#the three little blue fates watch on in silence

[dinoserious]

have i ever talked abt my personal pokemon mythos origin for giratina as arceus’ bile. ok well im doing it now

giratina is the bile built up and spat out after the creation of the universe. arceus loved this spontaneous and unplanned creation, but it was too violent and had to be sealed away. giratina now preforms as a sort of counterbalance to the universe from the distortion world. dialga and palkia are older, and were created when arceus severed two of its many arms. they sequestered themselves in other realms on their own terms, after seeing how their power could lead to terrible results. uxie mesprit and azelf were created after all this as a sort of safeguard against further destruction. they are some of the oldest pokemon to have not left the world for somewhere else

i think arceus loved giratina very much. it was an unplanned and chaotic being that it considered beautiful in its spontaneity, but could not come to terms with the destruction it wrought. the world was new, and all arceus could think to do was to seal it away. the shame this action brought to it was a big factor in arceus becoming a mostly absent god, not trusting itself to directly meddle in the world it created

#arceus #giratina #creation trio #pokemon #mythology #poke mythos #arceus loved its violent terrible child. and the actions it took against it caused it anguish #and so it left the world in the hands of three little fairies #and as the worlds natural processes created beasts and legends to populate the lands #the three little blue fates watch on in silence #most of these hcs predate legends arceus btw. these are homegrown from taking a mythology course and just really liking the sinnoh legends

[citrinae]

aphrodite.

sanji x reader

contents; self-indulgent fluff where you doubt your role at the sunny. he helps you wind up by preparing a bath. sprinkled with some explicit content here n there, worship, established relationships, mythology references, afab!reader, 1k. be gentle fam i'm rusty n down bad for this fool.

The muscles around your shoulders grow taut as you lower yourself into the tub, lukewarm water reaching just below your chest.  Steam climbs up in ribbons and rolls in droplets off your forehead, off white tiles, off the fogged mirror that lingers at the grasp of your wingspan. Usually, it’s no news that it takes you longer than most to loosen up, but there’s been something about this day that rendered you specifically heavy. 

Heavier. 

Sanji’s arms wrap themselves around you, fingers pressing into skin with an eerie gentleness, and you expect your body to tighten even more at the touch, but it doesn’t.

“There,” he rests his chin between your shoulder and neck. “doesn’t this make you feel better, sweetheart?”

(It was him who came up with this, naturally. 

After finding you slumped across some barrel by the docks, he deliberated that a meal alone wouldn't be enough to put you back on your feet. Exhaustion was swirling and defocusing your vision, “Maybe this life isn’t for me.” And who could've blamed you for it? You owned feet that weren’t made for running. Fists that couldn’t break through anything. Worse still, a mind that failed any attempt to deceive. You weren’t sure what it was exactly that interlaced your fate with that of the Straw Hats’. So when their captain had offered you his earnest smile and a place on his ship, you couldn’t help but look back with a raised eyebrow. “This has to be a mistake. You must be joking.”

Right?

And now, as the hissing sound of lighter snapped you back to reality, you remembered part of why you were still willing to try. 

Sanji exhaled through the mouth. “It wounds me to know you like this, dearest,” he said, his eyes shut. “Is there anything I could do to see the sun cast its light upon your lips once more?” 

Your gaze rolled to the side, but there was no hostility there, no strained tone asking to be left alone. He eventually made up his mind by informing that something shall wait for you at the inn the crew voted to rest at for the night. You let him place a peck on your forehead, watched him back to his chores while humming a tune he knew you’d enjoy.) 

A blue blossom floats by your left knee; you fix it absently as you drag your legs closer to your chest. “Maybe, a little,” you admit, leaning your head against his. He smells of nicotine and peach shampoo. 

“I’m glad,” he tells you. It comes out in a prolonged sound that feels like relief. He needs you unscathed like a priest servicing their temple. “Aphrodite,” you remember him confessing, once, as you lounged together on the white-hot flooring of the deck. “Gods carved your face from the foam of the sea and blessed me with the touch of your gaze.” 

(But that was at the beginning of everything. Back when his intentions towards you were uncertain and you knew better than looking too deeply into speeches he pathetically coaxed every woman with. He could be like that, you know—hospitable when no one asks for it. The Moirai, all three, could come aboard swaying their hips in his direction and he’d send them home with a box of chocolates and a piece of poetry each. 

Sanji’s ovations were not sentiments; they were habits.

Yet after weeks of hovering in your proximity, you could tell that, unlike the others, you were cherished in silence—as if you were a shrine to be visited by him and him alone, un chef-d'œuvre, “j'peux pas détacher mes yeux de toi.” 

Then you began to shamelessly spend time in the kitchen, and you enjoyed watching his elbows move above the cutting board, chains shifting across his hips as he stretched to grab a jar of something from the upper shelves. Sanji began, in turn, to wait for you with morning notes attached to cupcake liners and picks of your favourite teas steaming from the stove, his shirt loose with one more button unfastened and spices reorganised near the counter you usually sat on. Before you noticed, each segment in his kitchen would be placed to harmonise with you.

And at lunch you would instinctively search for his gaze, only to notice he was already memorising you down to each curve, pore, line on your face. You’d find yourself pinning it on clumsiness when, under tables, the tip of your shoe brushed his ankle ever so slightly. 

How often did you try to convince yourself he looked at you the same way he looked at any other. Because you were. Like any other.

Soon the same ovations would fall like honey from the tip of his tongue as he pressed you against the wall of the storage room, mouthing thanks for stretching your folds so well around his fingers and for the expectant look in your eye as his touch was searing the skin under your shirt. His breath would catch by your breast when he heard your voice cry out so delightfully sweet for him. And you would have him, kissing your tights, devouring your slit like prayer; because why wouldn’t you? 

How could you deny you this, when he was making you feel like you were the only living being in the Universe?)

“Sanji,” you start, unsure how to continue from here, urging him to turn his head at the sound of his name. “Thank you. I—” lifting your hands over his. “I really needed this.”

Silence; Sanji takes it graciously as he reaches for the sponge across from you and soaks it in the water. 

“I understand if you don't want to talk about today,” he says, softly caressing your back. “But please know I’m here, always, if you ever need an ear to listen.” 

“Heard and heeded.” A smile sprouts at the corner of your lips. “But for now, just stay with me,” and it takes you a minute to get to the last part. “Please.”

And this isn’t something he would admit out loud; maybe just in the dimness of your bedroom dazed with your legs pressing around him. But he yearns to feel needed just as much as you need to acknowledge your worth. 

“Darling,” Sanji stops the sponging to leave a small kiss on your shoulder. “I can’t recall when that was ever a struggle for me.”

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader

[itsabouttimex2]

ooo if your not busy maybe Mei or Azure a gn! Reader who’s a descendant of the lady bone demon but said friend tries to hide that fact from them

(Thank you for sending such an interesting request! I ended up liking this scenario so much that I wrote out a few characters for it!)

Descendant of the Lady Bone Demon: Part One

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Maybe they should’ve seen this coming. Maybe there were a few warning signs they didn’t pick up on. Looking back on it now, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? All those little things should’ve added up a long time ago.

The way the room grew silent and tense when you walked in, no matter how how exuberant it had been prior. How you manage to sneak up on everyone without even trying, as though you had no presence. The wide berth that strangers give you, even though they can’t explain why. That last one had been particularly strange for your friends. They hadn’t understood why people would treat you so coldly, not back then.

They understand now.

Mei Dragon thinks of you as one of her best friends, right alongside MK. Even in childhood were the two of you close, your company providing a brief break from her parents expectations and the crushing weight of living up to her family name. She grows up to think of you as a sibling, really. She’s a ride or die, rise to the challenge, thrill junkie sort of girl. And above all else, she’s fiercely loyal to her friends.

So Mei doesn’t believe a word that LBD has to say. She doesn’t care about destiny, about fate, about these so-called “invisible strings that guide us all through life”.

She lives her life as she pleases, doing what makes her and her friends happy! And she’s not gonna listen to a word that some wannabe world-destroyer has to say about it!

Until the Lady Bone Demon mentions you.

“Y/N bears my very own blood, thin though it has grown. In time, they will follow the very same path I have, to cleanse this world of pain and suffering.”

Now she’s listening. Her control over the Samadhi Fire slips, scorching a ring of death into the earth around her. The heat alone wilts the any flora that was spared outright combustion. “How…” The fire flickers, fizzles.

And then promptly reignites, blazing hotter than ever before. Immediately, the Lady Bone Demon cringes away from Mei’s sweltering power as oppressive heat waves bear down on her. She can only watch in fear and awe as the Samadhi Fire grows hotter and brighter, fueled by rage.

“How DARE you say that about my friend! Y/N would never do anything like that!” A blazing arc of black and red fire slices into the blue crystal formations created by the demon, melting them into sizzling puddles. Her anger builds with each lash of multicolored fire, reducing each and every spiked crystal around her to a mess of glowing goo.

That anger doesn’t fade even after the fight is over, not even after she gets to see the Lady Bone Demon shred apart and drift away. It’s cathartic to watch, but doesn’t make her any less angry about what she heard.

No, that anger only fades once she has you in her arms, hugging you as tightly to herself as possible. You don’t know about your lineage. No one else does either. Just Mei. Which leaves her with the worst dilemma of her life.

Does she tell you? Does she tell anyone?

She doesn’t want to be like Sun Wukong, hiding important information from even the people who would be affected by it the most. She was a victim of that, and it had hurt. She doesn’t want to hurt you. That’s the last thing she wants. But she also doesn’t want to cast any doubt on you, doesn’t want anyone to think you might end up a destructive foe that would one day need to be struck down.

The fear of losing you somehow outweighs the fear of you being angry at her for withholding information from you.

So she keeps quiet.

Mei rationalizes her silence on the matter by telling herself that she’ll tell you later. Yes, everything will work out, she’s sure of it! She’ll just… wait. Just a little bit. When everything calms down and everyone starts to move on from this disaster, she’ll speak up. Once everyone is in a better, happier mood, they’ll definitely be more receptive to the bad news, right? So she isn’t doing anything wrong. She isn’t acting like the Monkey King. She’s… just keeping you safe.

And she really hopes you won’t hate her for it.

———————————————————————

Tang has long pondered your place in this little group. It’s not that he doesn’t like having you here, nothing of the sort! Really, he sees you as family, the same way he sees everyone else in this ragtag group of misfits.

But you stick out like a sore thumb. Everyone else has a direct tie to the original pilgrims who once undertook a legendary journey to retrieve sacred texts.

Tang Sanzang for Tang. Zhu Baije for Pigsy. Sha Wujing for Sandy. Ao Lie for Mei. Sun Wukong for MK. Everyone had someone who their skills, appearance, or even personality harkened back to.

Everyone except for you. Tang had made several guesses before, wondering if there was someone you yourself were standing in the place of. But no one truly seems to fit. Rather than distancing himself from you over this disparity, he makes an effort to grow closer. “It must be lonely”, he reasons to himself, “being the odd man out.” He’s struggled with his own insecurities of being useless or weak, so he can relate to you on a personal level. After making that connection between the two of you, he starts to look out for you, trying to help guide you as you grow.

Tang probably sees himself as your father figure, just the way he sees himself as MK’s.

But, since you don’t have the support system that MK has, he tries to take a more involved role in your life. He’ll sit down with you to chat about any troubles or struggles you have, offering you a kind ear and a welcoming shoulder. And if you ever are struggling with something so bad that it breaks you down and leaves you in tears, he happily takes you into his arms and stays with you through the meltdown. If you fall asleep in his embrace after wearing yourself out, he enjoys it all the more.

He cherishes moments like that, actually.

Sure, he’s sympathetic to your feelings of loneliness and isolation. It’s true that he wants you to be happy. Sometimes he hates the world for hurting you the way it has.

But he loves that you trust him enough to break down in front of him, that you trust him to console and protect you in your weakest moments.

Even at a moment like this, where one of the greatest threats to humanity is bearing down on the two of you. For once, he doesn’t hide or cower. Not when your life is on the life. His golden shield encapsulates both of you, a fierce glare painting his face as he holds you close. You breath raggedly against his shoulder, barely able to support yourself. You had been wounded in the fight, nearly passing out after taking several blows for him and the others. Now, he holds you close, standing tall as you lean on him for support. He watches as the Lady Bone Demon throws attack after attack at the two of you, each blast of crystal and bone shattering and fading against his aureate shield.

The ancient demon glares down at him, a sneer curling her face. “You would fight your destiny? The great monk, Tang Sanzang-”

“I don’t care! Even if I am his reincarnation or his descendant… the choices I make are mine and mine alone! And I will always choose to protect my friends!”

“Even Y/N? Even the very one who bears my blood within them? Are you truly willing to risk saving them now, that they might follow my ways later?”

All the little pieces click into place for him. The mystery he had pondered the most was finally solved, and now he had to live with learning the answer.

“That- that doesn’t matter! Y/N is a person all their own, who will make their own decisions! And I trust them to stay by our side and fight for good! I won’t let you corrupt them!”

And he doesn’t. His resplendent barrier holds fast, shining brightly until all that is left of the demon has been scattered to the wind. He holds you gently, mustering the strength to carry you on his when everyone makes the trip back to Pigsy’s noodle shop. Someone like Sandy or Wukong would definitely better suited to the physical labor he was performing, but Tang couldn’t bear to separate himself from you yet.

Nor is he willing to let go once everyone has taken a seat. He props you up against himself, rubbing your back to keep you awake. “The kids eat first,” Pigsy says, carrying three hearty bowls of noodles. MK, then Mei, then you. Once all of you have your noodles, the chef goes back to the kitchen to start on another batch. Tang holds the bowl and the chopsticks, lifting the noodles to your mouth. Occasionally, he tips the bowl to your mouth so you can sip at the nourishing broth. On any other day, he would’ve swiped a few bites for himself while feeding you. Now, you’re all he can think of. He feeds you bite by bite, then guides you to lay your head in his lap once you’ve finished.

“Hey, Tang.” Pigsy peers down at him, another bowl of noodles in his hands. He passes it to Tang. “What was that demon lady saying to ya anyways?”

Tang looks down at you, watching your chest rise and fall, looking more at peace than ever before. He can’t tell you. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever. But he and Pigsy can both keep secrets, and more than that, you’ll have two targets to split your anger between, keeping Tang from catching the brunt of it if you ever do find out. So he asks:

“Do you think you can keep a secret, Pigsy?”

Red Son

He doesn’t know why he likes you. By all means, you’re just another peasant, another mortal working at the same noodle store that his arch-rival is. But there’s something different about you. Maybe it’s the way you never seem to flinch or cringe or even cower. Maybe it’s the cool head you keep. Maybe it’s the wide-eyed awe you stare at his creations with.

Even after you had been kidnapped.

“I thinks that it was very clever of you,” you softly admit, not fighting against your bonds. “The way you used the tri-toothed 1x2 plates. I don’t see many people use those.”

He shouldn’t be happy to hear you say that. He should scoff and huff and strike down your praise like it’s meaningless drivel. But it’s not. Not to him. He’s been waiting to hear something like that for a long time, actually. Now, if it only it had been from the mouth of his father…

He shakes himself from those thoughts. “Not that a PEASANT like you could ever comprehend just how truly clever my work is! In fact, the legs of this machine are held in place by a truly unique-” “Technic angular wheel,” you finish for him. “It was a smart choice. I bet finding one that could evenly bear the weight of four legs at once wasn’t easy.”

No… no, it hadn’t been. In fact, it had been very hard to source that component. But here you were… acknowledging him. Praising him. Giving weight to his accomplishments by recognizing them. Somewhere deep inside, he’s a little touched to have his efforts commended.

Not that your kindness inspires him to release you. The only thing that frees you is MK and Mei coming in and storming through, knocking him over the head and escaping with you in their clutch.

