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nomercymaster11 · 6 months

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Harmony in the Icy Depths

@GOKUJOUNOMAGURO

A/N: Rated-18 The Polar Tang glided silently through the frigid depths, its metallic exterior navigating the icy waters with a grace that belied the vastness surrounding it. Submerged beneath the surface, the submarine sailed through the underwater expanse, the hum of its engines merging with the ambient sounds of the ocean. Inside the vessel, the atmosphere was cool and efficient, mirroring the routine of its dedicated crew as they executed their duties in the submerged world.

In the heart of the ship, you found yourself in the cozy confines of the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee permeating the air. The rich aroma mingled with the metallic tang of the ship's interior. Feeling a spontaneous urge to break the monotony of the day, you decided to share a cup of warmth with the enigmatic Trafalgar Law, the ship's stoic, and brilliant captain.

With a mug in hand, you made your way to Law's office, the door marked by a subtle sign that hinted at the medical sanctuary within. A firm knock prompted Law to invite you in with a curt,

"Come in."

As you entered, you found him engrossed in his medical notes and books, the seriousness of his demeanor contrasting with the casualness of the moment.

The aroma of the coffee wafted through the room, and Law, without looking up, inhaled deeply, appreciating the familiar fragrance. You carefully placed the steaming cup on his cluttered desk, the contrast of warmth against the cold steel creating a momentary haven.

"Thanks," Law acknowledged, his attention momentarily diverted from the sea of information in front of him.

Law sips the coffee, its warmth a comforting contrast to the cool efficiency of his medical office. He continues to scan his medical books, each page turned with a focused precision that matches the steady hum of the Polar Tang.

Choosing to linger, you settled on the couch beside his desk, the cushions offering a comfortable respite from the ship's unyielding exterior. As seconds stretched into minutes, your gaze wandered around the room, taking in the organized chaos of medical supplies and the neatly stacked books that defined Law's space.

Restlessness whispered in your ear, and you rose from the couch, deciding to explore the room further. Law remained immersed in his work; his focused energy palpable.

A mischievous idea sparked, and you approached him, quietly closing the distance.

With a gentle embrace from behind, you rested your chin on the crown of his head, the proximity inviting an intimacy that transcended the professional setting.

"Aren't you done yet?"

you asked, injecting a playful monotony into your voice, challenging the seriousness that usually enveloped him.

"Just a moment,"

Law replied, his eyes still scanning the medical tomes before him.

Undeterred, you shifted your head, cheeks brushing against his, relishing the warmth that radiated from him. The room seemed to close in, and the hum of the ship became a distant backdrop to the moment shared between you two.

Unable to resist the urge to tease, you maneuvered your head to the side, lips brushing against the back of his ear. A soft, seductive hum escaped your lips as you traced a trail of kisses along the nape of his neck, each touch a delicate distraction from the weight of responsibilities that hung in the air.

The atmosphere in Law's office shifted, the air thickening with an unexpected tension as your playful teasing took a more intimate turn. Law, usually composed and focused, found himself yielding to the magnetic pull of the moment.

As you continued to lavish kisses on his left cheek, you sensed Law's surrender. His book closed with a deliberate thud, and he willingly reciprocated when you cupped his face, locking lips in a passionate kiss. Your tongue pressed forward, igniting a symphony of shivers that reverberated through Law's body.

Breaking away, Law rotated his chair to face you, confusion etching his features.

"What's gotten into you?"

he inquired; his intense gaze fixed on you.

You answered with a seductive peck on his lips, your eyes locking onto his as you bit your lower lip.

"I just missed you,"

you confessed, the words laden with desire.

Without waiting for a response, you pulled him up from his chair, guiding him to the couch. With a bold move, you positioned yourself on his lap, the subtle shift in dynamics palpable. Law, known for his stoicism, allowed himself to be led, his legs between yours.

As you settled into Law's lap, the atmosphere in the room intensified. The ambient hum of the submarine's engines melded with the rhythmic beats of two hearts caught in the dance of passion.

Law's hands, strong and determined, explored the curves of your body, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. He responded to the boldness with a hunger of his own, hands gripping your hips firmly. The sensation was heightened by the rhythmic movement of the submarine, adding an unpredictable element to the unfolding encounter.

The tension in the room simmered as you initiated a slow, lingering kiss, setting the pace for what lay ahead. Law, usually in control, allowed you to guide the dance of passion unfolding between you. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a delicate embrace.

As the heat between you intensified, clothing became an afterthought. Your nimble fingers worked on the buttons of Law's shirt, revealing the inked canvas of his tattooed body. The discarded clothing found a haphazard spot on the side, a testament to the urgency of the moment.

In a reciprocal act, Law mirrored your actions, skillfully unbuttoning your shirt with a precision that hinted at a hidden layer of vulnerability. The both of you are now half-naked. Your index finger did wonders to Law's body as you traced the tattoo etched onto his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his skin beneath your touch. His muscles tensed and relaxed in response, a silent testament to the electric connection that coursed between you.

As you explored the inked canvas of his torso, Law's right hand found its way to your breast, the warmth emanating from the delicate touch of his palm to your now hypersensitive skin, send shivers down your spine. You momentarily stopped, rested your arms on his shoulders and arched backward as he leaned forward to suckle your other breast. He filled his mouth with them while his thumb and index finger skillfully pinched your nipple, creating a delicate interplay of pleasure.

His large hand traced patterns on your back, a silent plea for control, but you resisted, determined to maintain your hold on the moment.

Your lips continued their exploration, a symphony of kisses that left a trail of heat in their wake. You focused on the sensitive spots of his right ear, savoring the subtle vibrations that echoed through him. His goatee chin brushed against your nose as you descended to kiss his neck, a canvas of warmth that invited further exploration.

With each passing moment, the atmosphere intensified. Straddling Law, you could feel the telltale tightness of his pants, the bulge pressing between your legs, a silent invitation that sparked a fiery desire within you. Your hand, guided by an insatiable curiosity, stroked him, eliciting a primal response that mirrored the increasing tempo of your heart.

As desire unfurled, Law surrendered to the mounting pleasure. With practiced ease, he unbuckled his belt, and you eagerly assisted in pulling his pants off, the urgency of the moment evident in the discarded clothing. You knelt in front of him, the cool steel floor of Law's office beneath your knees serving as an unconventional cushion. His legs, once firmly planted in a professional stance, now spread open, an invitation that carried both vulnerability and desire.

As you looked up at Law, his eyes bore into yours, an intense gaze that mirrored the depth of the ocean you sailed through. Your hands explored the expanse of Law's thighs, the skin beneath your touch revealing the underlying tension, a palpable contrast to the smooth steel of the ship. The texture of Law's skin beneath your touch became a sensory journey. You traced the contours of his thighs, fingertips exploring the hidden landscape beneath.

Liberating him, you held him firmly in your hands, a sense of excitement and pride coursing through you as you witnessed his response. His head leaned backward, a low moan escaping his lips as your skin met his member.

"Oh damn, girl...!"

Law's voice, a husky mixture of surprise and pleasure, hung in the air.

The atmosphere in Law's office was charged with a potent mix of desire and anticipation as both of you surrendered to the intoxicating rhythm of the moment. Your hands and mouth worked in harmony, exploring him with an intensity that left no room for restraint.

Law, unable to contain himself any longer, gathered your hair with one hand, his intense gaze fixed on you. The connection between you deepened as your eyes locked, the unspoken language of desire flowing between you. Closing your eyes, you continue to savored him. The movement of your hand become swifter to keep pace with the fever pulsing within him and at the same time licking the tip of his member each time it passed within reach of your tongue.

With a primal urgency, Law pulled you back up, a momentary pause before the next wave of pleasure. His hands had gripped the elastic belt of your delicate lingerie and stretched them to slip them down. Licking his fingers, he slid them between your legs, sending a shiver of anticipation through your body.

"You're ready for me,"

His whispered words added fuel to the already blazing fire of desire.

Moans escaped your lips as he continued to tease and arouse you. He continued to build the intensity, each touch pushing you to the edge. His fingers stroking your folds back and forth and rubbing your sensitive core. You closed your eyes to better feel the movements of his warm, incisive fingers in you.

Unable to hold back any longer, you eased yourself onto him. Your hands gliding over his broad, tattooed chest as you straddled him, feeling the powerful beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

The slow descent onto him elicited a moan, the depth and fullness of the connection overwhelming your senses. Every thrust surprised you with his size, a delightful shock that added to the ecstasy of the moment.

As you rode him, moans of pleasure escaped your lips, blending with the rhythmic movement of your hips and Law's encouraging motions beneath you. The friction between your bodies built a fire that threatened to consume both of you. Your desperation fueled the primal dance, your movements becoming more urgent, more intense.

Law's hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding and encouraging you to move faster, to go deeper. The symphony of pleasure echoed in the room, the heightened sensations pushing you both to the brink.

"Law! I'm so close...!"

you exclaimed, the words a breathless confession of the impending climax.

With a final, deep thrust, waves of pleasure washed over you. A cry of ecstasy escaped your lips as your body convulsed with the force of the climax. Law releases a loud sigh followed by your name, also surrendering to the full embrace of the orgasm.

Collapsing beside Law, you lay on his shoulder, the aftermath of pleasure leaving you breathless and satisfied. The room, once filled with tension, now held the serene aftermath of an intimate storm, the echoes of shared ecstasy lingering in the air.

Law, lying beside you, took a moment to catch his breath. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of the ship, and a sated expression graced his usually composed features. You turned towards him, a satisfied smile playing on your lips as you took in the aftermath of your shared passion.

"How was it?"

you asked, your voice laced with a mix of curiosity and self-assured satisfaction. Law, still catching his breath, managed a smirk as he looked at you. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, a silent acknowledgment of the intensity you both had just experienced.

Law's voice, deep and resonant, broke the post-ecstasy silence.

"Better than expected,"

he replied, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

You chuckled, appreciating the dry humor that occasionally surfaced in his usually serious demeanor.

Lying side by side, you basked in the warmth of the shared connection, the air thick with a mix of satisfaction and contentment. The hum of the ship became a soothing background melody, and the world outside seemed distant and inconsequential in the cocoon you had created.

Law, always a man of few words, reached over to brush a strand of hair from your face. The silence spoke volumes, echoing the unspoken understanding between you two, weaving a harmony in the submarine. As the ship sailed in the icy depths, it carried with it the cadence of this shared secret, a melody echoing through the frigid waters of understanding and desire adding an intricate layer to the captain and crew's connection.

#one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #law one piece #law x you #one shot collection #law x reader #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar d law x reader #reader insert smut #heart pirates

295 notes · View notes

lolahauri · 3 months

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ It's Been a Secret for the Longest Time

Ship: Hoodie/Reader

Type: Smut, One-shot, F/M, Reader Insert.

Contains: Unaware voyeurism, afab reader/female anatomy, multiple o's, masturbation, oral (f receiving), breeding, creampie, no plot, size kink if you squint.

Words: 2.7k

Request?: Kind of.

Hoodie was standing outside your room, peeking through the near-microscopic crack in the door. It was opened just enough to see the show going on inside. He didn’t even remember what he was coming to tell you, but it didn’t matter anymore. There were more important things going on now.

“Hah- oh fuck!” you hissed under your breathe, slowly swiping a pink vibrator over your throbbing clit, two soaked fingers sliding in-and-out of your pussy, working perfectly in sync with the toy. Completely nude, long strands of hair framing your glistening chest as you inhaled sharply. And as focused as you were on reaching your climax, the main thought occupying your mind was Hoodie. He was all you thought about during your private sessions, longing to feel his big strong hands tease your sensitive areas while holding you down and telling you who you belong to.

Broken whimpers poured from your plump lips, now imagining what his cock looked like, what’d it feel like inside you. You wonder if he’d be willing to cum in you. Is he more rough or gentle? Not that you would care either way, you’ve fantasized about every possible scenario.

You were obsessed with him, but you’d never tell him. You didn’t want to ruin the friendship you two had built, or make working together uncomfortable. There was just to much at risk. As much as you loved and lusted him, you’d continue to try your best at keeping these feelings to yourself.

Unbeknownst to you though, you were about to find out he thought the exact same way of you.

Brian continued to watch the pornographic scene in front of him, he was stuck in a trance almost, watching intently through his black mask. His eyes slowly worked down your entire body, starting with your mouth. He watched as your lips parted, letting out another angelic whine. Your face was dusted with a light rosy tint. Your entire body glimmered from the light droplets of sweat building up over your smooth skin, the room was hot and smelled of sex. He fucking loved it.

Eyes trailing further south, he reached the real show. Your soft, small hands toying with your slick, wet pussy. The sounds of your soaked fingers, moans, and vibrations were like a symphony to him. This was everything he’s ever dreamed of, the kind of sight he’d imagine when he’s pleasuring himself. It was almost too good to be true.

