#;There's change coming once and for all. You're getting too old too weak to keep holding on! (character study - ike)

[stars-before-sunrise]

(HCs) How they react to you getting injured pretty badly on a mission with them

request from @castbracelet240

joel miller, miguel o'hara, jake lockley, dean winchester

reader is: female

warning: blood, violence

taglist: @evyiione

HC Masterlist

Joel Miller

You wake up in your bed, with Joel by your side. He turns when he notices you shifting, and your hand holds his. "Hi, Joel." You murmur. He sighs in relief, tears pooling in his eyes. He doesn't say anything, doesn't move, just looks at you with that look in his eyes. The look that screams he's blaming himself for what happened. He's blaming himself for letting you get hurt. "It's not your fault." Joel looks at you with doubt in his eyes. He's convinced that it is. If only he was faster, more vigilant, maybe you wouldn't have gotten hurt. Maybe if he's not so old- Maybe he should ask someone else to be your patrol partner- Maybe- "Lie down with me, please?" You ask, patting the space next to you. You know all too well what's going on in Joel's head right now. He doesn't want you to know these thoughts he has because it'll only bother you, and he's going to do all he can to protect you. He's already failed in protecting you once, he won't do it again- "Joel," Your voice interrupts his thoughts. He hums in response, embracing you on the bed. "Do me a favor." "Anything." He says. "Don't do whatever you're thinking of right now." You catch him off guard. "This wasn't your fault. Don't change patrol partners. Don't distance yourself. Just stay with me. Please. I love you, Joel." Joel blinks his tears away. "I'm not sure I deserve your love, sweetheart." You frown sadly and look at him. You know there's nothing you can say to change his mind. "Well I'm not taking it back, so you have to."

Miguel O'Hara

Miguel runs and runs and runs to bring you back into his lab. You've been injured from a fight and you're losing a lot of blood. He gets you to the lab's infirmary so that you won't have to expose your identity, but Lyla insists that he stay back and not watch the procedure. "Lyla, let me through." Miguel glares, punching the passcode. "No." She argues. "You can't be in there. Let it do its job, and then you can see her." "Lyla she-" Miguel groans. "I need to see her. I need to be with her." Miguel peeks at the window from the locked door and sighs. He decides to wait. You'd gotten hurt from taking the stab for Miguel. He wasn't focused, he'd been too stressed out about this anomaly that when it actually came to, he couldn't focus. At least not as well as he usually would be. He let his own recklessness harm you, and he'll never forgive himself for that. "Beating yourself up?" Miguel looks up at your weak figure lying on the bed. "Baby, I-" "I'm fine, Miguel." You smile, sitting up. "It's not that bad." "You were bleeding. A lot." "And now I'm not." "You-" "You," You emphasize with a grin, "need to stop moping around, and get me some tres leches. And then I'll forgive you." He looks at you in disbelief and chuckles. "One tres leches coming up." "Make it two. My grumpy boyfriend needs one."

Jake Lockley

The moment Jake sees you getting pulled into the fight, he takes over the body. You wince at the knife pressed tightly around your throat. "Don't move!" The man behind you yells, clearly terrified of what Jake - well, Marc, previously, has done to his friends. "One more step and I slit her throat- Hey, do you hear me?!" Jake clearly doesn't care because he keeps walking closer. A knife in his hands, he swiftly throws the knife and before you know it, the man falls down, his blood that is dripping from his forehead is now all over your shoulder. "Mi vida," Jake says softly, his hands holding your face. "Are you alright?" He finds a small scratch on your neck and licks away the blood dripping from it. "Jake.." You gulp. "I have blood.. all over me." Jake can feel you panicking and he immediately takes you home. Not sure if you've had a dead man's blood dripping all over you, but it's actually quite scary. You're surprised Jake is still there and doesn't ask Steven to take over. You're in the shower, naked, and Jake is standing behind you, helping you wash all the blood. "I'm sorry, my love." He apologizes. "Sorry you had to go through that." You turn around and hug him tight. "I'm scared." Jake vows to never ever put you in danger ever again.

Dean Winchester

Dean's putting pressure on your gun shot wound. You're bleeding out on the floor, and you're barely holding on. "Stay with me." He keeps repeating. "Don't fall asleep, come on. Stay awake! SAM!" He yells, hoping his brother will hurry up with the car. .... Dean hovers over your sleeping body. It's been days since you've been out, and Dean hasn't left your side. He worries. He paces. He cries. But he can't just stand there and do nothing, right? So he goes and does what Dean Winchester does best. He goes after the motherfucker that did this to you and kicks his ass. Along with a few others. For days. Sam tells Dean to take it easy, take some time and breathe, but Dean never listens. On the way back from a hunt, Dean gets a call from Sam that you're awake, and Dean stepped on the gas. He races to your room and runs to your arms when he sees that smile again. "I should be unconscious more often." You hum, "Sam says you've been out hunting a lot." "I.." Dean swallows. He realizes he wasn't even there when you woke up. You sense his guilt. "It's okay, Dean. I understand." "..You do?" "You're Dean Winchester." You say. "You handle things differently. But I can handle you."

[imaginedanvrs]

i've been thinking about lovers to enemies with natasha so... enjoy??

warnings: smoking, extreme mental health issues, violence, murder, reader is not okay, implied major character death

“You’re smoking again.” Her voice always had a way of piercing through the background, unable to ever be overshadowed by the endless hustle of the city. You barely spare her a glance as you take another drag, but you know that she’s reluctant to take her observing eyes off of you and onto the collection of bodies across the alley. You’re too far past the point of predictability for her to be sure she won’t join them. 

  She’s more skilled than you, but you always had an edge that was left unchecked and has now become something she never believed it could. She underestimated you and you can’t blame her. Your old self would have been horrified to witness the ceremonious snap of your sanity. 

  “Backups on the way,” she informs as she approaches. She keeps her distance, but she wants to see you. The orange glow of your cigarette does nothing to illuminate your features. It’s difficult when the city casts enough shadows to protect you, however it can’t prevent the life that infests it from interfering. 

  A taxi speeds past the alleyway too suddenly to shine a light on most. Natasha only sees it because you were momentarily looking her way, though it's enough. Enough for her to catch your grey eye, drained of its colour and life since that night you were slashed across the face. You had told her once that it allowed you to see the world more distinctly than ever. That was the first time you turned the blade on your lover, adamant that you were saving her. 

  “Let me help you,” she offers, cursing herself for being too struck on your face that she hadn’t used the second of light to identify your weapon of the night. 

  “You don’t know how,” you tell her. Your voice has changed over the years. Maybe it’s the smoke you inflate your lungs with. Or maybe you really are a different person. “Only I know how to help,” you correct her, crushing the cigarette beneath your boot and taking the slim knife from your belt. 

  “You’re not well, y/n.” This angers you, greatly. 

  You lunge at her, blade gleaming with the blood of those that now serve as obstacles that lie in the way of doing what you have to. It’s for her own good. “I want to save you,” you tell her as she blocks your repeated strikes but never offers her own. You’ve improved since you used to train together. The ruthlessness you possess makes her anxious that she won’t be able to handle you before the agents arrive. They’ll handle you in the way she can’t bear to. Unfortunately, you don’t make it easy for her. 

 You dance in a sinister ballet for some time before you take the final leap of the grande show and slam Natasha to the floor. You beam as she struggles beneath you because you’re just so happy to finally be able to do this for her. You can give her the ultimate display of love - setting her soul free. 

  “Don’t do this,” she pleads with you but your mind has been set for years. 

  “I love you.” You're pressing the blade into her neck, only restricted by all of the strength Natasha is using to suppress your own. “I’ll see you wherever we end up next. It will be so much nicer,” she recognises this voice. It’s the one that used to come over you when you would hold each other during those unforgiving winters. It’s a voice that promises protection, but the person it embodies doesn’t understand that concept anymore. 

  You never get to deliver your final act of service to the love of your life. You're interrupted by a blazing heat erupting in your chest and a kind of weakness you haven’t felt in a long time. Instead of throwing you off of her, she coaxes you onto your back and offers words of comfort to your confused features. 

  You don’t know what’s happening, but you think there’s a chance you’re about to experience what you wanted to provide the redhead your heart had always yearned for. Perhaps it made sense that it would cease for her too.

[animeniac-writings]

Sickness - Sanji Vinsmoke headcanons

Anime: One Piece

Modern AU kind of, I was sick as shit last weak and could have really used Sanji caring for me :(

You Being Sick

Overreacts (with so much care behind it).

Sanji feels extremely guilty when you're come down with an illness, sure it's inevitable for everyone, but he can't help but think it's his fault- he should have made you healthier foods, something to boost your immune system, smoothies or supplements, he should have given you his coat sooner so you didn't catch a chill- his self blame is nearly endless, until you weakly ask him for something and he immediately shoots into gear.

When you do get sick he is your faithful servant, waiting on your every request, and fretting the entire time. He hates seeing you suffer and there's really nothing he can do to ease your suffering.

Definitely makes you chicken soup, Zeff did when he got sick when he was little and told him to "Just try it, you'll get better." when he asked 'why', and later explained that's just what you give someone who's sick, that it helps.

And he did get better, and wanted to know exactly why it helped, what was so special about chicken noodle soup? "Damn old man knew what he was talking about."

Tells you this while he's making the soup, you're fast asleep on the couch all bundled up, in clear sight for if you need him.

But his nerves are frayed, and it's far too quiet, with just the sounds of his cooking and your labored breaths, so he talks to you. He fills the silence and tries to calm his nerves.

Definitely called Zeff up, even at 2 in the morning if that's when your sickness hit, and wanted the exact recipe he his soup.

Of course he could figure it out himself, or tweak a recipe for guidelines, but...the old man's recipe works best. Even if he does sound like a sentimental fool.