Still, he doesn’t… hate you, at least. Or maybe, he just hates you less now. It’s a surprisingly good start.

A start that you continue to build off of throughout your repeated interactions, to his surprise. Your praise wasn’t just a one-time thing, wasn’t a way to get him to drop his guard. It had been genuine, entirely sincere. You had truly thought of him as clever, and you still do.

His schemes become less destructive, but more frequent. MK starts sending you out to deal with him, and most of your “skirmishes” end without any true damage. The two of you talk tech, and then he “tactically retreats” from the fight. Eventually, he drops the act, just swinging by the noodle store to talk with you about mechs or vehicles or rare components and where to find them at reasonable prices.

It’s a strange sight for everyone, the two of you amicably chatting. Sometimes someone will try to butt in, usually MK, who tries to keep up with your conversations to no avail. Other times it’ll be Pigsy, making sure that one of his employees isn’t being threatened or endangered. If one of his new mechs has a Journey to the West inspiration, Tang will happily chime in on it.

But most often, it’s only the two of you, happily talking as equals. Not enemies. Not rivals. Just… actual friends, somehow.

Even if it meant fighting to defend them, these are the sorts of moments he doesn’t want to lose. He wants to protect these cherished hours he spends with you, sharing noodles and blueprints in the middle of a crowded but welcoming restaurant.

Even if it meant fighting a foe he had no chance of defeating. All he has to do is buy a little bit of time. Just enough for MK and his ragtag team of idiots and peasants to smash this osseous demon into pieces. He glares up at her, his hair and hands exploding into flame. It’s a mere display, a small threat to keep her occupied. If she focuses on him, then she can’t hurt you.

Not that she’s trying.

“Foolish child. Do you really think I can’t understand the game that you’re trying to play? You would stand in the way of a peaceful world, all in the name of protecting the heir of your enemy?”

He falls to the ground, clutching his head in pain as she taps into his mind to deliver her next words.

“But a meager resistance cannot hope to undo destiny. I will find Y/N, and add their power to my own. That is their destiny, and I will see it fulfilled.”

“You- you won’t! I wont allow it, you… you PEASANT! You can’t hope to beat all of us! The Demon Bull Family, Sun Wukong and his successor, and the Six-Eared Macaque! All of us will stand against you! If we stand together, there is no threat that can overcome us!”

It’s a little funny, almost. Once, he would’ve scoffed and mocked another for saying such a thing. They sound silly on his tongue, cheesy and overblown. It’s something more suited to MK and his band of goons, speeches of friendship and overcoming adversities together. But it’s true.

And her defeat is testament to the strength that loves brings.

He thinks he loves you. You’re what he imagines having a little sibling is like. He wonders if you could love yourself, if you knew the truth of your heritage. Maybe you could. Maybe you’d fall apart and refuse to trust yourself ever again.

He chats idly with MK as you rest your head on his lap. It brings a strange peace to his heart. You look almost happy, in spite of the bruises and cuts. You look happy, which is proof that you didn’t hear a word that the Lady Bone Demon said about your blood ties.

He doesn’t want to rob you of that happiness so quickly, not when you fought and bled for it.

He absentmindedly strokes your head, thinking of how he’d roast anyone who might try to harm so much as a single hair on it. He can’t let anyone hurt you. Not even himself.

So he keeps quiet, and prays that all will turn out well.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere LMK #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere Mei #Mei Dragon #Yandere Tang #Mr. Tang #Yandere Red Son #Red Son #sorry it took so long #I put a lot of effort into this one! #Crystal Heir

[yorshie]

Ritual in Midnight Blue

Bayverse Foot Leo x Reader

Warning: SFW as in there's not smut, but this one shot is exploring darker themes. Dub con, fear of violence, basically a relationship under coercion. Wolf x rabbit vibes

Song used as reference: I know I’m a wolf by discovery of an afterlife

There was a certain ritual to it, even if the shadows of the little unknowns clung to the shapes and curves of him, tinted every gesture and phrase he offered. The weight of each interaction was a small pebble placed on the center of your chest, a combination of weight that made each breath a struggle, an echo of his heavy hand around your throat.

You never heard his arrival. In all things he was silent, a mere breeze floating through your room until he drew back whatever curtain he hid himself with, whatever magic he wielded that allowed him to pass unseen. Between one blink and the next the mundane feel of your home would peel away, leaving a dream like countenance in his wake.

It was late when you stepped out of your shower and into the little hallway that connected to your living room, tiredness pulling at your limbs and navigating more so by memory than any visual cue, when your foot stopped just shy of where the soft yellow light of your bathroom gave way deep blue.

The old clock you thrifted a few months ago was loud in the dark, the tic tic tic of the iron hand moving around the only sound beyond the gurgle of water passing through pipes. Normal sounds, but the hair along the nape of your neck lifted, the ghost of a breath glancing over the thin skin. You swallowed heavily, every muscle tightening to attention at the thought of what you’d find waiting for you by the window in your living room. That he was waiting for you.

It was a struggle to pick out the shape of him against the blue-black shadows that blanketed the corners of the room. They swallowed up every detail, until you’d half convinced yourself you were staring at your empty armchair. 

The ruse was broken when he turned his head just right and the lamplight outside your window glanced off his irises. The points of blue shine gave nothing away as he watched you step fully into the room, and your mind turned to the usual comparison of a wolf deciding a rabbit’s fate.

It was always like this, every time he followed you home. A long moment of silence when you fancied he was internally struggling, arguing against whatever want curled in his chest. You often wondered, eyes drifting to the dark armor, the swords strapped across his back, if this would be your last night. If his sense of duty would outweigh whatever conflict was brewing deep within him.

He took up too much space, too much oxygen in your little room, and as the silence lengthened you turned inwards, mind following a steady path to the tune of the metal clock hands, back to the night he first assessed you.

The night you almost died.

Your gaze trailed down to his hands, the three fingers almost hidden completely by the gauntlets covering them, remembering the steady way he pressed the flat of his blade to your throat, the strength corded in his grip when he had your wind pipe in his palm, and entertained the thought that you were already dead. That he had killed you the night you’d been too stupid to walk away. These midnight meetings were a sad farce of an afterlife, but every brush with him felt a little bit like death, a little bit like borrowed time. Your life belonged to him, after all. He held the hands of the clock your heart beat to firmly in his grasp.

After a long moment, he spoke the magic words that freed you from your stand off, voice low and rich, the notes slipping past your defenses and reeling you back in from the gentle drift of your thoughts:

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

Your spine softened as unrealized tension slipped away, and you almost told him ‘you should. I don’t know why you haven’t. It’s only a matter of time’, but instead you swallowed the words, let them cut the inside of your throat, and watched as he stood slowly and crossed the room to your little table.

He started undoing the buckles of his armor, up underneath his arms, shedding steel and leather and placing it neatly on top of the wooden surface, eyes on his task and not on the way you lingered to watch him.

‘What’s your name?’ You wanted to ask, watching  as the little pile grew, ‘why are you doing this?’ A thick belt of knives, the sharp edges glinting, clattered as he set them down, and you inhaled sharply as the desire to yell the next question at him bubbled up behind your tongue, ‘what do you WANT?’

At the sound he paused, hands smoothing down the leather of the harness that kept his swords in place, his beak tilted towards the table in a downward angle that hid his expression. You were struck with a visual spark, comparing the slow strip to the first few times he visited, back when this part of the ritual didn’t exist and he would spend the night tucked into a corner of whatever room you were in.

Watching you, silently, haunting your footsteps as you moved about your nightly routine. Those nights were sleepless, when you still weren’t sure if he would rethink his decision and end your life before you even realized it was gone.

His hands resumed their task, and the slight noise of his sword sheaths being placed beside his armor on the table brought you back once more. You must have made some small movement at the sight of the polished, meticulously maintained weapons, because his head tilted, eyes cut to the side to pin you in place. The pop of blue against midnight black was your only clue as to where he was looking despite feeling his gaze like a physical caress.

Your shoulders touched the wall at your back, and you belatedly remembered that you were only wearing a towel, and despite having never broken his word there was very little in the way of protection between you and him.

Not that it would have made any difference. When he only looked at you patiently however, before returning his attention to the wraps along his arms, you wondered once more why he was doing this.

Why hadn’t he killed you the night you met, when your throat was in his hands and the cold contemplation on his face revealed he meant to? What stayed his hand, what continued to save your life every time you brushed up against him?

What did he gain, from these little encounters?

Your brow furrowed, contemplating, watching as he slowly unwrapped his arms, tendons and muscle catching on the light trailing out from the bathroom. The soft pattern of light rippling over his beak signaled his head turning right before you were pierced by his gaze again.

“Have you eaten?” He asked in that deceptively soft voice, starting to unravel the wide belt at his waist, fingers dipping to pull his tucked shirt out from underneath the material before tightening it back in place.

“Yes.” You whispered, not bothering to move, knowing he could be on you in an instant if he wanted, knowing he’d eventually tell you what to do. You watched as nimble fingers, covered in fine scars that you could make out even in the low light, undid a series of hidden buttons. With a small sigh through his nose, he reached backwards, arms curling up over his head and giving you a show of taunt muscles as he undid the cloth knotted behind his neck that kept his sleeves up and out of the way.

“Go lay down.” He ordered softly, tucking the cloth into a neat little circle before bending at the waist to reach his shoes, giving you a glimpse of the scars mapping out constellations amid the whorls of his shell where his shirt hung loose and open.

You half turned from the sight, swallowing down the warm, confused roll of your stomach, before the cool air tickled the back of your knees and you forced yourself to ask, “clothes?”

He looked up, face unreadable, taking in the oversized towel you clutched to yourself in a slow perusal, lingering on where the hem stopped just above your knees.

After another long moment, he nodded in acceptance, and you tiptoed into your room, shucked the towel and dressed in your pajamas in record time despite knowing he would stay out until you were safely under the covers.

You almost picked the sweatpants and long sleeved shirt, wanting the barrier, wanting something solid and safe between your skin and his scales, but the remembered way his eyes flashed in the dark eyeing the skin of your shoulders and calves stayed your hand. You settled for shorts and a tank top, something fit more so for the height of summer than the beginning of winter, but it was soft against your skin. You had the remembered feel of his fingers smoothing over the material in the back of your mind as you hurried to your bed.

This part of the ritual, you thought, pulling back your comforter and climbing in to settle in the dead center, didn’t start until after the Lull, when you thought he had forgotten about you.

The relief, thinking back to that period, was a tainted thing, a heady connection that a sick, twisted sense of longing had somehow crept its way into.

A rabbit should not long for this feeling, you knew, heartbeat racing and eyes closing when he purposefully let the floorboard just outside your bedroom creak in warning. A rabbit should not go along with the wolf.

After the two week Lull, where he did not visit you once, there was a breaking point for him where you think he almost granted your twisted wish. When he finally darkened your windowsill once more, a different edge of violent clung to him, upfront and bristling for conflict instead of the lethal patience he usually oozed.

Then, he hadn’t uttered a word, hadn’t patiently dismantled his gear. He’d appeared mid way through your dinner, bloody and breathing heavy like a bull. In the space between blinks he had you pinned half under your table, plates and cups flying when the edge of his shell hit a leg while pulling you down.

For the first time ever, you had tried to fight him, something you hadn’t even managed the night you met. The reflexive slap certainly wouldn’t have done anything if he had truly meant to end whatever was happening between you that night, but you tallied it in triumph later when you were alone, a silent indication to yourself that you weren’t just a rabbit, after all. At the time however, you weren’t sure he even felt it, certainly he didn’t flinch, only bore down on you, teeth flashing in the low light.

You didn’t even have the time to scream, terror freezing the cry in your throat when his beak slammed into the dip near your collar. But instead of the tight pain of teeth breaking into your artery, he gave a low, tortured keen. He shivered over you, deep breaths pressing you into the carpet, trapping you underneath him until dawn crept into the room and illuminated the streaks of red clinging to his scales.

There was never a repeat performance of that raw emotion ever again.

The following night he arrived later, so late you had let your guard down. You were already in bed when he appeared in your doorway. When you had only laid there, daze and skittish, panicking over the illusion of intimacy your bedroom granted, he had offered those beginning words once more, had taken his time to remove his gear where you could see before he joined you on the bed. 

A dip in the mattress, a heavy knee by your own, brought you back again, and with a flutter of lashes you found him hovering, watching for the sign you were aware of him entering your space.

He was alien looking in the dark. The undershirt clung to his shoulders, doing little to hide the hard edges of keratin underneath. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he wasn’t human, but it wasn’t until you first shared a bed with him, saw the shell curving where his spine should be, that you realized he must be a turtle.

You wondered passingly the first night, if it was a quirk of fate or the will of man that led him to occupy the shape he did now, if whatever way he came to be like this could also explain the apparent fascination he had with you.

What was he after, you thought again, as he placed his other knee beside your calf and stretched out over you. What was so special about this?

His hands, callused and cool, so much larger than your own, captured your wrists, led them to opposite sides of the mattress and pressed them tightly into the comforter. His fingers settled into their remembered places, and you fought not to stiffen, remembering the bruises he’d left on your wrists the first couple nights of restraining you, how you’d silently cried while he tried to learn how to hold you. 

His thumbs whispered over the rushing dash of your heart locked underneath the thin skin of your wrists, and you just knew he was remembering as well. 

Your legs shifted under the covers, restless for what came next, feeling the ghostly imprint of his beak slotting against the heartbeat thundering just under your jaw, the weight of him keeping you pinned for as long as he wanted.

He deviated though, broke the next steps of the ritual, blue eyes holding your gaze captive in the dark before his head dipped and the lines of certainty were blurred with a shuffle of his knees and the weight of his cheek pressing against the swell of your stomach.

He sighed, the movement only discernible where his plastron cut into your hip bones, the tip of his beak nudging just under the protective cage of your ribs.

You couldn’t control the instinctual shiver that erupted at the sensation, the quiver in your stomach, the latent fear at the unknown that had you gasping at the ceiling.

Once more, in a whispered voice that finally brought a muffled noise from your mouth, he broke the ritual the two of you built over the months. “It’s alright, you’re alright.”

He held himself so carefully, so tightly over you, and for the first time your interactions were turned on their sides in your mind. You wondered if the way he held you down is more for his sake of control than any fear you’d slip away. Another shiver almost knocked you against his hold and a low rumble answered from deep in his chest.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” He reiterated, and the heated line has the air bursting from you, the darkened ceiling disappearing in a haze as foggy stars took over your vision.

“Then why are you here?” You heard a voice ask, but it sounds foreign in your ears, a quiet, near silent break in character that you instantly wished you could take back.

He stilled over you, for a moment, before giving a slow pet of your hands with the side of his fingers. All your muscles tightened underneath him, shock mixing with alarm in your muddled mind at the soft touch, thoughts slow as quicksand sucked at the trail of thoughts you’d pieced together over the course of interacting with him.

He’d built the ritual, piece by piece, deviated and pushed the boundaries of what you were willing and comfortable with over and over, in order to get something he wanted. But what was it? 

The answer hovered just out of reach, despite the way he’d patiently led you further and further each time, but the end goal stretched out in the darkness in front of you, hazy and indiscrete and unknown, unknown could get you killed-

His next words only confirmed your suspicions.

“You’re so soft.” He whispered, the words traveling through your skin and settling in your chest. His head dipped, gave the barest nuzzle to your mid section, and in concert to the little movement your brows crumpled over the revelation that burst like a star in your mind.

Oh… oh. Soft. Did he even know what he wanted, what he was chasing, pushing the both of you towards? Was this stilted, slow dance his way of feeling out, pushing up against your boundaries until he found the soft points he coveted?

If… if he stopped chasing the softness, would he kill you then? 

Another slow pet of this thumb over the softest part of your wrist, lingering over the fine bones hidden underneath your skin, and another thought came unbidden to wash away the panicked edge of the others.