He was suddenly snapped out of his daze by the throbbing twitches of his cock. Becoming aware of his own body and desires now, he palmed his hard on through his pants, trying to relief some of the aching arousal he felt. Deep down he knows this is wrong, it’s creepy, you’d hate him for thinking this way of you, for watching you like this. But he can’t think straight right now, he felt dizzy from the way your undressed body hypnotized him.

The way you’re drawing him in could only be compared to a siren luring a lustful man to his demise, using nothing but her beautiful voice and enchanting figure. Quietly unzipping his pants, he kept rubbing his hardened cock as he stared right at your tits. Every movement making them bounce ever so slightly, for a moment he thinks he might’ve actually died and gone to heaven. He imagines what it’d feel like to knead and caress them, sucking on one nipple and rolling the other between his fingers. He so badly wants to hear you whimper his name while he teases you, grinding his length against your exposed heat.

Brian moved his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring out, sucking in a sharp breathe as it hit the cool air of the hallway. His gloved hand slowly circled his throbbing tip, smearing precum that had already begun dripping out. Slowly stroking himself, he pretended it was your hand jerking him off, imagining you on your knees in front of him, your soft tongue teasing the head as you pumped your hands up and down his long shaft. He was only a few seconds in and already his cock was threatening to spill it's seed onto the floor.

It’s insane to him, you haven’t even touched him and he’s already about to cum for you and cry your name out while he does it. His movements slowed down abruptly, trying to savor this moment for as long as he could. His attention never left your body, jolts of electricity shot through him every time you made a sudden action or sound.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he picked up speed again, moving in rhythm with your hands. The thrill and anxiety of possibly getting caught, mixed with the beautiful sight before him was getting too much to handle. He wishes so badly he could just walk into the room, pull your fingers out and replace them with his cock. He dreams of pumping you full of cum, watching it pour down your thighs and mix with your own juices.

He’s huffing quietly as he comes to a stop yet again, working himself up far too quickly for his liking. But you look like you’re getting close, he wants to cum with you. He watched as you picked up speed, moans flowing consistently. Fuck yes, you’re about to cum. He begins to aggressively pump his cock, not caring anymore if he’s being too loud, he needs to cum with you now.

Squeezing your tits, you pick up speed on rubbing yourself off. Moaning and whining becoming out of control, but you’re confident you’re alone, you don’t care what sounds you’re making anymore.

“Mmph, ah, oh god, fuck” the pressure in your lower stomach erupts into an earth shattering orgasm “fuck- Brian!” you scream his name as your reach your peak, whispering it a few more times as you come down from the high.

Just as he’s about to cum, Hoodie stops in his tracks when he hears you yelling his name out. A cold rush shoots through every vein in his body, there’s no way he heard that right, right? But his confusion is confirmed when he hears you whimper it a few more times. You were actually thinking of him while you played with yourself. His brain short circuits momentarily, realizing all this time, you must’ve felt the exact same way as him. A fog casts over his mind, he’s not thinking clearly again.

“Fuck it” - he thinks to himself “ now or never, i guess. ”

He pushes your door open with one hand, watching as you jump in shock, covering your tits with your arms while your eyes grow wide, face becoming red hot.

“What the- Brian!” embarrassment and confusion clear in your voice “what the hell are you doing here?”

He doesn’t say anything as he takes off his mask and walks up to the edge of your bed, not breaking eye contact. You were about to tell him to get the fuck out, that was until…

“Oh my god…” you whispered to yourself as you gasped, shock turning to pure lust as you finally spotted it. His hard, twitching cock was out, fully on display.

Wait, has he been here the whole time? Oh well, who cares, your fantasy is about to become reality. You’ll tell him off for spying on you later. Just enjoy the moment for now.

Brian crawls on top of you, sliding his bent leg up at an angle, his knee forcing your left leg to spread open* You gasp when you feel his erection press up against you, but you're quickly distracted when he pry's your arms off your chest, pinning them to the side of your head as he lowers his face to yours. He’s smirking as you gaze up into his eyes, “ so fucking cute” he thinks to himself.

Slowly, he brings his lips down to yours, immediately bringing you into a heated make-out session. You both close your eyes into the kiss, lips moving in perfect harmony, maybe it’s the lust talking, but it almost feels as though your lips were made for each other, like two puzzle pieces clicking together.

The kiss turns more heated as you wrap your free leg around his waist, beckoning him to get some friction going. He knows exactly what you trying to do as he quickly begins to roll his hips into yours, his cock getting coated in your previous orgasm. You’re both moaning into each other's mouths while he moves a hand down to squeeze your tit, rubbing his thumb over your sensitive bud.

The sensations are sending you to Nirvana. His tip is perfectly rubbing right against your clit with every forward motion. You’re panting now, locking your legs tighter around him as a silent way to beg him to just fuck you already. He’s been waiting for this for a long time though, and he knows the second he slips inside he won’t be lasting too long, he wants to drag this out as far as he can.

You whine as he slowly pulls away from you, leaving you dazed and needy for his touch.

“Don’t worry, i’ll give you what you want.” his voice is soft, but husky.

Before you could even ask what he’s doing, he moves back, just enough for him to lay down and rest his head between your trembling thighs. He moves his arms underneath you, his shoulders pressed close to your plush bottom, two strong hands reached up to hold your waist down. He breathes against your heat, sending a cold shiver up your spine.

“Brian… please do something.” your voice was breathy and light, already so high on sex you could hardly get the sentence out. He loved it though, if he wasn’t so pent up himself, he’d tease you till your crying and screaming for more. Next time.

He chuckled a bit and gave an experimental lick up your pussy, going in for more when he heard you gasp and felt your thighs twitch around him. His tongue darted up and down your folds like a zipper, swiping against your aching clit each time it went back up. He savored each little sound you made, relishing in the feeling of your thighs gently squeezing the sides of his head.

You let out a high pitched moan as he suddenly began to focus on your clit. Sucking lightly between each circular swirl of his tongue. The more you squirmed and twitched, the harder he pressed his hands into your waist, pinning you down harshly as to not mess with his rhythm. He sucked your bud a few more times before dipping back down, sliding the entire length of his long tongue into your pussy.

“Oh holy shit! You gasped loudly at the sudden penetration, squeezing tighter around his head. Instinctively, you brought a hand down to his hair, pushing his face in to your heat just a little more. Hoodie eagerly took this as a sign to continue, and so he did. He repeatedly fucked his tongue in and out of you, curving upwards to rub at the spongy spot on the top of your pussy.

“Brian…” your voice and breathing was shaky “I’m- i’m gonna cum, jesus!”

He instantly moved a gloved hand downwards to toy with your clit while he continued to abuse your g-spot. He couldn’t stop grinding on the bed for some sort of relief, almost reaching his own climax when he felt yours begin. The familiar pressure of a nearing orgasm slowly dissipated as a wave of pure euphoria crashed over you. He groaned at the feeling of your juices soaking his mouth, thighs still wrapped around his head and shoulder. He really never wants this to end.

You’re senses momentarily heighted afterwards, becoming hyperaware of what was happening. But that didn’t last long, your brain was once again clouded with arousal as Hoodie suddenly crawled back up to you, bringing you into a harsh kiss. His cock was back to sliding between your folds, prepping for what was about to come.

“Is this okay?” Brian asked quietly as he reached behind you, grabbing a pillow to prop your hips up.

“God, yes. Please, just fuck me already.” you were gripping his clothed shoulders tightly as you lifted your hips, allowing him to slide the pillow underneath you.

“Fuck.” he huffed as he bent down a bit, allowing his hips to align with yours. He almost couldn’t believe it, he’d been fantasizing of this moment since he laid eyes on you, and it was really happening now. He slowly pushed the head of his cock into you, both of you threw your head back and signed in unison.

“Shit” he hissed at the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him, he’d barely gotten the first inch in and nearly got close to cumming, you must be some kind of demon the way you get him going. He starts burying himself in further, inch by inch, not giving you much time to adjust. Though, you're so wet and turned on he didn't get much resistance anyway.

Brian snapped his hips forward, adding the last three inches and fully bottoming out inside you. Gripping his shoulders tightly, you cried out from both the pleasure and the slight tinge of pain. He had to have been at least 8 inches, and it’d been so long since you’d been fucked last, it was a lot to take in no matter how prepped you were.

He gave you just a second to adjust before he leaned forward a bit, setting a quick pace with his thrusting. About half his length would be taken out, before he quickly slammed back into you, the sexual frustration being clearly communicated through his movements. He wanted to take his time with you, he really did, but you just felt too good. The way you were squeezing him so tight and screaming his name drove him fucking crazy.

The aggression only ramped up the more you dug your nails into him and begged for more. His thrusts became more harsh and quick, brutally slamming his cock into you in an almost primal, animalistic way.

“Oh Jesus Christ!” you screamed out as he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, somehow hitting deeper when you didn’t think that was even possible. Hoodie grabbed your other leg and propped it up on his hip, pushing forward and repeatedly knocking into that sweet spot yet again.

You were quickly being brought to your third orgasm tonight. Brian was breathing heavily above you, trying so hard to last as long as he could. An uncomfortable ache was starting to build in your abdomen, overstimulation had finally begun to set in. Your back was involuntarily arching off of the mattress, your legs were caging in the man above you dangerously tight.

“Mmph… Brian.” you whined out, trying to let him know you’re getting close again.

“I know, i know. Go ahead, cum for me.” And that was all it took. You were seeing stars as you reached your high, screaming his name and grabbing onto his shoulders for stability.

He wasn’t far behind you, the feeling of your pussy clenching on him and coating his dick with your fluids sent him over the edge. He was grunting hard as he thrusted in a few more times, filling you to the brim with his load. Your legs dropped down to the bed as you both nearly went limp from exhaustion. He hovered above you for a minute longer, both of you panting and trying to ground yourselves back into yours bodies.

Hoodie slowly pulled his cock out of you, watching as his cum instantly started to pour out of you and onto the bed. He’ll definitely be adding that image to the bank.

He was laying beside you now, studying your body and face as you calmed down more. “Wow, that was -” you paused and turned to look at him, still a bit in shock from what just happened “- incredible”

He smiled pulled you close to him, holding your head in his chest and laying a blanket across the two of you. “Next time will be even better.”

“Next time?” you let out a breathy laugh as you wrapped your arms around his torso.

All he did was hum in response, reaching over to turn off the lamp beside your bed. You can talk about this with him tomorrow, for now, he just wants to sleep with you.

#creepypasta #x reader #smut #hoodie #hoodie x reader #marble hornets #brian thomas #i did this in one go tbh #6 hours straight of writing #need to sleep now holy shit #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta smut #hoodie x reader smut #marble hornets smut

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wildemaven · 13 days

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fifth anniversary : a curated love | dieter x poppy

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader (nicknamed Poppy) words: 1260 warnings: 18+ blog; smut adjacent or the build of it (nothing really graphic depicted), fluff, dieter and poppy being smooshy and very much themselves, reader is non descriptive but goes by the nickname Poppy, I think that’s it notes: god I love these two! I’ve missed them something fierce, so it was nice to revisit them— especially on such an exciting occasion. Thank you all for your endless love for them. It truly makes me giddy that you love them as much as I do!! Another big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for reading over this like she did every single chapter of the series 💕

series masterlist | celebration masterlist

Creativity continues to bloom endlessly with Dieter in your life. In all aspects.

The gallery has been lucrative and busy, far beyond what you had expected when taking it over. Juggling the rotating parts of running over-booked art classes and sourcing new artists to spotlight, all while you’re teaching a rambunctious class of first graders and Dieter gathers scripts for new roles left and right. The chaos of life has you both feeling like two worn passing ships in the rough sea. Each day only allotting enough time for a quick good morning and good night.

When Dieter is away on location and the sun has gone down, you find yourself tucked away in your little home studio late at night. Your phone propped against the window with his handsome face on the screen as he reads over his lines while your paint brush moves aimlessly over the paper.

No amount of distance could sever your need to stay connected to each other.

But it's when the universe seems to align perfectly, nights like tonight, both of your schedules free of duties and obligations, that's when you find yourselves collaborating on a thrilling endeavor.

Your little home studio dimly lit. Candles scattered around the room. Flickering distorted shadows project across the walls. A warm aroma of dusty cedar and woody citrus melds with the musky aura emanating from your steamy bodies.

The wooden tabletop is rigid and uneven beneath you. Layers and layers of color, added since Dieter’s arrival into your life, massage into your back. Each dried nodule of paint, pricks of memories you’ve created alongside Dieter, aid in the pleasurable sensations streaming through you.

“Oh— fuck! Dieter—” The bristles of the new paint brush Dieter had gifted you fan out pressed against your skin, an ample amount of pressure used when Dieter drags it across your hardened nipple. The course hairs of the brush paired with cool wet paint on your overly sensitive peak, has your back arching off the table and your head tilted back, making your enjoyment more evident.

“You look so fucking good like this, Pops.” Dieter muses.