Hates going to the store to pick up anything you need because that's far too long of being away from you and not knowing how you are, but he also doesn't trust anyone else to go get what you need.

Will buy only the best medicine he can find and makes sure to cover all your symptoms, and that you take the next does exactly on the clock.

But also worries because it's hardly working and giving you more is also bad, frantically checks a time sheet and clock to be sure.

He tries to make you as comfortable as possible, tissues and blankets and fluffing your pillow, anything to help.

He acts like you are on your death bed. If you even say you feel like you're dying, it goes straight to his panicking. You're already back in a fitful sleep but now he's sitting at your side changing the rag on your forehead and biting his nails that what if it's worse than expected??

Humidifier on and with some tea tree oil if you can, and will apply camphor rub to your chest and back for you, and massage it onto your feet and whimpers when that seems to make you feel worse.

Very stubborn once you start feeling better and getting restless, he wants you to still keep resting, that you aren't fully recovered yet.

Hovers. Almost worse that when you were sick, so worried about you relapsing for a few weeks afterwards, even when you insist you're all better!

Even manages to decline an physical advances to 'prove you're all better', as much as it pains him.

His chest aches when you thank him for taking such good care of you.

Sanji Being Sick

Sanji doesn't really get sick often, but when he does it's bad.

Not someone who can try and fake being okay because of how quickly and hard it hits him, as soon as he gets a fever he's burning up and dizzy.

You immediately notice and carefully guide him back to bed, you press your lips to his sweaty forehead to check his temperature and he can barely mumble something to you with eyes fluttering shut.

Hardly getting sick as a kid meant he never built up a good immune system, normally he was healthy as could be but when he was sick, it was awful.

He often become delirious, his mind dredging up memories of when he was truly small and making him feel even worse.

Needs your help with everything, from lifting the mug of tea your made him to his lips to half-carrying him to the bathroom.

He would feel so guilty about it afterwards, but can't remember much of anything that happened in the thick of it once he's better.

Mumbles in his sleep a lot while he's sick, he tosses and turns and you want to wake him from whatever he's dreaming but know he's needs the rest, instead sitting beside him and petting his damp hair.

You recall him once snarking about Zeff's brusque caretaking, but that he always made warm soup when he'd get sick, even into his teens. "Not like I'd needed it, I could make it far better after all."

Zeff was surprised to get a call from you asking for an old "special chicken soup recipe" of his, but was happy to oblige, even promising not to tell Sanji about it either.

No matter how he feels about your cooking skills there's a nagging feeling that he should make a pot of soup to bring over too upon the second he hears Sanji is sick again, and has to stop himself multiple times from doing so.

He also asks for updates on how Sanji's doing.

You mostly guess Sanji's symptoms and hope there's nothing you can't see when it comes to getting him medicine, he doesn't really have the energy to tell you what's wrong but weekly complies taking whatever you give him.

Hates feeling gross though, so if it's taking too long to get better he will try going to wash up and take a bath on his own, very bad idea but you catch him and watch to make sure he's okay.

Luckily tends to sleep through most of it, but when he wakes up for a bit he just wants to be able to see you, whether that's sitting up or laying on the couch just so he can watch you with bleary eyes before falling back to sleep.

Really thinks you are his loving angel to take care of him like this, even if you don't feel like you're doing all that much.

Once his fever breaks and the worst of it is over he recovers quickly, not one to have a cough linger, and you'll wake up from where you were beside him last night to find his spot empty and the familiar sound of pans clinking as the scent of breakfast waifs in.

Calls you his angel and the greatest nurse he's ever seen once he's back in health, and cheekily adds that he would have loved if you ever wanted to wear a nurse's outfit if he gets sick again...

His words lack usual gusto or the spark in his eye as he tries to cover up how vulnerable he feels about it.

You know how truly grateful Sanji is, for everything you do, and just press and soft kiss to his head and promise to always be happy to care for him.

He can never find the words to tell you how thankful he is.

[i-aint-got-santa-fe]

Top 10 favorite newsies lyrics?

That's so hard 😭

Uhhh...

1. THE POOR GUYS HEAD IS SPINNING 🤗‼️‼️ (no explanation needed)

2. I got nothing if I ain't got Santa Fe (I can relate to this w other things)

3. I can't spend my whole life dreaming, though I know that's all I seem inclined to do (I love this. So much.)

4. Look at me, I'm the king of new york (classic)

5. Hey, I bet a few months of clean air, you could toss that crutch for good (literally so wholesome I can't)

6. There's change coming once and for all, you're getting too old, too weak to keep holding on. A new world is gunning for you, and Joe we is too, till once and for all, you're gone. (IDKK I just love this)

7. Hey, that's my cigar! You'll steal another. Hey look! It's bath time at the zoo. I thought that I'd surprise my mother. If you can find her! WHO ASKED YOU?? (I love getting little dialogues sm)

8. Folks, we finally got our headline

"Newsies Crushed as Bulls Attack"

Crutchie's calling me

Dumb crip's just too damn slow

Guys are fightin', bleedin' fallin'

Thanks to good ole' Captain Jack

Captain Jack just wants to close his eyes and go!

Let me go

Far away

Somewhere they won't ever find me

And tomorrow won't remind me of today

And the city's finally sleepin'

And the moon looks old and grey

I get on a train thats bound for Santa Fe

And I'm gone

And I'm done

No more running, no more lying

No more fat old men denying me my pay

Just a moon so big and yellow, it turns night right into day

Dreams come true. Yeah they do, in Santa Fe

Where does it say you gotta live and die here?

Where does it say a guy can't catch a break?

Why should you only take what you're given?

Why should you spend your whole life

Living trapped where there ain't no future

Even at 17, breaking your back for someone else's sake

If the life don't seem to suit you, how about a change of scene?

Far from the lousy headlines and the deadlines in between

Santa Fe, my old friend

I can't spend my whole life dreaming

Though I know thats all I seem inclined to do

I ain't getting any younger

And I wanna start brand new

I need space, and fresh air

Let them laugh in my face, I don't care

Save my place, I'll be there

Just be real is all I'm asking

Not some painting in my head

'Cause I'm dead if I can't count on you today

I got nothing if I ain't got Santa Fe

(THE WHOLE SONG 🤗🤗‼️‼️)

9. We'll all be out there, carrying the banner man to man (gotta love the chorus)

10. There's one thing you ain't, that I'll always be! And honey, yeah that's right, that's rich. (Roasted 💀)

[vulpixisananimal]

Defender

(A house for Defenders. Or a castle. Or maybe just a place. Regardless that's where they were now. You were leading the charge, as usual. Followed by Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile, Bonnie, and Nille. It was like that old routine, just follow Siffrin. It was... comforting? You weren't really sure.)

(The Defenders, as Isabeau had once told you, had a house of their own. All about protecting the weak and looking over the city and those in it. It looked welcoming, people coming in and out, bringing in snacks, running around, chatting. If you had time, you'd ask what was making the place so busy.)

(Why do I need to be the one in charge here?)

(I'm pretty tired, plus, you did good at guiding them before.)

(But-)

(You're their guiding star~)

(You groan internally. That was horrible.)

(You step into the Defender place. It looked grand and busy. It was built like a public place. So many smiling faces around, it would have made you relaxed.)

(You glance at your party. They all looked so tense.)

"Isabeau?!?"

(The stranger went right up to Isabeau like they were old friends.) "Isa!! It's been, what, almost a year??"

(Isabeau hesitated.) "... Yeah!! Sorry I was just surprised to uh, see you!"

"Care to introduce us, Isabeau?" (Odile and the others were coming around to meet the new face.)

"Oh!! Right!! This is uh, Ramos! We hung out a lot before I left." (Isabeau mentioned each of you all in turn.) "Odile, Bonnie, Nille, Mirabelle and Siffrin! We're all traveling together!"

"Good to see you again Mirabelle!" (They waved, all chipper and smiling.) "I'm glad that I can see you again, not that I doubted you or 'beau."

"O-oh! Uh, thank you!!" (Mirabelle replied. Maybe telling them all that something bad happened here wasn't a good idea.)

"Are you guys just coming to visit? Or ya need a hand?"

"Someone grabbed Bonnie in broad daylight at the market yesterday. (Odile said, voice steady. At least she could keep a straight face here.)

"What!?!" (Ramos scowled at that.) "In the middle of the busiest place in town! Dunno if that's gutsy or stupid."

"I'd say lucky, if I caught em I'd knock their teeth out!" (Nille continued.) "If it wasn't for Mirabelle I woulda lost em."

"Oh Change." (Ramos shook their head.) "Well tell ya what. There's a few people who can help with that, I'll lead you there! Plus I gotta catch up with my buddy."

(Joke time.)

"Oh, do you keep flowers?"

(Ramos turns to you.) "Flowers?"

"'Cause you have a budding friendship."

(There were a mix of groans and laughs from your family and Ramos. Who moved towards you and was about to put an arm around you.)

(But stopped.)

(. . ?)

"Hey let's get going! The sun isn't waiting for us after all." (Said ramos, turning to lead you all.)

(Ramos and Isabeau were leading the group, chatting and catching up. You were keeping step with them, glancing around the halls and rooms they passed. It all seemed so... Normal.)

(You glance back, Mirabelle was biting her nails (stopping as you give her a look) Odile looked calm and analytical as always, Nille and Bonnie were chatting. Bonnie sniffed the air.)

"Do you keep plants here?"

"Huh? This isn't another joke, is it?" (Ramos replied.)

"Wait! Wasn't there that guy who was keeping roses? It could be that! What was his name..." (Isabeau pondered.)

(... Wait.)

"What's it smell like?" (You ask)

"Huh?" (Bonnie glanced up at you.) "Oh, mint. A neighbor used to have it all over their garden, I'd smell it all the time."

"Oh no!" (Mira exclaimed.) "Mint is so hard to remove, a friend of mine at the House tried using Craft to get rid of it but that didn't even work!"

