#all other treasure is garbage now

[angrybatgaming]

I CAN'T BELIEVE I GOT STUCK IN A SECRET ROOM FOR A MINUTE OR TWO. DANG PS4 CONTROLS!!!! *shakes fist* Second time it's happened, actually.

[nariism]

ೃ⁀➷ WHERE THE HEART LIES ˚ ༘♡

a/n: fluff, pining, childhood friends to lovers, reader was in the same orphanage as wriothesley when they were kids, mild codependency (?)

happy wishing everyone! ≧◡≦

Amongst the hundreds of books stored in the Duke's office, none hold a place in his heart quite like the dusty old atlas you gave him when you were children.

It's old and worn, something aged with the faint scent of Tidalga wafting as the pages turn. To an outsider, the atlas almost looks like garbage, or rather, exactly what it is—the only crappy book in the entire vintage shop that you could afford with your terrible allowance.

He doesn't see it that way.

It's a precious commodity to him, something he holds in high regard (despite the way he's glued the spine together on nearly a dozen occasions with the amount of times he's flipped through it).

Wriothesley is not a sentimental man. Growing up the way he did taught him not to grow too attached to material belongings.

There are few things in the world he would consider treasures: his boxing gloves, for one, though that's a given. His growing tea collection that originally started as a treat he would spend coupons on, but somehow evolved into a hobby.

And lastly, but perhaps most importantly, the map of Teyvat you gave him in the orphanage you came from. Because it wasn't only a birthday gift, it was something infinitely more meaningful than that.

He remembers that birthday fondly: he was twelve and you were ten. You'd snuck into his room beyond curfew and lights out, sheltered yourself under his blanket, and shoved the poorly packaged gift bag into his hands.

The two of you spent the entire night going through the pages, amazed at how giant the world truly was outside the confines of your orphanage—imagined how freeing it would be to explore it with nothing but your pair of feet and each other.

"One day," you breathed with excitement bubbling in your voice, "We'll leave this place and travel all across Teyvat."

It wasn't just a promise to see the world. It was a promise to see it together.

For a boy who had nothing at all, what you offered him was like placing the universe itself in his hands. And even at twelve years old, with you and that book sitting between his legs and a blanket thrown over his body, he knew he'd found a dream.

The older he got, the more he clung to that. 

You were the one he came back to when he was lost. The one who made the orphanage a home. The one who gave him a raggedy atlas of the world and whispered purpose into him.

Something to cherish. Something to protect. Something to love in this world when he had little to spare.

Though time had changed everything in his life, he still found it hard to abandon the welded pieces of your conjoined hearts.

Unlike Wriothesley, you had chosen to return to the surface after you finished serving your sentence.

It was lonelier beneath the crushing pressure of the sea without you. He made sure you knew that, too, always bringing it up whenever you came by to visit in the most nonchalant ways.

The Fortress of Meropide was a home both of you had discovered after years of being without one. "Come home already," he used to complain when he was still just a regular inmate and you were dropping by with a care package. "I miss you."

Nowadays, he made certain you understood the gap in his heart without you by other means. Like, say, when he would invite you personally to his office for a cup of tea and some cake, which was a rare treat you missed out on as kids.

Once, you called him out for attempting to bribe you back down into the iron fortress which he, of course, denied with his chest. Still, you never failed to make the trip down despite your outspoken disinterest in being back in the prison, and his weak offer of sweets since you now worked at one of the most prestigious bakeries in the city.

You had initially greeted him this time with your hands all over him, arms wrapped so tightly around his neck in a hug that he could barely breathe. Sweet smiles and kisses pressed to his cheeks and fingers pinching his nose—every action endearing and a remnant of your childhood spent together.

Now, you're seething in the office at his simple question: how are things on the surface?

"... That's when I turned to Lady Furina and, get this, she somehow ate every pastry I'd brought in a matter of seconds!" You huff, pacing back and forth in front of Wriothesley's desk while you rant about your latest visit with the Archon.

Furina was often in your schedule in one way or another, and almost always she wanted you to bring along sweets from the shop you worked at.

Wriothesley finds humour in your woes, following you around in your pacing with his arms folded over his chest.

"You know, you could just show up to your audiences with her without treats."

"She would call high treason and toss me back in prison!"

The Duke just snorts, earning him a well-deserved glare. Even with the pull of your lips into a thin line and the narrowing of your eyes, he thinks you look like a breathing angel under the warm orange light of the office.

There was nothing in the world you could do that would make him stop loving you. Not even glaring daggers at him like he's your mortal enemy.

"You're exaggerating," he hums, trailing behind you once again as you pace around the desk. 

"No, I'm not. She's absolutely crazy. She's insane—!"

He nearly bumps into your back when you suddenly halt in your steps, attention stolen from the conversation. The hands that were flailing around in the air to animate your anguish drop to your sides.

Wriothesley peers curiously over your shoulder at what has caused you to stop so abruptly.

Oh. Oh, Archons. He can sense the heat rising to his ears.

He feels as though he's been spotted in vulnerability, even though that isn't at all what has happened and that you would be the last person to judge him even if he was.

But he feels seen. Caught in the act of sentimentality just because you've picked out the book you gave him all those years ago when all you had was each other.

"You still have this?" You gawk, pulling the atlas from its prestigious position on his bookshelf. It's in a spot that he can always see as soon as he enters the room—in his direct line of sight, he has a part of you with him.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, I just thought..." You consider the words for a moment, tasting them in your mouth before admitting embarrassingly, "I just thought you'd have thrown it out for a newer atlas. You know this is out of date, right? Half the oasis in Sumeru is covered in sand now."

"Why would I ever throw it out?"

"It's old," you lament again.

"And?"

"And... you can't even use it?" Your statement comes out more as a question and he can't help but roll his eyes.

"I can still use it," he insists.

You raise a brow, slotting the book back into its regular spot. "Good luck. When are you ever going to have time to do that, oh great and powerful Lord of the Fortress of Meropide?"

He ignores your little jab, as he's gotten so good at throughout his life. There's a sense of familiarity that rises in his chest, a strange nostalgia that drives him to open his mouth once more.

"Actually, about that..."

You turn to look at him again, hand coming up to brush the hair from his eyes. You always used to scold him for not taming it better. Now it seems permanently stuck as a fluffy mess.

"What is it?"

Your fingers graze his skin and he falls apart on the spot, feeling as though you had just tipped him over the edge of the cliff he's been too afraid to dive off of.

His hand catches yours, holding it just beside his cheek for a moment before lowering it to his side and tugging you just a little closer.

If he didn't ask now, would he ever?

"Let's leave this place," he murmurs, reciting the dream you promised him when he was twelve years old. "Let's travel all across Teyvat."

The silence that follows is so loud that it makes his ears ring. For a moment he falters, thinking he may have misread the situation and in turn whatever feelings he thought you may have harboured for him.

But then you take a daring step forward, nearly flush against his body. There's a look of wonder in your eyes that makes his heart race.

"Just you and me?"

"Just you and me." Just us.

There's a heavy implication behind that and you both know it. More than a proposal to chase a dream of bygone days, it's starting to sound like a confession. In his own roundabout ways, of course.

He can see the hitching of your breath, the subtle widening of your eyes, and all he wants to do is laugh at how seriously adorable you look.

"And what about the Fortress?"

"People here are less problematic nowadays than you may think."

"Won't the paperwork back up?"

"I can deal with it whenever I come back."

"Why me?"

Another silence.

"You ask too many questions," he says quietly, dodging your interrogation. In reality, he already has an answer. It's instantaneous, resting comfortably in his mouth but never leaving.

Why would it ever be anyone else?

He's having trouble focusing on anything right now with your chests so close together and his thumb running along your knuckles.

"Wriothesley," you say his name and it sounds like honey, the sweetest thing in all of Teyvat. And the look you're giving him, so touched and melting into nothing but a smiling mess—he isn't sure his heart can handle this. "I can't believe you remembered that."

"You kiddin'?" He laughs, slowly closing the distance between you. "It's all I've thought about my whole life."

He watches you carefully as you swallow down the lump in your throat. Your hand squeezes his and that's when he knows he's got you. You kiss him and he can feel the curve of your lips, the ever growing smile on your face meeting his. His knees are on the verge of buckling by the time you pull away.

"Surely you'll miss this place in your absence. This is your home now, isn't it?" You tease.

"Well, you know what they say." He gives you a grin so wide that his eyes crinkle. "Home is where the heart is."

It didn't matter if you were braving a sandstorm or the rainforest or the depths of the sea. 

Wherever you were, you would be his dream. You would be his home, too—just as you always had been for as long as he could remember.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[dellalyra]

OMG I WAS JUST HAVING BRAINROT ABOUT GOJO AND Y/N IN THEIR TEEN YEARS AND

imagine that back then they had to participate in a talent show or something and megumi and the rest watch the old video tape they found in the darkest corner of the library on campus.

the tape was in a box with a label reading "the best jujutsu tech students' and its just filled with memories of their teen years.

they decide to watch the talent show one and its just chaotic as hell. mid way through megumi, nobara and yuuji get caught watching it lmao

𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨, 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖, 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣! 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴

A/N: this request. came in last night - and it’s all I’ve done today because it was so perfect it’s all I could think about. ur amazing ily

CW: swearing, weed, suggestive stuff, mdni i stg shoo

“Itadori! Bring these to the garbage!” Nobara shouts.

“Why me?! Why can’t you do it?!” He retorts as Megumi just rolls his eyes at the two of them, he wonders how they turned into siblings so easily.

“Fushiguro! Tell your boyfriend to take this to the garbage. It’s heavy and he should use his freaky wall-breaking strength for something useful!” She shouts back.

“Eh?! Is exorcising cursed and carrying you like a sack of flour not useful?! Or always carrying all your dumb shopping?!” They’ve broken into an all out sibling squabble by now, Megumi just turns away and continues the task of clearing out the storeroom behind the dojo in the school. Pushing boxes of old files and reports out of the way, he finds a box covered in doodles and stickers, taped shut at the top. He goes to inspect the very out of place container and finds words among the doodles of weirdly shaped beings and flowers.

‘The Best Jujutsu Tech Students.’

“Will you two shut up for two minutes, come look at this.” He says over his shoulder to the two, with Nobara releasing Yuuji from the headlock she somehow got him in.

“Ancient treasure! I told you we’d find something cool.” Yuuji shouts, pumping his fist into the air.

“What is this, Pirates of the Caribbean?! We’re clearing out a high school storage room, dumbass.” The girls rolls her eyes.