Why would he wait months, waste months, for this from you if there was any chance he’d end your life?

The thought had you sinking into your bed, thinking, careful to temper the blind hope of the errant thought with the immediate weight of the giant turtle over you.  He was dangerous, a killer, but maybe, just maybe, you could trust him with this. 

He held the position through the long hours of the night, not pushing for more, his breath slow and even against your stomach and his body slowly warming from the close proximity to yours.

You always promised yourself that you wouldn’t sleep, couldn’t possibly sleep, with him holding you so, but some times in between the slow, soft touches and the steady beat of his hear against your legs, you found yourself drifting off.

Your dreams were vague things that blended with reality, where you weren’t sure if you were pinned down like an insect to be studied or cradled like something precious, the only thing for certain is you couldn’t move even if you wanted to.

When you woke in the morning, something curled up in your right hand drew your attention, amid the absence of your strange nighttime suitor. 

A little blossom, a delicate thing, safely tucked into the dip of your palm where it wouldn’t be crushed. You turned over the white petals carefully before bringing your cupped hand to your nose and inhaling.

Curiosity struck you at the subtle and sweet scent. Out of all the flowers, why would he pick jasmine?

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt leonardo #bayverse leonardo #TMNT foot leonardo #bayverse leo x reader #bayverse leonardo x reader #tw: dub con #tw: dark themes #dub con #dark themes

[strawheart-pirate]

Pleasures of the North Blue

Penguin x afab!Reader x Shachi

AN: I was inspired by the Birthday Request Event of @quinloki. I've linked it and I highly recommend to check it out if you're 18+. There are only a few days left. Quin's got amazing work.

Words: 2706 CW: NSFW / vaginal fingering / anal fingering / vaginal licking / oral sex / anal plug / ice cubes / bondage / pet names (little one/darling) / threesome / double penetration / praising / creampie / Everything is consensual unless it's stated otherwise.

The Polar Tang anchored at an island and everyone was out to enjoy some fresh air. Well, not everyone. You were in the medical section with Penguin, enjoying some alone time. Or so you thought.

After two weeks with only the silence of the deep blue sea surrounding you, you were glad that in an hour you would be able to get your feet on solid ground and enjoy some fresh air. Yeah, that was the plan before Penguin approached you half an hour ago and you agreed to his plan. Your longing to explore the island was big, but your longing for Penguin was even bigger and this was a nice opportunity to try something new without the constant fear of someone disturbing you. You have been hooking up with Penguin for two months now and times like these were rare.

Now you were lying naked on your back on the cold metal table in the medical section and Penguin was teasing your body with ice cubes in all the right spots. He circled it around your nipple, never touching the hard bud itself. You were defenseless since both your hands and feet were restrained, and so you accepted your fate as little moans rolled off your tongue. You gasped as Penguin’s free hand dived in between your folds.

“So wet already. You really like the cold, do you?” He teased and circled your clit with his index finger.

“I-..ah!” You weren’t to finish your sentence, so you just nodded and arched your back as he put a finger inside you and guided the ice along your stomach.

“Good thing that I’m from the North.” He said and pulled his finger out. As he switched the ice into his other hand he came down to kiss you eagerly. You shuddered as he put the cold ice on your clit for just one second. Penguin stood back up to watch your reaction to the ice fully and as he put the cube back on your clit and circled it, you couldn’t help yourself but moan loudly.

He smirked and put his head just beside your ear. His hot breath fanning your shell as he spoke: “Shhh… Someone’s gonna hear you. I doubt that everyone has left the sub yet.” You tried to keep quiet and bit down on your lower lip but it was no use. As he pressed the cold cube inside you, your body trembled and a small scream escaped your throat. That bastard. He pressed a hand on your mouth to silence you, but it was too late.

Just seconds later, the door flung open and Shachi stood in the frame. His eyes widened and he let his gaze wander over your naked body longingly. Penguin and you froze, both deeply ashamed to be caught but also anticipated what will happen next.

“Shachi,..” Penguin failed to explain the situation to his best friend and got beet red. In fact, the three of you were best friends. The boys were even attached to the hip, but Penguin wanted to have you for himself. Therefore, you both never mentioned your encounters to Shachi. The ice in your cunt was water now, slowly flowing out of your hole, as you awaited the outcome patiently.

“Ah, sorry.” Shachi said and closed the doors in a rush. “I’m glad I made it on time. I know you two have this thing going on and I wanted to ask you if maybe I can join you?”

You didn’t mind. A threesome would be hot and you liked both the boys just equally. Your eyes found Penguin’s and you just nodded.

“I’m sorry not to tell you sooner, bro. It’d be a pleasure if you join us.” Penguin said and a smile spread to his face.

“Thank you. Those sweet moans were flooding the hallway and I just made sure that everyone was off the sub before I came here. It’s just the three of us now.” Shachi chimed and you blushed.

“No need to worry, (Y/N). Now let me taste ya.” The moment you looked up, Shachi’s lips collided with yours. His lips were a bit chapped, but as he shoved his demanding tongue in your mouth, you could taste the sea itself. Shachi’s kiss was wild, rough and very passionate. You could feel all his emotions on your tongue.

“Oh how many nights have I dreamed of those lips. Gotta try everything.” Shachi broke the kiss, just to move down to your folds and devoured your folds with his tongue. A sweet little moan raised Peng out of his trance. Penguin captured your lips with his and moaned into your kiss. He slit his tongue carefully into your mouth and explored it. His kiss was just the opposite of Shachi’s; it was loving and gentle. You loved the contrast and moaned into Peng’s mouth at the pleasure you received from both boys. Penguin broke the kiss, straightened his back and pulled his pants down.

“Suck darling, or the next cube goes inside your ass.” He commanded as he positioned his fully erect cock beside your face. You followed his order but moaned at the thought of another ice cube. While you found a steady rhythm on Peng’s cock, Shachi pushed his tongue deep inside your cunt, his fingers working mercilessly on your clit. You sucked a bit harder at Peng’s cock as the sensation of Shachi’s tongue ripped through you. As Shachi slowly pushed a finger inside your ass to open you up, Peng pinched your nipples hard. It was too much, a knot formed in your stomach from the pleasure the boys gave you and your mouths movements on Peng’s cock were getting sloppier. Penguin watched you carefully and started to take matters in his own hand. He thrusted his cock deep down your throat until you gagged slightly. His tip brushed the back of your throat every time and you moaned heavily, sending vibrations through his cock, as Shachi pressed the third finger inside you. Your hips started shaking and the knot snapped as a heavy wave of pleasure rushed over you. None of the guys backed down from their movement until your sweet moans turned into cries and Peng shot his load inside your mouth. You gasped for air as all hands and mouths were off you.

Peng kissed your forehead before he took a seat to rest a bit and let Shachi take control fully. He kissed you roughly and you could taste your own slick as he took off your ropes, only to readjust them. He tied your hands behind your back and pulled you towards the edge of the table into a sitting position. The rope on your feet was now on your tights, and you were spread wide open.

He stripped out of his clothes until just his hat and his sunglasses were left and your eyes hungrily feasted on the sight.

“Like what you see?” He grabbed an ice cube and trailed it from your collarbones to your belly button. “Time to cool you down a bit. Don’t want you to overheat, right little one?”

He took a cube in his mouth and smashed his lips on yours. While you kissed, the cube switched between you mouths until it was fully melted. Shachi’s tongue explored your wet cavern, when his hands found your nipples. After a few pinches on your already messed up nipples, another ice cube was placed on your bruised buds. You cried out in pleasure as the ice touched your now overly sensitive skin. Shachi grinned darkly and grabbed the other breast violently and you let yourself fall back onto the table.

”No little one, come back up. I want to look into your eyes for the next thing.”

He pulled you up and secured you with an arm around your shoulders, his forehead against yours and you could see his bright amber eyes without the sunglasses shielding them. You loved those eyes; they never fail to amaze you. The vivid orange color that reminded you of the sun just moments before setting. While you were fixated on his eyes, you didn’t register as Shachi grabbed another cube until he pressed it into your cunt. You sharply sucked in air as Shachi observed your mimics and the grin on his face just widened. Peng watched the scene in front of him with pure bliss. He got rid of his clothing in the meantime, except for his hat, and was stroking his re-erected cock slowly. A little moan escaped him every now and then at your sweet reactions. Shachi added a finger to your cunt to secure the cube and his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit. A shiver went down your spine and your gaze locked with Shachi’s. His eyes were your anchor, the only thing to hold you steady as you had no idea what he was up to next. As the cube melted, Shachi’s finger pumped in and out of your cunt, reheating your hole and joyful tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. The friction paired with the temperature difference resulted in a crazy mix and soon tension started to build in your stomach again. If it weren’t for the tight grip he had on your shoulders, you would have collapsed as another cube was pushed inside your cunt. But this time Shachi inserted his cock too, shoving the cold ice all up against your cervix. Your moan silenced as Shachi ravished your mouth once again. He was not moving his hips, letting the ice melt deep inside you, just sharing an open mouth kiss and licking your lips with his tongue every now and then. The cold sensation spread through your abdomen and this time you shared the joy with someone, since Shachi’s breath was also hitched as the ice melted on the tip of his cock. You didn’t know when, but Peng was back behind you, your back against his chest and he jiggled your tits.

“You alright, darling?” Penguin asked and you could only moan.

Shachi gave a quick peck and backed down, breaking your eye contact. Peng grabbed your chin and tilted your head to slip his tongue inside your mouth. His fingers playing with your sensitive nipples as his tongue dominated yours.

“Look what I found back in the cooling chamber.” Shachi chimed and held his metal plug triumphantly in the air. He smirked, as the anticipation was clearly readable on your face and took the ropes off your thighs. Peng pulled you back a bit into a more lying position and Shachi placed your ankles on his shoulders. His left hand was back on your clit, teasing your pearl, as he positioned the cold metal plug on your ass hole. You hissed as the tip pressed inside, the sensation of the stretch and the cold material making you arch your back. Peng kissed the sweet spot on your neck and guided your tied hands towards his cock. With every thrust of the plug, Shachi worked it deeper into your ass. Your grip on Peng’s cock tightened and he started to moan, too. Shachi bent down to devour your folds once again with his tongue, biting and sucking on your folds until he widened your butt hole enough, so that the plug glided in and out of your hole with little effort. He picked up his pace a bit and sucked hard on your clit and the already tight knot in your stomach snapped again, drenching Shachi’s face in your juices. Penguin released too, the grip of your merciless fingers on his cock and the sweet moans in his ear pushed him right over the edge with you.

He backed off and grabbed a towel to clean up his mess before he undid the rope around your wrists. You let yourself fall flat against the table and took a few deep breaths before Shachi’s cock appeared beside your face. You smiled, opened your mouth wide and sticked your tongue out. He accepted the invitation and after a few strokes he sprayed his cum on your face and into your mouth. He panted as he collected the cum from your eyebrows with his fingers and pushed them into your mouth, too. You swallowed all that was given to you and licked his fingers clean. “Well done, little one.” Shachi praised.

Penguin pumped his cock a few times and rounded the table to grab your ankles. He pulled you towards him, and lifted you up by your ass and you grabbed his shoulders. Shachi lowered the table a bit and Peng took a seat on the small side of the table with you on his lap facing towards him. He kissed you passionately as you slowly lowered your hips, his hands guiding you. You gasped as his erection slowly glided into you, filling you up so perfectly. You heard Peng sharply inhaling as you took him in fully. Slowly you lifted your hips and pushed down hard again on his dick, which let a moan escape both of you. Meanwhile Shachi was standing between Peng’s legs. The redhead put a bit of lube onto your butt hole before he positioned his erection at the entrance. You tilted your head to kiss him, and he grabbed your chin and put his tongue inside you. His other hand steadied his cock which pushed slowly but surely into your ass, halfway in he stopped. “Relax little one, we’ll take care of you.” Shachi whispered in your ear and Penguin started to rub circles on your clit, his hips not moving a bit. You relaxed and moaned as Shachi pushed inside further until he was all the way in. You moved your hips cautiously, testing the feel of two cocks inside you until you had adjusted.

“Okay” you said and started moving up and down in a slow pace. Peng’s hands retreated to your ass to help you with each move and Shachi’s hips slowly answered to every thrust you gave. It was good, really good. You were so full of cock, stretching you so good that you hummed in pleasure. As you picked up your pace, so does Shachi and soon Peng grabbed your hips. He pushed you down harder on his dick and guided your hips as his cock pleasured the sweet spot inside you. You moaned in pleasure and Shachi took it as a sign to also fuck you harder. The sensation in your butt hole left you drooling and Shachi grabbed your tits from behind, kneading them and pinching your nipples every now and then. You were a mess, pleasure clouding your senses and the knot in your stomach was back and as big as ever. “If I’d known how much you would like this, I would have asked Shachi sooner.” Penguin said and kissed a trail from your lips to your neck. As it seems that you couldn’t take much more the boys picked up their pace a last time and the room was filled with the slick noises of skin slapping and sweet, sweet moans. You scratched Peng’s back as the knot in your stomach snapped and you came heavily. Your velvet walls tightening and you arched your back, Penguin switched to your nipple and sucked hard, as you came around him. Your cunt held an iron grip around his cock and he grabbed your ass with an equally tight grip, as he came deep inside you. Shachi was not better. As your walls squeezed his cock, he was pushed over the edge and with a final rough push he emptied himself inside your ass. He collapsed on your back and the three of you were heavily panting.

"Wow.” Peng said. “Yeah, wow.” Was all you could say with two cocks still inside you. “You did so well, little one.” Shachi said and kissed your temple sweetly. “Come on, let’s get this cleaned up, before the crew is back.” Both pulled out and admired their cum leaking out of your holes before Shachi picked you up bridal style. Penguin grabbed all the clothes, ropes and the plug, leaving no traces of the recent events in the medical section. You were glad that Shachi carried you towards the bathroom because you were sore to the bone but oh so satisfied. Before you even reached the bath, your tired body drifted off into unconsciousness.

All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©Strawheart-pirate. Please do not copy / modify / translate / repost my writing, banners or art on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #shachi #penguin one piece #heart pirates #penguin x reader #shachi x reader #penguin x reader x shachi #one piece x reader #op smut #smut #strawheart-pirate.writing #strawheart-pirate.smut #n/sfw one piece #n/sfw

[johnny-coxville]

i am begging for a three way smut fic with fem!reader with johnny and bam <3 make it about whatever you want! i just want somethin of those 2 together

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Johnny Knoxville x Bam Margera x fem!reader Nsfw

♡

Front and Back.

There you stood in your blue and yellow striped socks. Little white stars littered across them. Fuzzy pj’s and just a tank top. You scratched your head staring at your door handle. Your friend had just landed you an insane opportunity. Inside your pocket, your fate was held on your tiny flip phone.

“Dude! Go fucking hook up with Margera. You guys are staying at the same hotel!” Reading the text you just shook your head. You had been staying in the hotel just traveling for fun. You were in the bum fuck of Vegas in a random hotel. What were the odds? And what were the odds one of the stars of Jackass would hook up with you?

You really didn’t want to pass off a potential opportunity. Your friend had an insanely weird way of finding famous people, and Bam was one of the many you strongly adored. You had already assumed it would be an easy snag from stories you’ve heard. You wouldn’t mind a solid one-night stand. Come out of it with a cool story at the end? You rolled your eyes at yourself. Don’t get your hopes up. You didn’t even slip shoes on. You didn’t count on anything.

You turned the door handle taking one big breath. Stepping your feet onto the cold cement. Looking past the black guard rail, you saw the distant city lights. You pulled your phone back out. Checking the exact room number. Four hundred seven. You were four hundred-four. Huh. How close.

Though walking to the room felt like a damn eternity. You found yourself standing in front of the grey door. The curtains to the room tightly shut. You knocked. Shouldn’t have, but you did. What were you supposed to say? “Oh yeah. My friend found your hotel room. We should fuck!” Anxiety overtook your body just standing there. Not even noticing who had just opened the door.