"Those poor roses..." (Ramos mused.) "He has been stressed lately, maybe that's why."

"Oh!! Maybe I could try, helping with that then?"

"Sure!" (Ramos walked over to Mirabelle and put a hand on her shoulder, and pointed down a hall.) "Should be down there, not hard to miss."

"I'm coming too!!!" (Bonnie ran after Mirabelle, Nille following right behind yelling at them to slow down.)

(Your hand twitches, about to protest but... They were already off, Isabeau catches your look, and smiles at you as if to say "they'll be okay." You hope so.)

"Not far now." (Ramos continued.) "Sorry this place can be a maze."

"I'm used to mazes." (You reply. Odile snorts at that.)

"Has Jouvente had a history of kidnappers?" (Odile asks.)

"Nope! It's supposed to be real safe here." (Another turn.) "Dunno why someone would try to grab a kid."

"Hmm." (You knew that look. If Odile had THAT look then something was up.)

(Another turn.)

"Oh don't worry M'dame, Ramos has always been able to help!" (Isabeau looked back and smiled at you.) "They helped me a lot with my defenders exams! It was a real struggle."

(... What?)

(Another turn.)

"Are the Defender exams particularly tough?" (Odile asked, ever curious.)

"Oh yeah!! But thanks to Ramos I didn't break a sweat-"

(You stop walking.)

(How many loops had you and Siffrin talked to him? How many lines of his has you memorized. You probably knew his history better than he did.)

(Then why was he getting it wrong?)

"You never mentioned Ramos before, Isabeau."

(He tilted his head.) "I haven't?"

(No. You haven't. Over hundreds of loops, of hundreds of variations. You never once heard that name. But you knew Isabeau asked a favor tree to ace his exams. You knew he studied. You knew he found it easy and didn't need help.)

(What's that smell?)

"You have not, no." (Odile adds.) "And I must ask, if Jouvente is safe, how'd you get that bandage, Ramos?"

(You look at the Defender. You knew their look too.)

(Fear. Fear about a flubbed line. Fear about a slipping mask.)

"Siffrin! M'dame! Please there's no need for any of that-"

(Odile pushes past Isabeau and grabs Ramos' arm.) "What's going on? I don't want to hurt you, Ramos, but someone tried hurting Bonnie."

(What. That. SMELL.)

"M-miss Odile please! I just want to figure this out and, and I want to help!"

(She looks at him for a moment, then stumbles back.)

(Ramos continued.) "If you'd just, just help me out here I'm sure we can-"

"Siffrin?" (Odile glances at you. Her face, it's, she looks panicked. Confused.)

(You look between her, Isabeau, and Ramos. What was going on? What was that smell? What weren't they telling you? Odile put a hand to her head. Isabeau took a step to her to help.)

(You could see Ramos trying to get back into character.)

(. . . Time to play your own role then. You draw your dagger.)

"!!!!!"

(You take a step towards Ramos and speak.) "Tell me the truth."

"I, I-I am I promise I am! I don't know why I'd ever lie to you!"

(Step.) "Liar liar pants a'fire~"

"Siffrin they're, I don't think they're a threat." (Odile mumbled.)

"They're my friend Sif!! Leave them alone!!!" (Isabeau added.)

(Step.)

"I don't want to fight you, but, but I will! I will defend myself!!"

(Step.) "I don't want to hurt you either, Ramos~" (You twirl your knife.) "But I don't know if I can hold myself back~"

(Loop, you're scary.)

"Siffrin?!?!" (Isabeau stood up and stepped towards you.) "What's gotten into you?!?"

(Running out of time.)

(You breathe in, and out. Dash towards Ramos and swipe at their kerchief.)

(. . . You were right.)

"Siffrin! That's enough!" (Isabeau got between you and Ramos, but the star pendant was there for all to see. Why was Isabeau being so strange! Couldn't he see that's who grabbed Bonnie?!?)

"That's enough?!? 'Beau please, you can see they're wearing that blinding pendant!" (You were loosing patience.)

"That's just fashion! How do you know it's connected to anything!"

"It's not just fashion!" (You were yelling.) "It's a star! And it-"

"Stop making excuses!! You're just being selfish!"

(. . . Selfish?)

"You've been nothing but rude to me and my friends! You always have been!"

(What. No that, that's not-)

(Something's wrong, this isn't right!)

"I should never have trusted you."

(You feel a tug-)

(. . .)

(He didn't mean it. He didn't mean it. he didn't mean it he didn't mean it he didn't mean it he didn't mean it he didn't mean it.)

(He. Didn't. Mean. It.)

(. . . He didn't. . .)

(. . . Please. . .)

[rachalixie]

red

a/n: songfic for taylor swift’s red (i wrote this as chan but i didn’t say any names so you could imagine any member), gn!reader, a little angsty with a happy ending bc im weak

loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street, paster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly

you met him right when you didn’t know that you needed him, and suddenly he’s imprinted into your life like a tattoo. first, second, third dates turn into sharing a toothbrush, spending more time at his place than your own, then living together because it just made sense. your possessions are his just as much as your heart is, and though you haven’t known him long he’s carved out such a distinct space in you that you can’t remember what it was like to not have him. he’s your first thought in the morning and the last thing that crosses your mind before you fall asleep. 

loving him is like trying to change your mind, once you're already flying through the free fall, like the colors in autumn, so bright, just before they lose it all

driving through the mountains on a day off, taking the time to get away with no destination in mind. the windows down, wind ripping through your hair and the autumn-tinged leaves lining the small street as he drives way faster than the limit. feeling more free than you ever have, not once looking back as you go further and further from all that you’ve known.

touching him was like realizing all you ever wanted, was right there in front of you

your hands tangled in his hair, his arms wrapped around you, the soft skin of his neck under your lips - it’s all you need. the worst days resolved with the touch of his hand on your cheek, the best days made better when he slings his arm around your waist to hold you close. his fingertips erasing all of your hurt and painting new images onto every plane of your body until not an inch is left without his mark.

memorizing him was as easy as knowing all the words, to your old favorite song

knowing him better than you know yourself, having the details of his pretty face committed to memory since the first glance. everything you learn about him feels more like remembering than gaining something new. touching him comes from muscle memory, you know exactly where he’s sensitive and what parts of him to avoid because of his insecurities. he knows the perfect words to say to you when your emotions get the better of you, calming you down with what seems like practiced precision.

fighting with him was like trying to solve a crossword, and realizing there's no right answer

swirls of anger, taking up the empty space in the room. you can’t see anything but him, his eyes bright with frustration and his mouth is moving but you don’t hear any words. you feel yourself responding, but you don’t know what you’re saying - is it too mean? does it make sense? 

you don’t know anymore. 

it clouds your mind until you can’t even breathe, the air coming out in bursts from your aching lungs. all you know is that he’s there, attention fully on you as he spouts questions that you don’t have answers for. it’s a losing battle, but you continue to swing your sword at him because it keeps him there, with you. 

regretting him was like wishing you never found out, that love could be that strong

nights spent with tears slowly leaking into your pillow cover, not bothering to wipe them away anymore because you know they will just be replaced moments later. the time of sobbing is over, the emotions aren’t raw anymore but they aren’t any less strong. just as unbearable as the day he walked out of your door. 

feeling like you should never have let him into your life, if it was going to lead to this. wishing that you never got into his car when he asked, that first time, the day that you looked into his eyes and thought that he was it. crying harder at the thought of never having had him, knowing that he changed you in every possible way that you can’t even recognize the person you are from who you were before him. 

losing him was blue, like I'd never known

letting him leave was the worst thing you’ve done. not running out after him, standing in your living room frozen for hours, is your strongest regret. watching the door, waiting and waiting for him to come back like he always does, only realizing when the sun rises that he isn’t going to. being left in the silence, every sound making you jump. 

missing him was dark gray, all alone

walking down the street with your headphones in. there’s no music playing, but you enjoy the muffled noises of the city that’s too loud without them. buildings and people blur past as you walk, the rhythmic movement of your feet matching the slow beat of your heart. 

you’ve been moving through the motions for days, weeks, months now. nothing felt real anymore, the colors have melted away one by one until you were left with black and white vision, the only time color hits your eyes is when you’re going through old photos on your phone. it dies more often than not, the battery life forgotten in favor of looking at him and how happy you used to be, and the black screen brings back the gray. 

forgetting him was like trying to know, somebody you never met

dates with new people, expecting a sharp response or a barking laugh that never comes because it’s not him. reaching up to brush a curl off of their forehead before realizing that there isn’t any hair to push back. offering to paint their nails and getting a curious or guarded look in response, like they don’t know why you would ever ask them that. 

he never made you ask - he would show up with a bottle and sit at your feet, resting his hands on your thighs with a silent question in his eyes. 

but loving him was red

he was like a fire, burning white-hot. the kind that tempts you to run your finger through, skimming the top and praying that you don’t go far down enough for it to burn you. not noticing that the heat was too much until it was too late, until you were too far into it to take it back. it was like walking through broken glass, hoping that whatever was at the end would be worth the pain. it was a cigarette, the smoke burning your lungs, replaced by the euphoria of the high.

remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

snapshots of moments filtering through your mind like a film roll.

dancing in the kitchen, music filtering in tinny soundwaves from his phone on the counter. almost tripping when he twirls you, you’d be on the floor if not for his arms scooping around you to hold you to his chest.

walking around town with him until the early hours of the morning, giggling into each other’s coats and holding each others’ hand like the world would end if you let go. sharing a plate of fries and a strawberry milkshake, one straw for two, at a late night diner. you’re the only two there, but it would matter if the place was packed to the brim, because all you can see is each other.

drinking wine straight from the bottle, passing it back and forth between you until your limbs felt fuzzy and your mouths were stained red. tasting it on your tongues when you slide into his lap to kiss him, letting your mouths slide lazily together as he rests his hands low on your waist.

tell myself it's time now gotta let go, but moving on from him is impossible

trying so hard to fill the space that he had left, but it gets bigger and bigger like a black hole, sucking up everything. even after all this time, you see the ghost of him around corners, through doorways and in your bed when you wake up and forget that he had left you. 

things that you don’t know how to stop doing. waiting for him to turn off the alarm in the morning. pouring out two cups of coffee just for one to get cold. leaving dishes in the sink for him to wash that get left until the next morning. leaving the light on at night for when he gets home late only for no one to turn it off until the next day. 

when I still see it all in my head, in burning red

and that's why he's spinning 'round in my head, comes back to me, burning red

drowning yourself in liquor, pacing the floor and gripping at your hair because you want him and he’s not there. a sharp knock on your door pulling you out of it, hope flooding in like it does every time someone is on the other side of the door, no matter how much you try and quell it down. taking a deep breath before you reach for the doorknob, tentative as if it’s going to burn you. you open the door and there he is, red.