They inspect the box, trying to figure out the doodles.

“It doesn’t look super old? Open it, Itadori.” Nobara says.

“Will you quit telling me what to do?!” He says, huffing.

While they resumed the bickering, Megumi took a knife he had hidden in the shadows and sliced through the lines of tape holding the box together. The sound alerted the other two who peered into the box alongside him.

“Wait, are they… DVD’s?” Megumi asks.

“Yeah - but they’re homemade ones. Is there a label on them?” His boyfriend says, leaning in to get a closer looks.

The box itself was filled with small DVD cases of many colours - all labelled in a scrawling handwriting the kids felt like they knew.

“There’s a DVD player in the room where I hung out when I was dead.” Yuuji says, and hauls the box up and begins to walk. None of them even needed to discuss whether or not they’d be watching them, like a hive mind - but with maybe two shared brain cells.

They all made their way across campus, to a room in the same building as their Sensei’s office.

Nobara insisted on grabbing snacks from the vending machine en route, and they sat down on the sofa while Yuuji loaded the first date labelled ‘2003, December.” Well, that’s what they think it’s said. The handwriting was such a chicken scratch it almost looked like a doctor’s unintelligible writing.

The screen came to life - sounds buzzing and voices echoing (albeit muffled) as the screen panned from looking at the floor - to the sky, the the floor again. Then - a face came on screen.

A very familiar one - but… a hell of a lot younger.

“Wait… is that -?” Nobara asks.

“Shoko-sensei?!” Yuuji exclaims.

“That’s kinda how she looked when I was a kid. She’s in her uniform, so this must be when she was in school.” Megumi adds.

The camera pulls away from the close up on her face as another figure enters the shot - a man with odd bangs, silky black hair tied up into a bun and piercing dark eyes. He had a lazy smile in his face as he looked into the camera, poking a finger into Shoko’s cheek.

“What the fuck, Suguru?!” She says as she flicks his hand away.

“That’s - that’s Geto Suguru.” Megumi says. Geto had always been a bittersweet topic in their house, only getting worse in the last year and a half since… since he died.

The next action causes a gasp to echo across the room. A smiling face pops up between both figures.

Dark, circular sunglasses perched on a slim, pale nose and a wide, toothy, cheeky smile sat under a mop of shocking white, messy hair.

“Holy shit! That’s -” Yuuji starts.

“Dad.” Megumi whispers, seeing Satoru so young, probably around his age was amazing to him.

“Wow! It’s working! Is it on? Is it filming?” 16 year old Gojo says, voice eerily familiar, but much younger.

The three faces were all staring into the lens of the camera, only visible from the shoulders up. On screen, Shoko looked down and moved her arm and another head popped up from the bottom of the screen, trying to squeeze in.

The head of H/C hair and shiny eyes wiggled their way into the shot between Suguru and Shoko, and under Satoru.

“Did you say it’s on? It on recording right now?” The new figure pokes the camera.

“No fucking way… Fushiguro! That’s -” Nobara says, swirling to look at the taller boy.

“My mom.” He says, eyes fixed on screen. Your face was younger, hair the same as ever, eyes still full of excitement and curiosity and voice slightly higher than it is now. A hand pats the top of your head, a pale one - Satoru.

“Do a dance for the camera, Y/N.” Satoru says, smiling.

And you do a little wiggle in your spot squeezed between everyone as the other three burst out laughing.

The camera cuts off, and the screen changes to a view of the outside - all of them immediately recognising the training field.

In view is Geto and Gojo, sparring at such a ridiculously quick speed it’s barely visible. He could hear giggling behind the screen and recognised the voices of you and Shoko laughing about something that happened in class.

“They’re such show offs.” Your voice says.

“Geto genuinely wants to train, Gojo is just trying to impress you.” Shoko says, voice muffled by something - which he later sees as a lollipop, figuring it out when it gets launched across the field - presumably in retaliation for her comment by you.

“No way, Koko! That’s just dumb, he’s just a show off in general.” Your voice echoes.

“Whatever you say, Y/N.”

The camera cuts off again. The next thing they see is the night sky, and raucous laughter. The camera is being held by Shoko again, and she points it to a view of a rooftop - the flat part of the roof of the dorm building. The camera turns to one Suguru Geto, eyes hazy and smile even more languid than normal. In his hand was a smoking object - which he passed to Shoko.

They were both laughing together about Shoko saying she could see a constellation shaped like a penis, and the hysterical giggles and she rested her head on the boys shoulder told them that the joint in Shoko’s hand was very much affecting them.

There were clambering sounds.

“I can’t reach!” Came your voice, distant and off screen.

“C’mere shortstack, I’ll give you a boost.” The teasing lilt of Gojo’s voice came after.

“Thanks, Jack the Beanstalk.” Your retort sent the two original stars into another round of laughter before you and Gojo enter the frame, both holding a plastic bag of snacks.

Shoko gives you the joint as you sit, and you take a quick puff and pass it back to Suguru. Satoru declines it, saying it makes his eyes feel funny to which you all nod and say ‘makes sense’.

“Did you get me spicy chips?” Suguru asks, combing through the bags.

“Yes. But - you had to tell me you love me to get them.” Satoru says, smirking.

“Gojo Satoru - you are the light of my life, the centre of my world, the reason my heart beats, please, May I have my child you absolute fuckwad.” He says, as Satoru throws his head back laughing and throws a red bag of chips at him before tackling him to the ground demanding a kiss.

You laugh at the scene, turning to Shoko.

“See - that’s how Geto has at least one date every weekend.” You say, opening your chocolate.

“Man-whore.” She responds, sucking on a lollipop.

The screen flashes black. The same view is on the screen, but the atmosphere is much calmer. Suguru lay, head on Shoko’s lap and her deft fingers carding through his hair as he listens to whatever nonsense Gojo is spouting. The camera turns to a view that has Nobara and Yuuji cooing. Satoru is sitting, arm around your back to keep you upright with your head on his shoulder, eyes closed and clearly sleeping.

Suguru’s voice whispers into the camera.

“And these two say they’re not into each other.” Followed by a scoff from Shoko.

Next up is a view of the training field again, with a sight that made the three current first years laugh. Suguru was laying on the grass, and he was bench pressing you - his makeshift weight - as you lay relaxed horizontally reading a book, the casual nature made it clear this was a daily occurrence.

Once his reps are finished, he gently lets you down and you don’t even react, just laying on the grass continuing your book. He stands up and waves to Shoko, who he’s just noticed with her camera and proceeds to take off his shirt and let down his hair.

“Put your damn shirt back on!” Shoko shouts.

“God damn, maybe I should be a curse user.” Nobara utters, whistling and fanning herself.

The camera is next held up by Satoru - who smiles and puts a finger to his lips to symbolise silence, for some reason, like the camera would be unexpectedly loud. He turns the camera and in the backseat of a car is Shoko and you, both asleep and earphones split between you with a bright pink iPod on Shoko’s lap. Her head was resting in the crook of your neck, and you cheek rested on top of your head.

“They really have always been best friends, haven’t they?” Yuuji says. Megumi is reminded of last week, when Nobara and Yuuji fell asleep in the back of Ijichi’s car, in the exact same position.

The camera operator is back to Shoko now, who is filming the most beautiful scenery. Sakura petals are drifting through the air as throngs of people wander around what appears to be a festival. There’s food stalls and trinket stands and everyone around is in their finery.

“Suguru! Show the camera your best pose.” Shoko says, as Suguru appears on screen decked out in a black and grey kimono with his hair in a half up, half down style.

He throws a peace sign at the camera and then takes it so he can film Shoko who’s in a pretty red Yukata pattered with black and white koi. She smiles and then waves as she looks off camera.

“You’re late, Satoru. Where’s Y/N?” She says as Gojo comes on screen.

He’s wearing a dark blue and silver hakama which looks like it cost the same as a house, Suguru wolf whistles and Satoru pretends to fawn over him.

“She was having lunch with her mom, she’s probably going to be here - holy shit.” Satoru says, but cuts himself off halfway as his jaw drops open.

The camera pans messily as Suguru turns to where Satoru is looking.

You’re walking toward them, smile on your face and usually messy hair styled in a beautiful updo, make up making your skin glow in the afternoon sun. You were wearing a light pink, billowy, gauzy hanfu with tiny pale green flowers and leaves around the edges. You did truly look incredibly stunning. You had a little bag in your hand, and the camera flew back to look at Satoru who was gaping at your approaching figure. His usually pale skin flushed with a pink dusting.

His mouth moves, and it seems unconscious when he whispers to himself.

“Beautiful…”

You walk into the frame, smiling brightly and hugging Shoko and then freezing when you see Satoru, eyes widening at the strikingly handsome figure he makes, every inch a fairytale Prince. The pink on your cheek matches your outfit as you stammer out a breathy,

“Hi, Satoru.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He says, mouthing opening and closing as you look at him through fluttering lashes.

There’s a jolt as it seems Suguru holding the camera elbows his best friend and whispers in his ear, just audible to the camera.

“Bro, tell her she looks beautiful, damn it.”

“You… you look um - beautiful, Y/N.” He stammers out, and the three first years watching laugh at how their oh-so-smooth sensei was once such a mess he needed prompting to flirt from his friends.

You flush even deeper.

“Thank you, Satoru. You look really good too. The um… the blue really suits you. The restaurant I had lunch with my mom had Sakura mochi, so I - I got you some.” You say as you shove a small nicely wrapped box at him and Satoru seems to melt. Shoko appears on screen, making a circle with one hand and poking a finger through it repeatedly in a very lewd gesture that has Suguru cackling.

“Wait - they’re not even together yet. They didn’t get together until the end of their second year.” Megumi muses, smirking.

“So they’ve always been this whipped for each other.” Nobara laughs.

The DVD ends there, and Yuuji jumps up to put in the next one, labelled ‘second year’.

The video begins with you sprinting toward Shoko and her catching you in her arms.

“I missed you so much! A whole summer without you, it was torture. How was the medical camp?” You ask her, barely taking a breath between words.

“Did you not miss me, lil’ lady?” Came a smooth voice as one Geto Suguru wraps his arms around you too, and you squeal in excitement. The three standing are then abruptly tackled to the ground as a blur of white and black whizzes toward them.

“Satoru!” Came three scolding voices.

