I think they’re canadian. or from Chucky cheese, I don’t know” PLEASE WHY DID THAT TAKE ME OUTTT

- THE SHOES!! GOD THEYRE SO PRETTY (and so is Luke, but we don’t dwell on that because that’s the point and i have read the books i know where this goes)

- oh god we’re talking about Thalia i’m gonna cry

- ANNABETH!! ANNABETH MY BELOVED!!

- “And you. Are not. Thalia.” YOU TELL HIM GIRL

- THE BUS OH GOD

- “Forbidden Child” is such a metal sentence actually

- Leah is killing it in this role i’m so in love with her acting she’s such an amazing Annabeth

- UGH SHOWING ANNABETHS CHILD SIDE THIS IS SO!!!

- NO ANNABETH FET OUT OF THERE

- “They smell fear.” “That’s bees 🙄” I LOVE THEM

- oh god it’s dodds

- OH GOD SHES BARGAINING FOR PERCY

- HER SISTERS ARE HERE

- well that was disappointing/lh

- this forest is so pretty wait-

- “we don’t need help. we’re fine.” i love her

- “why are you so afraid of who you are?” “what?” DUDE

- THE UNCLE COMMENT. FORESHADOWING. SIR. SIR. i can’t take this

- “Excuse me?” GIRL. LEAH’S ACTING. TOP NOCH.

- “First? What do you mean “first”?” uh oh

- “hamburgers” man we are FLYING through this plot

- “not today, friends, not on my doorstep.” oh god. why is medusa hot. this is unfair.

- “i think we can trust her” white boy is at it again /j

- “we’re not our parents, after all.” oooo tie in to percabeth ???

- “So you’re not a monster, then.” “A survivor.” OOH. SO THIS IS HOW WE’RE PLAYING IT /POS

- “Do you know the story of how I became to be this way?” “I do!” “Do you?” Medusa love you’re gonna make me fall head over heels.

- Are we using Medusa as a metaphor for the reforged bond between Athena/Poseidon with Percabeth

- “My mother is Just. Always.” Girl idk how to tell you this-

- “She’s going to betray you. Sooner or later, people like her, always do.” GIRL YOU BETER STFU-

- BRINGING HIS MOM INTO THIS?? MAAM. MAAM DONT MAKE ME CHANGE MY OPINION IF YOU.

- FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

- GROVER WEARING THE SHOES OH GOD-

- OOO THIS IS AN INTERESTING ROOM

- PFF GROVER FLYING AWAY

- she’s still so pretty, i said what i said-

- PERCY THE GLOW OF THE SWORD

- GEOVER

- the hat on the head that’s p cool

- PLEASE THE TENSION

- ooo that’s smart

- NO NOT THE UNCLE THIS IS SADDER THAN THE BOOKS

- “He doesn’t look afraid.” *DISTANT SOBBING*

- grover speak your truth bb !! god i love him

- “Because the Oracle said one of you would betray me!” NOO PERCY

- “I’m feeling so alone! I don’t know what to think or who to trust.” *MORE DISTANT SOBBING*

- “They will see this as impertinent” “i am impertinent” PLEASE

- GIVING THE HAT BACK AHHHH *cries*

- PERCY SINGING THE SONG PLEASE

- LIN MANUEL MIRANDA :O

- “you guys are not gonna believe this-“ HAH

- fuck the preview makes the next ep look so good i’m so excited

OKAY THATS THE END IF THIS EPISODE guys i’m so in love with this show you don’t understand. i’m so. the autism is coming out. pray for me.

#percy jackson show #redacted audio #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo liveblog

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annepsilvaauthor · 3 months

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You Belong With Me - Jamie Dutton

Pairing: Jamie Dutton x OC (Ava North)

Summary: Ava only wanted one thing: to be a horse tamer. And when she had the chance, she took it. Ava became the new horse tamer of Yellowstone, a totally different ranch from the others she met, either because of its immensity or because of family problems. Ava thought her problems were big, but when she met the Dutton family that thought dies. However, there is a Dutton who is a point out of the curve, a lawyer mistreated by the problems and by his own family. Meeting Jamie Dutton may not have been the work of chance, after all one broken understands the other.

Warnings: Subtle sexual innuendos, brief language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, fluffy.

Part I

A woman among rustic men

"Guys, this is Ava North. She will stay with us from now on. Treat her like one of you." Rip announced to the cowboys at dawn.

Ava watched every look of the cowboys carefully. They stared at her in a mixture of discredit, confusion and horniness. She did not expect anything different from what she received, after all, she was the only woman among those rustic men who probably had no time or willingness to leave the barn in search of some adventure in the city. Rip could order them to treat her like a man, they could try to treat her like a man, she wanted them to see her like that, but Ava would never pass herself off as a man.

Ava had inherited her mother's long dark hair, as well as slightly tanned skin and small, black eyes. They said that her nose and mouth looked a lot like her father's, but she couldn't say it since she never saw him. The slender and curvilinear body may have been inherited by genetics, although the years of training for competitions have physically prepared her for something beyond rodeo. The fact was that, even under a hat, wide and thick clothes, heavy boots and dust, Ava did not go unnoticed by anyone, especially for those men.

Rip did not give enough time for the cowboys to whisper or approach Ava, sending them to perform the daily tasks. One of them, Lloyd, a man who looked more than fifty years old, but with a cervix as hard as hers, guided her with a respectful smile to one of the horses in the barn. It was big, black and shiny.