Holy shit. It wasn’t Bam Margera. But Johnny Knoxville. Standing with a can of Budweiser in his hand. He looked incredibly unentertained by your presence. Checking you up and down. “Can I help you?” He said peering down at you. You couldn’t form words it felt like. Puking on THE Johnny Knoxville’s feet would totally blow everything.

“Yeah, I- I like. I-” You tripped over your words, profusely sweating. Johnny just stood. Holding back a stifled laugh. You can see Bam peering his head from the bed, trying to get a decent look at your face. You took a breath and softly exhaled. “I saw you were around- Well. Bam was around. And decided I’d knock on a random door. Thought at least. Maybe I’ll score a random smoke if it isn’t them. Guess I just got lucky.” You said scratching your head again out of anxiety.

“Mmmhm.” Knoxville hummed. “Maybe you came to the right door doll. Bam could spare you a smoke?” He said poking his head back into the room to ask him. He nodded his head. Holy shit. Maybe this would actually work. Besides the fact that you showed up in your pj’s. Bam got off his still neatly made bed and walked up to the door frame. Smiling he looked back up to Johnny.

“Go ahead and let her in Johnny. She can score more than a cigarette in here if she wants. Are you a fan? He said grabbing the pack of cigarettes off the vanity dresser. “Uh.. Yeah. I’m a pretty big fan of you both.” You said watching him light the cigarette up. Glancing at the “No Smoking” sign neatly placed on the wooden table. He took a puff and handed it off to you. You took a drag and hung it in your fingers. The three of you just stood in the doorway. Almost in silence. “Well. Would you like to stay awhile? I mean. You’ve got two pretty… hungry men in here.” Johnny said shutting the door behind him.

“Hungry?” You questioned him. He smiled in response. You knew exactly what he meant, and you knew exactly what you had put yourself into. Immediately from nervous to unbelievably aroused. “PJ cut to the chase. Listen. We’re both really damn horny, and you’re one reaaal fine looking lady. If you’re down for anything, we’re too.” He said waiting to take his cigarette back.

You smiled wide handing his cigarette back. “Whatever you boys want to do with me.” You said, shifting the weight in your legs. You felt like a piece of veal thrown to a pack of wolves at that moment. “Fuck.. Whatever we want?” Johnny responded with unbridled excitement. Taking a quick sip of his beer.

Being fucked by two Jackass guys wasn’t exactly on your bucket list, but here you were. That’s how you wish.. It would’ve gone. Though. Not all. You hadn’t even knocked on the door yet. Just standing there a bit creepily. The door swinging open you jumped back. Bam Margera ran out of the room gagging.

He hacked up whatever was in his mouth over the railing, and you stared a bit confused. A hardy laugh coming from the room. Recognizable as ever. You perched your head slightly to look into the room. Johnny and a half-naked girl sat next to him on the bed. Smiling she was sliding her shirt back on.

He gave her a gentle pat on the back and a kiss on the cheek. She grabbed her shoes and gave you a nod as she left the room. Were they already busy? You just stood awkwardly against the railing. Waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. After Bam was done spitting, he shook his head, fixing his hair.

Shooting you a glance, then a full turn. “Hey.” He said brushing off his shirt. “Hey.. I’m like. A really big fan.” You said with a lump in your throat. He smiled wide, immediately turning his head to meet Johnny’s immediate stoked look. “Want to come in?” Bam said pointing his arms in the direction of the room. “Oh- Uh- Yeah. I’d love to.” You smiled.

You couldn’t believe it was actually happening. Taking a seat in the large chair pulled away from the table. Bam came back into the room, glaring at Johnny. “That wasn’t fucking funny asshole.” He said turning towards you, taking a seat next to you. “You’re right. It was hilarious.” He said snickering.

You gave a confused look, having the guts to question what was so funny? “What happened?” You had said figuring it would be some normal disgusting antics they usually got themselves into. Before Bam could get a word in, Johnny piped into the conversation. “Bam and I had a challenge going on how many women we could sleep with. He got unlucky with that last one, and she spit his load right back into his mouth.” Johnny said with a goofy smile. Bam shot Johnny a look, like had just fumbled their plans with you.

You gave a nervous laugh. “That’s awful.” You said shifting in the chair. “So uh.. This challenge you guys got going on. Would I be- you know? Able to be a part of it?” You said a little nervous. The room was silent for a moment. Johnny shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t knowww. How about you come over here and show me that you want to be a part of it.” He said patting his leg.

Your heart dropped through your pants. If your friend was here with you right now she would be cheering you on. You got up with wobbly legs and a peaking smile. You stopped between Johnny’s spread legs and leaned down for a small kiss. Not wanting to intrude his space if he wasn’t interested in you. Though through the first kiss, Johnny Immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, standing up from the bed. He towered over you, leaning down to fully ensnare you with his kiss.

You complied with his movements, sliding your tongue with his. Guiding your hands around his body. This could possibly be the most exciting moment of your life. His cold hands slipped under your tank top, rubbing his hands into your hips. He felt around your body. His mouth tasted of stale beer, but something you really didn’t even mind.

He broke free from the kiss, staring down at you. He smiled, going in for another small kiss. Bam whined from the corner. “That’s not fair Knox. You need to learn to share.” He whined standing from his chair. He whispered into your ear. “Do I reaaalllly have to share you? I’d love to keep you.” He snickered pulling away from your ear. You smiled wide. Johnny sat back down on the bed, though you stood still. Waiting for Bam to make his way towards you.

Your face was unbelievably red. You could believe this was happening. You took the initiative as Bam strolled over. Pulling your tank top off. Both him and Johnny flicking their eyes to your uncovered breasts. Swollen nipples waiting patiently for someone to grab onto them. Once he broke the distance between you two, he laid you flat on the bed. Getting between your legs and immediately grasping onto your breasts.

His cold hands pressing and kneading into you. You watched his face with intent, Johnny next to you grasping at his pants. Letting go of your right breast he leaned down and sucked your tender nipple. Rolling his tongue around it, continuing to play with your left breast.

You pressed your head into the sheets, staring at the ceiling in bliss. As he switched breasts you reached down to push your hand into your pants. Begging for some kind of pleasure. He grabbed your wrist holding it to your side as he popped off your swollen nipple.

“I’ll let you pick beautiful. Do you want my cock in your sweet mouth or your tight pussy? You sat up, supporting yourself with your elbows. “Mmmmm..” You pretended to think. “I’ll take it in my pussy Bam.” You said rubbing your legs together.

“Good answer.” He said with a telling smile. “Knoxville you get her mouth. Be appreciative” He said ushering you fully onto the bed. “She probably likes me better than you anyways Bam, don’t get too cocky.” He said sliding himself off the bed.

He wasn’t really wrong, but you liked them both. You moved your way onto the bed, still wearing your fuzzy pajama pants. You shuffled them off with your feet, leaving your silly colored socks on. Now you were almost entirely naked. You never wore underwear to bed, so now you were lain out in the bed. Feeling like a centerpiece at a beautiful dinner table.

You inched on your hands and knee’s to the front of the bed. Where Johnny stood stripping his clothes. Unbuckling his belt as quickly as possible. Shoving his pants down to his ankles. Throwing his shirt onto the floor. Taking his length into his hand and giving it a few strokes. Eyeing his hairy stomach leading to his shaft.

Behind you listened a little nervous. Hearing bam undress behind you. Grabbing the lube off the end table he climbed into bed ready. You adjusted yourself a little more spread. Making sure you could reach both men.

You inched slightly closer, Johnny caressing your chin as you moved his way. Once you were lined up Johnny’s tip you gave it a swift lick. Tasting whatever dribble of precum had leaked out. From behind Bam grabbed onto your hip, his opposite hand to line up with your hole. Pausing to smack his cock against you. Squeezing some lube onto himself and lathering some into you.

With no warning, he pressed deep into you, an extreme burn as he entered. He continued to push inside until he was fully inside. Pressing his face against your back. He rocked himself in and out at a surprisingly gentle pace. Though Johnny wasn’t as forgiving. His hand bunched into your hair, dragging your mouth slowly on and off his dick. Moving you at his own pace.

You were under the control of two men at once and it was incredibly overwhelming. The pleasure burning through your body could almost make you shake. You rocked your hips with bams while trying to control how much you took from Johnny. Bam picking up pace was slamming into you now. Gripping at your hips.

Johnny was enjoying you more than you expected, smiling and mimicking your face as Bam slammed deep into you. “You like that you little fucking slut? Two dicks at once?” Johnny said as he picked up his pace on you. Pumping himself in and out of your mouth. Bam began to whine and whimper as he rocked into you. Hitting a spot that entirely untangled your core.

You began to scream on Johnny’s cock, and he took this as an advantage to full-slam your mouth. “Oh fuuuck. You’re going to swallow so much of my cum.” Johnny giggled. Being skull fucked from the front, and railed from the back. You couldn’t handle it much longer. Johnny’s cum shooting down the back of your throat his cock buried inside of your mouth. Tightening the already extreme grip he had on your hair. Bam squeezed his ounces of cum into you, making sure every last bit was as deep as he could get it. Pulling out of you and resting himself on your back. Johnny removed himself from your mouth rubbing your scalp. You were exhausted. Nearing collapsing with Bam’s weight still on top of you.

Bam let off of you, and you finally just laid flat on your stomach. Still trying to clear your throat of his load. Johnny pulled his pants back up, and Bam went to the bathroom. You huffed looking up. “I think that’s the best nut I’ve had in a very very long while. But hey? I never caught your name?”

You shrugged. “I think I’ll keep it that way.” You said with a shy smile. Wait until your friend hears about this. It’s going to be a wild story.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

#jackass fic #jackass forever #jackass fanfic #jackass the movie #jackass #jackass headcanons #jackass imagines #jackass smut #jackass x reader #bam margera #jackass 2 #jackass moodboard #jackass tv show #jackass number two #jackas smut #jackass lemon #johnny knoxville #jackassforever #bam margera x reader #bam margera smut #bam margera headcanons #bam margera lemon #johnny knoxville x reader #johnny knoxville smut #johnny knoxville imagine #bam margera reader #johnny knoxville reader

[bungalowbear]

six.

nanami kento x reader, pokemon au, wc: 990

reader is a psychic gym leader and nanami is a ranger. the garden is a perfect place for conversation. thank you always to @strawberrystepmom for inspiring this series! 💜

The sun is almost fully set. Its final moments are bathed in a deep purple, bleeding into a shade of blue that will eventually fade into the vast darkness of the starry night sky.

You sit on a bench in the garden while you watch over Solrock and Lunatone. They sit in the grass that surrounds the three tiered stone fountain that sits in the center. Among the flora they radiate beauty and serenity just as equally.

Speaking with them through telepathy, you ask about their day. As the conversation flows you once again find yourself trying to stay neutral on the topic of whether daytime or nighttime is better. You try to visit them at both times of day to show you appreciate them both equally, but you understand this debate is one that even you cannot solve.

Footsteps approaching make you dial out of the mental conversation. Turning your head, you see Nanami out of the corner of your eye. The last few inches of sunlight slowly succumb to the earth and allow the moon to shine its light down onto the garden and on the man walking toward you.

“Hello, Kento,” you greet softly. “Would you like to sit?”

He nods before taking a seat beside you on the stone bench, leaving a considerable amount of space between you. It’s silent for a few minutes while the two of you listen to the chirping of insects, the fountain’s trickling water, and the subtle vibrations of Solrock and Lunatone.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you sooner,” Nanami says, breaking the silence.

“That’s fine.” You smile. “You’re probably still a bit sensitive to sunlight.”

“No, I meant when I moved to Johto.”

Your expression falters. “Oh.”

“I’ve spent so much time thinking about what I’d say to you if we ever met again. I thought I’d be angry or sad. But I just feel confused.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” His eyes stay fixed forward as his expression pinches his brows together. “Because I don’t.”

Silence rules the air around you once again. It’s heavy and stifling and you feel the heat of shame roll through you. And again Nanami is the one to speak out first.

“Why didn’t you listen to me when I warned you about Sabrina?”

“I...”

You lower your head, throat tightening, as Nanami pushes on.

“Why didn’t you come to me? I would have helped you.”

The hurt you hear in his voice makes you look up and you’re taken aback by his intensity. His jaw is clenched and hot tears pool in his eyes. They threaten to fall but he holds them back with fierce determination.

“I often think about the last time we saw each other.” You pause, clasping your hands together in your lap. You steel yourself for what you’re about to admit. “After all these years I still can’t help but despise myself because I’ve realized I was always meant to be this version of myself.”

There’s so much more you want to tell him. You want to tell him that the knowledge and power that was dangled in front of you was too great to resist. That you were too much of a weak and selfish creature to overcome the temptation. At the time you valued your abilities over everyone and everything else. Half of you mourns your lost youth, but the other half relishes in the power you’ve gained. It’s proud of what you’ve endured to get to this point of strengthening your psychic abilities to rival even your old mentor.

But you don’t say any of that. You don’t think he could understand, or even want to. You don’t need your abilities to sense Nanami’s mistrust and reluctance to mend the bridge between you, so you’re thankful for the twist of fate that brought him to your doorstep.

Having Yuji and Nanami in your gym the past two days has been a breath of fresh air. You like the quiet and contemplative aura of your gym but you’re starting to think that a little interruption can be good. Especially when you come across a fascinating specimen like the young Ranger.

“I may not be the person you want me to be, but I’m stronger now than the girl you remember,” you say. “And I’d like to talk to you about your mentee.”

“Yuji? What about?”

“I believe a malevolent spirit dwells inside of him.”

Nanami arches a brow. “A malevolent spirit?”

“Yes. I’d like to make sure if it’s really what I think it is that Itadori will be safe. For now, at least.”

“How do you intend to test your theory?”

“I need to enter his mind,” you explain. “I’ll be able to better sense any traces of the spirit and place the mental barriers needed to keep it from awakening.”

Nanami takes a moment to collect his thoughts. The previous minor show of his emotions has now been replaced by a flat expression.

“Yuji has been entrusted to me. His safety and well being are my responsibility.” Nanami speaks with thoughtfully chosen words, utilizing the right combinations to make himself understood. “I don’t know you anymore. Therefore, I cannot trust that your intentions don’t go beyond what you’re telling me.”

“Do you really believe I would hurt him? I know it was a long time ago, but we made a promise to each other—”

“One that you broke first.”

You flinch at the venom tinging his words. Years of hurt and resentment finally make their way out.

“He’s special, Kento. Not just because of the spirit inside of him but because of the way he sees the world. It isn’t given to many.”

“On that we agree. But my answer is still no.” Nanami rises, you sigh. “I’ll keep a close eye on him. Just in case.”

Nanami bids you goodnight and takes his leave. You watch him go, guilt settling deeper within you.

series masterlist

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#catalog #jess’s pokemon au #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento #pokemon au

[tribbetherium]

The Middle Temperocene: 150 million years + 1000 years post-establishment

Hello, Neighbor: Fellow Travelers

The Longest Darktime had come to an end.

Now the golden glow that illuminated the horizon now brought forth the yellow-sun, not merely a tease like it had before, when the faint light simply returned to darkness. The great yellow sun, dwarfing the scarlet gleam of its red companion, did not rise very high in the sky, nor did it stay for long, but the little daylight it bestowed was relief for those who had endured the horrors of the near-endless night.

Sharpstripe was the first to stir.

The warm rays that dappled upon her spotted coat roused the pack's lead female from a light sleep. She glanced about at the cove which for now they called shelter, at her mate, and young, her family which still lay reclined beside her.

Her attention, however, turned to her two youngest. Now christened Dawn-Light for the female and Two-Blue for the male, they huddled together tightly in a corner, twitching, kicking, crying in their slumber.