“How the fuck did you do that, you lanky - oh.” Shoko is stopped abruptly as they all stand up and the change in Satoru is clearly visible. Long gone is the beanstalk boy of their first year, all arms and legs at 16 and now at almost 18 - a broad shouldered, 6ft 3, sharper jawline and longer hair Gojo stands before them. You look like you might faint.

The video stops and then resumes looking at a very familiar blackboard, and a much younger Yaga beside it.

In front of the blackboard there’s two students in Jujutsu High uniforms - both in party hats and standing under a banners with ‘Welcome First Years!’ written in big bubble writing on it, the sounds of streamers and party poppers came through the room as the camera was set down on a desk.

Gojo comes on screen and waves his arms as if to show off the two students. One looked incredibly happy, a beaming smile full of excitement and the other looking absolutely miserable, but given how painfully 2005 emo he looked - it wasn’t surprising. Megumi smirked, seeing the blond boy on screen and knowing exactly who it was from photo albums you kept - but he waited to see when the other two would notice.

“Welcome to Yu Haibara! Please - introduce yourself!” Gojo says, pointing a bottle of cola at him like a microphone.

“Hi! I’m Yu! I’m 16 and I like rice and people!” He says, voice full of enthusiasm.

“Thank you! Next up, Gerard Way!” Satoru smiles and point the mock microphone to the other boy.

“Do I have to? This feels unnecessary.” He says, grimacing.

“Yes! You do!”

“Fine. My name is Nanami Kento -”

Megumi didn’t hear the rest of the sentence as a chorus of ‘What the fuck!?’ Echoes from the two beside him.

“Nobara, rewind that - I think I heard it wrong, I thought the emo kid said his name was Nanami, hah!” Yuuji exclaims.

“No need. You heard right.” Megumi smirks.

“No fucking way! That’s Nanamin?!” Yuuji is smiling so wide at the sight of his mentor as a moody teen.

“Yup. I remember his hair like that, he had a lip ring and a nose ring too. Geto Suguru pierced his nose with Shoko’s med kit for him when they drank too much whiskey at my mom’s 18th. There’s a picture of them doing it framed in their room at home.” Megumi scoffs a laugh, the other two in shock at the revelation.

The camera stops again and next time is looking from an upstairs window as voices whisper.

“What is she doing?” Shoko asks.

“It looks like she’s talking?” Geto asks.

“There’s a tiny spike in her cursed energy - wait, I’ll try see if there’s someone around.” He says and the clink of his sunglasses hitting the windowsill breaks the quiet.

On screen, there’s you in a pair of fluffy blue pyjamas and a winter knitted hat as you seem to be kneeling and ushering something small out of a bush. Satoru seems to have gotten distracted and the camera pans to him - who’s just staring out the window with the most dopey, lovestruck smile on his face.

“Satoru.” Suguru says, flicking his ear.

He snarls, but blushes.

“I - I can’t tell but, it kinda seems like? She is trying to talk to something.” He says, as they all crane their necks as you pull something into your arms and stand up, taking off your hat and tucking whatever you found into it and scurrying back inside.

An obnoxious ringtone of crazy frog blasts through the room and Satoru flips open his phone and answers it.

Since it’s you, he puts it on speaker.

“Hey, Satoru - are you still at the store? I - kinda need something, urgently.” Your voice asks.

“Eh - yeah, I’m at the store. What do you need?” He says, trying to hush the two sniggering traitors beside him who are fully aware that he came back from the store an hour ago and is sitting in Suguru’s dorm with them.

“I - um, I need kitten milk.” Your voice says, just as the camera cuts off.

The next few videos are just videos on videos on you and a tiny, tiny kitten, feeding it from a small bottle and it sleeping on your chest, or Satoru playing with it and a ball of wool in hysterical laughter. One video is taken by Shoko with Suguru in the frame playing with the kitten who is trying to catch his bangs and on the sofa, is you sitting on Satoru’s lap, as he looks at you adoringly and you giggle and place a kiss on his lips. Given that it’s about 3/4 of the way through your second year, it means you’re freshly together after torturing your friends with mutual pining.

Megumi looks closer at the kitten, and the tabby is very recognisable to him - given that to this day, the hairs of that kitten, now 13 years old and still thriving due to your unwavering spoiling, still decorate any black fabric in your home.

“Is that baby grumpy George?!” Nobara asks, hitting the nail on the head.

The video fades again, and then the screen is illuminated by a makeshift stage in the school sports hall. Another large banner is on the wall, with ‘Talent Show’ written in large writing, Megumi now noticed the big bubble writing was the same as had been on every ‘happy birthday’ banner he’d had every year.

The announcer, he recognises as a smiling principal Yaga - even though this is surely not a school organised or endorsed event, but probably the work of the couple he now calls his parents.

“Welcome to Jujutsu Talent Show! The rules of tonight are as follows a) no cursed techniques or cursed energy and absolutely no sabotaging! Panda! Do you want to say who’s going first?” Yaga announced as he lifts up a baby panda and the voice of the baby says “Nanami and Yu!”.

Yu skips on stage, decked out in a cape patterned with stars and a large top hat, followed by a very sullen Nanami Kento, adorned with a nose and lip ring now.

“Ladies, gentlemen, cursed corpses! My name is Yu the Magic Man and this is my assistant, the Fantastical Nanamin! Does anyone here like rabbits?” He announced, and takes off his hat, revealing a stuffed rabbit on his head - commencing the world’s worst magic show. The highlight was definitely Yu asking Nanami to pull the scarf from his sleeve and after pulling and pulling and pulling, a very frustrated Kento growls ‘Fucking hell, Yu - how long is this thing?’ Completely breaking what little mysticism surrounded the performance. Geto didn’t help, when he muttered ‘that’s what she said’ after Nanami’s complaint, setting the second years off.

After a bow to his rapt audience, and lots of cheering and supportive clapping from you all - the first years leave and Yaga announces the next performance.

A loud bang echoes through the room,

“Holy shit!” Your voice, the 28 year old you, carries through the room as three heads spin around to see their sensei’s back, arms supporting the thighs around his waist, belonging to his wife who’s lipstick is smudged across her cheek and her husband’s face. The white haired man’s white shirt was partially unbuttoned and your sweater had fallen completely off you shoulder - combined with the position you entered the room and the ruined cosmetics it was quite clear why the teachers had stumbled into this forgotten room of jujutsu tech.

“Get a fucking room.” Megumi grumbles.

“We were! But you’re here! And just for that I’m gonna tell you that the sofa you’re sitting on was where Akio was conceived.” Gojo retorts, trying to fix himself as all the kids groan.

“Both of you, hush. ‘Toru - look at the screen.” You were transfixed on the paused screen.

“Wait! Is that - that’s our talent show! From second year! Where did you guys find this?” Satoru says, leaping over the back of the sofa and plopping down but not before turning around and picking you up by the waist and sitting you in his lap.

“I thought all the DVD’s were lost! Koko couldn’t find them after we graduated!” You say, as you keep staring at the screen.

“We were clearing out the storage room, like Ijichi asked and we found a funky box with DVD’s in it.” Yuuji says.

“Oh my god! Press play!” You say, clapping.

“Look at angry Nanamin!” Gojo says, smiling.

“Next up is Y/N and Shoko!” Screen Yaga announces.

You and Shoko are dressed in the most colourful outfits ever, you’re beaming and Shoko looks exhausted. Large headbands, crimped hair, tutu skirts, leggings, neon leg warmers and beads were the costume of choice as Geto stood on one side of the stage.

“Welcome to - Y/N and Shoko’s dance bonanza!” You both say, and Geto presses play so that Girl’s Just Wanna Have Fun plays to match the 80s Cyndi Lauper style outfits. Having danced ballet as a little girl, and being a big fan of Just Dance and Dance Dance Revolution - you decided that you and Shoko would do this for the show, exhausted and unenthusiastic - but endlessly loyal to her best friend and determined to not let Gojo win the show. You guys danced a perfectly in sync routine with 28 year old you shouting ‘Oh my god, I still remember the routine!’ Halfway through. Yuuji was hopping along on the sofa beside Megumi.

Before Shoko could collapse into a heap as the song finished, she was thrown over Suguru’s shoulder and hauled off stage with Gojo doing the same for you.

After a brief intermission, Geto and Gojo were welcomed on stage in matching black tuxedo’s, off camera your voice could be heard saying ‘ugh, I’m gonna climb that man like a tree later, suits are the best.’

“Ladies, gents - tonight welcome to The GS squared stand up comedy show, enjoy your night and Geto’s number is available after the show.” Gojo drawls into the mic.

Megumi didn’t expect the routine to be as funny as it was, everyone especially enjoyed the part where they did impressions of different Jujutsu Elders, including Naobito Zen’in and Principal Gakuganji - which were unnervingly accurate but highly offensive to them, especially when Gojo got on his knees to imitate how short the elder Kyoto principal was and Geto kept playing Looney Tunes on the projector to show Naobito’s ‘cursed technique’.

When the audience were thoroughly hysterically laughing, with the audience being Yaga, MeiMei, Panda, Y/N, Shoko, Yu, Kento and Utahime who was visiting Shoko for the weekend, the boys bowed, winked and walked off stage and the camera caught Gojo bending down to whisper something in his ear which had you looking at the sky and blushing - still getting used to openly loving each other.

The voting wasn’t recorded, but the winners announcement was and it was shown to be Yu and Nanami - who everyone, except for themselves had voted for.

“Oh my god, these are priceless! I can’t believe I got even funnier with age, and look at your cute little outfit, princess!” Satoru coos.

“There’s a whole box of them, we’ve only watched 2!” Yuuji says, bouncing and handing the box to you and Satoru.

“No way, it’s the whole box! I remember decorating it with Koko! Hold on, I’m gonna ring her to come here.” You say as you take out your phone, smiling at the lockscreen of Satoru, Megumi and your 6 month old son and pulling up Shoko’s contact to ring her to ‘get her ass down here for a surprise’.

“Oh, ‘toru! I bet our DVD of our trip together to Fiji in the summer of third year, Shoko lent us her came for it!” You say, wrapping your arms around him and settling in while Yuuji loads the next DVD.

“Classes are cancelled, I’ve decided it’s home movie day - do we have any popcorn?” Satoru says, smiling at how fondly Megumi is looking at the screen, a still pause screen of himself and you smiling in the training yard together - still looking as lovingly at each other 13 years later. Yuuji has his arm wrapped and Megumi’s shoulders and is leaning into him, as the dark haired boy rubs circles on his boyfriend’s knee - Nobara has her legs stretched across the laps of both boys as the newest video begins.