He leans on his arm, supporting his upper body as it hovers over your exposed form. His attention alternates between the languid brush strokes he's creating and your reactions to his touch. The very definition of an eager artist with a newly acquired blank canvas, ready to create a colorful masterpiece.

Dieter’s eyes, brimming with creativity and ardor, study your form like a painter studying his muse. Each ardent stroke he paints onto your skin is an affirmation of his adoration— a testament to the connection you share. His fingers, stained with hues of love and longing, trace the contours of your body, creating a symphony of colors that only you two understand.

His breath hitches as he looks down at you, admiring his work. You. His masterpiece. A silent vow passing between you. The air in the room now rich with the scent of paint and the undercurrent of your shared intimacy.

"Beautiful," Dieter whispers, his voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the room. His eyes, shadowed yet shining, meet yours as his fingers slide through the drying paint, tracing the path his brush had taken, goosebumps erupting in their wake. Each touch sends an electric thrill coursing through your veins, amplifying the connection between you two.

You remain silent, wearing a faint smile as you look up at him, basking in the way Dieter is so consumed by the moment.

"Ah! Wait!! No!! Stop!!" A fit of giggles infuses the blissful atmosphere as your body jolts and writhes when Dieter touches a hypersensitive spot on your torso.

"What! Are you— Are you laughing?" Dieter's movements halt, taken aback by your sudden burst of laughter.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry— you know how ticklish I am right there. Sorry, I didn’t mean to break the mood.”

"Fuck—I'm sorry. I was so lost in the moment. I didn’t even think— I just wanted this to be perfect for you." Dieter hangs his head, dejected by the ruined moment.

“No! No— Babe, hey— it’s perfect!” You tell him. Your hand sliding up the length of his arm, then reaching up to cup his face, pulling his attention back to you.

Dieter surprised you with dinner at the same restaurant where you had your first date. You both laughed and cried, reminiscing about how far your relationship has come. After exchanging gifts and sharing a passionate kiss, Dieter took your hand and led you to the studio room. A romantic setup awaited you, a room filled with memories of the past few years. This was where you both shared your first 'I love you's, a marriage proposal, and countless hours of artwork and late-night conversations. Each memory etched into every corner of the space.

"Yeah, but you're laughing, not the reaction I was hoping for. I was hoping for some of those sexy little moans you do or even 'Oh Dieter, don't stop keep going you sex machine'. Damn, Poppy. I’m sorry I ruined this whole moment."

"Dieter, stop. First of all, I'm never going to call you a sex machine, no matter how much it turns you on. So you can forget about that fantasy. Secondly, you didn't ruin anything. I'm enjoying myself, completely— I promise."

"Really?"

"Yes, Dieter. You planned this whole special night for me. Plus, you went and got me those paint brushes I've been wanting. And the way you’re using them on me right now— everything is perfect.”

A few months ago, during a visit to a major art supply store in Los Angeles, you mentioned you wanted them. Dieter suggested you get them, but you decided you didn't need a new set right then and chose to wait.

"Not just any brush. They're made from wood too, which makes them extra special. Especially on a day like today." He loved how your face lit up when you opened the gift. You dropped the gift, threw yourself into his arms, and kissed him with endless gratitude.

"How so?" You ask, as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer until he's just a breath away.

"5 years. I looked it up and the 5-year anniversary is wood. I might have not figured that out until after I bought them— but that’s beside the point." He whispers, his lips softly brushing against yours.

"Oh— well, how apropos." You reach down between your bodies, grabbing a handful of Dieter's hard cock straining behind his comfy lounge pants.

Dieter's eyes flutter and his body tenses as you grip him firmly. "Fuck, Poppy!" His voice strained with pleasure.

“Happy Anniversary, Mr. Bravo. I'd appreciate it if you fucked me now."

"Mmmmm— I'd love nothing more than to make love to my wife." He says before his lips slowly mold over yours.

It’s a curated masterpiece. A creation of you both, crafted meticulously in slow unhurried movements and pure euphoria as the hours burn through the night on your fifth wedding anniversary. It becomes more than just mingled breaths and paint on skin, more than just vows reaffirmed five years later. It's persistent love. An ongoing commitment. A strong declaration to your beautiful connection. It's a tangible imprint of your shared moments, silently narrating your story together.

#dieter x poppy #sweet creature celebration #sweet creature series #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #wildemaven writes #pedro pascal #pedrostories

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miradelletarot · 28 days

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B/c I'm still in the mood for it... Gale/Tav (or Gale/Caleb!), the laziest, quietest day at home, whatever home looks like for them.

Ohhh, I've been thinking of this a lot lately. I hope it's ok that I set this as Gale x Reader so it could be anyone! Tav, Caleb (bc I imagine him curling up like a cat in this tbh,) or literally anyone else who sees themselves in this moment.

The scene is this:

It's a cool day in Waterdeep, the doors to the terrace are open, welcoming in the sounds of the rolling waves against the shore, the sails unfurling from merchant ships heading out to sea, and the faint smell of ozone mixed with the salty air that sends the promise of a gentle rain.

Gale tosses a couple of logs on the fire, and fluffs up the blanket for you both to cuddle in on the couch.

You emerge with a hot beverage in hand for each of you, and he accepts his with a kiss. "Gods, this is divine," he muses as he takes a careful sip. "Thank you, my love."

He ushers you to the settee where you curl up immediately, appreciating not only the warmth of the fire, but that of the blanket Gale just fanned out over you. Once he joins you, you flit one side of the blanket across his lap, and snuggle yourself into him as he drapes an arm across your body, his free hand reaching for the book he's been reading to you every night.

The crackle of the nearby fire is the perfect accompaniment to Gale's warm tones as he recites every word. It's enough to lull you to sleep despite how eager you are to hear what he's reading. There's something magical about the way he speaks that makes you melt, makes you feel content, and at peace.

While he uses a mage hand to help hold the book and turn the pages, his other hand is spent tracing slow, idle patterns across your skin.

You finally relent as your lids become heavy and you stir, nuzzling yourself into Gale's body as he leans over to kiss the top of your head.

And you smile as the soft pitter patter of rain adds yet another lovely sound to this sweetest of symphonies as sleep finally takes you in the safety of your lovers' arms.

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604to647 · 12 days

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Scherzo (a Barón Tovar Takes a Wife one-shot)

3.1K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader

Scherzo - a short composition – sometimes a movement from a larger work such as a symphony or a sonata

Summary: Your husband takes care of you when you get hurt during your travels.

Warnings: None! All fluff, though reader gets cheeky with her husband cause I mean, it's Pero? Protective!Pero, Soft Husband!Pero (I NEED HIM). A little bit of violence is described where reader gets physically hurt, nothing graphic.

A/N: This was written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge; please see #jettsflora&faunachallenge for all the other amazing works by some wonderful authors (I didn't do much with the meanings of the flowers, was just going for ✨vibes✨ - hope it's okay!). I tend to always miss my babies after I complete their series, and can't help but write little one-shots for them to see what they're up to. This is our Regency couple from Barón Tovar Takes a Wife, but you don't need to read it (although it would be cool if you did - I'm kind of proud of this one 😭) - just know our happy Barón and Baronesa are doing what they love the most, which is travelling on the high seas together.

Beautiful Bridgerton inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

Truth be told, Naples is not one of Pero’s favourite places to visit in Italy; the Barón much preferred the rolling vineyards of Tuscany or the cultural diversity of Milan. At least it will be a short stay, too short to even arrange for lodging in the city; it was much easier for everyone on the ship to remain staying in their onboard quarters while he oversaw some Royal fleet business with the Italians. It would be just three short weeks before they're set to raise the sails again, this time charting a course up the western Italian coast to the Civitavecchia Port of Rome. He realizes the last time the two of you were in Rome had been when you said your final goodbyes in his youth, parting ways and not meeting again for over ten years; Pero looks forward to strolling the cobblestone streets together once more, this time with you as his bride.

In the meantime, he would try to expedite the matter before him – if the Italian dignitary sitting across from him would acquiesce, perhaps he can still save enough of the day to take you to do some sightseeing before nightfall. Just as the stout man’s mustache twitches at something he’s read on the document Pero gave him, someone bursts into the office, violently banging open the door.

Recognizing one of his trusted footmen, Pero exclaims, “Miguel, could this wait? Signor Romano and I are in the middle of something.”

“No!” cries Miguel, alarmingly, “My apologies, Barón! It is the Baronesa...”

Pero reacts with blinding speed, his chair knocked to the ground from the force with which he stands, “What has happened?!”

“There was a commotion in the square, my lord. Your wife was hur-”

Pero is already out the door, running as fast as he can towards the city square where he knows you and your lady's maid, Lucia, had planned to do some exploring while he was away at meetings. Wind rushing past his ears, he can hear behind him the faint thundering footsteps of Miguel the footman trying to keep up with his master.

When he gets to the square, Pero is stunned to find it in a mild state of chaos – several shops have been vandalized and an overwhelming number people seem to be in a state of mild panic, crying. He scans the crowd and when he finally spots you, he nearly falls to his knees. You’re sitting on the ground next to Lucia who is crying loudly, comforting her the best you can; and while Lucia is clearly emotionally distraught, she appears to be physically unharmed - the same cannot be said for you. Your dress is torn in several places and covered in blood; whose blood Pero does not know, but he realizes, stomach dropping, that some of it at least must be yours when he sees the long bleeding cut down your left forearm. Your beautiful face has at least one messy scrape across your cheek that he can see even at this distance and your lip looks like it’s starting to discolour and swell.

You spot Pero when he is a but few steps away and instantly feel a wave of relief wash over you at the sight of your strong, handsome husband (though you do hate to see the look of panic and terror on his face). Dropping down to your side, Pero immediately cups your face in his warm, bear paw hands, careful not to disturb any of your injuries, “Dulce! How are you?”

You don’t want to tell Pero that your heart is still beating fast from how scared you had felt during the stampede, or how the cuts on your arm and face sting and that your sides and back have started to ache. You know that doing so will only make him feel worse - but you’ve never lied to your husband in all the years you’ve known him so you simply say, truthfully, “Better now that you’re here, Pero.” Melting into the soft tender kiss he presses to your mouth, you try not wince when his soft lips meet your bruised ones but fail miserably. Trying not to shatter in front of you when he hears your pained whimper, Pero wills himself to pull back with a silent reminder to handle you with more care; as he starts to check over your injuries, he asks delicately, “What happened, mi amor?”

One of the sailors who had joined the footmen in accompanying you and Lucia starts to explain before he’s silenced by a glowering look from your husband; Baronesa Tovar is not a woman who needs others to speak for her.

You give the poor sailor a reassuring smile before drawing Pero’s attention back to you and recount for him what happened in the square earlier. Noticing that the Barón's hands have been cold in the mornings as of late, you had headed out today with a mission to purchase your husband some gloves made with the fine leather craftsmanship that the Italians are known for. While admiring the buttery softness of a pair of large leather gloves handed to you by a lovely stall merchant, a fight had broken out across the square between a mob of over twenty large and angry Italian men. The fighting horde continued their bout while moving across the square, barreling into families and unsuspecting people just trying to go about their day. Caught unawares, the pedestrians scattered and ran panicked in an effort to get out the way of the oncoming melee. The fleeing crowd had ran in your direction and you and Lucia could not get out of the way fast enough – pushed down to the ground, in your attempt to shield Lucia as the two of you tried to crawl to the side of the street and away from the mob, your dress had been torn by the flurry of feet as runners stampeded, your body kicked more than once. At one point, someone had produced a pistol and shot at several buildings; and while that effectively ended the fight, several windows had shattered and some of the errant glass had fallen and cut your arm.

Pero feels absolutely sick at the picture his mind conjures of you being physically pushed and kicked, imagining how scared you must have been; he wants nothing more than to sweep you into his arms and comfort you, but without knowing the extent of your injuries, he settles for pressing his forehead to yours and whispering that everything will be okay now. You believe him.

With some difficulty, Pero helps you stand and brings you back to the ship; both of you agreeing that when the doctor is called, it should be to the safety and comfort of your own quarters. Though ever gentle with you, the fearsome scowl on Pero’s face clears a path from the square down to the docks – the deep furrow of his brow accentuating the faded scar over his left eye, as if to challenge anyone who would get between his wife and her safe haven. Calling out for medical supplies and hot water as soon as he’s onboard, Pero leads you to your chambers and sits you on your shared bed before falling to his knees in front of you. Slumping, tension in his strong frame finally dissolving, Pero lays his head in your lap and lets a few tears fall at the relief of finally getting you back home, safe. You stroke your husband’s soft curls lovingly, understanding all of him and letting his devotion wash over you - it brings you a calm that you haven’t felt for several hours now.

In silence, you let Pero tend to your cuts and scrapes, eyes never leaving his handsome face as you watch him concentrate on being gentle with his big, sometimes clumsy hands. Pero washes your face and hands, wiping away all evidence of the time you spent on the hard stone streets of the square, then takes care to thoroughly clean your injuries. When you hiss at the sting from the salve he applies to the cut on your arm, Pero murmurs, “Be good for me, Baronesa,” and distracts you momentarily from the pain with that sweet smile of his that he knows makes you melt.