She quickly moved to their side, her warm, reassuring form resting against the two.

She could not blame them.

What peace of sleep could a young pup possibly have, when they had bore witness to a horror no youngster their age ever deserved to witness?

Pale-Beard had been the one to reassure the two when they suffered troubled nights. But now, there was only silence.

She could have laid by their side all day, a warm pillow to soothe their inner pain, but the sound of calls-- voices-- in the distance brought her rising to her paws. She gently nudged the pups aside, toward their elder brother Switch-Eyes, before hurrying around the edge of the cove, bearing her wood-tooth, to investigate.

A cry broke from her clenched jaws when she glimpsed the flicker of a glowing flame, waved upon a branch by a strange houndfolk.

Strange-Eyes, her partner in watching over the pack, was alerted by her call and hurried over to where she stood, her back fur bristling and tail held straight up in warning.

"Outlanders?" Strange-Eyes asked.

"Not know," Sharpstripe responded. "Not sure."

It certainly seemed that way, with the manner the passerby carried themselves. Hoisting a flaming branch, that trailed a streak of smoke, it caused both their hairs to stand on end, remembering the terrors of the fateful night.

But something seemed different this time, as Sharpstripe listened to the voices. Her pack had traveled well inland, long before she had met and bonded with Strange-Eyes, and she had learned some of the local dialect.

These were not chants of war, like the Outlanders had cried out before. It was a light, and simple song, whose note was certainly far too cheerful and friendly to be coming from the murderous warmongers of the Longest Darktime.

"Come, yellow-sun, shine above sky,

Come, small red-sun, join friend light,

The long dark is done,

The big night is gone.

Come both suns, keep warm, bright."

It was clearly by no means something the Firethieves would be singing.

Strange-Eyes gave a small relieved whimper, and let down his guard. Yet Sharpstripe remained stiff, fierce, on watch.

They were still strangers whom she did not know, and she was wary.

The southhounds, the grey houndfolk, were not one people, but many. The ones who dwelt in the mountains. The ones who roamed the plains. The ones who lived by the edge of the sea. To say nothing of the lesser factions of each, of packs or small groups of packs that stood apart--and against-- the others.

A divided people.

The travellers settled nearby, and Sharpstripe got a good look at the newcomers. By their pale grey speckled coats, dark brown manes that extended to the tops of their heads and tails striped in three colors lengthwise, she recognized them as the plains folk, a nomadic people that did not stay in any one place for long, and followed wherever food was plentiful.

One bearer of the torch, at the front of the group, noticed the pair hiding by the edge of the cove. She seemed scarcely apprehensive.

"Hello?" she barked in the baywulf tongue, for the wide and far travels of the plains folk taught them many foreign words.

Her tone seemed welcoming, even friendly, but Sharpstripe was not taking any chances. Gripping her wood-tooth tight in her jaws, she slowly, warily approached, seeking to demand their intentions.

"Stop! Not need," Strange-Eyes pleaded, gently biting the blunt end of the wood-tooth and tugging it lightly. "Them peace."

"Not know sure," Sharpstripe insisted.

Sharpstripe made her way over to the new arrivals, and sat down a few paces away, leaving much room between them. The rest of the plains folk seemed taken aback, and mildly agitated at her stern, serious approach, but the leader of the group simply calmly sat down, a gesture to the rest of the pack not to worry.

At last Sharpstripe spiked her wood-tooth into the sand, and spoke.

"Why here?"

The leader paused with a quizzical tilt of her head.

"Come by," she replied, in the baywulf tongue once more, yet heavily accented with the sharp squeaks of the plainfolk's dialect. "Only passing. Look for food."

"Look other place," Sharpstripe demanded.

Strange-Eyes stepped in, realizing the foreigners could understand them.

"Sorry for her," he apologized. "She afraid."

"Have right to be afraid!" Sharpstripe cried. "After Longest Darktime! Very right."

"We not harm," reassured the plainsfolk's leader. "We come peace."

"Make sure," Sharpstripe snarled. "Do not try." She grabbed the wood-tooth once more, and tapped it twice against the sand. As a warning, that she meant business.

With a huff, she wandered off, bearing the wood-tooth, while the rest of the plains-pack murmured among themselves in their own dialect, perplexed at the sudden, unexpected encounter.

That evening, as the yellow-sun grew dim and the red-sun now ruled with its crimson rays, the plains folk settled onto the opposite end of the cove. There, they dug out a small pit in the sand, filled it with twigs, and ignited it with a torch: setting the pit ablaze, around which they gathered for warmth.

Sharpstripe went on edge as she watched their flames from afar.

"Mother, why?" asked Switch-Eyes, sensing his mother's discomfort.

"Nothing. I ok." she grumbled, though Switch-Eyes knew that was not the case.

The shadow of the Longest Darktime still hovered over the pack, Switch-Eyes felt. He, especially, with Whitesmoke's dying yelp still echoing in his ears from time to time. But he could tell his mother had been scarred as well, with the way her fur bristled, the way her tail pointed stiffly behind, as she gazed upon the yellow flames of the newcomers from far away.

The youngsters, however, seemed intrigued.

"Who them?" Brushtail asked.

"Come see," Sunbeam urged, eagerly.

"No! STAY AWAY!" cried Sharpstripe fearfully, but the two had already trotted off in the direction of the newcomers, seeking to investigate.

"Mother call back!" Shade cried, for she, too, had become very wary of strangers.

But Sunbeam and Brushtail were already on their way, curiously headed toward the plainsfolk huddle by the fire. They had been foraging near the coast all afternoon, and had collected a fair catch of seafood, a fair achievement, Sunbeam thought to herself, as they were poorer swimmers than the coastfolk.

"Hello?" Sunbeam shyly piped up, standing a few paces away.

The plainsfolk all pricked up their ears and took attention. Some of them, too, were wary, others intrigued, and still some others paid no heed and went back on their business.

The leader of the pack, the same old torch-bearer from earlier, rose to her paws and came forward to meet them.

"Hello," she greeted warmly. She seemed curious, and inviting, and the two felt safe enough for an introduction.

"I, Brushtail. Sunbeam," Brushtail introduced himself, and his sister.

"Narooo-a," the plainsfolk leader replied.

The two siblings looked at one another in confusion.

"What that mean?" Brushtail asked.

"Not mean none," replied the bemused elder. "Just sound calling me."

How strange, the siblings thought. For their names were words. Words that meant things, that described them, or compared them in analogy to another concrete thing that could be felt or seen. Like a bristly tail, or a warm disposition.

Narooo-a. A sound that meant nothing but a name itself. How different they were.

Yet as they looked at the rest of the pack, eagerly feasting on their catch by the fireside, speaking to one another, enjoying one another's company as they barked and chirped and chattered among themselves in their foreign speech, they couldn't help but see how they were also same.

Sunbeam was just about to ask another question when suddenly, Sharpstripe came bounding over to her side, bearing a wood-tooth, with Strange-Eyes in hot pursuit.

"GET BACK! LEAVE HER!" she snarled at the startled plainsfolk, nudging Sunbeam away.

"WHAT IS PROBLEM?" snapped Strange-Eyes at his mate, finally tired of her unwarranted hostility. "They peace! Leave them be!"

"They carry fire. Like...like--" She struggled to spit out the foul name, "--like Outlanders."

The plainsfolk froze for a moment.

Save for Narooo-a, few of the plainsfolk knew much baywulf. But there was but one word in all the local tongues to name the dreaded ones.

"Us...not them," piped up one.

"Us...right owners of flame," Narooo-a explained. "Us brought fire from roaring sky-light. From storm, touch ground. Then flame."

"Flame keep warm, scare off bad beasts. But not destroy. Them. They steal fire. They use to harm, kill."

"They tell same story, but tell wrong. They tell of gift of sky-light, but tell it for war. Strongest ones. Fiercest ones. Lead all."

"Tell stories wrong. To spread hate."

Sharpstripe fixated her eyes upon the flame.

"Still flame. Flame...destroy. How Us, trust Them? Use flame, like...O-Outlander!"

"Us? Them?" snarled Strange-Eyes.

"If anyone like Outlander...YOU ARE."

The words pierced Sharpstripe like the spearpoint of a wood-tooth.

She was.

Long had she despised the Outlanders for their cruel ways. For the hatred they bore to those unlike they.

Yet was she beginning to hate like them?

"I just want best for Us!" Sharpstripe cried despairingly, yet as she spoke the words she knew she sounded even more like an Outlander.

She angrily threw her wood-tooth against the sand and rushed off, crying into the crimson twilight.

Throughout the evening, Strange-Eyes and Narooo-a traded stories by the fire. He brought over the rest of the pack to meet them, and under the red-sun the two groups mingled, telling tales, teaching words.

The plainsfolk had pups of their own, and Dawn-Light and Twoblue romped excitedly with their new playmates, tussling and wrestling and chasing each other about.

Two peoples, united for a moment.

Save for one.

From a distance, Sharpstripe watched in silence. Never had she felt more ashamed of herself.

Was she wrong for wanting to protect her pack? But was she right for branding all unlike an Outlander? Did that make her like an Outlander too?

Troubled thoughts raced through her mind all night, as she sat all alone on the sand, until, exhausted by painful memories and inner struggles, she at last drifted off into a lonely sleep.

------

Over time, Narooo-a and her pack became a regular sight. They were nomads, and were frequently on the move. Yet an acquaintanceship had been forged, and there was reason to return: and where Strange-Eyes and his pack had at last settled, not far from the cove where they met, the plainsfolk returned, from time to time, bearing gifts of interesting objects, or stories to tell.

Friendships were made between the visitor's pups and theirs. Youngsters, growing and learning, every experience a lesson, they quickly learned one another's words, to which they came to speak both dialects fairly well. Thus was one of the gifts of the plainsfolk, on the move since youth, exposed to many tongues, and speaking several upon adulthood.

Amongst all this, Sharpstripe kept her distance.

She felt she was wrong in distrusting them, yet she couldn't help it. Not after the Longest Darktime. There were wounds that would never fade, like the battle scars she and her young ones had suffered. Or the loss of Pale-Beard, whose absence was still felt.

She grabbed her wood-tooth and sauntered off to the shoreline. Perhaps hunting for some breakfast would help take her mind off things.

South of the cove was a small rocky bay, where the small sea-creatures gathered in the mornings. She was skilled with the wood-tooth, when it came to spearing her quarry, frequently the small shelled swimmers, though the bigger grunting sea beasts that sometimes rested on the shore, shaped like land-beasts but rounder and with fins instead of feet, were a welcome occasional addition when she had assistance.

She headed to the peninsula where an old dead tree stood, its dessicated trunk still standing where the salty sea had now encroached. It had been a favorite fishing spot of hers for some time now.

But today, it was occupied.

-------

From far off, Strange-Eyes heard her calls of distress.

"Sharpstripe trouble", he grumbled. She had been acting strange lately, and it had taken its toll on Strange-Eyes as well, who, for the first time in many seasons, had not gotten along with her and her recent behavior since that fateful night. Yet she was still his mate, and they were a pack, no matter what.

"I come. Help." Narooo-a added.

Strange-Eyes knew his partner well, and where she liked to go fishing. He made a beeline for that spot, with a wood-tooth of his own, while Narooo-a followed close behind, carrying her lit torch in case it was some kind of deadly beast, like a fold-paw, whose kind were repelled by flame.

Yet it was anything but.

It was fellow houndfolk, like their own kin. Yet they too differed: both from Strange-Eyes's people or Narooo-a's. They were taller, and more heavily built, with thicker and shaggier coats. Their ears and tails were dark, their coats were striped, not spotted or speckled, and, most telling, a dark stripe that ran between their eyes, dividing their faces down the middle.

A distinctive mark Sharpstripe remembered all too well.

The mark of the Outlanders.

Strange-Eyes, too, recognized the mark of the unusual intruders, who called out to each other in a language he knew not. Theirs was deep, guttural and throaty, rumbling to one another as they backed off from Sharpstripe, bearing her wood-tooth as she slowly paced backward, reluctant to turn her back to them.

"Stay back. Go away. I warn!" she called. Yet the strangers seemed not to understand. In return, the largest of the group, an old male, put himself between the pack and Sharpstripe, grunting out a few warnings of his own that Sharpstripe, in turn, did not understand.

Yet Narooo-a seemed to.

Hurrying forward, in an attempt to cease the conflict, she called out to the old male, in the same deep notes that he had spoken.

Now, he seemed to understand, and stood down.

"Why? What happen?" Sharpstripe asked.

"They not Outlander," Narooo-a explained.

"They are the snow-giants, the south-folk. The dark-ears. They...peace people."

Strange-Eyes took a pause, and observed them more closely. They did seem different from an Outlander. Their fur quite more brown, their coats thicker and their bodies bigger. Around their necks, they wore cords of dried grazer-beast gut, armed with thorns: fearsome to behold, yet meant to defend--not attack.

Sharpstripe was not convinced. "They look Outlander." she noted.

"Not all different, Outlander!" Narooo-a snapped, even her kind, accommodating self now beginning to lose her patience with Sharpstripe's hostile judgement. "They snowfolk, kind people. I know. Met before."

"They tell many stories. They speak of the stars. Tell time. Tell seasons. Much to learn, if not judge quick."

"Put wood-tooth down," Strange-Eyes advised.

But no sooner had Sharpstripe dropped her weapon did the old male darkear suddenly approach her, sniffing her scent in close proximity. She gave a startled yelp and leapt away, equally frightening the old male who flinched and stumbled backwards.

Narooo-a chirped in amusement.

"He not harm," she encouraged. "Snow-folk stay close. Like to close together."

The darkears were a physically affectionate group, borne of a need to huddle in the colder weather of the south. Yet their lack of sense of intimate space was offputting to Sharpstripe, who was uncomfortable with their close approach.

"It is us different," Narooo-a explained. "Each us differ. Coast folk. Plains wanderers. Snow people. All differ. But same."

Narooo-a made a few grunts to the darkears' leader, who responded in kind, not a single word of what was said coherent to the baywulves' ears.

As a show of trust, the lead darkear allowed Narooo-a to remove the thorny collar he wore, leaving his throat exposed. He gave a few stern grunts and rumbles.

"He says drop wood-tooth then us talk," Narooo-a translated.

"Ask him why here," Sharpstripe demanded.

Narooo-a and the darkear exchanged a few more grunts and grumbles, before Narooo-a spoke in the baywulf tongue once more.

"He is escaping."

"From Outlanders."

The darkears too, in their southern tundra home, had gotten word of the conflict that had broken out in the north-east. A few had moved away, westward and around, as fast as they could. They would not stay and wait for the war to come to them.

"He is Graahahan," Narooo-a introduced. "It mean Star-Watcher in snow-people speak."

Graahahan. Star-Watcher. A foreign sound, like Narooo-a. A meaningful word, like Strange-Eyes.

Names all so same yet all so different.

Graahahan gave a few rumbles to Narooo-a.

"Come," she said. "Something that he want show."

He led them to a small patch of shore where the ground was silt, not sand. The mouth of a river, where fresh water met salt and blended in the muddy shallows.

Strange-Eyes watched as Graahahan, or Star-Watcher, rolled himself about in the muddy soil, all undignified like a playful pup in stark contrast to his earlier, composed self. Finally he was coated all, snout to tail, and he turned to Narooo-a and gave an eager rumbling howl.

"He want us join." she said.

Reluctantly, Strange-Eyes waded out into the mud and, with a knowing nod from Star-Watcher, he too tumbled himself in the mud, though he felt silly doing so. What relevance did such a childish activity, fit for pups, have in a serious treaty of peace?

He glanced aside, and saw Narooo-a doing the same.

At last the three stepped back onto the solid ground, covered entirely in the river mud.

"What is point of this?" Strange-Eyes asked.

Star-Watcher, as usual, gave a few throaty grunts that Narooo-a was all happy to interpret.