The door swings open, Shoko entering -

“No fucking way! You found them! Kids, move up - let Aunty Koko sit.” She says, plopping herself between the arm and her two best friends, her nephew and their bonus kids.

She’s glad she bought that camera.

[devoted-tiefling]

this comment was placed on my one post and all i gotta say is this.

warning: major spoilers for astarion's storyline

astarion finding himself running his fingers over the words carved inside of the ring, memorizing every line and scratch, until he can see the infernal words and know what it means.

astarion sitting at the bonfire or standing by his tent, one hand keeping his book open, the other rolling the ring along in his palm.

astarion desperately chasing after the ring when he drops it, his reputation be damned. he doesn't care if people make fun of him for dropping to his knees just to pick the thing up; he'll be damned again before letting the ring get anywhere he can't reach.

astarion using the ring to bring him out of his nightmares. he knows how the ring feels, knows he'd never go anywhere without it, knows that it's a nightmare if the ring feels off.

astarion always feeling the ring up in his hand when he knows he needs the luck, when he knows he needs the encouragement, when he knows he's in a dark place and he can't bring himself to come to you.

astarion knowing the ring looks more brass than gold, knows its not even worth one gold piece, knows that it's just a piece of garbage little metal; still, astarion treats it like his greatest treasure, laid among his horde of treasures, all times from you and things he'd picked up that ended up meaning something

astarion, feeling the way the metal digs into his finger as he absolutely wails on cazzador. his dream of finally being able to destroy the thing that had destroyed him has finally come true. the ring makes a deep bruise color around his finger from the impact of his punches but there's a sick satisfaction that simmers in his stomach from the idea that the ring has also made its impact on cazzadors now limp body.

astarion being doubly attached to the ring ans the person who had gifted it to him because it's managed to make all of his wildest wishes come true and isn't that exactly what the ring was for?

[filthgarbage86]

Okay I literally do not know where this came from please do not criticize or say anything about this, I do not know lol oh my gods

CW: pussy eating, praise kink, a lot of dirty talk, a lot of possessive talk mentions, primary? Is that what it’s called? The one where you’re like animalistic for the other slightly? If you squint. Squirting, filth, garbage.

Okay but can you imagine

Just imagine for a second

You and Eddie are cleaning up after hell fire. You had just recently started dating, you were maybe 2-3 months in, and sure, you had been a little intimate. A little kissing-make out sessions, harmless groping, the works. But he still hadn’t gone as much as to like..touch you.

And you see him. You know him. You know how he kisses you, you feel how much he wants you and needs you - but it’s like something is holding him back. You’re trying to figure out what.

At this point, Eddie is still packing up but is looking over at you every now and then, realizing you are deep in thought. You are checked out and somewhere else. He’d stop and stare for a moment or two, waiting to see if you snapped out of it yourself before “hey babe?” You snap up immediately, looking at him with the lights behind him, his hair still looking frizzed out and a little crazy post-session. He had been so into this session, the gang had finished the campaign and it was a long night of adrenaline. You think about the passion in Eddie’s eyes then and you think back now to this moment.

“Babe? Baaabby? Angel what’s got you so dazed out? What are you thinking about?”

You look at him, thinking about tonight, thinking about the confidence and passion and drive that he had, think about how he made you feel, and you decided right there and then-

“I think you should eat me out.”

The world is silent. You can hear a pin drop, you’re convinced. Eddie is looking at you, wide eye and processing did I really just hear that right? I’m not dreaming right?

The silence has you spiraling. You had been known to be honest and straightforward, but that was just blunt. However, Eddie’s gapping jaw soon slowly inches up becomes a big, cheeky, dorky grin of “can I right now?”

You nod and giggle nervously at his enthusiasm, not long before you’re giggles turns to oh- at him clinging to you. He’s ravishing you, covering you with heavy kisses around your face, your throat, the place behind your ears, and collarbone. He is mapping out your body and thanking you repeatedly like you had just answered his prayers.

“You have” he pauses only to move from across your throat to the other “no idea” throat to face “how long” face to chest “I’ve wanted to devour you.” He’s moving downwards with urgency but not missing an inch of your skin he can get to. He’s kneeling there, in the dungeons of the high school, grabbing at your waist, hips, ass, thighs, anywhere he can grab at you, through clothes unfortunately. Literally on his knees, look up at you with those big, brown eyes that this point are almost black. Eddie had completely turned to lust in this moment.

“Please baby, on the table” he looks at you and silently asks if he can take off your skirt/pants and you’re just nodding, already a bit in a daze. You never realized you were what was holding Eddie back.

“If I had know you wanted me like this, I would have said something a while ag- oh”

He has in that time stripped your clothes down to your ankles, put your legs over his shoulders, hooked his arms under your thighs and immediately sucked on your clit. He suckled there for a while, moaning at the taste, eating you like he had been starved and you were the first taste of relief for him. The vibrations have you a moaning mess within a few moments.

“Eddie!”

“Shhh baby I’ve waited so long to meet her, don’t bother my introduction.”

You’re blushing like a tomato at the way he’s talking to your pussy like it’s his. His to have and to enjoy. He’s not wrong, at all, especially if he treasures it this much.

He suddenly slows. Mind-numbing slows. Painfully, sinfully slow. He is spelling out the ABCs, forwards, backwards, his name to really let it be known. He is taking his sweet, precious time and you do not know how much longer you’re going to last like this.

“Eddie, honey, baby, I promise this won’t be the last time, I just really need to cum. Please baby. I really really need to cum.”

“Oh my gods first you ask me so nicely to eat your delicious pussy and now I get to eat your cum? Fuck baby, go for it, give it to me. Please give it baby, I know you can do it, cum on my mouth and give me everything you’re willing to.”

You’re blushing down to your chest and you’re sent over the edge with Eddie’s praise. His words are cut silent by the sounds of your finish echoing around the dungeon and your release dripping down his chin.

He laps up every drop of you, making sure you’re clean and he’s clean. You’ve never felt so deliciously and disgustingly wet at the same time. He stands up, wiping off his chin with his hands and licking off the excess from his fingers and looks at you like you just gave him the winning lottery ticket.

“That was a really good thought sweetheart. You should think of those thoughts more often. And let me know.”

You’re out of breathe, closed eyes still in bliss, when you breathe out “Give me a minute to rest and I’ll probably have dreamt a thing or two.”

Just you know.. imagine.

[thatfreshi]

Not if You Collect Them Like Ex-lovers (Astarion x Reader)

Tw - couple arguing

Recommended Song: This Is Me Trying - Taylor Swift

Whenever you and Astarion fight, it gets ugly. Two extremely emotional people, two people who still aren't used to letting their guard down all the time, people with faults.

"I don't understand why it bothers you."

Usually, it starts with a misunderstanding, an attempt at love, a hand reaching out to simply ask a question.

"Because Astarion, it's my house too!"

Full names, no more sweets and doves. Throwing words around like rocks, glass bottles breaking on countertops, shards, shattering.

"Yes, our house, I thought that's what you wanted? Or was I mistaken when you pleaded with me, saying you wanted this forever."

Questions lose answers, no longer searching for love, just words to defend yourself with. When the friend becomes the enemy and your throat closes up with grief, what do you do other than fight back?

"I wanted a house that at least had some semblance of looking like a house, not just your shit everywhere!"

Wounds that run deep, that need to hold onto every little thing he finds, your home decorated with the most meaningless items, things that mean everything to him. To you they're knick-knacks, some of them even garbage, and that hoarder's mentality drives you mad. The argument was so incredibly stupid, easily solved, but it's impossible to be peaceful when you never get time apart.

"Well, why don't I just take my things and leave then?"

And there he goes, escalating when he feels cornered.

"Oh right, and go where Astarion? Go burn to a crisp in the sunlight, or maybe hide in an alleyway somewhere? I'm sure that'll be so much better than living with me!"

Poking the bear, as you do when you're stressed. You know he hates the fact that he's lost the sunlight, cursed to be in a wooden box with blackout curtains.

"I'm sure you'd love that, if I just disappeared right?"

Deflecting, but also wrapping himself in insecurity. It's a test, a trick question, a puzzle.

"At least I'd have some room in this fucking house to do anything without tripping over all your useless 'treasures.'"

From trying to understand to going on the prowl for hatred, you've reached a point of no return.

"Why do you even care Tav, I just like having things! Is that so much to ask? Are they not allowed to mean something to me?"

"Not if you collect them like ex-lovers!"

Astarion opens his mouth to say something else, but trembles. Now you've done it, gone too far. He scoffs, tears leaving his eyes.

"Well then perhaps I should have another."

It's late, the stars dotting the sky like scars from teeth, allowing the vampire to storm out of the house, slamming the door. You begin to cry as well, knowing you shouldn't have said that, knowing you didn't really mean it. You're just frustrated, the stuff scattered everywhere is overwhelming, and you just don't get why it matters.

When Astarion leaves, he knows he only has a couple of hours to cool off, to think things through. It's infuriating at times, being so chained to one place, after getting to explore the world for months on end. He wasn't allowed to have things with Cazador, not anything that was his own. After the nautiloid crash, he started grabbing everything he could get his hands on. Jewelry, pretty fabrics, anything that could possibly mean anything. Now he's stuck in one place again, but a place where he can finally store all those little finds, a nice-feeling rock, a bottle that reminds him of a night stroll the two of you took. It's a comfort in a scary transition, to be allowed to keep something, anything.

While you're thinking of where he's gone, you look around at all the things Astarion has piled up on the coffee table. A couple rolls of thread from the market, ones he hasn't even started to use, a stack of books he'll probably take forever to finally read. You go through these items forever, trying to organize all the little things he's left around the place, filling drawers with memories you didn't realize were important. After clearing out most of the things in the living room, you find a small, poorly crafted ring. It's heavily scratched, but has an inscription on the inside. Your mind floods with the magical feeling of the grove, and Astarion pocketing this ring after showing the young tiefling child a magic trick. Back then, his intentions were just to show the child that your things can get snatched up so easily, but he slowly began to believe it was lucky, just as the kid said. You meditate on the thought, realizing these items, they're all either moments or possibilities. The front door opens.

Somber steps, the sound of his dagger being placed on the nearby table. You turn around and walk towards him, wrapping your arms around each other.

"I'm sorry."

You manage to choke out.

"It's alright darling, I'm being ridiculous."

You shake your head, breaking the embrace.

"No, no you're not. I was going through all of this, all of this stuff, and you're right. It all means something."