[oddsconvert]

I know we've only had this in one drabble (so far 😈) but I am OBSESSED with broken Izaak

Thank you so much anon!!!! Have some more!! 😘 I hope this suffices!!! 🫶

---

Izaak can feel himself slipping away, like grains of sand sifting through his shaking, bony fingers. Soon there’ll be nothing left of him. Not even the hollow shell of a man that once was. The way Ronan describes it is almost like metamorphosis. Rebirth. Izaak will grow and transform into something beautiful; like a tadpole into a frog or a caterpillar into a butterfly.

This is devolution. A man reduced to a mutt. From standing tall on two legs, to shoved crawling on all fours. Stripped of his voice, his bite and his bark. Izaak won’t be human anymore, he’ll be a tamed and pathetic beast. How the mighty fall.

Click click.

Izaak’s ears twitch and his head instantly snaps up at the click of Ronan’s fingers. He swallows hard, gulping back nerves lodging in his throat. He pulls himself onto weak, unsteady knees, letting his hands rest limply in his lap. He patiently awaits his order, like a good pet. He is a good pet. Good things come to good pets…like Henley. Ever so spoiled. Izaak wants to be spoiled rotten too.

Ronan hums his satisfaction with a grin that makes Izaak's stomach twist and pinch, as he leans back into his chair, spreading his legs a tad wider and patting the space between his thighs.

"Come here, my boy," Ronan calls with a whistle.

Shame swells in Izaak's heaving chest, he finds himself automatically and hurriedly scampering across the room to Ronan's feet. He folds over and nuzzles against Ronan's legs, before perching between them and resting his head gently against his master. Just how Ronan likes it. Izaak can virtually see the brownie points tallying up.

"You've been such a good little pet for me, haven't you?" Ronan coos, raking his fingers through Izaak's overgrown, ratty hair. But it does feel good. Izaak's eyes loll back at the sensation, he melts into the touch. He'd choose this over the endless pain anyday. Izaak was a thick-headed fool to fight back in the first place.

"Yes, master…" Izaak croaks, though the voice that comes out doesn't sound like him. He doesn't recognise himself anymore. Maybe it's easier that way. He can't mourn the life and person he lost if he can't remember it.

"And you're happy now. Now you understand your lot in life. Aren't you?"

"S-so happy, master."

"Hmm," Ronan narrows his eyes, deep in thought. He looks…unconvinced. Dissatisfied. Izaak feels a pang of disappointment rip right through him like a bullet. He has to keep Ronan sweet, he can't rock the boat.

Ronan pinches Izaak's chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting his head up until their eyes are locked. Izaak tries not to shrink back when his saucer-wide eyes are staring into piercing green.

"I want you to beg me."

"S-Sir?" Izaak gasps, astonished. He feels the air get whisked from his lungs.

"Beg for me to hurt you, pet."

"I-I don't understand. I've…I've been good-"

Izaak can't keep the wobble of threatening tears from his voice, or stop them glazing over his bloodshot eyes. He nervously picks at the already bitten and shredded nails on his fingers, trying to ground himself. It's taken everything in him to submit, to play the part of an animal. If this isn't enough- if Izaak isn't enough -

"You have. Oh believe me, you've been a delight, Izzy. I wouldn't change you for the world," Ronan reassures, batting his eyelashes. Ronan kisses his hand and holds it against Izaak's temple as his eyes flutter shut. He imagines the kiss seeping through his skull and wrapping around his brain, keeping him under control.

"But good gets boring. I should keep up your training. Stop you slipping into old habits."

A tear slips free, and Izaak shakes his head against Ronan's hand. He dares to pull away, so he can collapse at Ronan's feet again and beg for mercy. He shrinks into a ball, sobbing and mumbling incoherently to himself.

No more pain. No more suffering. He was told if he gave in, he'd never hurt again. He made a deal with the devil.

"Please-" Izaak rasps, still bent double on the ground. Praying to Ronan as if he's a deity.

"Please what?" Ronan purrs, kicking his feet up to use Izaak's curled body as a footrest. First an animal, now an object. Furniture.

"...Hurt me," Izaak resigns with a whisper.

"Good boy."

----

Izaak tag list: @emmettnet @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @sorrowful-hyacinth

Drabble taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername  @whumpsday  @sparrowsage  @whumperfully  @wolves-and-winters @canislycaon24 @happy-little-sadist @darkthingshappen @whumping-in-the-dark

[aphroditesmoon]

lady of the lake

boromir son of denethor II x forestfairy!reader

summary: you save the captain of the white tower who was thought dead as he floats in the river of anduin.

warnings:lotr spoiler, physical assault(unintentionally?), reader is describes as small bcs she is a fairy but no size, skin color or other description is specified.

°°°

Boromir awoke with a loud gasp, his chest tightening at the throbbing pain it endured.

His eyes bulged out and as soon s it met the hands that were holding him down by his shoulders, instinctively his own moved to curl his fingers around the neck of his attacker.

The squeak that came out of the said person urged him to break from his trance and immediately as he takes in your presence, his hands releases his hold on you.

His own pain that shoots from his chest and back makes him groans as he falls back at the comforting bed that has held him.

You regained your composure quick as you rise back again towards him, your worried eyes meeting his grave ones.

"Where am I-?" He croaked out.

Your hands found his again, fingers intertwining with his, and he finds himself relaxing againts your touch.

"Be calm friend." You spoke for the first time.

"Your heart beats fast but your mind and body might not be so quick to follow." He had no idea if your words were an insult or an assessment, but you were right, his panic was overtaking him, for neither is weak body or his confused mind could keep up with what was happening.

As you note his breath finally being even, a slow smile tugs on your lips.

"Knight of Gondor, you are safe in my home. I've found you floating down the Anduin river, you were severely wounded, but you bring luck within you as I've managed to fix you up quite fast." You explain.

Boromir stares at the ceiling above him, dazed. Recalling the last moments before he became unconscious.

They must've thought him dead, hell, he should be dead.

His mind wanders back at his savior, trying to piece together how she must've brought him back to life.

"You- you saved me?" He asks hoarsely. You nod simply with your never dimming smile.

"You shouldn't." He concluded. Your smile fell and a frown set upon your face.

Before grieve could cloud over him even more, he coughs violently. You were at his side in seconds as you lend him a handkerchief.

You sprinted to your kitchen then, fetching him warn water to drink.

"Rest, you are still unwell, we will speak more when you're better." You assure him as he easily agrees, too tired to argue.

°°°

That night, you helped him sit up againts the headboard of the bed, feeding him pumpkin soup while he argues he can feed himself and you completely ignoring him.

He seems worn out still, so you expected him to be asleep while you did the dishes.

How suprised you were to come back to him half dressed in dried old clothes, gently reaching for his weapons.

"What are you doing? You're not supposed to be walking yet!" You exclaimed. He halted at your words before sighing.

"My lady I-, I am grateful for your kindness and hospitality but I fear I must get back to my companions, they need me-" He starts.

"You mustn't- you're still terribly wounded, I need to change your bandage, and you need rest." You insisted.

"I don't care, can't you see? I've already failed them once, I can't again."

You were silent for a moment. He was sure you didn't understand what he means,. and hopefully thinks him mad and would let him go.

"You would not make it a day on road or by boat to Minas Tirith-" You start. "-And if you are worried about your two hobbit friends, then don't anymore, they've been saved by the forest, far away from the orcs and danger."

He flinched at the mention of Merry and Pippin, eyes narrowing at you.

"And how would you know?" He drawled.

"If you had asked me who I was, I would've told you already. I am the lady of the lake. The water, the trees, and the flowers all speak to me, and I to them." You state matter of fact-ly.

He stared at you for a second then blinked. "This isn't a lake, this is a cottage."

Unintentionally, you burst out a laugh, surprising him, though he them slowly descended his frown into a short smile.

"The lake is outside." You giggled out.

"Oh, right." He swallowed, face turning red.

"A-Are you like, the lady Galadriel then?" He asks stuttering.

Your eyes widen at the mention of the divine lady Galadriel.

"Oh heavens no! I'm just a forest fairy, a nothing rock compared the the diamond the lady Galadriel is." You immediately respond, laughing again, cheeks tinted red as you cherish the compliment of being compared to her.

As your laughter died down, you sighed gently before meeting his eye. "Stay for two days, let me make sure your wounds won't reopen, and then you can leave, I'll even pack you some food for your journey." You reasoned with him.

He wanted to say yes immediately then, with the way you're insistent in caring for him, his soft heart was unable to say no. But still hiding in brave man's face, he pretends to think.

After sighing a few times and shaking his head, he looks at you and nod.

"If you insist." He finally says.

You smile at him, and his heart breaks into million pieces. "I do."