"How gorgeous you are." Ava exclaimed walking her hands through the robust mane and it snealed loudly at her. "Hey, calm down, boy."

"This stallion has given us a lot of work." Lloyd explained in his hoarse voice. "Rip told about your old job. Do you think you can do your magic with this one?"

"I can try." She caressed the strong shoulders of that horse as a woman would caress the man she loved. "The secret is in trust. Probably whoever rode him was more afraid of him than he was of the tamer. He can feel everything, even a miserable fly in the hull, and he certainly feels our fear."

"He seems to like you." Lloyd smiled under his thick mustache as he contemplated the calm of the stallion under Ava's hands. "Let's test it."

Lloyd opened the gate and guided the stallion through the partitions until he reached the huge fence about a hundred meters away. He prepared the cell and the stirrups, so he invited her to assemble. As much as Ava had practiced that for long years, it had been a long time since she rode a horse for the last time. And taming one ha longer than that. She didn't want to tell Rip about it or she wouldn't convince him to accept her there. But the fact was that Ava was a bit nervous to ride again,

She noticed that Lloyd was watching her carefully, trying to find some reason for her to be there in the middle of those rough men who barely knew how to read. Maybe he thought why she had left the competitions or how she had convinced Rip to let her work there. Whatever his thought, Ava should demonstrate with actions that she deserved to be there, that she really had a talent and loved what she did.

So, she leaned on the cell and rode the horse. Immediately, the stallion was surprised by her presence there and began to jump and rabble, wanting to expel her from there. However, years could have passed, but the muscular memory was as alive as before. Ava grabbed the cell tightly and tied her other hand to the stirrup, slightly forcing the horse's snout. He still moved under her mount, making her run through the white sand a few times. That horse was very fierce, but Ava wouldn't be defeated.

She lightly pressed the stallion's ribs with her boots, also trying to calm her own being. Once again relaxed, Ava finally got the animal to stop jumping and start running. The strong breeze of the morning hit her face without merce, taking her hat away, but she didn't care. The smile of satisfaction covered her dusty face and she only noticed that there was an audience when the horse ceased its movements.

Lloyd clapped his hands on the other side of the fence, proud of what he had just seen. However, her attention was fixed on the man next to him. He exhaled power in his bluish look and calm expression. No one needed to report that that was Mr. John Dutton, the most influential landowner in Montana. He stared at her with a mini smile that she interpreted as something not very common to him, a smile that he released only when he was satisfied with something. Not bad for the first day, she thought.

John Dutton didn't have time to say anything about her performance — if he was going to say anything — because his attention was stolen by someone else. Ava observed a tall man, so white that he shone in the sunlight, and navy blue suit very aligned to visit a ranch. He walked in a hurry, touching the buttons of the suit in the meantime and aiming at nothing more than John's back. The rest of the world didn't seem to exist for him. Ava didn't seem to exist for him.

The man who looked like a businessman or perhaps a lawyer called John, who did not seem so happy with his arrival and walked away from the fence. The two began a quick conversation that ended in expressions that transited between worry and boredom. So, John Dutton walks away from the stables with the man in a suit. He didn't even look at Lloyd, or anything around him. His focus was just John Dutton and that intrigued Ava more than it should.

"Who was him?" She asked as soon as she got off the horse.

"He was John Dutton. Yours and our boss." Lloyd responded by collecting the stallion's stirrups.

Ava shook her head. "I know. I mean the other one, the one with the suit and tie."

"Oh! That's Jamie Dutton, John's son."

"He doesn't seem to be the son of a landowner."

Lloyd laughed as if he knew something else. "That boy always behaved as if he were more, and became more. He is the family lawyer, he graduated from Harvard and blah, blah, blah, these nonsense that you or me don't even understand."

"He really seems to be more...or want to be more." Ava thought out loud and decided to leave that subject behind, since the life of the bosses was none of her business.

But her mind wouldn't stop searching that scene and that man. Jamie Dutton. It was not a good name for a lawyer, certainly not a good one for a landowner. Still, it was a name that echoed in her mind all that day.

#jamie dutton x oc #jamie dutton #monica bellucci #kayce dutton #rip wheeler #beth dutton #yellowstone #Yellowstone fic #wes bentley #monica long #you belong with me #YBEM #smut #romance #drama #cowgirl #cowboy #far west

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bcdrawsandwrites · 5 months

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Well, the Coco fic tied on the poll! Since that one's fully finished, I'm gonna go ahead and post it first. (I've also started working on wrapping up that Psychonauts fic that tied!)

So uhhh... I wrote this Coco fic years ago and completely forgot about it until more recently. But for reference, it takes place between Neither Can You and A Blessing of a Curse, and has references to a few other of my fics thrown around here. If you're not familiar with my fics, though, I guess just know that Héctor and Imelda are working through some trauma due to some of Ernesto's shenanigans, to put it lightly.

So uhhh... enjoy?

---~~~---

Héctor dusted off his vest with his good hand, looking at himself in the mirror anxiously. "Do I... look okay?"

"Sí, papá, you look fine," Coco answered, grinning at him.

"Yeah, but... do I really look okay?" He turned to the side to view himself from that angle before looking down at his daughter.

"Papá, that's the outfit you wear the most."

"But does it look okay?"

"You're going for a walk."

"I know, but—"

Coco only laughed, shaking her head, and Héctor couldn't help smiling at her—it was hard to be upset when she wasn't.