"Stupid meanings though. It's all fear Tav, fear I'm going to forget, fear I'm going to lose everything I have."

"That's okay, it's okay to be scared."

You show him the tiefling's ring.

"But we don't have to be scared anymore. We have luck on our side, right?"

He laughs, fiddling with the silly scratched-up band.

"You remember this?"

You nod.

"Of course I remember. I still don't know how you did that trick."

"A magician never tells."

You both laugh, still crying

"Gods, I thought you were so annoying."

"Well apparently I still am if you had to take that heavy of a jab at my past."

You frown.

"I-"

"I know you didn't mean it love, but we can't just say things we don't mean to get a rise out of each other."

He's become better at being the voice of reason, growing, changing.

"It's just so overwhelming sometimes. I know you're new at this whole, living a domestic life thing, but I just want to have a say in our space. That's all."

"I know, I hear you and I respect that. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made our space my space."

"I'm fine with all your keepsakes, but can we just organize them? Have a space for all your little treasures and such?"

"We do still have that extra room upstairs."

You push him.

"That's supposed to be another guest room!"

"Do we really need that many guest rooms?"

The two of you giggle to yourselves.

"You know if we can't host all our friends at once, they will throw a fit."

"Well, I'll find some way to give you some more space. I never wanted to make you feel suffocated."

You look into each other's eyes for a moment, seeing that spark again, finding that love bubble back up. Saying things you don't mean, meaning things you don't say, it's all so new to both of you.

"I know my love, I know."

You hold each other by the doorway for a while, mumbling about how to make this space work for the both of you, how when you start raising your voices, you need to just step away and rethink it. Learning to love, to truly love, to exist as one, it's such a struggle, but a worthwhile cause. After all, there's no one else you'd rather fight with.

[the-real-treasure]

Treasure Treasure!

An OPLA Sanji x Reader

Master List Here

Previous Chapter: Returning Tides of Home

Chapter Eight: Mon Cœur Est Un Petit Âne

Summary: In the aftermath of a violent duel, a head chef is forced into reusing long forgotten practices for healing with fish skin, and fish-men come claiming ownership of a ginger girl and a stolen map.

Trigger Warnings: Blood, knives, stab wounds, self-harm, self mutilation, scars, violence Word Count: 7,736 **Edited: 17/09/24**

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You sat at the small table in the kitchen with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Normally you were the last one up, having stayed up the latest to finish dishes and lay out plates for the next day. You had slept like garbage despite the comfort of being home, Zoro's words ringing in your ears and, when Sanji had woken up to prep for service that day, you had followed him down the stairs, bedraggled but desperate for the company. It was the only thing that had halted you from watching the duel, the rhythmic 'shwick' of the knife as he peeled vegetables.

You had already spent most of that morning in silence other then Sanji's movements, and you hadn't believed it would change any time soon until his voice piped up.

"Was he telling the truth, mon Cœur?" You look at him, "That Luffy boy. Are you, are you really going to go?" He doesn't move his eyes from the pile of carrot peelings he was creating. You stand and join him at the counter, taking a knife in shaking hands and begin to peel as well, albeit much slower and rougher then his nice smooth cuts.

"I thought I could help them. Him? I don't-" you blink sleep from your eyes again, "-I don't know if I can anymore, if he's even going to try." Your fingers are so stiff from holding his last night that you have to drop the knife and move the carrot around with your other hand, the rolling motion not happening for you. "Zoro is fighting that Warlord, Mihawk, this morning, and I made him so angry, and he might die and I just don't-"

Your words get caught in your throat and around your tongue, and you slur slightly as they all crash to a stop. Swallowing around them stings your throat and reminds you of sneaking sips of Zeff's good wine with Sanji at birthday parties when you were younger. You never did like the taste.

"I thought," you take slower this time, more deliberately, "that this could be our chance to go and look, just to try, but I've just messed everything up again," you dare to look up at Sanji and find he's already watching you, eyes gentle with sympathy. "I want to go." You state firmly, "But if you don't come, then I won't. I didn't mean to start an adventure without you, and I definitely won't be finishing it without you at my side."

The corner of his lips turn up and he leans down, leaving a sweet and gentle kiss to your forehead. You lean into his warmth mindlessly, like you always did. He pulls back and you open your eyes again.

"I know you wouldn't want to." He returns to his chopping, a smile back on his face, "But if you really want to go, I won't stop you. I'll miss you sure but I want you happy."

"I'm happiest with you." you answer, belief steadfast. He snorts a chuckle.

"I don't know about that, you and that Luffy boy seemed to get along great!" You miss the slight bitterness in his tone as you roll your eyes.

"First Zeff, now you, you're both ridiculous. He's my captain. Was. I dunno anymore, he's funny and silly. Smarter then he seems, but I'm sure you noticed that." You swallowed, humour dropping from your voice. "His dream was so solid, it felt like getting punched in the stomach or something. I-I wanted to keep that, that surety and I thought, maybe he could help us too." You look up at him shyly as he laughs.

"What a pair we make,” he plops the knife down on the cutting board, "the most ridiculous excuse for a pair, I have ever see."

"Oi."

"It's just us. You know, I can look after myself, I was gonna wait, we don't have to find the All Blue straight away. I was worried about you being comfortable. Happy." He shrugged as you gazed up at him "I was gonna save up, wasn't gonna let you be a dishwasher your whole life, and we were gonna go together, make sure Zeff was alright and then, I just- didn't really know when." His smile grew. "Trust us acting like this. Me thinking of you and you thinking of me."

"What other way to think is there for us?"

"What'd you think you're doing?" You both jump at the interruption, Zeff's voice ringing though the kitchen as he joins the pair of you.

"Chopping carrots, chef."

"Yeah, I can see that. But why are you doing it in my kitchen?" He limps up behind the pair of you, peering over your shoulders at your work. "I demoted you, remember?"

"That you did. But Patty's sleeping off a brutal hangover, so unless you wanna do brunch prep all by yourself..."

"Fine." Zeff begins his own prep, "You two made up then, I don't wanna see either of you moping about 'round here if yous haven't." Sanji throws him a glare, but he doesn't notice as he eyes the mauled lump of carrot in your hand. "And I'd appreciate it if you stopped mutilating my produce while you're at it."

You toss your head back with a laugh and abandon the lacerated vegetables. Zeff takes over your spot, sweeping the hunk of orange veg into the peel pile and began slicing mushrooms.

"Them carrots are cut too thick." You throw your hands in the air from your spot on the counter.

"You know I'm no help in the kitchen unless you want something burnt, chef."

"Not you, his." He snarks and Sanji gives him a dirty look in response. "And those eggs are too runny." Your best friend's eyes nearly rolled into his head.

"Give it a rest old man." Zeff ignores him, turning to you as he moves the tray of veggies, now oiled and seasoned, to sit above the oven.

"Where're the rest of your 'crew' this morning then? They haven't left you here, have they?" Sanji turns to watch the conversation, eyes curious as well. Yours shift to the ground.

"No, no they haven't left." The two blonde men are still watching you, "I, um. The swordsman, Zoro, he challenged a Warlord to a duel to become the greatest swordsman and I didn't think it would end well and told him as much..." You squeeze your lips together and your eyes burn. "I don't know if he'll survive, or if they'll want me on the crew even if he does."

"They'll be idiots not to." The gentle moment lasted for another second before, "And I can tell just by looking at that, that rémoulade needs a lot more oregano." You giggle as Sanji mouths along him mindlessly, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at you as he replies,

"Oregano is for savages." The growing argument fizzles out immediately as cries sounded from outside the kitchen as your captain comes barrelling in.

"HELP! HELP! Zoro- Zoro needs a doctor. He got into a fight with this warlord guy, but he lost." You shoot to your feet immediately, pulse pounding in your ears. "And now he's bleeding from everywhere-"

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down, chore boy. I can't understand a word you're saying."

"My friend is dying." Zeff eyes flick over to you, chest shaking as you force in deep breaths.

"Nearest doctor's on the Conomi Islands, it's a two-day sail from here."

"That's too long."

"Zeff," your voice is a whisper, "There has to be something, I can grab the first aid kit-"

"I can't help him." He rests a hand on your shoulder as your eyes go wide at him, "Hope your friend makes it." You grunt angrily as you shoot off to his office, grabbing the first aid kit and Sanji follows, pulling open the spice cabinet to hoke. "Where'd you think you're going?"

"To help their friend."

"Brunch is not gonna prep itself."

"You always told me to feed anyone who's hungry, I don't see how this is any different." Your hands are shaking so much that the kit spills open, tipping its contents over the floor as you gargle an angry yell at your useless extremities. Sanji crouches to help gather them back up as Zeff sighs behind you.

"Fine. Sanji, bring me my kitchen knives, Y/n, a bottle of our best whiskey. And a fresh yellowtail from the cooler. Bigger the better." You don't hesitate to follow his instructions, dashing off to the cooler as Sanji calls in confusion.

"A yellowtail?"

"Just do it already."

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Nami is holding a blood soaked cloth to the gaping slash across his chest when you all arrive, carting the basket of knives, alcohol and fish with you.

"Are you kidding? He needs a doctor." Zeff pulls the cloths of Zoro's chest and looks over the wound.

"Do you wanna save your swordsman friend or not?" They all watch as you place the basket on the counter to the side, Sanji pulling out the fish and rolling out the knives as Zeff uncorks the whiskey.

"Is that to sterilize the wounds?" Usopp asks shakily.

"Hell no. That'd be a waste of really good liquor." He takes a swig and his mind falls to the last time he did something like this.

Zeff stares down at you, the littler one of two little kids he had found himself responsible for after that last disastrous raid of the Cook Pirates. You sat now, two years off that bloody rock, hand flat on the counter top as you score at it -for once unbandaged- with blood pouring down the wrist of the hand that was clenched around the handle of his good knives.  Its the God damn boning knife too, the blade red streaked and bloody as it quivers in your grip.

He didn't know it now, but it wasn't from fear, that shaking. Long after the skin had healed as best it could, the shaking remained, your cuts so deep and so plentiful that they had done a number on the nerves in the fingers and palms.

For now though, for now he shouts and you drop the knife, which hits the counter with a vibrating 'twang' before skittering across the floor. You stand, dead still and eyes squeezed shut as he rushes you, ready for yelling, or perhaps a strike.

You weren't expecting him to take your elevated wrist, turning the hand over and inspecting the gouges for himself.

"Beautiful." Zeff strokes along the side of the fish before getting to work. First he removes the head in a swift chop, before filleting it, peeling meat and skin away from the bone. With precision, he scores out small cuts of the skin, laying them flat across a metal pan.