[fanarchoslashivist]

One of the things I really love about Pitch Black, aside from being just a fun, multilayered, and entertaining villain, is that what makes him so sympathetic is also what makes him irredeemable.

He thinks he's right! He fully believes, with his whole heart, that children should be raised in fear. He is the perfect metaphor for outdated harmful parenting in a children's movie. Kids should be raised with love and care! if you work too hard to give your kids material things, even with good intentions, you may miss out on actually spending time with them! Great lessons, with the villain being a sympathetic lonely man who is being forgotten by everyone, why? Because he thinks children should be raised in fear.

And he's so good at it. Other villains/antagonist parental figures in kids media like Mother Gothel (tangled) and Claude Frollo (hunchbac of notre dame) use the same tactics but they, unlike Pitch, are easily seen through by the audience because they lack that one thing Pitch has. Pitch CARES. Pitch is sad, he's tragic, he's lonely. It's not that you believe him, it's that you WANT to believe him. You don't want him to hurt, You feel guilty. You believe he is capable of being better, you want to give him the chance. He's that sad old man in the nursing home whose kids never visit him. You feel bad for him, you're supposed to, even though his loneliness is the result of his own actions.

Pitch's difference with Gothel and Frollo are not enough to save him, because unlike the antagonist parental figures that do get redemption like Ming Lee (turning red) and Alma Madrigal (encanto) is his refusal to change. His reaction to Jack's rejection is to flinch in pain, yes, then to threaten Jack's best friend, break his possessions, and physically assault him before dumping him down into a crevice of ice.

He manipulates, he picks at Jack's insecurities, tearing him down bit by bit with his words so Jack feels worthless, then sets him up for failure, to take the blame for Pitch's own actions. He lures him into a trap then throws him out to face the consequences, then after Jack has faced the backlash of the 'cruel world' he comes back in with sweet words of comfort and affirmation.

It's the same thing your parents use against you. They love you. They want what's best for you. They just want to keep you safe, keep you on the right path, keep you in line and obedient.

It's not FAIR that you won't let him hurt you, it's not FAIR that you want to be safe and loved, that you want to set boundaries, that you want to be treated with kindness and respect.

Then, once you get into the books you start to really peel back those layers into the why, he's a war veteran who believed in the goodness of others, in treating people with kindness and dignity, in giving grace and humanity to your enemies, and that reputation got his family killed. From his perspective, his lesson, is that the belief in goodness will get you and everyone you love DEAD. He is a perfect metaphor for the traumatized survivor trying to beat all the weakness out of the next generation, but what did that do? What did his crusade against the light do? His descent into his madness? His lashing out in his grief? It destroyed everything. He, the humanitarian who lost his family and became the mass murderer of the entire Golden Age.

But if you just let him tourment a few kids on this planet he's totally not going to repeat that process. Promise. Stop being mean to me. All of you are so mean to me. Just let me raise my kids my way. I have parental rights!

Pitch is so believable in his loneliness in the movie because he does absolutely think it is unjust and unfair that he is not allowed to abuse kids. The first steps to any redemption he would have needs to rest entirely on his understanding that how he treats children is Wrong. Its the same crisis that many parents whose kids grew up and moved away and cut ties with them face. But instead of owning up to their mistakes in how they raised their kids they lash out and place blame. It's the gay agenda. It's woke brainwashing. It's this soft weak coddling society that convinces everyone they are a victim. It's not - ever - because I was in the wrong.

[arvenconned]

hi! could I please requests HCs for Emmet, Ingo, or Cyrus grooming a young trainer who's come into their orbit? like a subway passenger for the train boys or an ambitious Galaxy grunt for Cyrus! Thank you 🌺

This ask is old.... Just like me.

Content warnings: sfw, grooming, abuse of authority, slight psychological manipulation, mentioned threats of physical abuse, corporal punishment (spanking) mention.

*

*

Grooming HCs

Emmet

He almost cluelessly unaware that he's not being entire sane when it comes to you, in fact, he would go so far as to say it's normal. It's nothing more than him seeing your talent and wanting to groom you into a possible successor for him- that's all it is!

And yet, a small little part of him, deep deep down, knows that what he's doing is wrong. Going to your job so they'll fire you and he can hire you? Always insisting on being in the room when you change into your subway uniform? Helping you button up your shirt correctly? These are normal things a subway boss does...

But they feel so right at the same time. Emmet is just helping you look your best, and he's teaching you to battle better, and you're soaking up all his attention. Sure, sometimes you protest a bit when he helps you, but a quick assurance from him and you're quietly blushing again.

You like him, he knows it, and while he has to misuse his status as a subway boss to make sure he can keep you around, that doesn't matter- not when he gets to see you everyday, that bright smile and that glimmering excitement to have him teach you more battling tips.

All in the hope that you'll take over his spot in the battle subway someday, maybe... If you ask him though, privately, he'll just say he can't wait for his son to succeed him. "Oh, I'm just thinking about the future, it'll be a while before that though, huh?" In the grand scheme of things... He's already picturing you helpless and unable to leave his home, but that'll have to wait a while.

Emmet still needs to make sure you'll never disobey him, so expect some punishments when you do wrong... With a belt, or his hand, he doesn't mind either way.

Ingo

He is... more aware than Emmet is that what he is doing is wrong. In fact, he even feels guilty, but not enough to stop him from changing his schedule to always be at work when you're riding the battle subway. It's only because the first time he battled you, and you lost, you cried the entire ride to your stop, and he felt bad for not comforting you aside from saying "Feel free to try again next time."

After that, he didn't see you for a week, and he discovered it was because he was merely missing you, so he vowed to not miss you again. So he hasn't, not once in three months, and he's gotten very interested in your progress as a trainer. Sure, you still cry when you lose, which is always, but you've slowly been crying less and less, which is good, right?

That all changes one night when you don't just cry after losing- you break down bawling, and he finally snaps and sits with you the entire ride, holding you in his arms and comforting you as best he's able. It must've worked well, because you stopped crying, and even fell asleep on him... He's been so attached to you since that he can't picture a day in his life without seeing you.

So he offers to teach you during the couple hours you have with each other at night, holding your arms to guide you how to throw your ball or telling you the weaknesses his Pokemon has, he doesn't care what he says so long as you let him stay by you. All the guilt in the world can't stop the feeling of adoration that washes over him whenever you successfully pull off a move, so he starts to invite you to his home to go over battle tactics there as well...

Ingo is a hopeless romantic, and he doesn't believe in relationships going too fast, if you reciprocate his feelings, there's nothing wrong with the way he's been acting, or feeling. That's what he tells himself, anyways.

Cyrus

All the team galactic grunts adore Cyrus, he knows this very well, it's practically the only reason why he let that useless bunch join his organization... So he doesn't know why out of all of them in particular, you stand out.

Is it the bumbling idiocy you displayed while tripping on the way to give him some papers? Or the way you held back tears when you spilled his coffee all over yourself when you bumped into him by accident? You're really a clutz, and you wouldn't survive in any organization, that's for sure.

But, you are willing to serve him, which is exactly what he needs, so you are assigned to essentially be his office maid. You clean, you bring him coffee, you stand beside him and watch him work when you think you can get away with it, and he lets you. It's good that you are curious, it means you're more devoted to his cause than he thought, and he needs loyalty.

So, he justifies his next actions with that logic: loyalty is earned, not bought. He simply asks you to do things not expected of a grunt or maid, pushing you as far as he can... Walk him home, clean off his face, sit beside him while you eat, sit on his lap while he works, he's testing you, and you somehow succeed everytime. Even though he knows you're uncomfortable, you keep doing it, and eventually, you no longer hesitate when he asks you to do outrageous things.

You're wrapped around his finger, he knows it, and you have given him no opposition, so he takes advantage of that. After all, even he is aware that a world with no one to obey his commands would be unbearably dull, so keep being a good grunt, and he'll consider taking you with him... Probably.

[mamoonde]

modern au for cssr x wcz

where cssr is a touring pop indie artist and one night after a set where she performed brooklyn baby (lana del rey) in a bar/club, wcz the bartender serves her drink and asks, "is your boyfriend really cool?"

cssr blinks, gives him a (slow) once over, smiles.

"depends. are you?"

mama wei got soooooooo much game i just know it. she knew it, wielded it, killed (metaphorically) with it.

baba wei got game. didn't know it. didn't flaunt it. poured delicious cocktails w his sleeves rolled up his forearms and a genial smile and assumed everybody else got the same insane amount of tips every night.

cssr chatted wcz up, and wcz responded in kind without expectation. when a persistent guy wouldn't take the hint, less so the blunt 'no,' wcz deftly deals with him with a mere forbidding look and even (dangerous) tone.

cssr took him home that night.

wcz thought that was it. and was proven wrong.

cssr kept coming back, night after night, even when she didn't have to perform, reveling in doing the chasing for once.

wcz thought cssr who lived that kind of wild carefree lifestyle couldn't possibly 'settle' for a guy like him. and yet cssr is sooooooooooo gone for him.

some spurned loser: you know she's just playing with you, right? cssr will never be tied down, least of all by you

wcz: thank you for your concern, but i'm afraid you're not my type. and i would be a fool to even think about tying cangse down. she loves being a free spirit and i wouldn't change her for the world

cssr: marry me

🔞 later in wcz's apartment 🔞

wcz breaks off their kiss. "you could have any man... why me?"

"can't i just want you? don't you want me too?" cssr pouts playfully, tugging at his hair.

wcz gives in and kisses her again. "you can. i do. so much." he says between kisses.

and then they don't speak again until they're both undressed on wcz's bed, cssr straddling wcz with him deep inside her.

"those men only want to own me, control me--" cssr gasps. "make me a trophy to display at home. but you," she rolls her hips. "you're not like them. you wouldn't do that."

she revels in the way he looks at her, like he sees right through to her soul. not some work of art display or land to conquer; just her.

wcz lets her set the pace, then lifts her off him by the hips and just holds her there. "are you calling me weak?" he tugs her nipple with his teeth.

cssr squeaks then tugs at his head.