Finally comes the point that Pero has been dreading; he undresses you carefully to tend to the injuries on your body, hoping none will be too serious. Once he has you stripped to the barest of your undergarments, he takes in the bruising that’s starting to show on your legs, hips and back and thinks he might cry again; his beautiful wife, so brave and strong – he cannot believe you sustained these injuries and still allowed him to move you about as he has without complaint. As if reading his mind, you run a finger through your husband’s scruff that you love so much and try to lighten his mood; nodding towards your discarded dress on the floor, you joke, “I do not think I will be wearing that dress again.”

Half serious, Pero replies, “I think I will bring it to the Polizia tomorrow, when I demand answers for how they allowed what happened in the square to transpire.”

“Pero.”

“Or we throw it over the side of the ship,” he shrugs, a little bit a light returning back to his eyes when he sees your good humour is unscathed; permitting himself to hold you close, Pero breathes his first calm breath since Miguel interrupted his meeting, inhaling your soft perfume. Seeing Pero in a better mood instantly lifts your spirits, and while in the safety of his loving arms, you give him a playful little wiggle and press your barely clad body to his.

“Dulce,” he warns, voice dipping low at your giggles. To show him it’s just a little bit of teasing, you straighten up immediately and allow Pero to run the warm cloth over your body and finish cleaning you up before dressing in your most modest nightgown without any more shenanigans.

The doctor who is called leaves a short while later, declaring that both you and Lucia will be fine and that a few weeks of lightened activity and rest should heal your injuries without issue. It’s not something you’re looking forward to, but you agree with Pero that for the remainder of your time in Naples, it would be better if you recovered from the safety of the ship.

For the first few days, you enjoy the calm and quiet of your vessel, many of the sailors and staff taking the opportunity to enjoy some leave while docked. But as the days go on, with Pero away for most of the day on business, you find yourself getting restless. You read your books and write your letters. You play your piano and even entreat Lucia and whomever remains onboard to play cards with you. From the ship’s deck you can still see much of the city, and even though you have no particular wish to return on this trip (your experience in the square still too fresh), it unfairly beckons to you like a siren. You’re bored. And despite loving your ship, you’re starting to feel cooped up.

Pero does his best each day to finish up his work as quickly as possible so he can return to you, enjoying the warmth of your company and checking for himself that you’re recovering properly. The Barón brings home delicious treats and pretty trinkets for his wife everyday, leaving no doubt that you’re ever on his mind even when apart. And while you love your husband dearly for his thoughtfulness, you cannot help, while enjoying his gifts from within the boundaries of a ship that once represented freedom to you, feeling a bit envious at being unable to go out and procure them for yourself. Pero can tell that you’re feeling a bit out of sorts, not your usual cheerful self; he so hates to see the wings of his pretty dove clipped – it saddens him just as much to see you try to hide your melancholy from him. And although he cannot agree to lift the current restrictions on your movements, he deeply wishes for a way to make your so-called confinement as pleasant as possible.

The morning that marks the start of your last week in Naples, you wake to an absolute ruckus coming from the ship deck; for a moment you feel a stab of fear, unused to such loud noises and voices without having been given some forewarning. You must still be feeling some effects of your recent scare, you think; upon listening a bit more carefully, you relax to the realization that the voices are primarily instructive and even calm. But it’s still much too early for this level of activity from the deck – the footsteps and voices you hear must be from at least double the amount of people you would normally expect to be up at this time of day. Also unusual is that you’ve woken up to an empty bed; every day following the incident in the square, you’ve woken up to your husband curled around you, arms and legs thrown over your body like protective amour. You don’t think you particularly like today’s change, but it makes sense – you can’t imagine whatever is going on outside to be taking place without your Pero’s permission. Not especially looking forward to another day of doing the same things again within the same confines of the ship, you lay in bed for a while longer, at least until the noises start to die down and your curiosity gets the better of you.

The sight that greets you as you open the door to the deck nearly knocks you off your feet. Somehow, it’s not a wooden ship’s deck that you’re now gazing upon, but a colourful and enchantingly idyllic scene, something that could have been painted by a great master of the arts. For a moment, you have to pinch yourself, is this a dream?

You step through the doorway from the ship’s hold into an ethereal garden – blooming flowers have overtaken every inch of the ship’s deck: thick braided garlands of roses, violets, and peonies wrap wondrously around every one of the ship’s railings, big bright pots of lilacs, azaleas and irises line the sides of the ship and surround a makeshift sitting area where some garden furniture you’ve never seen before has been arranged. Even the mast has been decorated to look like a spring maypole, intertwining vines of clematis and jasmine crisscross all the way down from the crow’s nest so tightly you can barely see any of the dark wood that normally centres your great vessel. Every bow is positively dripping with wisterias, reminding you for a moment of your beloved Bridgerton House. You walk slowly through the dreamlike scene, weaving between the lush plants and the fresh, bold flowers. Brushing your hand over the railing as you meander, your fingertips flutter at the soft feel of the blooming petals and your eyes brighten at the rainbow hues that paint every perimeter inch of the ship. Your nose breathes in the sweet and intoxicating floral scent that now dances lightly in the air. You close your eyes and inhale. Your eyes open again with a soft exhale. Repeat.

You’re turning around slowly, trying to take in the entirety of your magical surroundings when your eyes land on your beaming husband, standing like a handsome faerie king holding an exquisite bouquet of your favourite peonies in his hand, waiting for his pretty queen to take in all his hard work. Despite the residual pain you still feel a bit in your sides, you launch yourself into Pero’s arms, throwing your own around his neck and passionately press your lips to his. Mouth opening, you let Pero lick in and explore, before pulling yourself up onto your toes and suck on his tongue eagerly. Pero pulls you in tightly and when he feels your tongue stroke behind his teeth, lets loose a deep vibrating hum of want that reverberates through you, straight to your core. With a quick nibble to your bottom lip and a few chasing flutter kisses, Pero reluctantly pulls away; he’s sure there are curious eyes all over the ship deck, even if they are currently concealed by the splendid greenery that’s overtaken the space.

When he steps back look at you, the expression on your face almost gives Pero enough reason to throw modesty and decorum out the window, grab at your enticing curves and throw you down amidst the lush fauna he’s brought onto the ship to have his way with you. Almost. Your eyes shine bright and twinkle, there’s a fresh glow to your cheeks, and your smile is the widest that he’s seen in weeks: you’re alive again.

“Pero,” you cry in bliss, “what is all this?”

The Barón gently cradles your head in his hand and reverently strokes the soft hair of his beloved Baronesa, “Mi amor, I could tell that staying confined to the ship has not been agreeing with you. If you cannot go out to explore and play in the wide world, then I will do my best to bring the wide world to you. Now, instead of a cold, dreary ship deck, I hope you will enjoy the remainder of the week before we set sail in your own private garden.”

You could cry – what did you ever do to deserve the love and devotion of your perfect husband? He forever thinks of your comfort and the wellness of your heart – but he does so much more than just take care of you or do things that make you happy, he’s the reason for your joy, for your very being. You cannot stop murmuring, Thank you thank you thank you, into his chest as he holds you close, not only to him but for him.

The flowers last a week which is precisely how long you need them to last. During those final days before your fleet sets sail, you find yourself soothed every time you enter or sit in your personal secret garden; second, by the tranquility and peacefulness of your botanical hideaway, and first, by the knowledge that you have the love of the kindest, sweetest man on earth.

Leaning now along the once again bare wood railing, with the salty sea wind blowing through your hair, you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. The patchy facial hair of your husband tickles your cheek as he presses a sweet kiss to your temple and whispers in your ear, “Happy to be on our way, Dulce?”

Turning in his arms, you snuggle into his safe hold; tucking yourself under his chin, you sigh into Pero’s neck, “Just happy, mi amor.”

#jettsflora&faunachallenge #pero tovar #regency!pero tovar #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfiction #bridgerton au #pero tovar series #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #no y/n

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trillscienceofficer · 3 months

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Sometimes the Travelling Symphony thought that what they were doing was noble. There were moments around campfires when someone would say something invigorating about the importance of art, and everyone would find it easier to sleep that night. At other times it seemed a difficult and dangerous way to survive and hardly worth it, especially at times when they had to camp between towns, when they were turned away at gunpoint from hostile places, when they were travelling in snow or rain through dangerous territory, actors and musicians carrying guns and crossbows, the horses exhaling great clouds of steam, times when they were cold and afraid and their feet were wet. Or times like now when the heat was unrelenting, July pressing down upon them an the blank walls of the forest on either side, walking by the hour and wondering if an unhinged prophet or his men might be chasing them, arguing to distract themselves from their terrible fear. “All I'm saying,” Dieter said, twelve hours out of St. Deborah by the Water, “is that quote on the lead caravan would be way more profound if we hadn't lifted it from Star Trek.” He was walking near Kirsten and August. Survival is insufficient: Kirsten had had these words tattooed on her left forearm at the age of fifteen and had been arguing with Dieter about it almost ever since. Dieter harboured strong anti-tattoo sentiments. He said he'd seen a man die of an infected tattoo once. Kirsten also had two black knives tattooed on the back of her right wrist, but these were less troubling to Dieter, being much smaller and inked to mark specific events. “Yes,” Kirsten said, “I'm aware of your opinion on the subject, but it remains my favourite line of text in the world.” She considered Dieter one of her dearest friends. The tattoo argument had lost all of its sting over the years and had become something like a familiar room where they met. Midmorning, the sun not yet broken over the tops of the trees. The Symphony had walked through most of the night. Kirsten's feet hurt and she was delirious with exhaustion. It was strange, she kept thinking, that the prophet's dog had the same name as the dog in her comic books. She's never heard the name Luli before or since. “See, that illustrates the whole problem,” Dieter said. “The best Shakespearean actress in the territory, and her favourite line of text is from Star Trek.” “The whole problem with that?” Kirsten felt that she might actually be dreaming at this point, and she longed desperately for a cool bath. “It's got to be one of the best lines ever written for a TV show,” August said. “Did you see that episode?” “I can't say I recall,” Dieter said. “I was never a fan.” “Kirsten?” Kirsten shrugged. She wasn't sure if she actually remembered anything at all of Star Trek, or if it was just that August had told her about it so many times that she's started to picture his stories in her head. “Don't tell me you've never seen Star Trek: Voyager,” August said hopefully. “That episode with those lost Borg and Seven of Nine?” “Remind me,” Kirsten said, and he brightened visibly. While he talked she allowed herself to imagine that she remembered it. A television in a living room, a ship moving through the night silence of space, her brother watching beside her, her parents—if she could only remember their faces—somewhere near.

Emily St John Mandel, “Station Eleven”

#this is honestly one of the best thing ever written about star trek and i mean that 100%#'arguing to distract themselves from their terrible fear'#'the argument like a familiar room where they met'#station eleven #emily st john mandel #voy #ep: survival instinct

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badass-queer-couples-battle · 3 months

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Sword gays showdown, round 3 of bracket one

Propaganda:

For Alucard:

He has a sword that he can command to fly around. He's bisexual. He's depressed. He's both the direct opposite of his father and too much like him. He's part of the most disastrous polycule to ever exist. He's a jerk. I love him, he's very important to me.

Symphony of the Night has too much of a cultural impact to not have him be included here. He’s an aroace icon with a huge sword collection (he’s bisexual in the animated series). He has a flying sword familiar and a sword he can hold in his hands. Loves taking naps.

For Zoro:

Literally training to be the greatest swordsman in the world. Has a special three swords technique (one blade in each hand plus one with the handle held in his teeth). I haven't read the manga or watched the anime but the live action adaptation gives me extremely gay vibes and based on the fandom things I've seen I'm not the only one

bro uses three swords. has one in his mouth. dont ask how the HELL he manages that. one day he will be the worlds greatest swordsman....after he beats the current greatest for both the titles of greatest swordsman and fruitiest swordsman. he's dramatic as FUUUCK like bro what the hell. has homoerotic fights with the local twink like everyday. directionally challenged, can and will get lost in a paper bag, doesnt know left from right...he probably cant read, too. hes too silly ngl

First of all, im in like episode 250 and so far he hasnt been shown attracted to any woman at all during the whole show so far, not even when one changed clothes in the same room as him and this is anime so you know there were other characters with bloody noses and shit. With that out of the way he wields three swords at once [two in his hands, one is his goddamn mouth dude. Its cool af trust me.] When he was little he made a promise to his best friend that he'd be the best swordsman in the world. Later she died in a tragic accident and left her sword which he still uses today. He also carries a cursed sword but he overpowers the curse with a combination of skill and sheer luck. He got stuck in a chimney. While his crewmates sail their ship he takes naps. He learned how to cut through metal by fighting a guy who could turn his body into metal blades. That's metal. He refuses to fight this liberal marine officer because she looks like his childhood best friend and its just understandably really awkward for him. He's autistic. He's a he/him bisexual lesbian. He's a gay man. He's ace/aro. He's whatever you want him to be babey!!

he has 3 swords, wields one in his mouth sometimes, his dream is to be the greatest swordsman in the world

three swords and big aroace-spec gay vibes

He not only has a sword he has *three* swords. He's absolutely gay there's no way to see this man as straight. Also one time he licked his sword for no reason and that was really funny to me so I had to mention it

Look, this man thinks about three things: Swords, His Captain, and Booze. He’s on a quest to be the worlds greatest swordsman. The Live action has a scene where he declares his undying, unwavering loyalty to his captain WHILE reaffirming his promise to be the worlds greatest swordsman. At this point His dream and his Captain are so intertwined it’s crazy. Man is so sword-y he’s got three of them. When one of his swords broke he carried its empty scabbard until he was able to give it a SWORD FUNERAL. He hears a sword is cursed and takes that as a challenge. He will literally tell his swords off for “bad behavior” when they “act up” due to being straight up cursed. He tests one by throwing it in the air and sticking his arm out to see if it is so blood thirsty and ill tempered that it will cut him. Even though he’s literally the first mate if you ask him what his role is he’s going to answer Swordsman.