"Look in river."

Strange-Eyes did so, and saw three reflections, caked in mud.

It took him some time to see which one was him, until he saw the eyes, one blue, one brown. Yet that brief moment, when all he saw were three houndfolk, was when he realized.

Cloaked in mud, there were no spotted shore-people with the round eye spots. There were no snow-people, with stripes and dark ears and a band across their face. There were no plains-people with three-toned tails and speckled coats.

Their differences shrouded, they were all just...people.

"Do you see now?" Star-Watcher said through Narooo-a's interpretation.

"Why hate another for something mud can hide?"

Sharpstripe, too, began to see.

The hate for the different was what made the Outlanders weak. That made them act as cruel wild savage beasts. Not as story-telling hunt-beasts that knew and acted better.

She did not want to be like them.

And so, in a show of support, she, too threw herself into the mud and rolled in it, much to Strange-Eyes bemusement.

-------

The sun was beginning to set in the late evening, now that the Longest Darktime was far, far since past. Now it rose earlier, and set later, as the days once more became longer.

"Grar-ar-ar," Twoblue babbled.

"Graahahan", Star-Watcher corrected.

The receding orange light cast its glow upon the three packs, who in the time had began to spend more time in each other's company.

Star-Watcher had found a new home.

Narooo-a had found new friends.

And Sharpstripe heart had softened, and her mind opened.

There was many they could learn from each other. Stories, words, dialects, skills. The darkears wove collars for protection, and read the stars. The coast-folk crafted tools and weapons, and told stories and sang songs. The plains-nomads brought song and story from far away, and brought the fire that kept them warm at night. Each brought something new, and all began to become more like each other.

In the fading orange rays of the setting yellow-sun, the colors of the southhounds faded to the same tangerine hue in its waning embers.

It was hard to tell the stripes from the speckles and spots-- for, like with the mud, there were only people.

--------

#speculative evolution #speculative biology #spec evo #speculative zoology #hamster's paradise #the calliducyon saga

[azzuredragonstrikemain]

Hades /Poseidon x Reader who is in a coma for two years Pt1.

AN: Art doesn't belong to me I found on Pinterest. RoR/SnV doesn't belong to me either I just came up with the story.

------

Hades sat in a chair his face forlorn as his lavender eyes traveled to the bed. The sun shone through the curtains yet it did not rouse the one he wanted to see most. On the bed there lay a beautiful woman, her (s/c) skin shimmered in the morning light. Her fairy like smile and features always seemed to brighten his most darkest of days. Gently taking hold of her frail hand he lifted it to his face gently rubbing it against his cheek. "My dear sweet (Y/N) please wake up soon." he murmured.

Lavender eyes closed as they envisioned his lovely spring rubbing her thumbs across his cheek. Opening them again, the King of Helheim brows sank in depression. (Y/n) laid there unmoving, just the sound of her soul breathing was his only response.

A soft whoosh alerted Hades that the two had a visitor. Deft footsteps made their way towards the two rulers. Hades without even looking already knew who it was. Green boots stopped just three steps behind the god. "She's the same the nurses say that her vitals are still stable." Hades told. The god behind him hummed in acknowledgement. "As there been any movement?"

The gods voice was cold yet it held a quiet undertone. Tilting his head back the God of the underworld gazed at his younger brother. "No their has not been any movement from her." notify his brother. The blonde haired god nodded as his blue eyes watched his brother turn back to his wife. While the two men sat in silence another stood in the hallway, her (bf e/c) hues gazed on in sadness. Oh my dear friend, please pull through we all need you here. Big brother still needs you. she prayed.

"Can you believe her?"

The woman' pointed ears pricked at the voice. "I know it's so disgusting." another stated. The woman without turning her head, narrowed her eyes at the two nymphs. "Faking an illness just so she can get attention. How typical." the first one laughed. "Yes, I quite agree. If only that silly flower nymph had added a little more poison then we would've had a chance of taking h-" before anyone of them could finish the deafening sound of the ocean raged outside. The two nymphs huddled together their fearful hues turning to the woman.

Wind blew around (h/l) (h/c) hair, making it appear as if the goddess was in her husband' domain. "You wretches." her voice seething with anger and hatred. The goddess was now fully facing them her fists clenched in a tight fist while the wind that swirled around her grew more violent. Looking behind the oceanic being they could see an armada of salt water crocodiles forming."Prepare to face the wrath of the ocean you mewling quimes!" she yelled.

The two nymphs screamed as they ran. The ocean goddess not far behind began yelling profanities and insults at them while the crocodiles snapped at their feet.

Both Gods turned to the commotion outside. "It seems your wife is as loving as ever to her dear sister in law, isn't she Poseidon." Hades joked. Poseidon made no comment on his brother' remark instead he followed the echoing sounds of chaos and rage.

The king of the underworld laughed in silence but his smile soon shifted into a frown. Veering his attention back to his wife, he softly squeezed her hand. Eyes holding sadness again.

Somewhere else in the halls of Valhalla, the queen of the oceans had cornered the two nymphs. The two dreaded what fate the Queen of the oceans would reign down upon them. The crocodiles inched forward "Cease this pointless squabble."

The great reptilians turned to see there king, "Poseidon why in Valhalla would you order theEE - HEY!" the god of the seas had grabbed (bf Y/n) by one of her shoulders and started dragging her back to the room. "Poseidon what are doing? You dummy!" they exclaimed. The god of gods ignored her as he made the crocodiles disappear back to their homes.

The two nymphs that had cowered in fear where now standing up and smiling in triumph. "My my did you see that?" one asked. The other nodded, "Yes I did. Hey maybe," before she could even finish the floor below them had opened. Screaming the two nymphs fell into the depths of the earth.

Back in his wife' room Hades had threaded his fingers with her own but the loud boom of the earth closing had caused him to look at his brother who had just re-entered the room. He was about to say something when a twitch made him freeze. Hades' lilac eyes held hope as he whipped his head in your direction.

(e/c) orbs gingerly opened as they took in their surroundings. She could hear the one sided argument of her brother and sister in law. Turning their head to the side, she smiled as she lightly gripped the hand in hers. "My love, why the tears?"

The king of the underworld was shedding tears as he gazed at you. Lifting the hand that held yours, he deftly kissed it. Sooner than he could speak he heard a voice behind him. "(Y/NNNN)!" his sister in law zoomed past him and was on the other side of you clutching, as gently as they could, your other hand. Gazing to look at them, you smiled. Big fat tears were rolling down their big (bf e/c) doe eyes.

Smiling even more, you slightly laughed at their behavior. Hades also chuckled at the action but his smile grew more as he leaned into your forehead and kissed it. "Welcome back my lovely (Y/N)."

__________

This is for the sunshine that I follow on this platform. They recently had surgery and Idk why but some people think that she faked it. Well I'm gonna put out my feelings bc I recently lost someone due to cancer. She hid it from us because she didn't want us to worry. I'm still mourning. Also sorry if I made Hades out of character, I mainly write for Poseidon or some other character like him. I hopped you liked it.

#snv hades x reader #MINA IS A STRONG PERSON! #DO NOT DIS ON HER YOU 😡 #snv x reader #getwellsoon

[minzart]

Actions that no-one sees

Rollo Flamme 🔔

High in the bell tower Rollo observes the world being covered in crimson and gets a small surprise of this quiet and unintentional declaration of war

AO3 version

☆--------------------

As the crimson flowers bloom red and yellow starts to take the city's view, faster and faster, covering it's decorated streets and stalls, it's people running frightened and scared. They shouldn't be, Rollo thinks, it's salvation, a new beginning and a new era. He celebrates in denial high above it all, his lungs and body being forcefully shut down by his delusional brain as he feels a small vine of one of his so dearest tools brush around his ankle, it's sucks his magic, and he embraces it welcoming, but a part of himself still whispers, not yet, there are people who will try to stop him still.

And of course he knows who these people are, the Night Raven Collage insufferable pack of problems, he sees them. Riddle's and Epel's attempt of buying time aren't quiet at all, so he knows they are near, call it a hunch or perhaps overestimating their capabilities, but he isn't one to doubt a very persistent petty group of snobby children, not when his plan is so close to fruition, if he stops them, if they fall, there will be nobody in the way to this new world, his fate after that be damned, he only wishes for this curse they call blessing to end, so he waits, delays his fate, his wish, and pass his time watching the city bloom… and then he sees them .

The mystery of Night Raven, the magicless human, allegedly from another world, and their little beast, it's very oblivious the blue flames on orange hues of the streets, it catches Rollo's watching eyes easily and his expression of boredon returns, of course they would stay behind, he feels stupid in thinking they could share a wish, perhaps it's for the best they don't come, he's sure he wouldn't hold back his thoughts anymore nor his tongue.

However slowly he notices a… Peculiar pattern, the monster does not fight, he runs, he dodges, and the human clean the path opened with less flowers, ah… they are trying to make a safe path to the outside for the people, cleaver, however an impossible feat with only two and a half members, professor Trein is being slower as time passes, internally the Noble Bell's prefect cringes and sliver of guilt greats his shoulders, they are awake so the fall obviously didn't catch them as he planned, but he hopes the professor didn't got hurt in the end.

The unofficial prefect of Night Raven seems extremely determined to help, even if it goes unnoticed, but Rollo sees them, their little actions, their head turns to check their surroundings and carefully maneuvers to alleviate their professor's side of the painstaking job that is weeding. Their shouts and signals to people around that are running in despair, their almost instant reaction to their little companion's call for help, and… their heroic act. There was a child, wrapped around vines upon vines, their mother being held back by others as they evacuate, but then, Yuu, runned pass them and unraping the child's body they screamed at the others, and whatever sermon they gave made it's impact as they put the, now saved, child back into their mother's arm and went back to cleaning the ever growing wave of the crimson flowers, as the group of people staied still for a few minutes of silence.

They didn't knew the extend of their actions, but Rollo… he saw it all in a small awe, the people, few of them stayed, three stayed, they started cleaning another path, and they encountered others and more and more stayed and touched and cleaned the streets without fear, and a realization dawns on Rollo… they are magicless, they do not fear the flowers for there's nothing to be taken, like Yuu, and then he sees one or two magicians started to gain courage and help in creating this safer path through the city, and slowly he sees the citizens, hope shining in their attempt to stop this growing enemies that are the crimson flowers, their solidarity, their team work, their stubborn actions, all inspired by one young magicless human.

It was as infuriating as it was inspiring for him, his throat going dry, and his stomach turning in an uneasy feeling,Yuu was inspiring and they didn't even knew, they just kept on going ignoring their impact for there's more work to do, no one came back for them, no one came to help the one who inspired them to move and fight back, yet the teen kept on going, kept helping, kept teaching, kept cleaning, even when they tripped as exhaustion came. And Rollo couldn't look away, their silhouette in the crimson streets of the city of flowers was small and slow and yet… yet it did so much, one single person did so much on a small scale… oh…. Oh you would have been a wonderful ally… truly…

A commotion in the door breaks his daydreaming, if Yuu is giving their all, surely he would do the same, wishes clashing in the same intensity, this, he decided, was a silent defience, a declaration of war, so he will respont in tenfold ,he would show them that this new future, is the true happy ending.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst glorious masquerade #twst event #twisted wonderland glorious masquerade crimison lotus flower and the bell of salvation #comon if they were gonna leave us behind at least they could ahve given us the blondie's scene of the call for action to the people #rollo flamme #twst rollo #twst imagine #twisted wonderland imagine

[yearningaces]

I’m sorry-the little boy was killed by drowning when he was TWO?? Who did it? I want names, age, address….and possibly a weapon of mass destruction to wipe them off the face of the planet…

In the spirit(heh) of answering this how I've been answering, I'm gonna have the singing lady answer, because she sort of adopted the little boy.

I'm gonna add the warnings above the cut since we're describing what happened to him.

Tw: Drowning, child death, non graphic death, mentions of parental abuse

~

Watching the ghost of such a small child was always a bittersweet thing. But it would seem he's found some peace, toddling around the house, getting into mischief without the risk of harm ever present.

You'd even brought a child's wooden toy train set for him to play with in the room where you hear him run around the most.

Once you'd made nice with the singing lady, the little boy even seemed more comfortable, no longer hiding from your sight, you'd see him dashing across halls and rooms, laughing and playing, sometimes singing with the lady as well.

At the moment, the three of you were sat in his self claimed bedroom.

He was happily playing with his new train, rolling it across the wooden floor and making noises as if vocalizing the train's imaginary engine.

"he's so... Young." You finally remark, looking over to the singing woman who was seated near you. The dark night making the ghost seemingly glow a faint blue hue to them both.

"I know... Poor dear, it always hurt my heart to see him when I was alive." She sighs, an action more out of habit than need. After a moment, her gaze turns to you. Her skull visible yet her actual face somewhat visible on top of that. "But now that I am of the same fate, I can understand he is happy here. Away from his father, having gained a mother. And he can run and play and explore, without worry, or fear, or harm ever befalling him again."

You sit in silence for some time before you ask the question far quieter now. Peering the little boy's appearance. Just as blue tinted as the singing woman, but without the strangulation marks around the neck. Instead, his appearance is always slightly damp...

"How did he...?" Your voice trails off, uncertain to even ask.

The singing woman seems to understand exactly what you mean, however. And her permanently peaceful or quiet voice for the first time sounds firm, agitated at best. "From what he's told me... His father gave him a bath, and when he came out of the water again, it was dark, the room was empty, and no one was in the house but himself. His father drowned him, and it might be for the best that even he doesn't understand."

You have to bite your tongue, not wanting to lash out or grow too angry as the same little boy is playing happily just a few feet away.

"why?" You hiss almost silently, trying to keep your rage in check but still angered on behalf of the ghostly little boy.

The singing woman matches your rage, but composes herself far better than you can- no doubt through practice. "From what I've come to understand, his mother left long before he remembers. I don't know if she passed on or simply left them, but his father was not a kind man. Perhaps it was a fit of rage, the malice of a horrid man left unchecked. Regardless, the boy doesn't realize how terrible it is. And we will not demand answers from him and force him to remember and relive it all." She's absolute in her tone, not budging.

You nod quietly. "Suppose that means we help him enjoy his afterlife?"

At that, the bristling ghost beside you eases and offers a small smile. "I do suppose we must."

#your house #x reader #ghost x reader #letters of yearning #gender neutral reader #tw death #tw Drowning

[jamespotterthefirst]

Luck of the Draw (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart, book 2 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 900 Warning: None Premise: There’s no one else in the world she’d rather be stuck with. 

A/N: Terrible summary lol. Just a bit of fluff! 

“Home visits are part of the job now,” June argued, beating an annoyed Ethan to the punch. “The sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be Ethan.”

“Doubt that,” Baz teased.

Ethan ignored the jab, glaring at June with unflinching ferocity. Anyone else would shrivel under the deathly stare, but not June Hirata. In fact, all of the room’s occupants would argue that they have developed immunity to Dr. Ramsey’s wrath. Lilac shifted on her seat, watching how the handsome doctor’s fury pulled his muscles taut. It made already sharp cheekbones and jaw so pronounced, she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers along the ridge.

Then she remembered she had.

All while kissing him passionately, their half-naked bodies sliding against each other.

“Then you go,” Ethan returned through grinding teeth.

June laughed with the bravery of someone mocking a furious lion.

“Okay, fine. I’ll take one for the team and go. I still need one of you to come with me, though.”

“Not me!” Baz exclaimed almost at once.

June rolled her eyes. “That goes without saying. No one wants to willingly go. Doctor Allende feels the same way. She’s just too nice to say so.”

Ethan’s eyes moved to meet Lilac’s and the impact felt like the crackle of lightning. Every inch of her body sizzled with the weight of those blue eyes on her. Face as unreadable as ever, he averted his gaze quickly, leaving her aching for him.