"nooo, you know what i mean!" she whines, kicking her feet when he keeps holding her still with just the tip of him inside her.

she retaliates by clenching her walls, rolling her hips and sucking at the sensitive spot behind his ear.

their little game continues until neither of them can keep any semblance of rhythm, devolving into a relentless chase to the end.

"you really won't tie me down, a-ze?" cssr pants against his lips.

"not unless you want me to." wcz says, still rubbing her clit, wet with their spend, until cssr shudders again.

~~ end of nsfw bit ~~~

they stay like that for a while, catching their breaths against sweaty skin. then cssr blows a raspberry into wcz's chest.

"should i be offended that you won't even try?" she says dryly.

"i will not do anything you don't want." wcz looks her in the eyes. cssr flushes with an eep! then looks down, tracing his clavicle.

"so if i say i want to keep traveling?"

wcz holds her wrist, pressing her palm to his heart. "then i will say, where to?"

"you'd come with me?"

"if you'd let me."

"what if i lose my voice?" cssr asks later as wcz washes her hair.

"then we'll take sign language classes and i'll work extra until you can find a new job."

"what if i get old and wrinkly and all my hair turns grey?" cssr asks while they're shopping for groceries.

"then people will finally believe me when i say i've been had by a cougar." wcz says while placing a jar of cssr's favorite peanut butter brand in the cart.

cssr squawks and smacks his arm with a bag of gummy bears.

"a-se, no one will believe your age with the way you act." wcz deadpans, then kisses her forehead. "if it bothers you, we can dye your hair to match mine, or mine to match yours."

"hmm, i do think you'd look cool with silver hair." cssr says, then challenges, "what if i want us to get pink hair?"

"then we'll both get pink hair dye."

.

.

.

"what if i'm no longer beautiful?" cssr asks as they settle in for bed. "will you still love me?"

"it's a good thing i don't love you for just your looks then," wcz says then kisses her pout away with a smile. "i will always love you no matter what you look like. my love is always beautiful."

cssr smiles and kisses him softly.

"good answer!" she chirps then turns on her back. "'cuz in four months, my belly will pop and my ankles will be swollen, and in eight months, i won't even be able to see them! but you still need to tell me i'm pretty, okay?"

"yes, yes, you're pretty," wcz mumbles half asleep... then blinks awake. "...wait. cangse?"

cssr hums. "good night, baby daddy."

then she conks out.

wcz blinks, and blinks again. he starts counting.

"what."

he counts again. fuck, they hadn't used any protection that first time, did they? neither did he use a condom that one time at the bar... or that other night... oh.

oh.

wcz doesn't sleep for a long time.

when morning comes, cssr wakes to wcz curled up against her waist, hand on her belly.

"silly changze, the baby's still just a pea!"

she smiles dopily. yep, this one's a keeper.

the end

eight months and twenty years later, wwx asks his parents about their love story to deflect from his own love woes, does the math, and realizes they conceived him the night they met:

[lizardperson]

ockiss 24 - day 2! aka That Damn Dress

using ockissweek as a reason to post more of my sappy bullshit, but this time longer, and more sad.

content warning: much much self hate, and some alcohol

"But you look so hot! You HAVE to buy it, come oooonnnn! Also I bet Daria will just LOVE seeing you in this…" "You're terrible. Ugh fine, I'll buy it. But Daria won't care, that's totally not her taste…"

'If you're not super busy can you come over for a sec? Not gonna take long'

Daria raised an eyebrow at that text message and got up from her desk. She had assumed July was already on the way to her evening out dancing with Mika, but apparently not. She still wasn't sure anyway why July had agreed to that outing - something about getting out of her comfort zone, and Mika helping with that, but to Daria it just seemed like her friend getting talked into various activities that she didn't actually enjoy. Oh well, she was old enough to make her own decisions, and all Daria could do was occasionally remind her that she didn't have to do every single thing Mika asked her to.

She crossed the hallway of their apartment building and knocked on July's door, who promptly opened and pulled her in by her arm, startling her.

"Hey, thanks for coming. I just really need your opinion real quick, please be honest - how fucking ridiculous do I look?"

Daria swallowed when she finally took in the view. July, her July, in a very short, very revealing dress. She had never seen her like this before. The way the black silky fabric hugged her curves, accentuate exactly the right spots… This wasn't even the type of clothing she usually cared for on another woman, and yet all she could do was stare for a few very long seconds, taking in the sight. It wasn't like she hadn't seen July in various states of undress before, at this point they were basically living together, so relatively speaking the total amount of visible skin wasn't even that scandalous - and yet. And yet.

"That bad, huh?" July remarked at Daria's silence and sighed, turning away. "Mika talked me into buying this and said I should wear it, but I look like some kind of weird goth scarecrow or something, it's stupid, I --"

"July," Daria interrupted her, "you look amazing."

Slightly startled July looked at her. "What?"

"I think you look great," she confirmed, having to once again keeping herself from not staring too long. "But if you are feeling uncomfortable because it is showing too much skin, then you should change into something else. I am sure Mika will understand."

July hesitated for a moment, still looking a bit doubtful. "You really think I look good."

"I do."

"Not ridiculous."

"Not ridiculous at all. Quite the opposite."

They looked at each other silent for a few moments, then July nodded. "Okay. I guess I'm not getting changed then." She hesitated for a moment, mustering a weak smile. "Thank you. For the honest opinion. And the moral support."

Daria smiled. "You are as always very welcome." Now if only she could stop staring… Almost forcefully she pulled her eyes away and cleared her throat. Enough about that damn dress. "Are you sure you don't want me to pick you up later? I really don't mind."

July waved it off. "Nah, it's fine, I'll take a Uber."

Daria suppressed the urge to ask if she was really sure, and the even bigger urge to stare some more at all the deliciously framed naked skin. "Okay. Then I hope you have a fun night." She hesitated for a moment. "And don't let Mika get you into trouble." Did she just sound like her own mother?

July laughed. "We're just going to a club, how much trouble could there be."

"I'm sure she will think of something," Daria remarked dryly, being once again met by a laugh.

"You still haven't forgiven her for the weed incident, hm?"

"No comment," she chuckled. "Anyway, have fun. I will see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

July pulled her into a hug, and Daria almost winced when she touched her soft and warm skin, part of her hoped this skin contact would not end anytime soon. But of course it did. Something told her this was going to be a very long night.

~~~

The first thing Daria did when she was back in her own apartment was splash her face with cold water. Maybe a really cold shower was in order… She stared at herself in the mirror, the familiar feeling of disgust creeping up inside her. "What is wrong with you, you stupid old cow…" she murmured at herself and sighed. Pathetic.

Scotch. Scotch might solve all her problems. She just had to drink enough of it.

Bottle in one hand and glass in the other she dropped down on the couch. The scene from earlier replayed in her head over and over, and she scolded herself. Did she have to be such a creep, staring at her best friend like that? If she was lucky then July had been in her own head too much to notice that - hopefully. Or maybe she had caught her, and was now laughing about her with Mika, mocking her miserable being. No, July would never. She was too much of a kind person for that. If she had noticed, she would just feel sorry for Daria, pitying her. And somehow, that was even worse.

She sighed, emptying her glass and refilling it again in the next motion. How beautiful July had looked in that damn dress. Seductive. Enticing. How much she had wanted to just touch her, feel her skin, discover every inch of her body. Slowly pushing the straps of the dress over her bare shoulders, dropping that piece of clothing to the ground, revealing her in all her glory…

Stop it.

Great. Fantasizing about undressing her. That was a new low. What a worthless creature she was.

~~~

The next hours went by somehow, with the bottle slowly emptying, and Daria's thoughts drifting back again and again to July, no matter how hard she tried to drag herself away from that. July, smiling at her. July, falling asleep on her shoulder while they were watching a movie. July in that damn dress.

A knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts. Daria frowned, contemplating for a moment if she had imagined that. It was late -- she had no idea how late, she just knew she had been drinking for a while, considering the almost empty bottle -- and there was only one person who would show up here at this hour. She should just ignore it, pretend to be already asleep. That would be the smart and sensible choice of action.

Unfortunately she felt neither smart nor sensible in this moment, and got up to open the door. What a bad idea this was.

How radiant she looked. Daria reminded herself that breathing probably was a good idea, and mustered a smile.

"Hey."

"Hey. Was wondering if you're still up." July grinned at her, leaning on the door frame. "Can I come in?"

She didn't even wait for a response, just pushed herself past Daria and went in. Her wobbly walk and the slightly slurred speech told her that she had been drinking, so they had that in common. The difference being, July just had a fun evening out with friends, while Daria had tried to drown herself - normal people activity versus pathetic self hate activity.

July threw her coat on the couch, made her way to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, with Daria following behind. Then she hopped onto the counter like she always did, but apparently the alcohol had given her some balance troubles. Daria was close enough to prevent her from falling down, lightly putting a hand on her hip to keep her steady.

"Careful," she murmured, getting distracted by her being so close suddenly. Maybe she should move her hand that was still resting on July's hip… or maybe she shouldn't. That fabric felt really nice. Her skin below it would probably feel even nicer. God, how much she wanted her.

"Sorry, I think I had a drink too much," July remarked, giggling. Something fruity, Daria guessed from the smell on her breath, and she wondered if she would still taste it on her lips. She should really move back a step or two. Eventually.

With no idea how long she had been staring at her again, Daria tried to disrupt the silence. "Did you have a nice night?"

July nodded vaguely. "Yeah, it was fun. But loud. And too many people. Don't think I'll do that again very soon. But now I can at least say I've 'been to the club' or whatever…"

"Glad to hear."