He's dedicated his life to two things: becoming the greatest swordsman in the world and his captain, Luffy.

He mastered the three sword style. Its his style. It would've been more swords but he could only fit one sword in each hand and one in his mouth. He wants to be the world's greatest swordsman, a deal he made with his childhood best frenemy (before she died falling down the stairs). He thought he was All That at the start and was almost completely decimated by the actual Worlds Greatest Swordsman. Now, after two years forced training with that guy, he's probably in the top tier no-doubt, and honestly could already be the best but we just don't know for sure yet. Also, did I mention: he's got the whole demon/devil imagery going on at times. And he has absolutely no sense of direction! plus is a total softie when it comes to Chopper and all the children who somehow gravitate towards him. And he loves naps!

One of the guy's main goals in life is to be the best sword fighter and he fights with three swords which I think is telling enough of his skill.

#sword gays showdown #castlevania #castlevania netflix #alucard #castlevania alucard #one piece #roronoa zoro

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emzi-148 · 8 days

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For @rainbow-flavoured-skittles (l know you've read it already, but Imma just tag you again)

⟨⟨ For @ninjago-drabbles's Bruise Exchange 2024 ⟩⟩

❈❈❈

Tides of Destiny

Jay's POV

“Find him! Don't let the prisoner escape!”

“Aye, aye, Cap'n.”

Shit. They found out already. I'm barely even close to the deck…

My breaths came quick and shallow as I navigated the labyrinth of rooms, crates and barrels, my every movement fueled by the desperate need for freedom.

Memories of a life before being captured, a life of open seas and boundless horizons, flooded my mind. The salty air, the creaking of the ship's timbers, it all felt like a distant dream, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. I had to escape, break free from Nadakhan's clutches, or risk being swallowed whole by this prisoner life.

Suddenly, the echo of approaching footsteps jolted me from my thoughts. Panic gripped my chest as I pressed myself against the cold, unforgiving barrels. But fate, it seemed, had other plans for my ill-fated escape.

A calloused hand closed around my shoulder, and I found myself face to face with Bucko, a sinister grin playing on his lips. His loyalty to Nadakhan was unwavering, a fact that filled me with dread.

“What's this?” Bucko sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “Thought you could slip away unnoticed, did you?”

Desperation clawed at my throat as I attempted to reason with him, to make him understand the dire need for my escape. But no words came out of my mouth…

Bucko's laughter, harsh and mocking, echoed through the night. “Sorry, mate,” Bucko retorted, his tone laced with sarcasm. “There's no escaping Nadakhan's wrath. You're as good as dead.”

In that moment, a surge of defiance coursed through my veins. I couldn't let them drag me back into the suffocating clutches of the prisoner life.

Without a second thought, I launched a punch at Bucko's gut, catching him off guard. As he doubled over in pain, his grip faltered, and I seized the opportunity to break free. With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I sprinted toward the edge of the ship, the urgency of escape driving every step.

Without looking back, I leaped into the air, the moonlight casting a silvery glow on the churning waves below, a sharp pain exploded in my side. I gasped, realizing I'd been shot. The searing agony intensified as I plunged into the sea, the saltwater stinging my wounds.

As darkness closed in, the pain in my side intensified, and my limbs grew heavier with each stroke against the unforgiving sea. Nadakhan's enraged shouts echoed from above, a haunting symphony of my past sins catching up with me.

The water embraced me like a silent shroud, its cool embrace offering a fleeting respite from the chaos above. I kicked against the resistance, my strength waning with each passing moment.

In that moment, my life flashed before my eyes: from the first rafts I built to sailing the sea with my crew. Every memory, every adventure, etched into my soul as the ocean threatened to consume me.

And then, as if pulled by some unseen force, the darkness enveloped me, swallowing me whole. My consciousness slipped away, lost to the depths of the ocean, as I drifted further and deeper and deeper and deeper…

✯✯✯

As consciousness gradually returned, I found myself lying in a dimly lit cabin, the gentle sway of the sea lulling me back to awareness. My side throbbed with dull ache, but when I glanced down, I noticed that my chest was tightly bandaged, the pain now a distant echo of the chaos that had consumed me.

Confusion clouded my thoughts as I took in my surroundings. Dry clothes adorned my body… Where am I?

Before I could think of the question any longer, the creak of the cabin door drew my attention. An old woman shuffled into the room, her presence a comforting yet enigmatic presence in the quiet space.

“Ah, seems like my guess was correct,” she remarked, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement. “Here, eat. You need it.”

I regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion as she handed me a steaming bowl of stew, the aroma wafting up to fill the air with its savory fragrance. Who was this woman, and why had she taken it upon herself to care for me?

Taking the bowl with trembling hands, I watched as she settled herself in a weathered chair beside the bed. “I'm Mystake,” she offered, her gaze steady and unwavering. “And you, my dear, are in no condition to refuse a hot meal.”

I opened my mouth to question her further, to demand answers to the myriad of questions swirling in my mind. How had she found me? What did she want from me? But the words caught in my throat, lost amidst the haze of exhaustion and uncertainty.

Mystake seemed to sense my inner turmoil, offering me a reassuring smile as she continued to watch me with keen interest. “Your body washed ashore,” she explained simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But I couldn't bring myself to believe her, not entirely.

Still, I found myself nodding in reluctant acceptance, the urge to argue stifled by the gnawing hunger that gnawed at my insides. With a weary sigh, I turned my attention to the bowl in my hands, the warmth seeping into my bones as I took my first hesitant bite.

The stew was a symphony of flavors, each mouthful a testament to Mystake's skill as a cook. Despite my reservations, I couldn't deny the comfort it brought, the nourishment revitalizing my weary body with each passing moment.

As I ate, Mystake watched me with a quiet intensity, her eyes holding secrets that begged to be uncovered. But for now, I pushed aside my doubts, content to bask in the warmth of her hospitality and the flicker of hope that burned within me.

For in this moment, amidst the storm-tossed seas and uncertain shores, I found solace in the simple act of survival, and the unexpected kindness of a stranger named Mystake.

✯✯✯

Weeks later,

Weeks stretched into months, and I found myself settling into a rhythm of life within Mystake's secluded cabin.

Her hospitality surpassed my wildest expectations, and I couldn't help but marvel at the intricacies of her humble abode. For a house fashioned from little more than wood and bamboo, it held a charm and warmth that belied its simple exterior.

Yet, despite the comfort of my surroundings, a lingering sense of unease gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. Mystake's behavior, though kind and hospitable, held an air of mystery that I couldn't quite shake.

There were moments when I caught her in quiet conversation, her voice carrying softly through the stillness of the cabin. But whenever I approached, she would quickly fall silent, as if guarding secrets too precious to share.

And then there were the fishes. An abundance of them, far more than one would expect from a woman who never ventured out to sea. Their presence fueled my suspicions, igniting a curiosity that burned brighter with each passing day.

Unable to ignore the questions that plagued my mind, I finally confronted Mystake one evening as we sat by the flickering light of the hearth.

“Mystake,” I began, my voice hesitant yet determined. “There are things about you that I don't understand. The way you talk, the way you act... And the fish, where do they come from?”

She regarded me with a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling with a wisdom that seemed to reach beyond the confines of our small world. “Later at midnight. Go to the rocky shores. You'll find your answer there.”

“Okay?”

Mystake smiled one last time before retreating to her room.

✯✯✯

Later midnight,

As I approached the designated meeting spot, my eyes strained to discern Mystake's figure amidst the shadows. Yet, to my surprise, it wasn't her silhouette that I encountered on the rocks, but rather a mysterious presence.

As I drew nearer, the moonlight revealed a figure seated on the rocks, gazing up at the stars.

It wasn't human…

A realization that struck me with a mix of awe and disbelief. A mer, adorned in scales that shimmered with an otherworldly luminescence, captivated by the celestial dance above.

The mer, with a tail of vibrant orange fading to yellow, adorned with mesmerizing blue highlights, looked in my direction, sensing my approach. In an instant, he leaped from the rocks, disappearing into the water with a graceful splash.

“Wait!” I called out, a surge of determination pushing me to follow. Without hesitation, I plunged into the cool depths, the water embracing me in its silent embrace.

As I swam deeper, I caught sight of the merman's tail disappearing into the darkness. Panic and exhilaration intertwined as I pursued him.

My lungs screamed for air, my oxygen depleting rapidly. Just when the edges of my vision blurred, I found the mer hovering above, his eyes locked onto mine. A stunning vision of orange and yellow, the glow of his tail casting an otherworldly radiance in the inky depths.

When he saw me, he gave me an eye roll with a sigh. As the world began to fade, consciousness slipping away like sand through my fingers, the mer reached out. Strong arms encircled me, pulling me to the surface just in time.

Gasping for breath, I clung to the rocky ledge, grateful for the help of the mer.

“You really need to stop going into deep waters. You could've drowned again,” the mer chided, his voice echoing in my mind.

Still catching my breath, I managed a crooked smile in response to the mer. “Well, excuse me for enjoying the thrill of the deep,” I quipped. The merman's stern expression softened into an amused smirk at my retort.

“You know, for a merman, you look kinda hot with that glowing tail of yours,” I added.

To my surprise, the mer's scales took on a subtle blush, an unexpected and endearing reaction. I couldn't help but find it cute, I could feel my mischievous grin widening.

The merman tsked. “Flirting with someone you don't even know,” he shooked his head in mock disapproval.

Undeterred, I extended a hand, the beginnings of a genuine smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “Name's Jay,” I declared. “Pirate, Captain of Destiny's Bounty, and occasional risk-taker.”

The merman regarded me with a curious glint in his eyes, the sea around him seeming to shimmer with newfound possibilities. “Nicolas or Cole, in short,” he replied, a hint of mystery in his tone. “Merman, Finder of the Lost, and apparently the savior of reckless pirate captains.”

✯✯✯

Third Person's POV

In the days that followed, Jay and Cole's unlikely friendship blossomed into a deep connection.

Mystake observed their growing bond with a knowing smile, recognizing a connection that transcended the surface.

One lazy afternoon, as they lounged near the entrance of a hidden grotto, Jay absentmindedly stroked the scales of Cole's tail.

The touch, gentle and comforting, seemed to resonate with the mer in ways Jay couldn't fully comprehend. Cole, who had spent years just in the sea and reefs, found unexpected solace in the pirate's companionship.

As their conversation meandered through the currents of their lives, Cole revealed a surprising truth. “I was the one who brought you to Mystake to heal,” he confessed, his gaze meeting Jay's with a hint of vulnerability. “I couldn't let you drown, not after seeing you risk your life for the thrill of the ocean.”

Jay, both touched and intrigued, grinned mischievously. “Well, well, the mysterious guardian of the deep has a soft spot for reckless pirates, huh?”

Cole chuckled, a warmth in his eyes that mirrored the ocean currents. “Maybe I just have a soft spot for you.”

Jay, never one to miss an opportunity for flirtation, couldn't resist teasing Cole. “You know, I've heard mers singing about soulmates in the moonlight. Think there's any truth to that?” he said with a wink.

“I believe you meant sirens,” Cole smiled at him. “But I do sing…”

“Can I hear you sing?”

“Fine.”

✯✯✯

Weeks later,

Jay, usually brimming with energy and mischievous grins, seemed unusually gloomy and distant.

Noticing the change in Jay's demeanor, Cole sat on the space beside Jay. “Hey, what's on your mind?” he asked.

Jay sighed, the weight of longing evident in his expression. “It's just… I miss them, you know? My friends. Nya, Kai, Lloyd, Zane, PIXAL, Skylor... even Wu.”

“Do you mind telling me about them?”