"Well... if you say so, mija." His voice caught, and he cleared his throat—it wasn't any emotion, but just the fact that his cervical vertebrae were still recovering from the damage done to them. It hurt less now, and he could talk more, but they got terribly itchy at times. "Ay..."

"Save your talking for mamá." Gently she urged him away from his bedroom mirror and to the door. "Go have fun."

"You... could join us, if you wanted," Héctor said, looking back at her.

She smiled. "No, this is just for you and her. Go on, papá."

Smiling back at her, Héctor finally turned back to the hallway before him and headed down the stairs. Though his leg still bothered him, it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been, so he hoped he would be good for a walk. As he neared the bottom of the stairs, he saw Imelda waiting by the door and talking with her brothers. She looked up as he approached, and his heart leaped.

"I take it you're ready, then?" Imelda asked, and Héctor nodded eagerly, wincing when the action irritated his throat. But she only smiled, opening the door. "Let's go."

The late afternoon sun cast a warm orange glow over the streets of the Land of the Dead, and Pepita lay on her back in the yard, trying to soak in the last of the rays that touched their property. Hearing the approach of her familia, she rolled over and raised her head, alert.

Héctor tensed; every time he'd gone out somewhere since... everything happened, either Pepita or Dante (or both) had accompanied him, ready to assist him whenever possible. Often they ran into the press, and the alebrijes' assistance was needed, but the last few times there had been no incident. Even so, the thought of needing the accompaniment of an alebrije made him slightly less eager about tonight. "Is she...?"

Sighing, Imelda strode up to Pepita and scratched behind her horn reassuringly. "No, no, Pepita, you stay here. We'll be fine on our own."

The big cat's gaze flicked over to Héctor, lingering on him, before she turned back to Imelda with a questioning meow.

"It will be fine," Imelda went on, scratching the side of her alebrije's jaw.

"Are... are you sure?" Héctor asked, limping up to her. "Maybe we should wait a bit longer—"

"Héctor, we can't keep living like this." Imelda's voice was harsh, and he winced back, but she softened immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We can't keep being afraid. The press is leaving us alone now, and all of his men are behind bars. Nothing will hurt us."

Frowning, Héctor stared down at his prosthetic hand, flexing it. After a moment he looked up, a teasing smile tugging at his mouth. "Not even rogue alebrijes?"

Pepita snorted, nearly sending Héctor's hat flying, and Imelda rolled her eyes. "That would happen, wouldn't it?" she said, then chuckled. "Yes, Héctor, if some rogue alebrije charges us again, we can take care of it, or I can call Pepita." She rubbed the cat's nose before stepping back, her demeanor becoming more serious again. "But... I want us to relax tonight, and not worry about anything like that."

Héctor gazed into her eyes, finding some of the worry in his bones easing. "I... think I can manage that."

"Good." With that, she marched toward the gates of their property, and Héctor followed.

It felt a little strange to be stepping outside the hacienda without an actual destination in mind—usually he would step out to help with shopping (really just to get out of the house), to go to the park, or to visit his Shantytown family. It didn't take long, however, for Héctor to merely roll with it, enjoying the fresh air and the warmth of the afternoon sun on his back.

And, of course, the fact that he was actually spending some time alone with his wife.

He found himself turning to her, his heart lifting as he considered the fact that she had asked him to do this. She wanted to be with him. Yes, they'd been building up their relationship again over the past few months, but after so many years of loneliness, it was still a marvel to him.

"It's nice to just get out of the house for a while, isn't it?" Imelda asked, catching him off guard.

"Oh—! Yes." Héctor nodded quickly, adjusting his scarf. "It's warm tonight. And not raining."

Imelda laughed quietly; it had indeed been raining a lot that week, which hadn't made deliveries and grocery runs all that pleasant. "Yes, it seems we've finally gotten a break from that." She grew quiet for a moment. "And... everything else."

"Gracias a Dios," Héctor breathed with a relieved grin. "Let's not even talk about it."

She didn't look back at him, but slowly nodded.

Goodness, it would be nice to think about something else for a while. They never turned on any news stations on the radio or television, since there was always a risk of stuff about that coming up. Even then, some of their familia had been talking when they'd thought he was out of earshot. Words like therapy and mental health had been tossed around a few times, but Héctor would still very much like to avoid seeing doctors as much as possible, whether they be doctors for bones, teeth, or mind. Not to mention, seeing that kind of doctor would require going over everything again—telling it to someone else, reliving it... no, gracias.

Imelda was right—he couldn't keep living in fear and letting everything that happened during that time control the rest of his life. Things had to get back to normal eventually... and this was a great start.

"Miguel is quite the artist," Imelda remarked, drawing him out of his thoughts again.

Héctor brightened—though Miguel hadn't been able to send them any letters yet, since Dante was still recovering, they'd gone back over previous letters he'd sent, admiring the drawings on some of them. In one, he'd drawn Héctor and Imelda from memory, and managed to capture their likenesses quite well. "You think he's started writing that book yet?"

"I don't think so. He said it was for Socorro, and she certainly isn't old enough to understand it yet."

Shrugging, Héctor looked up at the sky, which was beginning to turn from orange to reddish-purple. Though still bright enough to see, the nearby streetlamps flickered on. "No, but creating something for someone takes time." His gaze turned to her with a sly grin. "I certainly didn't wait until we were, eh, what do they call it now... official before I started writing songs for you."