"Needle."

He swears under his breath as he pulls the thread tight, pulling your skin together before tying it off and snipping it close to the knot. You didn't move, didn't make a peep. He squints up at your blank face and mutters an apology for any pain.

"It's fine." You reply, your voice a whisper, "I can't feel anything."

Your reassurance does nothing but worry him more, a lack of feeling not being good sign if you were recover movement in your hands.

"What were you thinking." His question doesn't feel like one. "You can barely get your head round stirring a pot, what made you think grabbing a knife wouldn't end this badly." He stands, grabbing a tray of fish skin he had for some reason been meticulous when cutting.

He's making it sound like-

"-it wasn't an acciden-"

"I don't want to hear that." He slams the tray down on his desk beside you, metal and wood rattling against the force. "You," he points right into your face, "are never gonna do something like this again. Not in here, not under my roof." Gently lifting the thin stripes of fish off the tray, he lays it flat on your skin, crossing over the sutures he had just finished. "You feel like doing something like this again, or worse, you don't. You come and you find me, or Patty or Sanji. You do not sneak into the kitchen and steal my knives. You never do something like this to yourself again. You understand?" You refuse to meet his eyes, staring at the '66' and the scored out '3' that had mocked you for years. "Oi!" he snapped in front of your face, "You hear me?" Your eyes still avoid his.

"What's the fish for."

"It's an old seaman's trick. The fish skin helps staunch the wounds and heals the flesh a lot faster." Usopp peers over his crewmates' shoulders.

"Is he gonna be okay?"

"Look, I'm not gonna lie to you. He's lost a lot of blood. It might be too late for him."

"But it might not be." Luffy's eyes don't lift from Zoro's face.

"He's got one foot in each world right now, caught between life and death. You have to find a way to keep him tethered to our world. Talk to him, tell him stories. Sing him sea shanties for all I care." The crew move him carefully to one of the hanging bunks, gently laying him down on the swaying wood. "He may not reply, but at least he'll know his crew are still with him."

As you move to head back into the galley, Nami rounds on you.

"Where were you?" Her voice was tight and accusatory. "We were all there this morning, except for you." You swallowed thickly.

"He told me not to come."

"What? When?"

"Last night, I-" you ducked your head down between your shoulders. "-I had gone to speak to him, to try and convince him to stop again. It didn't go well," Your eyes dance across Zoro's still body. "He told me to got back to Baratie and to not come to the duel." Your fingers wring together, "I don't blame him, we were, very harsh to one another." Nami scoffed.

"You shouldn't have listened, you should've been there. With us."

"I know."

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"Mmm, something smells delicious." Usopp follows the scent wafting from the galley to find Luffy cleaning the Wado Ichimonji on the bench and you watching Sanji as he steamed rice and prepared fillings for more onigiri, some already sitting freshly prepared on the side.

"I just thought everyone'd be hungry, man. I know they" he gestures to you, "didn't eat last night, and there's plenty we didn't use. Never waste food."

"Cool." Usopp pinches one of the prepared ones that had been left for Luffy and bites off a small mouthful. Sanji looks over at the straw hat.

"What's the matter? Don't like fish?" He finally looks up from the sword.

"I love fish. I just need to get Zoro's sword ready for him. You know, for when he wakes up." Sanji and Usopp eye each other as he speaks.

"He's uh," Usopp wipes his face, "pretty badly hurt, man. There's an itty-bitty chance he might not wake up." Luffy continues wiping down the sword with a grin.

"Zoro's the strongest fighter I know. No way he's gonna let some warlord guy beat him."

"Well," Sanji speaks up as he moulds the rice in his hands, "you've gotta eat. Come on, if you don't want the fish, I got two-inch T-bones in the kitchen. Or, uh, maybe you're in the mood for saffron risotto?"

"His risotto's real good Luff, you should give it a try." You call from your spot beside your Sanji.

"I normally would get both, but I really gotta get the Waddy Itchy Monkey ready for him." You blink, long and slow, as Luffy's words swirl around in your brain.

"The what?"

"His sword. It's got a name." You face falls to your hands and you sigh.

"Oh."

"Luffy, it's Wado Ichimonji. Wah-do, Ichi-mon-ji." You sound out the words from behind your hands. Sanji eyes flick to you, before going back to the boy with the straw hat.

"Why?"

"I don't know. He said it was kind of special. Hey, Sanji, can you cook Zoro's favourite food?"

"Sure. What does he like?"

"Alcohol." Your voice is muffled beside him and he chuckles, eyes still focused on Luffy.

"He really likes rice balls." Sanji mumbles an 'm-hm' gesturing what was already in his hands but nodding along. "And beer, yeah. What about rice balls soaked in beer? Can you make that?" Sanji laughs and answers.

"I can make anything. Just tell me what you want."

"I want him to eat so that he gets back his strength. But I also want him to sleep so that his wounds can heal. Or maybe...maybe he just needs some water. Right? After all of that fighting, he must be awfully thirsty." He chuckles breathily, not really paying attention to their reaction to his suggestions. "But, you know, he's probably also tired, so...so yeah, we should just let him rest."

Sanji leans heavily on the counter, looking at Luffy seriously.

"Being a captain, it's the toughest job in the world, okay? Zeff once told me that making decisions is what separates a captain from the rest of his crew. And he was one of the best pirate captains that ever sailed the seas."

"Zeff was a pirate?" Luffy asked excitedly.

"Yeah. Captain of the dreaded Cook Pirates. They used to call him 'Red Leg Zeff,' 'cause his boots were always stained with the blood of his enemies."

"How'd you all meet? Were you on his crew or something?"

"Not exactly."

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By the time Sanji had finished recounting your shipwreck and stranding on that barren, inhospitable rock. You had perched yourself on the window ledge beside Zoro's almost completely unmoving body, eyes focused on the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It brought little comfort as both of your words from last night echoed through your head.

"I'm sorry Zoro." Your voice was a whisper in the still room, "I know I'm not much use if my whole power is based around guiding people to achieve their dreams and I'm telling you to stop, but I was just...scared."

Your eyes trail across his bandaged chest and your lip wobbles "Don't tell anyone but I'm a huge coward. I'm indecisive and have no idea what I want to do. I hate being like this, being afraid of consequences of actions I never take because I'm terrified of failing, but I just," you swallow back the tears desperately, "so much of the world is filled with such desperate hope. Such yearning want for something, for anything, and its all pointing in all sorts of different directions its hard not to feel empty in comparison when the people around me have something to strive for. You scared me Zoro. When we were in the galley, I thought it was because you were so so sure this was the next step to achieving your dream, but the more I felt it, and then last night again, I knew that it wasn't right. It wasn't pointing at Mihawk, not yet."

You stand, leaning over the silent man and whisper, "You need to wake up Zoro. That dream of yours is still screaming inside you I can feel it! Please don't give up on it, hang on."

With that, you leave, passing Luffy as he walks in to take his turn watching over and speaking to Zoro.

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"LUFFY! LUFFY!" Nami dashes into the galley, voice ringing through the entire ship. You and Sanji turn to her as the other boys return from Zoro's room. "The Arlong Pirates are at Baratie. We have to leave now."

"The who?" You query, sitting on the island perched beside Sanji's leaning figure, coat left abandoned in your room and tattoos exposed.

"What? Why? Why should we leave?"

"Because they're looking for you."

"Me?" Luffy asks incredulously pointing to himself.

"And the map." She turns to appeal to you and Sanji, "Those fishmen will tear this place apart if Zeff doesn't turn him over." You and Sanji spring into action, moving past the boys and sweeping out the door.

"Where are you going?"

"If Baratie's in danger, we need to be there."

"I'm coming with you."

Nami calls after him desperately. "Did you not hear what I just said? They are hunting you, we need to run."

"I'm with Nami on this one," Usopp joins in, "I'm really not trying to ruffle any feathers or scales-"

"I'm not running. We're going to protect this place."

"This isn't your fight, why would you that?"

"You fed us." Luffy and Sanji smirk at each other as Nami turns to you imploringly.

"Y/n, please, talk some sense into them, I know this crew, their captain, Arlong, has the highest bounty in all of the East Blue!"

(An orange haired woman and an orange haired girl are surrounded by trees in an orange grove)

"This is my home, Nami, they're my," Your gaze flashes to Sanji, "our people, our family. We have to protect them, we have to do something." You make eye contact with her and hold it.

(A windmill made from an orange peel.)

"You understand that?"

(A grave stone.)

"Don't you?"

(A dark room, filled only with maps and chain shackled to the floor. A little girl sits alone.)

Her eyes are wide as her eyes follow your arm, raised and pointing to the horizon out the window as your eyes swirl their colours together.

(The little girl stands, now a woman, with a blue-haired woman at her side, and a town free from a tyrant in scales.)

Her lips quiver as she answers shakily.

"You do not want to mess with him."

"It sounds like he messed with us first."

"Luffy please." She moves closer, but still is separated from the rest of you by the galley's counters. "Please."

"I can't let innocent people get hurt because of me. If those fishmen guys want a fight, we're gonna give them one." You and Sanji nod to him. He turns back to Nami and walks over to where she stands, silently fuming. "You stay with the ship and protect the map. Hmm? It's gonna be safe with you." He slaps her gently on the shoulder before you all make your exit.

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Following your captain as he slams open the doors, he moves to the railing overlooking the dining room. Lunch service is in full swing, the large room chock full of people. He leans over and calls,

"Which one of you is Arlong?" A deep voice belonging to a purple fishman with a long, spiked nose answers.

"Who is asking?"

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy. I hear you're looking for me." Arlong releases his hold of the customer and looks up at you all as you begin walking down the stairs. Sanji brings up the rear as you and Usopp followed behind Luffy, with you closer to the banister as Usopp kited the wall.

"Why, yes I am. So this is the pirate I've heard so much about? You know I was expecting someone... bigger." Luffy smiles.

"So was I." Arlong snarls up at him.

"Do you know who I am boy? I'm Arlong the Saw. Even the Marines flee before my flag." Luffy shook his head as you moved closer to Sanji, subconsciously acting as a barrier between him and the threat before you.

"Not ringing a bell. How'd you find me anyway?" Arlong smirks.

"An old friend helped me track you down." He clicks him tongue and one of the three other fishmen sat at one of the tables flips open a bag pulling free the decapitated head of Buggy.

Of course its the goddamn clown.

"Heya, Straw Hat! Did you miss me?"