“We’ll just leave it up to fate, then,” June continued. “I’ll draw a name out of a hat and that’s who’s going with me.”

“We don’t have hats here,” Baz pointed out.

“Out of Ethan’s pencil cup, then.”

“Or,” interjected Ethan pointedly. “I can just assign it to someone since I’m the leader of this team.”

Baz laughed.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Besides, we all know you’ll just have Baz go with me,” June added.

Lilac’s blood ran cold when June’s eyes found her at once. Her astute, narrow gaze silently communicated what she left unsaid: Ethan would pick Lilac to stay behind with him. Lilac’s stomach plunged with nauseating speed.

Ethan began to protest, but June was already dumping the contents of Ethan’s pencil cup all over his desk.

“Live a little,” June said to a red-faced Ethan.

There was a long, heavy pause in the room. Even Baz’s jovial smile faltered slightly the longer the silence stretched. Everyone, including the seemingly confident June, wondered what Ethan would do next.

Without betraying anything, Ethan took a pad of post-its from his desks. Wordlessly, he scribbled names on three, crumpled them up haphazardly, and tossed them in the empty cup. The tension evaporated out of the room at once.

“Alright, and the unlucky winner is…” June uncrumpled the paper and sighed. “Baz.”

“Damn,” the other doctor said. “All of that and you’re still stuck with me, Hirata.” Resigned to their fate, the two doctors left in a flurry of good-natured teasing. Lilac waited until she was sure they were completely out of earshot before letting out a relieved sigh.

“Thank God.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows.

“I really didn’t want to be stuck with June.”

Ethan’s face betrayed nothing. “Sometimes you won’t have a choice.”

“I know, I know. Let me just enjoy today, okay?”

At last, a ghost of a smile crossed his face. “You really dislike working with Dr. Hirata?”

Lilac paused at that, unsure how to answer. It wasn’t that she had anything against June herself. In fact, Lilac admired what a formidable doctor she was. It was the knowing glances she threw at Ethan and Lilac once in a while that put her on edge. Instead of answering, she turned the question on him.

“Would you have preferred to go instead?”

“God no,” he returned without pause. “Which is why I made sure I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I made sure it was Baz.”

Lilac stared at him.

“How?”

Looking entirely too pleased with himself, Ethan extended the cup to her. Inside were the remaining two post-its. With one last skeptical look at him, Lilac reached in for them.

“Baz,” she read out loud. “And… Baz.”

To her surprise, Ethan let out a laugh. It was a low rumble of a sound that stirred her stomach pleasantly. Lilac blinked at him stupidly, which only increased his amusement.

“You cheated.”

“No, I took my authority back from June’s ridiculous antics.”

“You could’ve just told Baz to go and be done with it.”

“Baz was right. It was more fun this way.”

Still shell-shocked, Lilac said, “That’s so…”

The natural end of that sentence was “hot.” But she couldn’t exactly say that without reopening the wound their so-called reset inflicted. Ethan must’ve read her mind because he moved past her unfinished sentence.

“We better get back to work on this paperwork.”

“Right.”

Their eyes met, as though they couldn’t help but drink in the sight of the other.

“I’d rather be stuck doing paperwork with you, Dr. Ramsey,” she confessed quietly.

In the silence, his characteristic stony expression softened.

“I’ll make us coffee,” he said in response, already moving toward his prized machine.

And though he said nothing more, Lilac felt the blue eyes she adored the most in the world find her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Note: Thank you so much for reading!

And thank you all for all your kindness, well-wishes, patience, understanding, and grace. Without boring you with the painful details, the last few weeks have been difficult for me and everyone here has been so sweet!

Love you guys! 

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices

[bookwormscififan]

The Crimson Files, Chapter 3

Chapter three already!

Chapters 1 and 2

“This is Jackie, my… housemate,” Jameson finished with a sigh, barely looking at the man sitting in a chair by the unlit fireplace reading a book. Chase looked at the man curiously, tilting his head as an itch developed in the back of his mind.

Jackie was around Chase’s age, with dark hair tied loosely back and a dark red velvet blazer on. His legs were propped up on the footrest before him, ankles crossed casually as he gracefully lowered his book to glance at Chase. His eyes may have been bright blue once, but in the dimming light of the afternoon they seemed almost grey.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted, voice a low rumble as he leaned toward a small table to lift a glass of wine to his lips. Chase watched as the wine moved in the glass, analysing the way the liquid seemed a little clotted as it stuck to the sides of the glass, and the fact that the colour was slightly too dark to pass as wine.

He felt the blood leave his face as he realised there were two vampires in residence at the castle.

“Jackie hasn’t lived here long, so he mainly stays in the one wing of the castle. I wasn’t expecting guests today, so Jackie had felt free to roam the castle as he pleased,” Jameson was explaining, voice a little tight as he referenced Chase’s unannounced visit. Jackie was still sitting in the chair, a small smile on his face as he looked at Chase, and the human could have sworn he saw a flash of hunger cross Jackie’s eyes as his nostrils flared.

“Yes, this place is truly quite fascinating,” Chase began, voice dry, “But it’s getting late, and I really must go…”

“Oh, no, you’ve come so far, you simply must stay the night!” Jameson exclaimed, hands reaching out to grasp Chase’s wrist in an attempt to stop his leaving, “I’ve already sent my doorman to fetch your bag and set you up in one of my guest bedrooms.”

Chase swallowed, eyes darting around the room as he tried to find an excuse not to spend a night in a vampire’s castle. Finding nothing, he sighed, resigning himself to his fate.

“Well, if you’ve already sorting out my sleeping arrangements,” he allowed, moving slowly as Jameson all but dragged him out of the room and down the hall toward the west wing of the castle.

Jameson led Chase into a large room decorated with maroon curtains and plush carpets, a large four poster bed against the left wall and mahogany dresser against the wall opposite. Chase’s single bag was placed at the foot of the bed, and a clean set of linens had been laid out for him to change into as sleepwear.

“I do hope you’ll find the room to your liking,” Jameson said, releasing Chase’s hand as he followed him into the room, “Most of my guests enjoy staying here.” Chase would deny the shiver that ran down his spine at the statement, and he slowly reached behind him for his dagger again.

“I’ll leave you here to settle in,” Jameson announced, giving Chase a signature smile. “Breakfast shall be served at eight a.m. tomorrow.” With a polite bow, Jameson let himself out of the room and closed the grand door behind him, leaving Chase to himself.

He loosened his grip on the dagger, heaving a sigh as he turned back to the room. He cracked his knuckles before walking to his bag, lifting it onto the bed and opening it to reveal his clothes still in their packed places. Reaching his hand beneath a pair of trousers, he fished out the small ruby amulet he had smuggled into the bag and pulled it over his head. He let out another relieved sigh as he felt the familiar cold weight of the amulet resting against his sternum and toed off his shoes as he climbed onto the large bed.

Tomorrow he would try to find Robert. For tonight, he just wanted to sleep.

--

Jameson strolled down the halls, hands clasped behind his back as he whistled a familiar tune to himself. His shoes clacked along the stone of the castle grounds, almost too loud amongst the silence he was so used to.

He skipped down the stairs two at a time, tune moving from contemplative to jaunty as he moved with the faintest hint of amusement. Moving past the main dining room, Jameson descended a second set of stairs to an area of the castle he had not shown Chase: the cells and laboratory.

His tune flowed back into a contemplative one when he pulled out his keys to unlock the door, opening it and strolling into the hallway lined with cells. He closed his eyes, nostrils flaring at the acrid metallic smells emanating from the doorways of the cells, and he walked faster to escape the memories of the screams.

He stopped at a closed door, listening to the irregular breathing on the other side of the wood. He straightened his shoulders, taking a deep breath before reaching for his keys again, smirking as he heard the breathing hitch.

He pressed the key into the lock, savouring the rasp of metal against metal, listening to the steady click of tumblers falling into place before the door unlocked, then he closed his eyes to embrace the quiet turn of the handle as he opened the door, opening his eyes again to greet…

“Good evening, Robert.”

#writing #fanfiction #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticeye #jse egos #jackieboy man #jameson jackson #chase brody #vampire AU #robbie the zombie (mentioned)

[liaromancewriter]

Postcard Memories

Premise: As they spend a day with family, Ethan reflects on how different his childhood was from that of his children.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine); Sienna Trinh x M!OC (Max Valentine); featuring OC children Rating/Category: General. Fluff. Words: 3K

A/N: Submission for @choicesaugustchallenge Day 26, Pirates AU. This isn’t an AU per se, but pirates and buried treasure play into one of the scenes.

Ethan Ramsey could still remember when he thought marriage and fatherhood were not in the cards for him. The events of his childhood had taught him a hard lesson. Then he met Cassie Valentine, and fate played a great joke on him by giving him both.

All these years later, as he watched his wife hugging their twin daughters before leaving for a spa weekend in the Berkshires with her friends, he knew he wouldn’t change anything.

Cassie had been excited about the trip for weeks, especially with Sienna joining the former Roomies. He had been hard-pressed to beg her not to go. He loved his children, but a part of him often worried about ruining their lives if left alone with them for too long.

“Alright, girls, remember what I said?” said Cassie, rising from the floor and staring at them intently.

“When Daddy starts panicking, send you an SOS and then call Grandpa Naveen,” Eloise and Sophie chorused.

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose and quirked an eyebrow, his blue eyes narrowing to slits as they met Cassie’s teasing green ones.

“Very funny, Rookie,” he grumbled before adding pointedly. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

She grinned and then closed the distance between them, her hands tugging his head down for an open-mouthed kiss that was as hot as it was brief. Ethan’s arm slipped around her back, keeping her locked against him until he heard two loud sighs.

He quickly let Cassie go, the tips of his ears turning red when he realized the show they’d just put on for the girls. Enjoying his mortification, his wife rolled her eyes and chuckled, blowing him an air kiss before grabbing her bags.

He placed his hands on the twins’ shoulders, connecting them as a unit, and the three of them waved goodbye to Cassie as she stepped into the elevator and turned to face them.

“Oh, Dr. Ramsey?” She smiled wickedly as the doors started sliding shut. “Your surprise should be here shortly.”

Silence settled as the elevator doors closed, and then she was gone. And Ethan was left wondering what on earth that was about. What surprise?

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

Max Valentine wanted to roll his eyes at his wife's long list of instructions, but he was a smart man and managed to control himself. Besides, Sienna Valentine (née Trinh) was so darn cute with her schedules and color-coded lists. He often liked to pretend ignorance just to see her in action.

He checked his watch and wondered if he had time to seduce his wife before her friends dropped by to pick her up from their hotel. Sadly, there wasn’t as much time as he would like, but he wasn’t a CEO for nothing. He could improvise.

“I know that look, and it’s not happening,” Sienna cautioned, brows beetled as she shook her head in exasperation. “The kids are right outside, and Cassie will be here any minute.”

“You know I love a challenge,” smirked Max, advancing on her.

She laughed and tried to evade his grasp, but he knew her too well, and it didn’t take long for her to be caught. Giggling, she fell back on the bed, and he followed her; his weight pressed against her, and she moaned, forgetting where they were.

The loud knock on the bedroom door had them cursing in frustration.

“Keep it PG, you two,” they heard Jackie say through the door.

“There are impressionable little humans out here,” said Cassie.

“Adult ones, too,” added Aurora.

His laughing green eyes met Sienna’s mortified ones, a blush spreading across her cheeks as she glanced at the closed door and sighed with relief.

“To be continued?” said Max, his lips hovering above hers before capturing them in a not-so-PG kiss.

“I’m holding you to it,” whispered Sienna when he let go, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

They jumped off the bed and straightened their clothes. With one last kiss, Sienna went to join her friends while Max carried her things out. After a protracted goodbye — the kids, and the dog, refusing to let her go — the door to their hotel suite finally closed behind them.  

Max turned around to see three pairs of sad human eyes and one canine staring up at him. Their expressions were a mix of accusation and tears, along with an amused look from their nanny Mrs. Banks who was holding one-year-old Michael.

“Are you sure about this, Max?” she asked, glancing down at the kids’ slumped shoulders and then back at him. “The four of them together is a lot to handle. Plus, Bailey.”

“I’m positive,” he said, taking Michael from her to transfer him into a stroller. “Besides, I’ll have help. Enjoy your day off with your sister, Mrs. B.”

He crouched to lift a morose Amelia into his arms. She hid her face in his shoulder, and her tears dampened his shirt.

He waited for her to raise her head before wiping the tears away and then smiled down at his children with excitement, “Are you kids ready for an adventure?”

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

Ethan might not be a fan of television, but his daughters clearly disagreed. As soon as Cassie left, they’d turned to face him with a glint in their eyes, folding their arms in unison.

“We’re bored,” they said in a tone that implied it was his fault.

“Is that right?” he commented sarcastically, glancing at his watch. “In the two minutes since your mother left?”

It was just his luck to be surrounded by drama queens. Like mother, like daughters.

He tried to get them interested in myriad activities that didn’t include their favorite video streaming service. Of course, they just shook their heads, took hold of his hands, and led him to the family room, where a large TV screen was mounted on the wall.

Eloise handed him the remote with instructions on what they wanted to watch and which service. And, oh, they wanted popcorn with extra butter and a sprinkling of M&Ms and gummy bears because that’s how Mommy makes it.

So now he was sitting on the couch, a large bowl of popcorn on his lap, his daughters on the other side of him. He sagely listened to them explain how the mouse in their favorite show was a ballerina by day, and a superhero by night. And silently worried about all the salt and candy they were consuming.

The sound of the doorbell was a jarring interruption to his thoughts.

“Who is it? Who is it?” The girls cried out eagerly, rising off the couch and running down the stairs toward the front hallway.

Ethan followed slowly in their wake. “Remember, girls. Don’t open the door until we check the security camera first.”

He knew they were smart enough to wait for him, but there had already been a couple of incidents where their exuberance got the best of them. They stared at the security panel video, ready to jump out of their skins.

He braced himself for the screams as he unlocked the front door. And they didn’t disappoint.

Eloise and Sophie rushed into Noah and Isabelle’s embrace, the four of them talking over each other.

“Dad said we were going on an adventure.”

“Belle, we’re watching Wilhelmina!”

“Mom gave me a nail polish set, and Dad said I could bring it here.”

“We have popcorn with gummy bears. Come on!”

Michael, tucked inside his stroller, looked overwhelmed by all the noise his cousins and siblings were making. Bailey stepped forward to sniff Ethan’s shoes and then sat back on her haunches.

Ethan looked down when Amelia clung to his leg. He lifted her in his arms, and her tiny hands wrapped around his neck. He met Max’s amused gaze above the heads of their children.

“Surprise!” He grinned. “I hope you didn’t have a quiet day planned.”

“With this lot?” Ethan quipped. “At least now I’ll have company in the mad house.”

“Are we in the mad house?” Noah asked, confused, staring up at his uncle and father.

“What’s a mad house?” said Sophie, nudging her older cousin.

Max barked a laugh, and Ethan groaned out loud when he realized the kids had heard him.

Just then, Amelia patted his cheeks. “Uncle Ethan, Uncle Ethan. Guess what?”

“What?” He smiled at the familiar refrain.

“I had a bad dream,” she whispered tearfully, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Amelia,” he said softly. “Would you like to talk about it?”

She slowly nodded, and he smiled gently as she lifted her head.

Of Max and Sienna’s children, she was the only one with the Valentine looks in spades, including blond hair and green eyes. Amelia looked a lot like Cassie’s childhood pictures, and he had a soft spot for the shy little girl.

They moved out of the hallway and inside the apartment. Sophie and Eloise dragged Isabelle and Noah upstairs to the family room to watch Wilhelmina. Noah complained that he was too old for childish cartoons but followed his cousins regardless.