And so, Jay began to paint vivid portraits of his crew, his words laced with the salty tang of the sea and the spirit of adventure. “Nya, she's my right hand, fierce and loyal as they come. A true First Mate, she's got a keen eye for spotting trouble and a knack for navigating the treacherous waters we sail.”

“Kai,” Jay continued. “He's the fiery soul of our crew, skilled with a hammer and nails as our Carpenter. His passion fuels our ship, and his quick wit keeps our spirits high even in the face of adversity.”

“Lloyd, he's the youngest of us all, our Cabin boy. But don't let his youth fool you; he's got a heart as brave as any seasoned sailor, eager to prove himself on the high seas.”

“Zane, our Helmsman, is as cool and steady as the ocean itself. With his steady hand at the wheel, we navigate through storms and tempests with ease, trusting in his unwavering skill.”

“PIXAL,” Jay continued. “Our Navigator, is a marvel of technology. With her knowledge of the stars and the currents, she guides us to our destination with precision and grace.”

“And Skylor,” Jay added with a grin. “Our Boatswain, keeps our ship in top shape and our crew in line. She's as tough as she is resourceful, and I wouldn't trade her for all the doubloons in the world.”

A soft smile played on Jay's lips as he continued, “And then there's Wu, our wise and cryptic ex-captain. He was the one who brought us together, guiding us through countless adventures.”

As Jay spoke, Cole listened, his heart opening to the echoes of friendships forged on land. He could almost feel the camaraderie that Jay cherished so deeply.

“They're my family,” Jay admitted, his gaze distant. “And now, I'm stuck here, miles away from them.”

Cole placed a reassuring hand on Jay's shoulder, offering silent understanding. “You're not alone, Jay. We're here, and you've got a new family here.”

The words brought a flicker of gratitude to Jay's eyes, a blend of sorrow and appreciation. “Thanks, Cole,” he said, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “It's just… sometimes I wish I could see them again, share a laugh or embark on another adventure.”

As the memories of his crew lingered in the salty air, Jay shifted the conversation, eager to divert his thoughts to something new. “Hey, Cole,” he began, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“Hmm?”

“I've been meaning to ask, what kind of fish is your tail alike to? I've sailed these waters for years, but I've never seen a creature with such a vibrant pattern before.”

Cole's gaze brightened at Jay's question, a smile playing on his lips. “Ah, my tail is based on a Carpenter's Flasher Wrasse,” he explained, his voice tinged with excitement. “They're native to the tropical reefs, known for their stunning colors and mesmerizing displays during mating season.”

“It's stunning,” Jay marveled, admiring the intricate details of Cole's tail. “I can see why you caught my eye from the moment I saw you.”

As they floated in the gentle currents, Jay couldn't help but ponder aloud, “If I were a mer, what type do you think I'd be?”

Cole thought for a moment. “Perhaps a barracuda mer, since you're quite quick,” he suggested. “Or maybe something more dynamic, like a stingray, or something along those lines.”

Jay grinned at the thought, the idea of a tail as swift and versatile as a barracuda or a stingray igniting his imagination. “I like the sound of those,” he said, excitement bubbling beneath the surface. “Who knows, maybe one day I'll get to try it out for real.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

❈❈❈

The fish Cole's tail is based on.

#bruiseexchange2024 #ninjago #ninjago jay #jay walker #jay gordon #ninjago mystake #ninjago cole #cole brookstone #ninjago au #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago fanfic #bruiseshipping #queerplatonic bruiseshipping #ninjago bruise #cole x jay #jay x cole #cross posted on ao3 #cross posted on wattpad

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trafficlife · 7 months

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Dance Among the Embers (Revisit a Life I Still Remember)

Even though the Relation had burned, Joel and Etho's relationship became stronger in spite of it all.

And, because of it all, Etho finally understands why the universe made them soulmates.

word count: 1647

ao3 link

Etho had done this dance before, with the fervent flames as his stage.

It happened so long ago but watching the Relation burn down brought back so many memories. Memories of a simpler time, when nobody expected to return for another round, much less two.

And Etho wasn’t usually one to dwell in the past. But the similarities were so uncanny, that it almost felt scripted.

****

It was a beautiful tree Etho had built in the center of the village.

It was a dark oak tree, considered a rarity in this world, and Etho was so proud of his work. He didn’t think anyone would dare to burn it down the very first week.

That was his first mistake.

If given a match, almost every contestant would light it and throw it away, to let “nature” take its course. And usually, “nature” directed itself toward another contestant’s most precious symbol.

Something changed inside Etho, as he watched his tree disintegrate. He was bitter and cold and vengeance was making a nice home in his brain. But he didn’t take it too far. Apart from a few shenanigans, he knew to keep it cool. He knew how to play but, perhaps if he were smarter, he could've won.

****

Etho glanced back at their work, lighting up in pride. "The ship burns, everything burns," Joel had declared. And he was certainly true to his word. The server had completely dissolved into flames, smoke, and embers billowing in the air. The wildfire spread fast, leaving nothing but destruction and ashes in its path.

It was breathtaking.

Etho never felt so good being red. And he had Joel to thank for that. Joel earned a reputation for being unstable and violent, always bloodthirsty but never satisfied, desiring to cause as much mayhem as he could.

The soulbond always united their emotions. But their current status amplified their emotions tenfold and Etho never felt Joel so intensely before. He never felt his soulmate's emotions like this. All the thoughts of vengeance and fire and bloodlust were as overwhelming as it was enticing. Joel would continue to play with fire, even if it meant getting burned, and Etho would follow him to the end of the game, to the ends of this world, even if he burned as well.

Some would call Joel reckless. Etho calls him beautiful.

They returned to the remains of their ship, the smell of burning dark oak lingering in the air. Etho watched Joel the entire time. Actually, it was more accurate to say Etho was admiring him.

Joel's nails were painted with dried blood and his ruby red eyes were wide. There was a permanent maniacal look in his eyes, an indicator of his diminishing sanity. As terrifying as they were, Etho couldn't help getting lost in them, lost in Joel's presence as a whole. He drank in the sight of his partner, his soulmate, standing there like a God with the flames of his havoc in the background, and Etho was down here, worshipping him, and—

And… Man, was Etho in love with him.

Joel rolled up his sleeves, to reveal faint burns on his arms, and crafted additional flints and steels. Etho had seen the burns several times. Sometimes, he’d absent-mindedly take Joel’s hand and gently brush his thumb over the wounds, mostly for comfort. He didn’t think anything of the burns at first, just that they hadn’t completely disappeared from the previous games. But suddenly, his mind was racing with thoughts and more memories from the past. However, it was Joel's thoughts that Etho was seeing now.

This… Never happened before.

Memories were seldom shared between soulmates. This only happened if they had an inseparable bond, outside of the tether that connected their lives.

(Etho’s heart skipped not just beats, but an entire symphony at the implications of that. But if Joel felt that too, it was only the adrenaline and not the shared sensations.)

****

Joel was surrounded by the fire, his roof encased in an inferno. His skin was already scorched from his first death, red and covered with welts that hadn’t completely healed. But he couldn’t escape the fire. He couldn’t put it out fast enough. And he couldn’t heal fast enough. Actually, he couldn’t heal at all. He was too focused on putting out the fire, despite his roof already being a lost cause. Wherever he turned, there was another flame to step into.

Below Joel, watching the entire spectacle with a satisfied smirk on their face was Cleo, who was satisfied at first, until Joel mistepped and burst into flames. And he came back, like a phoenix rising from his ashes, but he was one step closer to his grave.

Joel couldn’t believe that this was all over a missile, that didn’t even work as intended—

Wait. A missile?

Oh. Oh.

That was Etho’s fault, wasn’t it?

It was Etho's plan to fire a missile at the Crastle. He got Joel roped into it. The missile was disarmed before it could set off but Cleo was still furious. Like Joel, Cleo enjoyed playing with fire but was better at not getting burned. Like Etho, Cleo knew how to stay frosty but she was better at winning. Unlike the two of them, however, Cleo knew when to stop getting revenge.

Joel and Etho didn't know when to stop. They didn't want to stop. They'd put an end to this when the universe puts an end to their relationship. And Etho hoped that wouldn't happen for a long time.

“I know what you’re thinking, Etho.” Joel’s voice snapped Etho out of his thoughts. Now that his bloodlust was satisfied (for now), he sounded much gentler and his voice was softer. “Thinking about the burns you gave me, right?”

“Well- Yeah.” Etho walked over to Joel and took his hand, gently running his fingers over the burns. They melted into his skin so well but they didn’t diminish his beauty in any way, shape, or form. In fact, they only enhanced it.“I don’t think I ever apologized for causing them.”

Joel smirked. “Don’t have to. I got burned so many times, it’s honestly ridiculous. Remember Dare to Flare?”

Etho chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, you gotta give it to Tango. He knew how to make it sound enticing.”

“He did, he did. And, well, you know me. Always looking for a little danger to spice things up.”

Etho raised a brow, intertwining his fingers with Joel’s. “Maybe that’s why I’m your soulmate,” he hummed, “since I’m so dangerous.”

“Yeah, right…” Joel leaned his head against Etho’s chest, the flames from afar continuing to spread and inch closer to them. “I think I’m the dangerous one here. Dangerous and tall and handsome—”

“And crazy,” Etho interrupted. “You are literally up to my chest right now.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “You could at least pretend. Plus, you can’t say you don’t find my craziness at least”— he rested his hand on Etho’s shoulder—“A little attractive.”

Etho shrugged, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” He lightly grasped Joel’s hip, taking a step backward. Joel reciprocated, a grin slowly appearing on his face. His eyes glittered slightly, like polished gemstones in the light, and Etho’s heart fluttered at the sight.

They swirled around, the flames in the distance catching up to them. The fire was their stage and, as opposed to succumbing to it, they controlled it, together. It was a dance with death, but Etho and Joel were taking the lead. They’d take this world, hollow it out, and burn its remains while dancing on its ashes. Etho never thought he wanted this. Then again, he never thought he wanted Joel. But the universe proved him wrong.

And he didn’t mind that.

Etho couldn’t keep his eyes off Joel. He didn’t want to because how had he spent these past few games, not giving Joel anything more than a second glance? How did it take him this long to notice Joel, to notice how seamlessly they worked together? And how could he not admit that he loved Joel, that he’d do anything he asked of him?

Void, did Etho fall for Joel. But he didn’t just fall hard. He fell directly onto bedrock.

Lost in a daze, Etho leaned down to kiss him but was stopped by Joel’s finger. “What, did you forget about the mask?” Joel asked, lips curled up into a smirk.

Ah, right. Etho forgot to take off his mask so often, it was as though it became a part of him.

“Yes, I did,” Etho said as he pulled down his mask. “But you distracted me.”

“Ah! So you do find me attractive!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I think you did.”

Etho tilted his head, slowly closing the gap between them. “I haven't made my case yet.”

“You don’t have to. I already won, just by being my intelligent and handsome sel—” Joel was interrupted by Etho’s lips, pressing against his own. Etho smirked against Joel’s lips. The message was clear: I’m the winner here.

And Etho had won, as cheesy as it sounds. Though the Relation ship was reduced to ash, their literal relationship felt stronger and more fortified than before. And to Etho, that was a better prize than making it to the end of this game. Now, don’t get him wrong, winning would be nice. But even if their allies backstabbed them, even if they burned together because that was their destiny at this point… That didn’t matter to him.

What mattered was that they were still together, still strong.

And they were both aware that, as the captains, they would both go down with the ship. As long as they went down together, and took the world down with them… it would still be a perfect ending to their story.

#꒰☆彡꒱— karma writes #꒰➳꒱— writings #smalletho #boat boys #trafficshipping #trafficsmp #trafficblr #life series smp #double life #double life fanfic #double life smp #life series fanfic #hehe... enjoy <3

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ava-ships · 2 years

Text

“I was taken by surprise by a pair of roguish eyes

In a moment, my poor heart was stole away”

(inspired by the short “The Nifty Ninties”)

(Reblogs are encouraged, Pr0shippers DNI)

Taglist: @toasty-self-shipping @sparklings-sweetheart @bloodstained-roberts-wife @disneymarina @lochfolk-lover @bun-bun-selfships

#also I wanted to give Peppermint a parasol so yeah #ship: a cool symphony #s/i: peppermint kiss cookie #ava’s art #f/os #self shipping #self ship #self insert #cookie run #cookie run selfship #mint choco cookie

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seagoober · 1 year

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A Different Kind of Human ( Step 1)

TFP Optimus Prime x Female Human Reader

Optimus had seen countless beings across the galaxy. But she… she was different.

For a desert climate Nevada became confusingly cool when the Sun left the sky to rest behind the mountain tops. The lack of sun rays left only moonbeams to touch the surface of the young planet. The softness of the slight chill in the air was accompanied by the sultry darkness that encompassed the deserts of Nevada.

The night was still and calm. Tiny bugs were serenading the sweet silence of the night. Their soft songs harmonized with the low buzz of the lone Cybertronian wheels gliding on the asphalt of the deserted highways.