Imelda blinked in surprise. "That's right..." And then she turned to him with a wry smile of her own. "I still remember when you first tried to serenade me."

Immediately Héctor balked, stopping in his tracks and wincing. "Eeeehhhhh. Okay, I never say this, but please don't remember that."

To his utter mortification, she went on, taking a step closer: "You were shaking in your shoes—"

"Imelda—"

"Your face was as white as a sheet—"

"Por favor—"

"And I seem to recall..."

"Ay, no!"

"...your voice cracked."

"Uuuuuuughhhh..." Héctor buckled, covering his face with his hat and mumbling into it: "Honestly, I would have been happy if you'd forgotten that one."

But Imelda tugged the hat back, giving him a fond smile. "It was charming."

Embarrassed as he was, he couldn't be upset at that look, and raised himself back to his full height. "Charming as a deaf burro," he said, adjusting his hat.

She stepped back, raising a brow bone. "Are you saying I have bad taste?"

"¿Qué? No!" Héctor flinched back. "N-no, mi amor, I was just..."

Imelda had looked like she may have been half-joking at first, but her brow furrowed and her eyes lowered, her shoulders sinking as though there was suddenly a weight laid upon them. "...It wasn't you who'd used that phrase originally."

"What are you..."

Héctor froze.

Before him, he saw the vision of a then-taller boy staring down at him in disappointment and disbelief.

What was that?! You sounded like a deaf burro out there.

He'd believed him at the time—near everything he said—and still couldn't recall that moment without wincing.

Though he wasn't looking anymore, the voice went on, in words he'd never actually heard it say: You're not good enough for her, hermanito. You're not good enough for any of them. Why would you even try to go back to her? It's not like your music can win her back now.

He gasped as a jolt of phantom pain shot through his missing hand, and grasped his wrist.

She's just toying with you. After all, you abandoned her before... You're pretty good at that, by the way. Why would she want you again?

"C-cállate," he stammered through grit teeth. "I-I never did that, I never—"

"Héctor?"

With a start, Héctor stumbled backwards, nearly falling, and found himself still on the sidewalk with Imelda staring at him in bewilderment and concern. "Are you all right?"

He mentally kicked himself; what was he doing, letting himself get hung up on this again? They were supposed to be enjoying themselves, and here he was getting upset about a person who wasn't even around anymore. Shaking himself bodily, he straightened again and tugged at his suspenders. "Sí, I'm fine. Just got a bit lost in my thoughts, heh."

Imelda didn't look entirely convinced, and it took a great deal of willpower not to wither under her gaze, as he'd done before Dia de Muertos. "I-I am fine," he insisted, holding out his hands. "Really! I was just—"

"Héctor," she said, holding up a hand herself, and he lowered his, feeling a tension pulling beneath his ribs as he waited for her to speak. "I... need to talk to you about something."

Her tone was serious, and clearly unhappy, and the tension spread from Héctor's chest to the rest of his body.

There it was—she hadn't invited him out for a walk just for the sake of being with him. She needed to talk with him.

Did you think she would actually enjoy your company, hermano? Did you think she actually wanted to keep you around? She's just being polite, and she's going to turn you away.

Héctor looked up into Imelda's eyes, and could see it—hesitation, anxiety... whatever she was going to tell him couldn't be anything good. His left hand gripped his right wrist, and his non-existent stomach felt as though it were sinking through the stones beneath his feet.

She opened her mouth to say something... and then her eyes went wide, and within seconds she threw herself forward, grabbing Héctor by his bad wrist and yanking him away. He let out a yelp, but only had a brief moment to wonder what she was doing when he heard the crack of something heavy striking pavement. Looking back, he could see a decent-sized rock that had hit the pavement a short distance past where he'd been standing.

It took a few more seconds before he realized that had Imelda not pulled him away, the rock would have struck him in the skull.

Imelda seemed to realize it the same time as he did, and her boot was off and held up threateningly. "Where are you?!" she demanded, her face contorted in rage, while Héctor struggled to recover from the shock of what had just happened.

"Should have left him where he was standing, vieja."

The voice was rough, unfamiliar, and slightly muffled. The evening was growing darker, now, but lurking behind one of the streetlamps, just behind where he'd been standing, was a figure wearing a large jacket and a face mask that obscured his markings.

The shocked numbness that had filled Héctor spiked into a full-blown terror as he took a step back. No, no, it couldn't be, they'd gotten all of his men, hadn't they? Though when he looked at the stranger, he didn't seem to fit the appearance of the rest of Ernesto's bodyguards—they were all broad-shouldered and tall, and this man had a slighter frame. Could he be another person Ernesto had a connection with?

Only a second later, however, he could no longer see the man, for Imelda had positioned herself directly between them. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"I was a fan of the music," the man shot back.

Héctor's mind reeled. "What?"

"Not your music, you fraud. El Señor de la Cruz's."

Dios, it was another one of them. He'd had encounters with them in the past, and they were often angry, but they'd never...

"My husband is no fraud." Imelda's voice was low, and Héctor could feel the anger radiating off of her. "That man betrayed us, he stole Héctor's songs and—"

"Yeah, 'cuz what was he gonna do with them? Sing 'em at quinceañeras? De la Cruz gave the songs to the world—he made the world a better place with that music, and you—!" For a moment it seemed like he was too angry to speak.

"Are you serious?!" Imelda cried, but Héctor's heart sank as he recalled how the night he'd left, he had packed up his songs, intending to take them home, planning only to sing in Santa Cecilia...