"No." Your voice couldn't have been more monotone if you'd tried.

"Burpy?! What are you doing here?" Now is not the time to laugh, but you struggled not to.

"Believe me, it wasn't my first choice either. But these fine fishy folk persuaded me to point them in the right direction, which ain't easy when you don't have any hands." He chuckle to himself as you roll your eyes.

"How'd you even know how to find me?"

"I told you. I've got eyes and ears everywhere." There's a squishy squirming noise as a disembodied ear wiggles its way out of the band of Luffy's hat. The sight makes you gag as it flies back over to the clown's head as he cackles to himself. "AHA! Stereo!"

"You were listening all along? You heard everything?" Buggy nods as best he can while only a head.

"Everything. And that god old quick, 'cause you shidiots have no idea what you're doing. Hey Lips!" He hollers at the fishman sitting behind him, "How 'bout a scratch behind the old ear, huh?"

"Sorry honey"

"Oh, come on! Give a clown a break. I--" He places down the bottle he was holding and grabs atop of Buggy's head. "Oh wait! No, not back in the bag, it's so dark and wet and sandy!"

"Listen here." Arlong's voice is smooth in the silence, "I want my map, along with half of whatever you plunder as tribute. And if you bow down to me, I might even let you serve in my kingdom." Luffy's face was set in a glare hard as stone.

"I don't bow down to any man."

"I'm no man."

"Or fish." Arlong growls. "And you're no king."

"I will be when I get my Grand Line map." Luffy's serious face cracked into a smile.

"Then," he replaces his hat on his head. "You're gonna have to fight me for it."

"Then let the fighting begin." As he moves to step forward, a shot rings out and a bullet clinks to the floor between his feet.

Holding the smoking gun, Zeff glares down the barrel as Arlong turns on him. With a growl, the other seated fishman stands and smashes through Zeff's peg leg, before standing to full height and punching Zeff back through one of the tables.

As plates and glasses crash to the floor, Sanji and your voices ring out in unison.

"ZEFF!" Sanji sprints down the stairs while you bolt over the railing, running at the fishmen's table. With a swift kick, Sanji sends the one with Buggy's head flying, and he lands on the table, glaring at the one who attacked Zeff.

You instead square up to the fourth fishman, standing between him and Sanji as he stands to full height, towering over you in a combination of spackled brown and orange scales and a yellow shirt, with a long barbed tail and a wide and flat face.

While Sanji advances on the paler grey fishman, kicking and whirling around him, your chains drop from your arms, the shucking weight catching in your upturned hands as you begin your attacks, swinging the thick heavy metal at his head in an X shape before making a series of quick whipping attacks to his chest, pushing him away from the table and from Zeff, who stares at you in bewilderment. 

With a leaping kick, Sanji aims for the head of his opponent, just as yours catches hold of the spinning chains. Sanji's fishman reels back, punching him in the stomach and sending him soaring through the air only to crash into and overturn one of the tables, revealing Usopp hiding underneath. Your opponent, on the other hand, kept hold of your chains and began to spin. Pulling you off your feet with no effort, he spins and spins and spins, forcing you around and around in tighter and tighter before releasing you like a hammer in a hammer throw, sending you careening into the wall above the stairs, knocking a hole into it as you crash to the steps, rolling down them as debris cascades down around you. Usopp crawls up along side you, pushing you right side up as Sanji joins the pair of you. With a roar, Luffy swings at Arlong.

"GUM GUM PISTOL!" Though he had wound it up, Arlong catches his wrist with little trouble, ripping him off his feet and pulling him into the fishman's torso. Holding the boy by the shoulders, Arlong hurls him into one of the pillars holding up the upper floor, and he falls to the ground limp and groaning.

"Get up!" Arlong snarls. Luffy hops up, growling as he swings at Arlong, once, twice, three times, juddering him back a step each time. Arlong only chuckles. "Not bad for a human." You and Usopp haul Sanji's half-limp form up another stair. Luffy yells and strikes out again at Arlong, but he catches both of Luffy's fists and squeezes, pulling back towards himself as the length of his rubber arms diminish and force him face to face with the fishman.

"Uh...?"

"Oooh, big mistake." Arlong muses happily. "Now I'm gonna have to make an example out of you."

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You and Usopp scrabble down the dock to help Sanji haul Luffy out of the water, your arms weighing down as the sea water laps at them. You push past the wave of fatigue as you heave your captain's body up on to the wood, limp and heavy like it was weighed down with concrete.

As the boy gags and coughs up salt water, your eyes skitter across to Sanji, his strong pale chest now dripping wet. His eyes were focused on Luffy, so he missed the way your eyes glazed and your cheeks warmed as you followed the trickling path of a water droplet as it flows down the smooth contours of his sculpted chest.

Usopp does though, watching you watch him, before your aqua and gold eyes dart away to meet dark smirking ones. Luffy interrupts, lifting his head weakly with another hack and asks,

"Where's Nami?" The smirk on Usopp's face falls and you bite your lip between your teeth, sharp canines digging into the skin.

"She's gone Luffy." Your voice is quiet even to your own ears. Usopp continues.

"She's a member of Arlong's crew." His head drops back to the wood. You all look at each other as he remains quivering on the dock.

"No. She can't be."

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You and Sanji return to the wrecked dining hall as Zeff drops into a chair, all of you surveying the damage done. Sanji moves past Zeff without a word, lifting a broom and starting to sweep as you begin to right fallen tables and chairs, moving unsalvageable ones to a pile in the centre. Zeff's eyes close with a sigh.

"I don't need you to do that."

"We've got a full house tomorrow. Two dinner seatings, plus brunch." Sanji props the broom against the centre piece of the dining room, moving to clear some larger debris from the floor.

"Enough! I don't wanna hear this."

"What is your problem?"

"Me?" Zeff scowls incredulously at Sanji's question. "I'm fine, you're the one with the problem." He begins to rise from his chair.

"Zeff just stay there." Your voice is quiet behind him, but as always, both blondes ignore your tired tone and continue the argument instead.

"I'm just helping you clean up."

"Yeah, but no one asked you to, did they? So get out of my restaurant now." Sanji whirled on him.

"I told you I'm not gonna be a waiter."

"You're not gonna be anything, not if you stay here."

"Zeff..." Your tone turns from tired to warning, volume rising slightly but still they turn a blind eye. 

 "I did not save your lives so you could waste them at Baratie."

"It's not like we can just leave."

"Why the hell not? The little donkey is, to follow your dream, for you." Sanji's face curls as Zeff waves the hand not propping him up on a crutch at you.

"Because you couldn't run this place without me."

"Oh, please, little eggplant, your cooking is for shit."

"At least I don't drown everything in oregano."

"Yeah, at least I'm no the one who goes on moaning about the All Blue, only for the perfect opportunity to be hand-delivered to your ungrateful lap, to just turn your nose up at it." Sanji stills from stacking the mess of plates, glaring down at the stained table cloth. You slide up beside him and run your knuckles down his forearm.

"Sanji?" Your voice is low and soft, and his glare drops, large damp eyes turning to you. "We've been talking about going after it for forever and a day. We both want to find it, so let's. Zeff can manage things here, he has Patty and Akito and all the rest." You curl your fingers into his sleeve, tugging it towards you as you look up at him. "We can go with Luffy and Zoro and Usopp in the Merry, go rescue Nami and head for the Grand Line. It has to be there, we can finally find it for ourselves."

Your whispering only grows more and more excited as you go, eyes lighting up and swirling together as you beam up at him. Sanji turns a reluctant gaze on the man who had looked after and protected you both for the last nine years, only to find a stubborn glare in place on his face.

"If it means that much to you, go find it." He snarks bitterly. Sanji lifts the tray of crockery and spins away from you.

"Do you want us to quit? Is that what you want?"

"Quitting is staying here, it's giving up before you've even started looking!" His voice ricocheted off the tall walls and high ceilings as he blared at the younger man. "It's letting down the one person," his eyes flick to your figure, once again hiding in the shadow of your Sanji, "who has stood by and supported you every single moment. Don't you get it? It's one thing to have a dream. It's another to go after it."

Sanji steps back, falling in line with you as he stares Zeff down.

"Chore boy offered me a spot on his crew alongside Y/n." Your ears prick up and your figure straightens, "Maybe I'll take him up on that offer." He takes a grip of your arm, dropping the tray onto the table behind you both as he turns from Zeff.

"You want my permission, you've got it." With an angry kick to one of the knocked down chairs, Sanji pulls you into the back of house, screaming over his shoulder.

"FINE!"

"FINE!"

With quick steps and angry breaths raging through his chest, Sanji pulls you with him as you take the stairs up to the staff quarters two-at-a-time.

He throws open the door to your room, grabbing a duffle bag before starting to throw things from the small shared closet in, extra shirts and suit trousers, socks and underwear and his chef knife set, huffing and puffing the whole time.

You move much slower, lifting your coat from the hook, and gently tossing a few spare undershirts and overshirts, tank tops and small clothes, and a few pairs of your long, baggy, big-pocketed trousers going in as well. From under your bed you pull the dusty and decrepit wooden box that housed your sewing and embroidery kit.

A gift from Zeff to try and help work on the unwavering shake in your hands, it became a hobby you had invested huge amounts of your time to, most of your clothing bearing colourful thread designs or whirling swirling patterns. Your trouser pockets are emblazoned with scattered fish amongst rippling waves. You have a waistcoat -one you throw into your bag after a moment of consideration- that is spackled with vibrant flowers across the still waters of the turquoise fabric. Sanji and Zeff and Patty and Akito and Carne and all the other chefs have pocket squares and hankies and towels and shirts and skirts littered with designs of all shapes and sizes.

A small smile grows across your face and you tuck it away in the folds of your cloths, and tuck a few extra miscellaneous bits and pieces into the bag around it. You turn to watch Sanji for a moment.

"I'm going to go down." Your voice shakes him from his muttering reverie, and he looks at you. "I want to check on Luffy and Zoro, and make sure Usopp hasn't set the ship ablaze." He snorts.

"Mon cœur, of all the people in that little crew of yours, it isn't Usopp I'm worried about starting a fire." You scrunch your nose up at his quiet chuckles.

"That's because you don't know him yet." His chuckling dies down and he gazes up at you, eyes soft and gentle for you. "I'm going to say goodbye to Zeff as well." His eyes drop to the carpet and glaze over slightly. "If you want to join me...?"

"Not yet, mon cœur." His voice is hushed and tight. You don't push him. "Maybe later."