Optimus cherished nights like this. Nights where everything is tranquil. His precious Autobots at the base recharging peacefully in their berth-rooms. The Decepticons hiding away in their ship, leaving the beauty of the earth alone for a single night. All around was serene and still.

Except the Prime’s own thoughts. His processor was running in overdrive: disturbing the hushed nature of the evening.

The electrowaves inside his processor refused to be still. Waves upon waves of thoughts coursed in Optimus’s helm as his alt-form went to the unknown. The chattering of his mind didn’t cease even as his tires slowly stopped and his physical form came to a rest.

Optimus simply sat there in his alt-form as another wave of intrusive thoughts filled his processor. Time was non-existent, the Autobots were nonexistent, the Decepticons were nonexistent, he himself was nonexistent. The only thing real was the hushed voice he filed far away in his deepest files every day cycle.

‘How much longer with this war go on’

‘Am I doing what’s right?’

‘Can Megatron truly be stopped?’

‘How much longer can we last without substantial Everton reserves’

‘Am I worthy of the title prime?’

‘Am I even enough-‘

Optimus’s inner voice was halted in its wake of self destruction by an ambrosial melody. The honeyed voice singing this sweet serenade was only accompanied by the gentle tune of what Optimus assumed was a string instrument. He didn’t know what it was, but he did know that it was lovely.

His optics inside his alt-form lightly closed as he basked in the heavenly symphony only he was present to witness.

Her ethereal voice easily rounded around the notes of the melody. Each staff of the music was delicately executed to create a lyrical wonder that had Optimus craving more of her harmonious singing.

The words of her song were sad but not entirely so. They were reminiscent of a sort of melancholy with a bud of happiness at the center. The lyrics were bittersweet but still had a comforting warmth that enveloped his whole spark.

As gently as it started, the sweet notes of the music died out as she finished her song with a delicate vibrato. His optics opened to bare witness to this human who calmed his never ending worry.

She was quite a bit away. Perched on the roof of (what he assumed was )her vehicle, her legs swaying back forth rhythmically as she began to strum her wooded strung instrument again. Her fingers skillfully switched positions as the notes changed and she began to hum.

‘How long has she been residing here?’ Optimus wondered. It was unusual for a young woman to be playing music to herself in an abandoned parking lot. Optimus only grew curiouser and curiouser.

Her gentle strumming stopped as she turned her head to the rising the sun. Optimus’s optics were basking in the beauty of her form as the sun-rays surrounded her. Humans were a wonderful species, one that Optimus swore to protect with his entire spark.

But she… she was a different kind of human. One that he couldn’t even begin describe with his vast vocabulary. Her hair flowed as she turned to face his alt-form.

Optimus was one who understood what the human standard of beauty was, but she was most stunning individual he had laid his optics upon. No bot on Cybertron could compare to her radiance. Her eyes glanced over his alt-form, nothing else present but serenity in them.

Oh Primus her eyes. They were like two stars plucked from the sky. Optimus had seen countless optics and some human eyes, but hers. They were otherworldly in their radiance.

Only then did Optimus realize that it was sunrise. It had just been the early whispers of the night, how did he lose track of time so easily? How long was his processor buzzing with worry and distress?

Ratchet would be rising from his short recharge soon. Optimus had to leave the human and her vehicle alone as to not raise suspicion or anxiety back at base. He was about to start his engine when the girl moved.

She gently climbed down from the top of her car with her instrument at her side and started walking towards him. Her footsteps were muffled, barely even making a noise.

She stopped a right by his driver side door and she climbed up upon him. Her actions startled Optimus to his spark. Did she know what he was? Did she see him staring?

His processor started to buzz with distress again when she placed a small sticky piece of paper on his windshield. She took out a decorated pencil and wrote something on the note silently. Putting her pencil away, she then placed a few bills under his windshield wiper, making sure to hide the money from any prying eyes.

“There you go. You must’ve been here for quiet awhile. Safe travels Mr. Trucker”

Her voice was like nothing he’s heard before. It was just as harmonious as her singing but more delicate. She carefully climbed down and went back to her car.

Her engine started and slowly her car left the parking lot. Optimus was unmoving. Stunned from the sheer kindness this human had given him.

Optimus checked his inner clock and cursed. He had to get back to base now or Ratchet will lose it and send everyone looking for him. He’s a prime and he has greater responsibilities than loitering in a parking lot.

He started his engine and pulled out of the parking lot. As he began the trip back to base, Optimus could only think of that human and the note she left him. That ethereal human that could be ascribed to myths of Cybertron.

She truly was a different kind of human.

Hi! This is my first fanfic on tumblr so I hope you liked it! Big daddy prime makes me very happy lol. I have a narrative in mind where I want this to go. Lemme know if y’all want more! I’m also open to doing other bots too. I love all the TFP bots!!!

Btw the reader was playing a lute and her car is a Chevy Spark LT. and yes the name is an Aurora reference. Her music is top teir. I was inauthentic reader singing black water lilies or this could be a dream but is up to interpretation.

See you next time fireflies!!

#tfp #transformers #transformers prime #tfp x reader #optimus prime x reader #tfp optimus x reader #tfp optimus prime #oneshot #tfp ratchet #seagoober writes #a different kind of human series

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licially · 2 months

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Short Story: Moonstrings

// I wonder who's OC x Canon ship this is... (OC mentioned is from @blogplutopools) // This was something written back in November of last year, enjoy this worded repost of a short story.

From the window sill, he pulled and plucked the strings on his violin. Although not quite the Stradivarius extraordinaire that he consistently talked about, and not quite the consistency of a symphony, Rocky still played. He didn’t seem to mind that his quality was by par with what he had in mind, his dedication towards it still is worth remarking. So much so that he’s already garnered an audience down below: Lola Deluca, the singer of the band they are both in. She was below, just outside in a patch of grass, with her being there in a way to self-isolate herself after a repeat of what a dream she had, and what nightmare she endured through as she slowly became more and more overprotective of Rocky. Together, as above and so below, they seemed more than content to make the daytime their audience, with Lola ready for the sudden sing-song.

In the moment, the sky carried their song towards St. Louis. The sound may be distorted through and through, and the air completely dismantles what melody it once contained, but people couldn’t help but notice the air noticeably more… cool? Relaxing? It felt like a better breeze than usual, it may be placebo, but it was both felt by the only two that dared to stand in the winds. Lola, by now, had been singing to her heart’s content, as Rocky improvise over her lyrics, with little knowledge that she too was improvising the lyrics.

“Oh and how much I looooo-ve you!”

She let out a high note, demonstrating her capability of being a singer for Lackadaisy never proven rusty, and Rocky didn’t dare to let up either, as he swung himself around towards a high note that eventually ended with a sour plink. He glanced over his violin, and his E string had sprung and broke. Regardless, it didn’t stop Lola from singing more and more, as Rocky hurriedly ran back into the room to find his spare violin that he had put in the house. He’d only be found to have nothing left, after scrambling and scrambling through a mess of rooms and layouts and drawers of Nina’s house to find anything that he left behind just prior to him being kicked out.

The whole reason that they were here in the first place wasn’t to sing songs, however, as Nina and Freckle had both been out the house, and a paranoid Freckle only asked them to be at home after a slew of robberies that struck the residential area. Reluctantly, Nina agreed to let them come over to fend off any potential robbers, but so far it seems they act more as the robbers themselves than someone who should be housekeeping. Regardless, by the time he had gotten back onto the window sill Lola had stopped singing and stood in the shade, awaiting Rocky to be back.

“Rocky! Where did you go?” She asked, her voice spiking up and down in a touch of anger and worry.

“Miss Deluca, I apologize but… my violin string broke. Alas, the symphony stops again.” He spoke up, sounding more guilty than ever. He couldn’t do what she would have loved, and he felt that he let her down. But a laugh from Lola dismantled that entire theory, as she sat back down at the tree stump.

“Well, come down here! I got an instrument too, and we can both sing along!” She particularly picked out his vocabulary, and it worked, as he smiled more and more before heading downstairs and through the backyard towards her. They both sat, Lola leaning on Rocky’s shoulders under the shade, as they continued singing lover’s lullaby towards each other, reminding each other of the heartfelt romance that they both bond over.

#rocky rickaby #lackadaisycats #lackadaisy oc #licially

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krisp-xyz · 3 months

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ok I'm gonna ramble about outer wilds.

if you haven't played it, even if you don't typically care about spoilers, PLEASE avoid spoilers bc this is the most delicate game ever when it comes to spoilers due to the way it's designed. it's one of the few games where spoilers WILL rob you of the experience. with that said,

OUTER WILDS SPOILERS

this is a very very special game to me fgkjldfjk the ending was really beautiful when i first played and the more i thought about and processed it, the more it really stuck with me to the point where i *will* just cry if i think about the ending too much and god i cannot play through that ending again without sobbing. since im assuming people reading this have played the game, yall already know the nature of the game. the only thing you have to gain from anything is knowledge, and once you beat the game, you cant really ever play it again. sure you could maybe go for achievements or explore things you never saw but the experience is kinda just over.

I very much interpreted the ending as being about death. the game has the whole supernova time loop thing going on which sorta makes the idea of respawning a canonical aspect of the game. the fact that you can just hop back into your ship and you dont really have repercussions from death which is a pretty much synonymous with games as a whole tbh is a canonical aspect of the game that you the player AND you the hearthian traveler exploring the universe are a part of. this doesnt immediately seem to special and didn't even click with me very much until quite a bit after i beat the game, but to beat the game is to accept that you're going to die, and truly dying in this game is kinda the closest media has come to communicating what death really means for me at least. you start aimlessly wandering this star system and eventually start to piece things together, you make goals and eventually figure out how to beat the game, etc. all the knowledge you have to gain in this game leads up to the ending. maybe you stop the supernova and save everyone! maybe thats why you're trying to find the eye of the universe! but no, all the stars are dying. you were just unfortunate enough to be born at the end of a dying universe. There's nothing you can do because death is inevitable for you and those around you.

to beat the game is not only to accept that the sun will explode for the last time, that the end of the experience is inevitable, that all your hearthian friends will die for good, but beating the game also requires accepting that *you the player* have reached the end of this experience, *you the player* cannot hang onto anything forever, that the end was inevitable for you too. sometimes i get genuinely sad that i can basically never play this game again, and i almost wonder if my little hearthian protagonist felt similar during the end of the game. that feeling of the inevitable end finally reaching us.

AND DESPITE IT ALL, you finally accept that you are not immortal, that this will not last forever, that the sun cant keep exploding and looping and exploding and looping forever, when you finally accept death on your own terms, when you have no idea of what's in store for you and what will happen next but you take that dive anyway, you just,, get to share a moment with the people close to you. you sit around the campfire as everyone's music comes together for the first time, once *literally* worlds apart, now, in harmony, as the little audio cues to find your friends on each planet become a symphony. they each share messages about how they feel and every single fucking one resonated with me so much sdjklfsklj stuff like "you cut it a little short dont you think?" and "i got to be a part of something really cool, so I've got no complaints" and "the future depends on the past, even if we wont get to see it" and MY FAVORITE FUCKING LINE FROM THE ENTIRE GAME. solanum, the only non-hearthian character around the campfire, a nomai, one of the species that made this all possible, a friend, says something different. she says that this is the end of our journey, and she asks you a question. she just asks if you're ready. its not required to say yes to finish, its not even required to talk to her to beat the game, but if you say no, she will ask again if you are ready whenever you talk to her afterwards, while leaving a message for you in case you are not ready for it to end. she says "its tempting to linger in this moment where every possibility still remains, but unless they are collapsed by a conscious observer, they will never be more than possibilities." when you finally take your final plunge in this moment, you watch the universe collapse before you, remarkably similar to all the times you watched the sun explode before your eyes, and you die.

even though you the player are clearly still alive, (its just a video game after all :p) the experience is over. you died in a way too. this world is no longer yours to explore and discover. after the credits theres a very nice touch where you see the start of a new universe after you enter the eye and the entire universe dies before you. you see some new creatures huddled around a campfire together to remind you that death isn't the end, because "the future depends on the past, even if we wont get to see it" and that maybe it was enough to be a part of something cool, to share those moments with your friends, to explore the universe in whatever unique way you did.