Alarmingly, the man took a step forward. "Are you? You ruined him, and when that wasn't enough, you got him arrested?!"

Shaking his guilt off for the moment, Héctor stepped out from behind Imelda to glare at his attacker. "He kidnapped my granddaughter!"

"Oh, sure he did! Sure that wasn't some lie you cabrónes made up to smear his name further—"

"What do you think happened to Héctor's hand?!"

"Pretty desperate move for attention," the attacker snarled before he began walking purposefully toward them, his voice growing dangerously low. "And I can give you all the attention you like."

"Get back."

"I won't." He was closer now, drawing a weapon from his side—a bat. "I'm sick of this."

Frantically Héctor took a moment to survey the area around them—it was very still, and no one else was around. He hadn't been paying attention to where they were going earlier, but he realized with alarm that Imelda must have deliberately led him to a place that wasn't busy, where they wouldn't be bothered, so she could talk with him alone... This timing couldn't have been worse—

Without warning the man charged, and Héctor reached for Imelda's hand so he could grab it and run.

His hand came short, for Imelda ran forward, meeting the man with a strike of her boot. Though it missed, the man stumbled backward, surprised. "Out of my way, vieja!"

"No," she said. "If you want him, you have to get through me first."

"Fine. You're as culpable as he is!" With that, he charged at Imelda, swinging the bat, only for her to jump back and strike with her boot again, this time hitting his hand, and he drew back with a yell.

"I-Imelda, what are you doing?!" Héctor whispered hurriedly. "We should get out of here!"

Without looking away, she hissed back to him: "I'm not letting any of this affect us any more."

Her words didn't make much sense, and he didn't have time to sort through it now. The man had already recovered from the strike, and swung his bat at her again, the weapon coming within an inch of her nasal cavity, and even Imelda seemed alarmed.

She couldn't do this on her own.

While the man was distracted by Imelda, Héctor backed away, and edged himself around her as quietly as he could, fighting to keep his creaking, trembling bones still. Fortunately he had a lot of practice sneaking around, and managed to get to the side and slightly behind their attacker. Imelda seemed to notice what he was doing too, and made several quick swings to keep the man focused on her.

Drawing in a breath to prepare himself, Héctor lunged forward, tackling the man to the ground. Not much of a fighter, he struggled to keep the man pinned, holding down one of his arms with his good hand—there wasn't enough strength in his prosthetic to do much there. The whole situation brought back memories of a very different night, and for a moment he swore he could see stark white bone. The man fought and snarled beneath him, but only for a moment, for Imelda finally struck him directly in the skull with her boot, knocking him senseless.

Héctor didn't immediately relax, even when Imelda retrieved the weapon before it could be used again. He was still shaking a great deal, and kept holding the body down, not sure what else to do with himself even as Imelda gave a shrill whistle, and Pepita roared in the distance.

—-

They gave the report outside the station—Imelda had insisted—and Héctor remembered little of it. He couldn't seem to differentiate between when they were there and when they left, because the next thing he knew Imelda was gently nudging his shoulder, and he blinked to find that Pepita had brought them to the rooftop of their own house.

"Héctor, it's done," Imelda said gently. "You're okay."

He forced a laugh, trying to smile in spite of the tightness in his chest and the fact that he hadn't stopped shaking. "What makes you think I'm not?"

She didn't answer, but her worried, exhausted expression made it clear the shoddy attempt at a joke hadn't landed. Wordlessly she slipped off of Pepita and helped him down, and they stood in the soft glow of the enormous cat's luminescent fur. Imelda stared down at it, running one hand over the yellow markings while her other hand rested on Héctor's shoulder.

"You're right," she said at last.

"About...?"

"You're not okay." Her hand squeezed his shoulder as she finally looked into his eyes.

Héctor's non-existent stomach was slowly twisting itself into knots. "I... I-Imelda—"

"We are not okay," she said firmly, her gaze falling again. "Neither of us."

"¿Qué?" he gasped, stooping down to meet her gaze. "I-Imelda, no, y-you were amazing! I don't know what I would have done—"

"No, Héctor." She took a step back, letting go of him. "I... I couldn't have handled that on my own. Without you, that man could have..."

They stood in the stillness, the only other sound being the soft breathing of the cat beside them. Pepita let out a quiet purr, and Imelda finally went on:

"I couldn't have done anything without my family. After you were gone, I tried to work alone, but..." She shook her head, and Héctor's heart ached. Hesitantly he wrapped his good arm around her shoulder, and her hand raised up to rest upon his. "My family—my brothers and Coco—helped me then." And she looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "And I need you now."

That caught him off guard, and he nearly stumbled back. "You... do?" he stammered. "But I—I thought that... you seemed upset before—"

"No." She turned around, holding his good hand in both of hers. "Héctor, what I wanted to talk to you about..."

Though Héctor steeled himself, he could feel himself wilting anyway. "¿Sí?"

"I know you don't want to hear this, but... we... need help. Both of us. And... we need it together." Imelda's hands gently squeezed his until he looked into her eyes. "I'm going to sign us up for therapy."

Héctor winced. "Imelda... you don't... I-I don't think we—"

"You went blank for nearly an hour after what happened tonight, and I don't think it was just from the attack."

Slowly, haltingly he let out the air from where his lungs once were. She was right—he knew she was, but...

"You.... you know... the things he said," Héctor stammered. "They... they were..."