Bailey padded to her favorite spot near the windows and waited patiently. Max reached inside the hallway closet for the dog cushion Cassie kept for Bailey’s visits and set it down on the floor. Bailey circled the red pillow and then hopped on, resting her chin on outstretched paws.

Max unstrapped a fussy Michael from the stroller and set him down on the floor. Happy that he was free, Michael chortled and was off crawling, ready to explore this new world.

On the other side of the living room, Ethan stood near the kitchen counter, still holding Amelia. He nodded in sympathy as she told him about her dream where a cartoon bear had chased her up a tree. Max had heard it all last night and let his daughter do her thing with her favorite uncle.

A short while later, Ethan returned to the living room after leaving Amelia with the other kids. Right now, they were getting along, but he knew that a squabble could break out any minute once the initial excitement wore off.

Max was parked on the couch, one eye on his phone and the other on Michael. He looked up with a smile when Ethan sat down on the armchair across from him.

“Let’s give the kids another twenty minutes, and then we have to head out.”

Ethan quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “Is this part of the surprise your sister mentioned before leaving?”

Max laughed. “She doesn’t know about this. My dad should be docking his yacht at Marblehead shortly, and your dad is already on his way there. We’re taking the kids sailing, maybe stopping off at one of the small islands for a picnic and a swim.”

“Six kids and a dog on a boat?” Ethan mused and then laughed at the mental image. “Are you sure we’re ready for this?”

“We’re grown men, Ethan. We can handle anything.” Max grinned. “Why don’t you put together a bag for yourself and the girls? I’ll head upstairs and keep the peace.”

It took them thirty minutes instead of twenty to corral everyone. As soon as the kids found out the plan, their excitement went through the roof, so Ethan wished for five minutes of peace and quiet. He had a bag packed with essentials for the day, but Sophie and Eloise insisted on inspecting it. Just in case.

In his infinite wisdom, Max had arranged for transportation for the day. Ethan didn’t think he would have been able to drive with the cacophony of sounds. The children chattered constantly, did sing-alongs to the music playing through the speakers, and made Bailey bark with elation as they teased her inside the travel crate.

By the time they got to the yacht club at Marblehead, Ethan was ready for a stiff drink. He watched all five kids run toward their grandfathers, who stood near a multi-level fifty-foot yacht, arms open to catch them.

Ethan shared an exhausted look with Max. “What were you saying earlier?”

Max shrugged, closing his eyes for a second against the screaming of the gulls and their children up ahead.

“Ahoy, gentlemen,” Robert Valentine called out as they walked over to the boat. “Beautiful day to be out on the water.”

Alan Ramsey took one look at their faces and burst into laughter. “Robert, I think your son and mine both need a drink after that drive.”

“Daddy said we’re a mad house,” Sophie spilled to Alan in a singalong voice before nudging the sleeve of his jacket. “What’s that, grandpa?”

Ethan met his father’s laughing gaze and knew Alan was enjoying himself. Despite all these years, he loved teasing Ethan and watching him stumble along fatherhood.

Robert saved him from further embarrassment by distracting the kids with their planned adventures for the day.

“Who’s ready to see some dolphins?” Robert’s voice boomed.

He chuckled when Sophie and Eloise’s eyes went wide with excitement, and they silently mouthed the word they’d often heard their mother use.

“Are we really going to see dolphins, grandfather?” Noah asked, his voice hopeful.

Robert nodded. “Once we clear the marina and sail past Lighthouse Point into the open. You might see dolphins, a humpback whale, and others. Mostly from a distance.”

“And we’re hunting for pirate treasure,” Max added dramatically. “Ho ho ho, my mateys.”

Everyone climbed on board, and soon they were ready to depart. Ethan and Alan helped the kids and Bailey put on their lifejackets while Robert went up deck to get the engine started. 

Max, well-used to sailing with his father, stayed on the dock. He untied the moorings before jumping onto the platform as they pulled away from the marina.

They cleared the entrance leading into the yacht club, passing by public beaches and Victorian-style homes lining the waterfront before crossing over into the open waters. Ethan initially worried about everything, from kids getting seasick to Bailey falling overboard. Then he realized none of the other adults had the same concerns.

He turned when Max nudged his arm with a bottle of beer. “Relax. This isn’t the kids’ first time on the boat. You know my dad is an old hand at this.”

“I know,” said Ethan, adjusting his sunglasses as he raised the bottle to his lips.

Over the years, he had come to appreciate the European brand of beer Max drank and savored the cold liquid on a sunny day as the wind buffeted his hair. He watched the boat's bow gently rise and fall and thought how much he loved being out on the water like this. It was a postcard-perfect day, the cool breeze providing respite from the intense sunshine.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Noah, Sophie and Isabelle chatting with Alan on the banquette. Michael was strapped in a carrier set on the table; Alan was absently rocking it. 

Amelia was crouched near the railing, petting Bailey and whispering in the dog’s ear as they watched the water. Eloise stood beside Robert in the cockpit, listening intently to him explain the basics of operating the boat.

As promised, dolphins swam alongside their boat at one point, keeping pace as they flew in and out of the water. The children were in heaven, running along the deck to keep them in sight, while Bailey kept barking and turning in circles at the strange sight.

He and Max took Sophie, Eloise and Amelia down one level, holding onto them tight as they sat on the swim platform in the stern and held out their hands, hoping to pet them. Isabelle and Noah called out to the dolphins from above, uncertain of meeting them up close and in person outside an amusement park.

Much to the girls’ disappointment, the dolphins kept their distance from the humans. But they did give them a superb performance, showing off by leaping into the air out of the waves. Ethan thought it looked like the dolphins were dancing on the water, making high-pitched squeaky sounds as if performing a cabaret.

“Daddy, look, the dolphins are waving at us.” Eloise jerked his hand eagerly, her mouth open in awe as one of the dolphins wiggled its flipper before disappearing underwater.

Later in the afternoon, they anchored in an inlet off one of the dozens of rocky outcrops and uninhabited islands dotting this part of the Atlantic ocean. Ethan stayed behind to help his father set up the picnic on the beach while Robert and Max took the children treasure hunting.

Ethan could hear the children’s excited screams and exclamations in the distance and shared a disbelieving look with his father.

“Robert stopped off here earlier on his way to Marblehead to bury some pirate coins and other treasure,” Alan explained, laughing at his son’s expression. “You’ve never believed in pirates or lost treasure, have you, son?”

“I believe pirates existed. There is historical proof, after all. But buried treasure?” He scoffed. “No, I prefer reality to fantasy.”

“Well, you might want to pretend for the girls,” Alan advised, shaking his head in amused exasperation. “They’re smart as whips, but they’re only six and want to believe in everything.”

Ethan nodded in acknowledgment and thought Cassie often told him to do the same.

When the girls came running back to show him their loot—as they called it—he admired their treasure, a mix of souvenir shop doubloons and costume jewelry. He nodded attentively as they told him about the treasure hunt and retold the pirate stories they’d heard from Uncle Max.

Later at night, as they drove back to the city, Ethan placed his right arm around Sophie’s sleepy form and his left around Eloise. They were both tired and huddled against his sides, falling asleep within minutes of getting on the road. 

On the other side, Max did the same with Isabelle and Amelia, while Michael’s neck lolled sideways in his car seat. At the same time, eight-year-old Noah fought against asleep, his bleary eyes locked on a pocket game device.

Unlike the trip to Marblehead, the return trip was a quiet affair and gave Ethan time to reflect on his childhood. It had been a happy one up to a point until everything changed. He had friends in the neighborhood, but he had also been lonely since he didn’t have any brothers or sisters to share it with.

The one thing he was guaranteed with his own children was that they would never be alone. And he was grateful for that more than anything else in the world.

All Fics & Edits: @potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction @bex-la-get @mysticalgalaxysstuff @genevievemd @choicesaddict5 @jerzwriter @rookiemartin @schnitzelbutterfingers @vi-writes-stuff @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @dorisz @zahrachoices @lucy-268 @a-crepusculo @jamespotterthefirst @ofmischiefandmedicine @headoverheelsforramsey @takemyopenheart @gryffindordaughterofathena​ @queencarb​ @crazy-loca-blog​ @natureblooms24​

Ethan & Cassie only: @custaroonie​ @lady-calypso​

@choicesficwriterscreations​ @openheartfanfics​

#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #choicesaugust2022 #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #sienna trinh #sienna trinh x max valentine #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine #ethan x mc

[thatsmazee]

little bachisagi fantasy au heheh they’re so silly i love them.

————————————————————————————————————————

Taking care of a trouble maker

One, two, three, four… he kept counting his steps as an attempt to distract himself from his wounds. Approximately one hundred meters separated him from his destination. He prayed his body wouldn’t betray him now and continued to put one leg in front of the other. Fifty meters, forty, thirty, twenty… he reached the door, grabbed the hang and knocked.

After what seemed like hours a boy opened the door.

“Hey…”

“I knew it…get in.” Isagi wasn’t angry, he could tell by the tone of his voice, it certainly was low, but not angry or at least not with him.

Entering the studio once again brought him the sensation of affection he’d missed for some days. He really liked the place, even though it was messy with all the potions, ingredients, and the big caldron in the centre of the room. The bookshelves were a bit dusty and some of the books had fallen on the floor but the sorcerer didn’t seem to care. The air was warm and the smell reminded him of honey and mint, not too strong or too bland, it was perfect, calming and welcoming.

“Who was it?” The silence fell as the sorcerer spoke.

He hesitated “Mmh. I’d say poachers.”

“Sit on that chair and lay your legs on the pouf, I'll take care of that.”

Bachira looked at him gratefully, it wasn’t every day that a sorcerer offered a beast like him care.

“Thanks, Isagi,” he says low, like a whisper, and barely audible but the said boy still managed to catch that as he approached the wound.

“They knew the agreement…why would they hurt you… I'm sorry, Bachira.”

“Oh, it’s not your fault, please don’t afflict yourself.”

Bachira was smiling, Isagi noted. He had a wound from the clavicle to the sternum, at least one or two centimeters deep, but the angles of his mouth were still turned up. The scales on his cheeks were turning darker and his eyes were half lidded, his breath slightly irregular, but somehow he still had a serene expression.

“I’m concerned though, we came up with the agreement that we say we’re boyfriends to protect you since few people risk touching a sorcerer partner, and still, after all of this, they hurt you. That’s why I'm blaming myself. I should have been more careful, I should've watched over all the clans that threaten dragons… I could have stopped this.” The last phrase went out with a deep shaky breath and Bachira's eyes widened when he understood that Isagi was blaming himself for this.

“Sagii…I told you that this isn’t your fault,” he said, pointing to his wounded chest. “You’re taking care of me now, disinfecting my wound and stitching it."

His smile was so bright; and Isagi felt lighter. A comfort silence fell while the sorcerer proceeded with the medical care, interrupted only sometimes by Bachira whining.

“Ok, all done. Make sure you change the bandages when they get too dirty and take this infusion once a day, k?”

And, his eyes– full of care and worry for a boy that just caused him trouble. They weren’t lovers, like Isagi said it was just an agreement to make things easier, but there was still a deep connection between them. Fate brought them together and it didn’t seem to want to separate them soon. There was a platonic bond that the two loved, they were each other's comfort person, someone who you can tell secrets to, ask for advice, find comfort in their arms, cry and laugh.

Bachira was so grateful for him, he never really had a friend since he was seen as a scary and dangerous monster, but then Isagi appeared in his life and everything seemed to take the right direction.

“Come here, I'll make you dinner. Rice with raw egg right?”

The other boy nodded while thinking about how amusing it was that he still remembered his preferences after months. He happily walks towards Isagi, spying over his shoulder the movements of his hands cracking the eggs. The feeling of home was settled back into his heart.

“You can sleep here tonight, if you want of course.”

Bachira grins, “Did I ever tell you you’re the best?”

“A few times for what I can remember.”

The sound of laughter rapidly filled the house as the two boys enjoyed each other's company.

“You know I care a lot about you.”

“I care about you too.”

“Mh. Bachira, you know what I mean. If you couldn’t have escaped or your injury had been any worse, there's a possibility that you wouldn’t…be here,” he said that while pushing all the air out of his lungs. “And I would have blamed myself till the day I die.”

Bachira never really liked heart to heart conversations or had someone displaying their feelings so clearly, but if it was Isagi, everything seemed easier. He didn’t care when his eyes became glossy, a bunch of tears threatening to spill in seconds, he giggled and smiled because you know the saying “silence is worth more than a thousand words.” It isn't every day that your heart is so full with love that you cry tears of happiness. And as the sorcerer caressed the cheek of the boy he cared so much for, pulling him into a hug, the other wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

He was sure that on this night he found his soulmate.

——————————————————————————

I also posted it on ao3 if you want to check it out and leave kudos <3

twt: thatsmazee

go check out all the works for bachisagi week on twt

#blue lock #bachisagi #blue lock bachira #bllk isagi #fanfic #fantasy au #bachisagi week #bllk fluff #bllk headcanons #bllk #bllk hc #bllk bachira #blue lock isagi

[baptaincarnacles]

Captain Barnacles' Origin... Oneshot?

Based on a theory I made when I was half-asleep. C/W: Mentions of shipwreck.

-

Silence.

No sound other than the light wind on the beach or perhaps the waves ushering to play along the shore.

Is that silence?

The soft scuttle of a crab nearing or the call of a sea bird.

The young sailor stared at the sky, hands folded across his chest. It did not matter whether this was considered silence; he relished it nonetheless.

He took a deep breath, smiling as the salty air around burned his nose. A familiar feel, but at least it reminded him he was alive. It was a miracle that he got to be here.

He opened his eyes, staring into the clear blue sky. His body ached for the desire of adventure, but he was in no condition to move. He very slowly glanced to the sea, knowing the truth. The waves were dangerous weapons, something that reigns unconquered from even the greatest.

Of course, to call himself the most distinguished navigator was bold (and likely a lie). But, he knew he had finally faced the same fate as any other man bound to the sea. He was bound to sink into those beautiful waters.

What a fate- a beautiful fortune. Had he been washed ashore? Or was it mere luck that he hadn't sunk to the depths?

He rose slowly, looking to see if he had anything of value left. And there along the shore lay a steering wheel, sextant, and the former ship's anchor. The driftwood served little purpose to him at this moment; it was those three things he wanted.

He forced himself to his feet, stumbling over to the few bits. It hadn't taken long to gather the sextant and wheel, but he stared in suspense at the anchor. It would be impossible to move alone, and he knew it. So, he'd have to wait for some rescue party to save him.

Bold that he'd assume a rescue party would want to look for him. He was no more than a sailor, and the Manitoba only carried very few riches.

That didn't matter at the moment; Barnacles went to sit back in the sand. There was a silence- an ungodly silence- that now rattled the sailor's mind. He shook his head, letting sand fall from his hair, and he took a moment to fully observe his surroundings. There was an abundance of fruit trees; fortunately for him, it was a tropical environment.

He could survive here.

Until he is found.

He looked at the two things he gathered, brow furrowed. This was no longer about his past; it was for his future.

He heaved himself from the ground again, moving around, collecting anything he could. He needed temporary shelter and temporary storage. Fortunately, he knew exactly how to make it. He took gathered items and moved away from the shore, watching the ground and trees around him for snakes. He felt oddly willing to get off this island (frankly, it was a must). He needed to get home to his sister; she must be worried. And he can't give her that stress.

He pursed his lips, tugging roughly on some palm leaves. They'd make at least a reasonable temporary ceiling. He undoubtedly doesn't have enough wood for everything.

So, he began all his preperations. From a navigator aboard the Manitoba to a shipwrecked island-goer, Barnacles knew he was bound to do something more remarkable.

He would get off the island, even if he had to wrangle with fate. It's certainly no easy task to dance with the Devil.

But it's his turn to take the wheel. And he's going to fight to the bloody end for it.

#octonaut #octonauts #captain barnacles #octonauts headcanons