They both were silent again for a few moments, just looking into each other's eyes. Did she imagine it or did the space between their faces get smaller by the second? She still had not moved her hand away, which would be the smart thing to do. But just this once in her life, doing the dumb thing sounded so very, very inviting.

"You really think I look good in this?" July finally asked, still in doubt about her appearance.

"That dress looks great on you." Her voice felt hoarse, as if she was slowly losing the ability to form coherent speech. She really needed to bring some distance between them, this was getting dangerous. She really should. She just really did not want to.

"Would look even better on your bedroom floor," July jokingly replied in fake deep voice, then lauged about that terrible pickup line, and it came so unexpected that Daria couldn't help but laugh too.

And then her heart stopped when she suddenly felt July's lips on her own.

It was a soft kiss, gentle. Questioning. How amazing her lips felt, how long Daria had dreamed about this. How long she had wanted this. This was such a bad idea. But it felt so so good.

Her body took over, leaning into the kiss and pulling July closer, who took that as an invitation to wrap her arms around Daria's neck. She buried one hand in July's hair, still somehow trying to deepen the kiss, and was rewarded with a small moan. God, she wanted her so bad.

No. Stop.

The rational voice in her head somehow resurfaced again, and she was suddenly painfully aware again of what was happening here. Bad idea. Terrible, bad idea.

She forced herself to pull away, at least trying to bring some space between their faces.

"July, I'm sorry, I-- we need to stop. I'm sorry," she heard herself ramble, still barely able to form a coherent thought. "We can't." The urge to apologize even more grew with every second.

"Why not?" July looked at her concerned.

Daria pulled out of her embrace and stepped back, rubbing her face for a moment.

"Because we are both drunk and this is a terrible idea, and we really shouldn't. We can't," she heard herself repeating, feeling like she had lost control entirely. "I am so sorry."

July remained silent for a few moments, seemingly also entirely overwhelmed by the whole situation, and they just stared at each other, until she then suddenly hopped off the counter.

"I'm sorry," Daria repeated once again, but July just shook her head.

"No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come, I'm… I don't even know what I was thinking, I'm so sorry, I'm just gonna-" She sounded so embarrassed. Hurt. Rejected. Daria hated herself so much in this moment. This was all so wrong.

"July, I'm…" she pleaded, not even sure what she wanted to say. Forgive me please.

"Sorry for showing up here so late," July muttered, on her way to grab her coat. "Goodnight, Daria."

And with that she had rushed out of the door, her scent still lingering in the room like a ghost. How had this all gone so wrong…

[writer1queenjaysblog]

Daddy's baby girl 💕

Yandere Dad Jake x oc.

Sho'ree is the second daughter of Jake and his mate and she was born small and with a extra finger like Lo'ak and Kiri and he's very protective of her and won't let anyone near her not even the Tonowari and Ronal son.

Her age 18.

Jake remember the time that Neytiri gave birth to Sho'ree she was small and weak she was told she wasn't going to make it but she pulled through.

Jake was scared thinking about his daughter dying but she lives through it he was proud of her and was very very over protective of her and he didn't let her go anywhere alone, what if his sweet little baby girl got hurt? What if someone hurt her? How will he get rid of their bodies?! So many thinks went through his mind.

As she got older she wanted to do things that her older brothers were doing like hunting only for Jake to be like: "No absolutely not." She was disappointed "But daddy Nete and Lo'ak go hunting all the time I never go mom goes too." "Because their older sweet heart and you can get hurt."

She tried to tell him that she could take care of herself but he wouldn't budge at all. "Daddy said no princess now go play with with your sisters."

She pout in defeat knowing pushing the situation with her dad wasn't going to work as her mother would back him up "Yes daddy." He smiles as he pets her head smiling "Good girl now go on."

Years went by and Sho'ree was now 18 and she was a beautiful vision her body filled out, curves that made the boys drool over her, smiling at her, filtering and the girls wanted to be her. Jake's yandere over protective fatherly instincts kicked in over drive.

He would have Neteyam and Lo'ak watch her every move. No boy has come Forward saying that they want to court her or be her mate because of Jake giving them the death glares and tell them no and other things that scared them away and they never spoke to her again or anything. Neteyam and Lo'ak were the second reason as well as Neytiri.

It was time to leave home after Miles had her hostage and had a knife under her neck Jake wanted to kill him but he couldn't let his baby girl get hurt so he told him it wasn't over.

Once arrive to their new home Jake looked and saw how Ao'nung was looking at her and his friends looked at her body up and down make his blood boil but he knew he couldn't do anything so he told her to get on the other side of him.

"Baby girl come here stand next to me." He said watching the teen look at his daughter before making eye contact with him with Jake glaring daggers at him. Once settled in Sho'ree was excited she looked at the ocean and wanted to swim and meet new people "Dad I think I'm ready to swim and meet new people especially some handsome boys." She made her family look at her with a stare that was dark.

Jake looked at her in shock "No princess you can't your not old enough." "Daddy I am ready for a boyfriend and..." "And?" "I- I don't think I should tell you guys." "Come on sis."

Said Neteyam "Your brother is right Sho'ree you know better we don't keep secrets in this family." He said as she worked up the courage to tell them "I want to mate." She blushing as Jake looked shocked his little girl ready for mating?!

Having sex with a man?! "Sho'ree honey you're not ready your to Young and pure." Said Jake "But dad I think I am my body has these urges."

"That's the thing honey it's your body it doesn't know what it needs those are wants and your still growing up your body's changing by the time your old enough you'll forget it."

"Now get ready for dinner." "Ok." She knew she was in heat "Jake I think she's ready." "No no she isn't she's still a little girl." "In your eyes Jake but not to them not to those boys..those adult men who see her as any other woman on this island." Jake knew Neytiri was right but the thought of them touching his baby girl sent him into rage.

"No she's not going to mate and no one is going to touch her and if they lay one hand even a finger on my little girl Neytiri I'll make them regret being born." He said unpacking his sons agreed if anyone touch their little sister it will be hell to pay.

"No one will touch or hurt my baby girl nobody I'll kill anyone and everyone in my way if they do." Jake said as she sees her swimming with Ao'nung and his sister and friends.

@lovemyavatar

[pettyeti]

vrai lore (kinda).

unscripted. this is mostly a joke, but there are some serious bits.

i will preface this by saying he changes a lot after meeting Etienne, so take this as Before Eti Era (B.E.E)

real lore page coming soon. for now take this shitpost.

Name: Asmodeus. Real name is Vrai. Do not call him by his real name otherwise he will k*ll you. Vrai does not remember his last name.

Age: OLD. Too old tbh (935 years old). Don't call him old otherwise he will k*ll you. He was 37 when he became a voidsent.

I don't know when the Flood of Darkness happened. I bend canon and say that it occured 1000~ years before canon.

Gender: Cisgender man.

Sexuality: GAY.

Personality: Very charming and suave. Will call you "my dear" and "my girl" like Howl (you know what scene I am referring to.) Makes you feel like you're the most important person in the room.

Unfortunately, this is just a front. Vrai holds no love for mortals and throws people away when they stop being interesting to him. Vrai is very selfish. Vrai does not care about you. Vrai wants you to suffer because it is interesting to him. He will just be very polite while he watches you die.

Secretly, Vrai longs for the bygone days before he became a voidsent. He misses the sun on his face. He misses the love he once felt. He misses adventuring. He looks at the heroes of other worlds who have not lost their souls to the darkness with extreme intrigue and extreme jealousy.

Vibe: The vibes that emanate from this dude are MAD rancid.

Smell: Oh he smells so good. Like a moonlit path in the forest. Like old books in a well loved library. He also has a bit of a rosy scent when you get close.

Wisdom: 100000/10. Extremely smart. He is a walking encyclopedia. Knows a bit about everything, but has special interests in astronomy, aetherology, and biology.

Job?: This binch unemployed!!

Um? Where does he live??: He has a giant castle on the Thirteenth. It's located on the northern continent so it's cold as fuck! Vrai sits on a throne usually because he is melodramatic. Much like Zero's place, Vrai's castle serves as a domain for weaker voidsent who have pledged their loyalty to him. In return for keeping his castle pretty, Vrai protects them.... kinda.

What does he do all day?: Vrai lounges in his castle and watches people on the Source using a magic mirror he crafted himself. Vrai's been watching heroes and other interesting people for centuries, occasionally going to the Source himself to spook people. When he's bored, he'll spark conflicts. Think Eris and the Trojan War.

Likes: Reading. CHAOS. Collecting books, rare crystals, and other expensive junk. Intelligent people. Wine (hates all other alcohols.) Fighting. Learning about new topics.

Dislikes: Liars. Being outsmarted. Cockroaches. Weak willed people. Being reminded that he was once mortal.

Parents: Vrai had two moms. One was a witch who had a keen interest in herbs and horticulture. The other was a shepherd who liked her solitude and lived in the mountains. They did not survive the Flood. Vrai loved them very much and had a good childhood <3

Combat: Expert caster. Uses a scythe to channel devastating black magic. The scythe isn't just for show either.

What about G*lbez?: Vrai doesn't fuck with Golbez and Golbez doesn't fuck with Vrai. It's an uneasy cold war situation going on between them because Vrai don't care Golbez's plan. He's here for a good time.

Golbez doesn't fuck with him because it would be a waste of time and resources. Golbez is stronger than Vrai and would win in a fight if it came down to it, but it wouldn't be worth it because Vrai would destroy everything Golbez has worked for before kicking the bucket. Still, Vrai let's Golbez do his thing because uhhh. He don't give a fuck. Just leave him alone and let him play with his heroes and they'll be Gucci.