"You can't honestly believe anything he said!" Imelda cried, horrified.

"They weren't... wrong," he finally admitted. "If... if he hadn't taken my music, I would have just... sang at local things in Santa Cecilia. My music wouldn't have reached—"

"Of course not!" She took him by the shoulders, looking him in the eyes. "But you would have been alive, Héctor!"

He hung his head, ashamed. "I-I know. But... some things... worked out for the better, didn't they?"

"This is what I'm talking about. Listen to yourself... you can't keep thinking like this." Gently she lifted his chin so he was looking at her again. "We need to talk to someone, Héctor. I'll be with you."

"Y... you're right. Lo siento, mi amor." Finally he straightened himself, even though he still felt like slumping. "I'll—we'll do it."

Imelda drew her arms around him, and he did the same. "Yes, mi amor. We'll get through this... however long it takes."

#hector rivera #imelda rivera #coco rivera #coco #pixar coco #coco spoilers #my writing #fanfic #hooray that's one fic posted #out of ... many that I still need to post

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beechersnope · 6 months

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erotic horror u say? trick or treat! 👀

(any F1 pairing except strollonso is good w me, the more deranged the better pls!)

fresh take on a halloween classique (i won't say which so as not to spoil) ft. girl!logan/alex

[includes sex on horseback if that bothers anyone]

***

Logan knew not to go down to the lake alone.

It had snowed heavily the night before, blanketing the prairie in a boundless layer of pristine white, shimmering under the light of the full moon. She’d spent the day playing with the children, ice skating on the lake’s frozen surface for hours before heading back into town for an evening of feasting and caroling.

No one came down to the lake alone, not after dark, and Logan knew better.

She lifted her fingers to the hollow of her throat where the cross her grandmother had given her should have been resting against her skin. The only thing she could think of was that it must have fallen off while she’d been skating, because she’d retraced her steps meticulously all through the town's empty streets with no luck in finding the lost trinket.

It had to be at the lake. It had to be.

The night was calm and quiet as Logan stepped out onto the ice, and she could hear the vibrating echo of her footsteps as clear as day as she tiptoed slowly across the surface of the lake, searching desperately for the familiar glint of gold somewhere.

After nearly twenty minutes of fruitless searching, Logan was shivering violently and about to give up. And then—there. No more than ten yards ahead was a glimmering golden chain lying nearly in the center of the lake.

Logan sprinted over to it reflexively and bent down to scoop up the treasure. A blood-curdling crack cut through the night air.

Logan spun around just in time to watch as the ice started to split, a fissure forming along the surface originating from whence she’d just come.

Logan took a tentative step backwards, then another, too afraid to make any sudden movements that might exacerbate her already precarious situation, though every fiber of her being was screaming at her: fly!

Another crack formed in the ice, splintering off from the first before spreading rapidly, a branching series of breaks that would spell certain doom if she didn’t make it back to the shoreline before they reached her.

Logan glanced behind herself to check her progress. It was still too far to make a break for it. She had no choice but to continue at a slow, careful pace, trying all the while to outrun nature itself.

An earth-shattering boom pulled Logan’s attention back to the fissure in the ice. But the fissure was gone, replaced by a massive hole leading down into churning black water, and under that water, Logan could see something ascending, two burning red eyes like flaming coals moving steadily toward the surface.

Before Logan could scream, she found herself being launched into the air. She landed with a grunt in the seat of a saddle, facing a man dressed all in black with a bandana shrouding the entirety of his face and a wide-brimmed cowboy hat that cast any glimpse Logan might have gotten of his eyes into shadow.

Logan gaped at the man as they galloped away from the lake, and then peered over his shoulder just in time to catch a glimpse of a massive dark shape hauling itself out onto the ice.

“What was that hellish creature?” Logan asked in a near whisper.

The masked man didn’t answer.

Logan started to worry that maybe her savior didn’t have the heroic intentions she’d assumed of him once she realized they were riding west, away from town and toward the frontier’s edge. Her heart leapt into her throat as they rode further into the darkness, but then finally, the man’s horse began to slow before coming to a stop in the middle of a wide open plain.

Logan considered the possibility of jumping off the horse and making a run for it, but in knee-deep snow, she wasn’t going to make it very far, and she couldn’t escape a pursuer on horseback anyway. She closed her eyes instead and leaned forward into the man’s coat, trying to preserve what little warmth in her bones she still had, and hoping against better sense that this mysterious man would eventually see fit to take her home.

Logan breathed in deeply, focusing on slowing the frantic beating of her heart. And then she stilled. Logan recognized the scent clinging to the man’s coat. Juniper and pine. She’d smelled it before, on the hunting frocks she laundered with the other women whenever he came down out of the hills with winter’s bounty.

“Alex?” Logan said in an uncertain voice as she pulled away to look up at the man’s shrouded visage, her terrified countenance turned questioning in the face of the familiar.

The masked man gave a small nod in answer, and Logan breathed out a sigh of relief.

“You saved me,” Logan breathed into his chest, clutching at his heavy fur coat desperately, with frozen fingers clumsy with cold. “You saved me.”

The night was frigid, but Logan’s cheeks were warm as she reached up to take Alex’s face in her hands. He stopped her, pushing her hands away without a word, but Logan was not to be deterred. She grabbed Alex’s wrists with both hands, bringing them down to her chest, waiting until his hands settled against the small swell of her breasts before making her next move.