SO WHAT THE FUCK IS ECHOES OF THE EYE

DLC spoilers beyond this point ofc.

if you're like me or countless other players, you probably wanted more, well I've got just the news for you!! theres a DLC !!!! "but wait, doesnt this defeat literally the entire purpose of the game?" yes :D but that's not a flaw, in fact they do this in the best way possible. the DLC challenges the message of the game because there is a fundamental aspect of death that the game barely even touches that the DLC explored *thoroughly*: fear.

chances are, you realize you can beat the game and go beat it and are immensely moved and equally confused by the ending because it takes so much time to process that you never really have a moment to fear death. theres never a moment where you are scared of what comes next because it doesnt really click that this is the end of everything until after the end. in my opinion at least, this is pretty much the only flaw with their portrayal of death and the DLC remedied this.

so it turns out you want more and weren't ready for this to end! its time to explore the owlks and their contributions to this story. im not going to explain their story in depth because im assuming people have played ofc, but key traits with the owlks is that they feared loss. they archived what they wanted to destroy, they lost their home beause of the efforts they made to reach the eye and were horrified, they tried to escape by hiding in a world of their own creation. they hid the eye to prolong the life of the universe as infinitely far as they could. they stumbled across a way to similarly archive one's consciousness, and conquer even death itself, but it was all out of fear. they couldnt accept the end so they hid from it.

and let me just say THE DLC IS FUCKING SCARY. they lean into horror and I think everyone should play it even if they arent into horror. the puzzles arent actually too challenging in execution, and making the discoveries you need is no sweat if you've gone through the base game tbh, although it is very different in a very refreshing way. The real challenge and the real roadblock is fear. some of the things you are required to do are immensely scary and put you into situations you frankly dont want to be in! but if you quit, if you dont do this out of fear, if you hide and if you try to escape this, you're just like the owlks. you dont get through this by not being afraid, you get through this by not letting your fear paralyze you. you need to face your fears (often quite literally as you need to lure owlks away from things and I think its a nice touch that they can also hide from you by turning off their lights and then they can still see you by shining their light towards you even if yours is off FUCK that but this is a bit of a tangent lsdkfgljsd) and if you succeed where they failed, you learn one of the biggest mysteries of the game. you learn why the eye's signal vanished as fast as it appeared, why the nomai failed to find it as effortlessly as the owlks did, but more imporantly, you make a friend :] you meet the owlk that enabled the eye of the universe to be found with a brief decision that they made in a single moment so long ago. the efforts to build upon what the prisoner did were not in vain, and the prisoner accepts death by literally walking into the water as their light goes out. they leave a final message for you, urging you to ride into the exploding sun with them by your side, and you know its time to go beat the game again.

hopefully at this point the ending has sat with you long enough for you to realize what this means. now, more than ever, this is finally the end of the game. you wanted more and you got more but that desire for more similarly cant last forever. the game still needs to end and this is why there should never ever be another DLC for this game please,, a desire for more and a fear of the end kinda come hand in hand, and the fears that you chose to face were not in vain. this is it! theres nothing else! maybe you're sad that the game is ending for the last time, and maybe you still dont want it to end. but in those final moments around the campfire, solanum isn't the only non-hearthian friend around the campfire :] the prisoner is there too wondering if they even deserve to be there after what their kind did, but its over now, everything worked out. they say something really simple that was, without a doubt, the perfect addition to the game for me:

"...How beautiful. It’s different than I’d envisioned.

Whatever happens next, I do not think it is to be feared."

I think one of the reasons this game resonated so much with me is something that I really struggled to grasp until I watched shammy's outer wilds review. there's something so much more significant about *being* rather than just, observing. tons of movies try to tackle these ideas of death and even plenty of games, but with outer wilds, *you* are having this experience that will end that you can never have again. *you* are exploring a world in your own unique way that cannot last forever. and I think that's ok. I think that's what makes it special.

I'm a game dev and an artist and I think outer wilds is genuinely profound. it makes me want to make something that touches people in the way I felt touched by outer wilds. I'm so happy things aligned for me to get to use this same medium for art. I'm gonna go cry now thanks for reading <3

#outer wilds #outer wilds spoilers #I'm not crying I'm not crying I'm not cr #i did just copy paste this from discord btw

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xxxdragonfucker69xxx · 6 months

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I'M BEHIND SCHEDULE

HOUR IN BLACK, PART THREE : THE UNDERWORLD

im skimming really fast because CHARMS have already dropped and i need to get there

!! the outline: lethe and the sea of shadows, but now islands jut out from it which are afterlives. some afterlives are ritual afterlives formed by funerary ceremony and ancestor worship, some are primeval afterlives about the manner of your death. big change! it's full of ghosts, who you mostly know. ghosts aren't their full living selves, death takes a lot from them and theyre defined by their passions and grow weirder after death,

soulsteel.....

phantom beasts! vesper-wolves and pyre-maggots.... cool

prehuman ghosts! omg even dragon king ghosts.... yes yes yes

the history of the underworld is so incredible. im usually sort of tepid on these sections, even though i like the idea of having a history, but for whatever reason this one is soooo cool to me

stygian archipelago!!!

"Bereft of stable stars or predictable trade winds, ghostly sailors develop other means of charting their course, whether following in the wake of phantom leviathans, piloting their ships under the auspice of oracular trances, or reconciling the movements of the Calendar of Setesh with local geomancy" BANGIN!!!!

the old laws are so fascinating to e... the little hints have me a little bit obsessed. man imagine playing stories like the fallen london stories about correspondence and discordance but to repair the old laws... mmm

ugh i looove the different aterlives so much

whispers... and the labyrinth

"Specters in the thrall of Thundering Dissolution join their minds with his in the Symphony of Omnipresence, a psychic whirlpool that shears away the borders between their consciousnesses" oh y god i have to use this shit somehow

stygia!!! hot damn... extreme politics at the heart of the underworld

i have a soft spot for the calendar of setesh ever since i made The Wheel And Weight of Grinding Time Crushes All Beneath Its Passage, an abyssal obsessed with hijacking the calendar via pirate radio to install a new constellation

"Each district’s boundaries are reinforced on the first day of each year with a ceremonial procession. The regent must touch each of the district’s ancient boundary-stones, and shifting those stones as part of the rite allows one district to expand at another’s expense. Whoever completes the procession is the regent; regents surround themselves with bodyguards to prevent coups during that vulnerable time. " OH my fucking god. what a heist movie. holy shit

GFKDNGDSG GENTRIFIED BY THE SILVER PRINCE

theres a whole subsection for the sewers. this is worldbuilding.

culture... architecture... a dole of black bread and white cheese...

"Weeds signify persistence and thriving in the Underworld; a dandelion represents passage into Lethe. Fish symbolize ghosts, while a fishhook means either love or money, depending on who you ask. And blood — or, indeed, anything crimson — holds many meanings depending on context, including power, food, artistic fervor, endings, new beginnings, and Creation itself." why was this made specifically to caer to me

"A few places specialize in stoking negative emotions, luring perverse customers with discordant choirs, noisome odors, or the like. Several wineshops on Seawall offer bone-dry hardtack and skunked beer; the Kudzu Bell’s boarding house specializes in stale bread, mildewed cheese, and vegetables boiled into a sulfurous mass." oh my god

"Some ghosts hoard coins whose psychic residue resonates with their own feelings; money changers sort obols by emotion for arbitrage." to me this is what exalted is about. this is what no other game has. lets take a wacky fantasy concept and do irl economics about it

:000 mausoleums! places where prayer distills down and bathes ghosts... sort of like a pseudo manse?

....huh! people heard of stygia as a heaven, expected to go there as a ritual afterlife, and now there are spots in stygia for them

collegia! the ultimate in dark academia. ghosts who keep ancient traditions and skills, and are doing quite a lot of politics about it

and the mansions, which are pimeval afterlives of sudden death. these and the collegia alone give stygia such incredible depth already

"In the Underworld’s first days, the Resplendent Mansion stood foremost among its peers, comprised of a host of Exalted and other heroic ghosts who’d died in battle against the world’s makers. But new members slowed to a trickle, then stopped entirely before the First Age’s end. Today, their ancient seat atop Shining Hill stands all but empty, inhabited by a few reclusive timeworn ghosts and a host of guardian spirits and automata." .... so now that primordials and neverborn are out in the world beefing again someone might suddenly take up that seat huh

oh wow i love the transcendent course as a cult. it feels so, ironically, alive. and the DUAL MONARCHS

"The Incarnadine Path was Stygia’s native religion before the Dual Monarchs. Its creed reveres the River of Blood as the literal and metaphorical lifeblood of Creation and Underworld alike. Ghosts of the Mansions find a sense of superiority in their ancient ties to the faith, while the collegia uphold it in opposition to the Transcendent Course. Its stronghold is the rust-red steeple of the Cruor, where Incarnadine blood-priests sacrifice animals brought at great difficulty from the living world to anoint the faithful in gore. Since Stygia’s founding, the Cruor’s priests have been a law unto themselves, offering sanctuary to fugitives; the Signatories show little respect for these traditions, but citywide rioting the last time the Legion Sanguinary violated Cruor sanctuary makes them cautious." MORE CULTS. MORE

and now the stygian pact, with thirteen signatories, wich do not correspond to al deathlords! which i thought was fun. skull pirate aikeret! fathom hermit puppet for the underwater eemi!!! ukhala enlightened-in-blood... i am free on thursday... white thyrsus the youth pastor for a cult to a ghost-eating forest, sesim ruseka the bird bitch. god frankly any of these guys would be fun deathlords as well

WOW namtar is fun

ok im gonna cut myself off before dari of the mists... charms one day i will reach you...

#hour in black

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stygianheart · 7 months

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its a shame your fics dont have more art theyre so good like if I could draw well id probably turn them into picture books. do you wish you had art?

but besides the point I actually have questions and I wanna ask em.

first up, who’s the back up? luffys mentioned the backup a few times and I cant help but wonder who it is. if thats a major spoiler than you dont have to answer but considering your love for this one guy i kinda think its sabo or the rev army. either that or like traffy. it would be funny if it was sabo though because of koby’s brief jealousy of how luffy was talking about him.

this might be just me as an aot fan overanalyzing everything but I feel like that devil fruit in the beginning was something important and so was the auction in broad daylight.

also ive seen a lot of fics where kobys favorite food is buttered potatoes but i think yours is the first where his favorite food is downright plain butter. the guys a psychopath for that. like why would you do that. where did you even get the idea.

I also have some other questions! unfortunately uh revolving around the second favorite ship brymeppo…

does helhippo realize he likes bryan or no? also i really came into the fic thinking I wasnt gonna give a crap about him but somehow you made me like him a lot so kudos to you. his relationship with bryan is so rivals to lovers coded and thats one of my favorite tropes. I really do hope helhippo lives up to his promise and takes bryan to the symphony. I know that wont happen in tsats but if you could make a one shot of helhippo and bryan going out on small dates that would be amazing 🙏 for us rymeppo shippers #rymeppo shippers unite oh and as much as i wanna see bryan take revenge on elijah for all the things the guys done to him i also wanna see helmeppo smash the guys face in. please. kill elijah. I hate him.

omg sorry that this is so long but I still have some more questions!

kobylu wise, who do you think fell first? koby or luffy? its obvious that luffy likes Koby but why hasn’t he said anything? does he understand how he feels? and after this is all said and done how are they going to stay in contact? it’s not like koby can just talk to luffy whenever he wants since hes a marine and luffys the pirate king.

anyway thats all! I hope i was able to help your creativity in some way :)

I mean, yeah, art would be cool. But when it comes to engagement with my fics, the most I hope for is for someone to simply read it. Besides, it’s self indulgent! I’m just writing the stuff for me and sharing it along the way.

Anyway, questions. *pulls out glasses*

The back up? Well, it’s not Traffy, that much I can say. Considering we (last I checked) don’t know if Trafalgar is alive or not, I just decided to…y’know, leave him out.

Greetings, fellow AoT fan, you are NOT mistaken! I kinda like hiding little things in the fic—not EVERYTHING has a purpose like AoT, but a lot of things are put there for a reason. I like being sneaky like that.

And yes. Koby’s a psycho. He eats straight up butter—and said it tastes better when dipped in sugar. I got this weird headcanon from my bestie who also happens to eat butter sticks. I once saw him dip it in sugar and was so disgusted by it, and he was just like “it’s good for you. Besides, it’s ✨tasty✨” like sir no. What on earth. That’s weird. You do you, but please, not in front of me. Besides the point—for some reason I decided to implement that onto Koby. I have a habit of weirdifying characters.

As for the RyMeppo question… I seriously never expected people to love this ship so much wtf. In Chapter 5, Helmeppo is completely unaware of his very obvious crush on (B)Ryan. He thinks he hates Ryan, when it’s obvious it’s more than that. As of Chapter 10, however, the moron is 10000% aware of how he feels. He and Ryan’s relationship is really fun to write with the constant bickering/flirting. I never intended them to be a romantic relationship, but alas, that’s where it headed.

And the KobyLu questions! Yay! Koby definitely fell first and he fell hard—don’t think anyone could fall harder if they tried. As for Luff: he knows how he feels about Koby. Buddy went to Sanji’s school of flirting and failed the classes spectacularly yet tried showing off his grades to Koby. He’s made it very clear how he feels—Koby, unfortunately, is just too damn dense. Luffy could yell “I LOVE YOU” to Koby and he would probably think Luffy meant platonically. He gets his density from me, of course, I’m the exact same way.

I hope I answered your questions well! Thanks for the ask, it actually did help a bit.)))

#ask stygianheart #the sun and the sea #one piece #monkey d luffy #op koby #kobylu

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