[memestockpile]

the night ship (2022) feel free to change as needed.

she's dead, unfortunately.

what are you, a rat? put your teeth away.

be brave.

don't move. danger everywhere.

i don't want to think about pirates.

you run, and i'll bring you back and tie you to your bed like a bad puppy.

you believe you could pass unnoticed?

i like misadventures.

there's grub in the kitchen.

it looks worse than it is.

never bleed on the ground here. not even a drop.

can you imagine being mother to someone older than you?

there's always something to see.

don't smile with your mouth. smile with your eyes.

you want to split hairs?

you throw everything in the pot and boil the shit out of it.

be ready early.

i can spit quite far. i would make a good sailor.

keep listening, child!

we'll shave your head and give you beer.

watch what i do, boy. you might learn something.

you fucker!

there's something inside wanting out.

i need an assistant.

do you know what hell smells like? dead souls and roasted devil shit.

sometimes i go out with a trowel. i've found things.

all the dead really want is to rest at peace.

there's no such thing as ghosts.

the dead don't bloody come back.

do you want ice cream, or what?

you should find a place, somewhere you can be truly alone.

you're easily frightened.

i feel watched.

that bitch thinks she owns the place.

it's a tragedy when someone so full of life does themselves in.

you'll come now. or i'll fucking drag you out.

what is it with you and old blokes? you should try a young one.

you are a horror. now, please, let me sleep.

i wouldn't poke around down there if you paid me.

darling, we looked for you. of course we did.

have patience, will you?

i don't believe you. you made that story up.

i lost my nerve.

what would you say to a jigsaw?

we could dress up.

what's happened between the two of you?

get out from under my feet!

take this before bedtime.

i'd rather you didn't watch me nap.

will you give me your word that, once you are inside, you will refrain from stealing?

don't be too sure it's dead.

your death would be horrible. do you want to hear the various ways?

i'll think about it.

balls to that. you can go anywhere.

don't worry about him.

well, truth be told, we kicked the shit out of each other.

sometimes violence is a necessary evil, and it was a long time coming.

you've got a nerve, [name].

finish my crossword. make up the words if you want.

i'm tormented by it.

you look like you're a handful.

some of us are fucking sleeping here.

calm yourself, boy, you're shaking.

drink this slowly, you'll feel better.

now, tell me what happened.

dry your eyes and let's work it out.

see your way to make some better friends.

i never knew this was here.

and where the fuck do you think you're going?

your face. what happened?

who cares for you?

i would like the company.

want a coffee?

you keep an eye out for me and i'll keep an eye out for you.

sailors need to learn the language of the ship.

you're learning fast.

it's a witch stone. if you look through the hole, you can see what is yet to come, or what has been already.

your fortune finds you, not the other way around.

you spying on me, [name]?

friends take care of one another.

you like to roam.

now, shall we tidy you up?

i'm always in trouble.

if we get caught, i'll take the blame.

everyone's fear looks different.

they're just warnings for kids.

life is precarious.

the greatest disgrace of humankind is the failure of the strong to protect the weak.

we don't need monsters, we are the monsters.

it's better if you tell the truth.

are you going to beat me?

what's wrong with him? other than he's a miserable old bastard.

you twisted little bastard.

one day it might be funny, but it will always hurt.

you'll come and cheer me on?

thought you might like some reading material.

he's an awful prick, isn't he?

it's the way of long journeys. they alter what people think and see.

why the worried face, [nickname]?

being rich doesn't make him fine.

shut up! fuck's sake.

hello, little fucker.

we need to prepare ourselves for the worst.

maybe come down to the party later?

so this is the way it will be.

take the food for yourself, else you'll disappear.

you're as slippery-looking as an eel.

they're making it sound worse.

i'll put you through the wall.

if you stop that, i'll tell you a plan.

you're every bit a sailor.

everyone thinks it, no one says it.

be careful what you say and who to. be only where you are allowed to be.

don't go off on your own.

i'm just trying to understand what's going on in that fucking head on yours.

that's it, son, slow breath, in, out. then i can understand what you're trying to say.

you've a sprain on that wrist, not a break, which is one good thing.

the dead can't hurt you. it's the living you need to watch out for.

come out on the veranda for a bit of fresh air.

what sort of person would steal from the hungry?

you're all right, lad. you're all right.

who wants to be stabbed to death? i can do that very beautifully.

to catch a demon, you have to flush him out.

people aren't just their bloody deaths, you know.

you ready, son?

[dandunn]

Oohh these prompt writings are so fun to read, how about this for a prompt... de-aged Lupin and the gang (with/without Zenigata)

I was going to skip this ask honestly because I thought it wasn't my kind of thing but I did it and ended up being surprised. Uh. Also this is only part 1. Enjoy???

Lupin is losing his shit. As in 'holding in his sides trying not to die' laughing. It's the funniest thing he's ever seen.

"CAN IT SHIT FOR BRAINS! IT'S NOT FUNNY!" Jigen bellows, the insult would be as intimidating as the throaty roar of a lion in any normal situation. But this isn't a normal situation. It comes out as the high-pitched squeak of a kitten.

Because Jigen is six years old. And adorable!

Jigen's protests only cause a fresh lunatic howl of laughter to burst out of Lupin. He wipes tears off of his face, dabbing his cheeks with the sleeve of his pink jacket. Little Jigen stamps his foot and pouts. His hat is too big for his head now and keeps sliding off.

"Oh I'm gonna die!" Lupin says breathlessly, "Where's Goemon? Did he get hit too?"

From out behind the hefty piece of machinery comes the most shell-shocked little boy Lupin has ever seen, his robes wrapped around himself like a blanket and his now far too big sword dragging behind him.

"Ohh." Lupin coos, his eyes filling with tears again. 

"Cease." Baby Goemon murmurs, his chubby cheeks turning red. "Do not say what I think you are going to say."

Lupin can't help himself. His face twists up in an effort to hold his squeal back, but it's too late, "You're so…. Cuuuuuute!"

Goemon attempts to draw his sword, but his arms aren't long enough and it catches halfway in its sheath. His feet get tangled in his robes and he falls on his ass.

Both of his partners turned children stare up at him.

Why'd it have to be me that gets stuck as the only adult here? Lupin thinks, I'm not exactly a role model!

"This is gonna be a problem if we get attacked." Lupin says, scratching the back of his neck, "Unless the guys who made this machine have a weakness for being kicked in the shins."

"Lupin when I get back to normal I am going to kill you!" Little Jigen meows again, struggling to pick up his combat magnum with his tiny hands. "How do we change back?! The controls on the machine-?"

"Do you really want me to go messing around with unknown technology, what if I press the wrong button and you both end up eighty years old?"

"Point."

Unfortunately for Jigen and Goemon someone else makes the decision for them.

They start being shot at.

"No time to figure it out, off we go!" Lupin cries as he scoops up both of his partners and bolts. Jigen tries to cover Lupin's back as he dangles under one of his arms, the knockback so severe with his underdeveloped muscles that the entire gun almost flies back and knocks him upside the head. 

This isn't good. 

They barely get out of the laboratories in one piece, and Lupin's arms are not built for carrying two deadly little children at once. He's wheezing and has had to dodge more than a couple of bullets by the time they escape.

Back at the hideout, Lupin drops the two kids before heading out to buy them some clothes (making them promise not to use the stove or stick forks in electrical sockets until he gets back. Jigen throws an ashtray at him but it falls short).

Once they aren't drowning in their adult clothes anymore they all sit down to take stock. 

Unfortunately tailored suits and kimono robes for six year olds aren't easy to find, so Jigen gets a shirt with a dinosaur wearing a cowboy hat and Goemon gets Kamen Rider.

Lupin couldn't find a miniature borsalino either, so Jigen gets to keep his ludicrously oversized hat. The sight of it keeps making Lupin snicker so much he can barely stand to look at his poor gunman.

"So, what happened, what was it like?" Lupin says, enjoying this a bit too much despite how grumpy his partners are.

"You mean what it was like going through puberty in reverse? Not fun!" Jigen says, the couch practically swallowing him up. He reaches for a cigarette out of habit but Lupin stops him.

"I may be a lot of things but I'm not someone who allows a baby to smoke."

"Fuck you."

"That machine." Goemon says slowly, "we were lured into the room with it on purpose, this was done to us to take away our strength."

"Makes sense. Everyone knows how awesome and unstoppable we are." Lupin preens, "They probably think I'm helpless without you two."

"It is true." Goemon snipes. 

Jigen folds his tiny arms, grumpily staring at the cigarette box in Lupin's hands like a regular kid would look at a box of candy. "So we break back into the facility and threaten them into changing us back!"

"What's your rush, Jigen?" Lupin muses.

"What do you mean 'what's your rush?' Of course we want to get back to normal!"

"You just want to smoke." Goemon clips, and Jigen looks like he's considering getting in a baby fist fight with him.

"I'm thinking practically! What if we end up stuck like this?! What if we have to grow up all over again; voice cracking, high school - zits!"

Lupin shrugs, waving a hand, "Something something a chance to relive your youth?"

"Why on earth would we want to do that?" Goemon deadpans. "I wish to be restored to my true age as soon as humanly possible."

Lupin tries not to start giggling again, hearing Goemon's darkly formal serious voice coming out of such a cute little package. He gets a hold of himself. "Look, when we broke into the facility I had help from both of you and now I have to think of a plan to get us back in without Jigen's shooting or Zantetsuken. Just… make the best of it you can until I do that. Did either of you even have childhoods?"

The two boys turn to look at each other, Jigen lifting up his hat to shoot Goemon a quirky look from underneath his bangs. 

"My point exactly." Lupin stands up to go back to the drawing board. "Play with some blocks, take a nap or something. Don't pee your pants. I'll be as fast as I can."

Before he goes to shut himself in his room with his planning desk, he remembers something. He turns back quickly to grab Jigen's cigarettes and puts them on top of the highest wardrobe in the room. "And no smoking!"

If Lupin had a dollar for every time a six year old had flipped him off he would have about two dollars. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.