Logan let go of Alex’s arms and instead reached down between them for his belt buckle. She glanced up at his mask as though expecting to find an answer there, or a protest, but Alex’s only reaction was to tense his fingers against her chest as she finished unbuckling his belt, making her gasp quietly.

“If you don’t want this…” Logan said as she moved on to the button on Alex’s trousers.

“I want it,” Alex said quietly.

That was all the permission Logan needed.

It was impossible to remove her undergarments without climbing out of the saddle, and Logan wasn’t about to jump into the snow just to divest herself of any much-needed articles of clothing, so she made do once she had Alex’s trousers undone. She shifted forward slowly, lifting her skirts to encircle them both before reaching underneath with one hand to move her wide-legged bloomers to the side, using the other to guide Alex’s cock into herself while he steadied her with both hands on her hips.

Logan settled down onto him with a sigh and moved her hands to his shoulders instead, using them as leverage to push herself up, almost all the way off of him before sinking back down again. She was glad she hadn’t waited around for Alex to give her the time of day, that she’d gotten a few rolls in the hay before this with a couple of the butcher's boys so that she could properly savor this moment without worrying about her own inexperience getting in the way.

Logan could feel Alex’s fingers tightening on her hips with each rise and fall of her hips. She could tell from his ragged breathing that he was getting close.

And that’s when she saw it.

The same coal-red eyes that she’d first glimpsed within the depths of the lake, this time embedded in the body of a massive black bison hurtling toward them with frightening speed, trailing smoke behind in a massive plume that stretched into the sky—like a living wildfire.

“It’s back,” Logan hissed as she dropped back down onto Alex’s lap, his cock almost painfully deep inside her once her thighs were pressed against his.

There wasn’t even enough time to adjust their positions as Alex grabbed the reigns again and spurred the horse into action. Logan clutched at his coat, holding on for dear life and gritting her teeth against the feeling of being fucked like this, Alex’s cock slamming into her hard every time the horse’s hooves struck ground.

And she wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline or the fact that she’d already been close to finishing, but she was right on the precipice now, about to come just as the demonic bellowing bison closed in on them.

Logan watched with frantic, panting breaths as the bison galloped toward them, and then turned her head to look ahead just in time to realize that Alex was riding straight toward a cliff.

“What are you doing?” Logan cried out, the words coming out half-uttered, disjointed.

“Trust me,” was all Alex said in response.

Then they were skidding through the snow, the horse cutting right without warning right at the cliff’s edge and sliding to a stop. Logan watched through wide eyes as the bison (which she could see was more skeleton than flesh now) failed to follow them, its momentum propelling it forward—straight off the cliff.

Logan buried her face in Alex’s coat again and let out a shuddering sob.

“You’re safe now,” Alex reassured her.

Logan drew in a shaky breath as she leaned back, resting her head along the horse’s neck as she tugged Alex down to meet her. The pointed end of his bandana tickled her throat as he fucked into her, both of them desperately trying to finish now that the adrenaline had peaked, taken hold.

Logan came with a desperate cry, her hands clawing upwards along Alex’s chest to his shoulders, before abruptly lifting to grab the brim of his hat. She pulled, intending to toss it into the snow, to take Alex’s face in her hands so she could kiss him—but when the hat and the mask were gone, there was nothing there for Logan to kiss.

Because Alex didn’t have a face. He didn’t even have a head.

#my fic #trick or treat ask game #is logan ooc? maybe #do i care? no #verycoolwearsleather

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okthatsgreat · 2 months

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hi lee!!!!!!!! ❤️✂️🍎💀🍩🧠 for any oc yyou want to talk about YAYYY! :D

YAYYYYYYY HIIII LILY :333 IM GONNA USE SAE FOR THIS ONE I THINK !!!!!!!!!!!!!

oc ask game!

❤️ - what is one of your oc’s best memories?

URMMMMMMM. a lot of sae's best memories are really tame i think bhgfdghdfj just moments where she could sit back and say Yeah. I am Completely Happy :) BUT the BEST one i think is one she recounts a lot just bc she reallyyy felt like she had found peace. the fishing village near her afi's home holds a yearly festival for fisherman's day that she LOVEESSSS. and IF MY TIMELINE IS CORRECT she got an award i believe in 2012 (??) for her achievements and contribution to her community . and when the festival was over she got to have a long chat with her afi up on a mountain top overlooking the ocean and she holds that conversation very dear to her heart :]

✂️ - what is one of your oc’s worst memories?

(forgive me for being vague theres still a lot to be revealed in the rp hgdfjkggfdsjk!!) shes got a few but the WORST one she remembers suppperrrrr vividly just because everything seemed to happen all at once, the town she was living in was going through one of the WORST thunderstorms it had ever had, and she was seconds away from doing something SO rash . GOD awful day for a thirteen year old to have. BUT it was the catalyst for some major changes in her life, so while she would never go back and do that all over again sae can at least acknowledge that it switched what direction her life took DRASTICALLY. it led her to where she is today but that definitely doesnt mean she looks back at it with any sort of fondness gbhdgbsdf

🍎 - what is the oc's relationship w/their parents like?

her afi and amma were her legal guardians for the majority of her teenage years! and anybody within a five mile radius knows that she LOVES those guys. she takes so much influence from her afi particularly and holds him on a very high pedestal of how she should be behaving and what traits she should portray, just because he is an incredibly patient and wise man. her late amma also influenced her a LOT in terms of hard-work and dedication to others, and when she passed it only caused sae to work even harder to support her afi. not to mention sae truly considers her afi to have saved her life which means she feels she owes a LOT to him ghfdjkg

she doesnt speak with her parents!

💀 - does your oc have any phobias?

she isnt DEATHLY afraid of anything but she gets concerned over superstitious things that arent necessarily a problem to other people lmaooo. like for instance she does NOT fuck with bananas because they are considered terrible luck on boats. she rarely sails on thursdays, took the lucky charms off of her fishing hat and placed it around her waist just so the hat won't fly overboard again, never renames a boat, etc. ALL because she doesnt want to invite bad luck on her ship fghsjd

she's also really not a fan of loud noises!! thunderstorms have a tendency to freak her out but it really depends on the day honestly. catch her in a good mood and she can manoeuvre a boat through them easy peasy, catch her in a bad mood and she'll just sort of stare at the floor unmoving for a bit

🍩 - who is your oc's arch-nemesis or rival?

LMAO sae would never admit out loud that she hates anybody enough to consider them an arch-nemesis or rival. ESPECIALLY pre killing game. now does she dislike people? for sure. is this killing game definitely taking a lot of her pent up resentment and making it ten times worse? definitely

🧠 - what do you like most about the oc?

guy that tried so hard to escape the cycle that she is slowly turning into the very thing she was attempting to run from 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 she is NOTTT breaking the loop

#THANK YOU SM MWAH <33 #oc: sae #ask lee #lottiematthewsgirl #ask game

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slate-skylar · 13 days

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vox veritatis; self-para

Cress had fallen asleep. The labor had not been terribly difficult or complicated, would probably have been handled just fine at home, but Slate was glad they were in the hospital, as every time Cress had gasped in a particular way, or looked at him with fear, he had asked the nurses if something was wrong, if Cress and the baby were okay. The nurses, for their part, had been kind enough, as kind as Capitolites could be. The doctor who had delivered Kya was also kind, and she'd offered Slate the opportunity to cut the cord, which he had declined as he had no feeling in either of his hands at that point thanks to the death clutch that Cress had had on them throughout the labor.

It was over now, though; Kyanite had been born, whisked away to be measured, weighed, cleaned, and returned to them in a little hat and a blanket. She was impossibly tiny, and now Cress slept and Slate sat in the chair next to the bed, his arms stiff as he held her just so, the way he had been shown by Hestia the very first time he'd held one of his siblings. He was afraid of jostling her, breathing on her, doing anything at all that might wake her and bring her to the screaming she'd been born with, her voice a match for her mother's and father's already. She'd wake Cress, but she'd also break this moment apart, end it, and he didn't want it to end.

It was just them for a moment. At peace. The world was still, the child was still, and sober, completely sober for the first time in months, Slate was remembering.

Cress backstage. Him, in his costume. Interview. Her spitting, scathing: "You’d rather die with your pride than fight for the chance to meet them."

Bramble on the beach. Dying. Too late to save her. “I hope, someday, you’ll forgive me.”

And Nettle, running toward the edge of the ship; Mercuria, high in the air, flying, flying—

Bramble's voice again. “I hope you get to meet her. And I hope she understands, someday, why we did…what we did. Will you tell her about us? Me, and Nettle, and Merc?”

Slate's fingers traced Kya's face. Tiny, too tiny to tell whose nose she had, whose cheeks. The skin fresh and strange. And him, safe. Lip trembling. Heart having been emptied of its contents, filling up again now.

Bramble's voice wouldn't leave. Echoing still, him hearing as if through the ear that was gone: "You still have a purpose. Meta Morphic, Skylar, Flint- you're the product of all of them, Slate. You're Vox Veritatis. The voice of truth."

Slate looked up, eyes scanning the room. He wasn't safe to speak here, not aloud, not to Kya or Cress. He couldn't say anything real or true, in fact hadn't said anything real or true in six months. Not since the beach. Not since the Arena. That voice of truth had been swept away with the tide, and he closed his eyes now, bowed his head.

What had it been for? All of it? He'd never been convinced in some larger truth or purpose to everything, didn't think there was a hand of fate controlling everyone, and yet, it had to have been for something. Mercuria's faith and resolve. Nettle's love and certainty. Bramble's wisdom and passion. You still have a purpose.

The purpose: to protect Kya? She slept peacefully. She would be in a reaping bowl, one which Snow was still in charge of. They could do what they could: be mouthpieces, be good, well-behaved. But the names would still be printed; they would still be placed into bowls; hers would be among them, each time. Each and every time. And she was too small, too good. She was brand new, and what had he done to clear the world she was being born into of its horrors?

Long time ago -- he'd published a zine. He'd written words. Long time. He'd burned it all. It was still going, in the hands of others, the voices of others. But his had faded. Now his voice spoke of the Arena and the power of the Games in a new way -- patriot, good boy. Kya slept in his arms and he felt, suddenly, purely, like the traitor he had become.

Traitor not to Panem, no. Traitor to the children.

To her, to all of them. The other ones being born right now in places far worse than this. Wrapped in blankets not nearly as nice or as clean. Sucking for nourishment from a breast that wouldn't come, starting their life as they would spend it: hungry.

And what had he done?

Long time ago: he had written some words.

Long time ago.

"You still have a purpose."

Vox Veritatis, sitting in the hospital chair, holding his child. May her world be better than mine. He cleared his throat.

#135 #writings #icarus burning

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