"Course, Sanji. I'll see you soon, okay? Don't take to long."

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You find Zeff exactly where you expect, hunched over his desk in the office at the back of the empty kitchen. He's pouring over papers, shoulders and moustache braids sagging. He looks over his shoulder with the sound of creaking hinges, watching as you let it hang open, the unusually silent and cold kitchen casting a gloomy atmosphere throw the little dark room.

"What'd you want? I'm busy." He turns away again, lifting and shuffling papers as you let the bag drop in the doorway. You take your seat beside him, stool still so low you have to bend your legs up to your chest to sit comfortably.

"Thought you deserved a proper goodbye, given I know I won't be back for a while this time." His body stills it's shuffling, fingers creasing the paper as his grip tightens. "I want to thank you Zeff. For looking after us, and taking us with you. Making sure we were looked after, even if you were a bit of a brute about it at times." He snorts at you, but doesn't look over. "You have no idea how good it was, to have somewhere where we were safe, where Sanji was safe, and we didn't have to fight just to-" your voice caught, "-just to live, ya know? We owe you a whole lot and I don't know when, or if, we'll be able to repay you." You trail off into silence, joining the head chef in quietude for a moment.

"Repay me," his voice breaks the still moment between you, "by staying safe. And staying good. Even if you become the fiercest pirates the sea has ever seen," his gaze drifts to you, "you keep good. Don't go starting trouble, especially if it's already looking for you." A small smile graces your face.

"I'll try. Can't promise, with this new captain of ours, but I'll try." His large hand, big enough to almost ingulf your face, drops on to your head and scratches at your scalp a moment.

"That's all I ask."

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You've just arrived on the deck of the Going Merry when you hear your captain screaming his first mate's name. You join Usopp, who had greeted you upon arriving, in dashing down through the tight passages to make it to the newly conscious man.

"Zoro!" You both cry out with relief when you seem him, eyes open and fist to Luffy's chest. Usopp pulls back, trying to hide his over excited reaction and finishes cooly, "I wasn't worried for a second."

"Shut up, Zoro-" you point at the man's face and he raises an eyebrow at your finger, "- you are never allowed to nearly die in a duel again. Not ever, especially not if we're so far from any medical help!"

"Noted." His voice is monotone, but a small smirk curves along his lips. Luffy thrusts his hand into the air, yanking the man into a painful position as he screams in joy.

"HE'S ALIVE!!" Luffy drops his arm gingerly as he groans in pain before Usopp starts up again.

"And I told 'em. I said 'You'd better not mess with the Straw Hats!'"

"Ya!" You all watch as Usopp mimes and mimics the noises of an intense fight.

"Sent 'em swimming for their lives."

"You scared 'em off, huh?" Usopp agrees instantly. "The Great Captain Usopp."

"So, what do we do now? Plot a course for the Grand Line?" You purse your lips.

"How?" All three look at you. "We don't have our navigator." Usopp blinks at you.

"But I thought we were going after the One Piece?"

"We are," Luffy assures, "but we can't do it without our whole crew. First..." He pulls the hat from around his neck and plops it on his head, adjusting the straps at his chin, "we're going after Nami."

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You are checking off the list of inventory as Usopp carried yet another barrel up on to the deck.

"Lot of dried meat in these barrells." It thumps down beside three others laden with jerky, and several crates of the juices of lemons and limes, "you think we brought too much?" Zoro peers up at your captain as he clambers ungracefully about the rigging.

"You know who you're sailing with?"

"Yeah."

"Mmm."

"Heard you guys need a cook." All heads spin towards the dock below, where a grinning Sanji stands, looking up at you all with his duffel bag over his shoulder. You let out a squeal so high that both Zoro and Usopp wince as you run to greet him, and Luffy cheers from his spot dangling above you.

"YEAH! Yes we do!" Luffy's cheer roars out as he begins to clamber down and you throw your arms around Sanji, squeezing him tightly as he laughs.

"I'm so glad you came." You're whispering, but he can hear you just fine as he squeezes back, only releasing his grip as Luffy appears by you both. The captain's hand claps his shoulder as he beams.

"Welcome aboard." As you follow Sanji further on to the deck, Zoro peers at the pair of you.

"Why are we bringing the waiter?"

Usopp answers easily. "Because we can't boil water."

"Not without starting a fire anyway!" You chime in merrily, clinging loyaly to Sanji's side once more.

You watch as Luffy and Usopp work to drop the sail, flicking at the ropes and tying them in messy knots. You shake your head, leaving them too it as Luffy releases the jib sail and takes ahold of the rudder, and you join your Sanji atop the sterncastle facing Baratie as the men on dock cast you away. The Merry begins to part from Baratie and you spot Zeff, Patty and the rest of the cooks watching as you start to sail away. You lean just to the left of the still broken rail and Sanji stands a step behind you. He begind to walk back to the main deck as Zeff yells up to him, your goodbyes already complete even as your eyes begin to water.

"HEY SANJI!" He turns immediately, joining you against the rail. "You keep your feet dry."

"Goodbye Zeff." His throat catches in his throat and he doesn't even manage to pull away completely before turning back again. "You know, all these years, living under your shitty roof, cooking at your shitty restaurant..." His eyes turn redder and redder as tears gather in his waterline and you take his hand, nails digging into your skin as he speaks. "I owe you my life! Thank you for putting up with my shit all these years, old man." A tear runs down his face and you wipe at it as gently as you can, your own eyes stinging as his lip quivers. "I'll never forget you, Zeff!"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

"Sooo..." Sanji is running his hand over the varnished grain on the railings as you lean with your cheek smashed against his arm. You blink an eye up at him, but don't move. "When did you work out that whole," he runs a fingertip along the tattoos etched into your skin, "chain situation then?" You breath deeply, repositioning your head to lean your chin on him instead.

"You saw my bounty poster, yea?"

"Yea love."

"Round about then. I..." you pull at your fingers and turn your eyes away. "...Might be from an island called Gaka. In the Grand Line." His eyes don't waver from your face. "There was a man in Syrup Village who had the same tattoos. I'm assuming he was from the island himself." You run your nails along the grooves in your skin. "He was able to drop the chains out of his arms and even control how they coiled and moved from a distance. It was, mostly, instinct." Your voice, already low, dropped even lower as you continued. "He was going to kill me and I didn't want to, so I struck back."

"He dead?" You blink and look up at him. His eyebrows are creased down and he's frowning at a small indent in the wood.

"What?"

"Is he dead? He hurt you, tried to kill you, is he dead?" Your teeth worry at your bottom lip as you look up at him.

"Yes." The crease on his brow eased slightly and he took your hand in his.

"Good."

A moment later, Usopp moves past Zoro to the main deck, calling to Luffy past the pair of you.

"So, we're... we're going after Nami, but how're we gonna find her?"

"Yeah, we don't even know where she is."

"Somewhere... with orange trees..." The words are mumbled, your face now buried back into Sanji's shoulder one deck below Luffy.

"I know someone who does."

You all join him below deck as he pushes a bag down around the disembodied head of a blue-haired clown. Luffy stands next to the table looking proud of himself as Sanji and Usopp watch on in horror and morbid curiosity. You and Zoro look at each, already done with the situation.

"Hello boys!" You duck your head closer to the green haired swordsman and he moves his own in closer.

"I vote we get the location and then throw him overboard." You don't see Sanji glaring at the other man's proximity to you.

"Agreed."

Next Chapter: Treasure Troves in Orange Groves

[aggravatetheaxe]

dethklok plays WoW

Nathan - main tank. Horde of course. Probably orc. His only toon. Absolutely a blood death knight both for aesthetic and because you know he's pulling top dps in addition to holding agg on everything in the room. Guild leader, does not take his title seriously but will still kick your ass if you bail on raid night. likes pvp but prefers pve

Pickles - plays mostly trolls, has 2 or 3 toons, probably also has an ugly forsaken and an ugly goblin (although goblin is a later race so depends on the year). Cat druid, often forced to spec into healing because mythic dungeons are only 5 man. But prefers to be cat or combat rogue. Incredible dps when he's allowed to do dps. not nurturing at all as a healer, WILL let you die if you piss him off (unless you're Nathan, but Nathan never dies). loves both pvp and pve but gets super steamed during pvp

Skwisgaar - paladin paladin paladin. Belf, of course. has secret female alts as well as secret ally alts. constantly adding his girlfriends to the guild and taking shit from the bank without asking. But he doesn't get in trouble because his dps is second to none - topping the charts even over Nathan. Ret pally, could technically heal with holy but his dps is just so insane that they can't afford to have him healing. pvp is beneath him

Toki - altaholic. Lots of female toons, lots of ally toons, gets bullied for both. Really wants to main a hunter so he can have a bunch of cute animal companions (and because it would be easier dps) but the others say that's gay so his main is a frost DK. the others make him spec into unholy because his crowd control brings clusters together so that Skwis and Nathan can wipe them out. So, so fucking angry that he never gets to do any actual dps because his plagues never get the chance to stack - and despite knowing it's a DOT issue the others clown on him for being the absolute bottom of the dps chart. pvp is too hard for him, no one protects him and everyone picks on him

Murderface - orc arms warrior and tauren fury warrior, dps but mostly off tank. makes cringe jokes (abt both native americans and milking) if tauren. One secret ally toon (human no less), also a warrior, that he uses to /walk around stormwind and RP badly. constantly brags about his dps but he's actually garbage, only above toki. makes a big deal out of his rank in the guild but he actually has no bank privileges. loves self harm through pvp

Charles - undead disc priest. a few alts, equal numbers male and female but almost all undead. probably a GM. heals when pickles is on dps and there's room or in a raid setting. guild treasurer, full bank permissions, has to constantly police the boys and spends thankless hours filling the bank back up with pots, food, etc. Also in charge of recruiting, so he should just be guild lead at this point but he dutifully never complains :) plays an affliction warlock and a couple rogues (combat and assassination) on a different server, when the boys give him one free fucking moment to do his own thing

Magnus - used to be a super powerful destro warlock that matched skwisgaar in dps. was super involved in the guild, help build it into what it was, contributed lots of materials, consumables, and money to the bank. Recruited some of their best players. after a horrific falling out (he was the asshole in the situation; controlling, etc) he was kicked from the guild and replaced. has since (due to wotlk) abandoned his warlock for a death knight. now he has a forever grudge and badmouths dethklok any chance he gets, but the majority of the server knows he's the drama so he has trouble finding others to play with. because of this he's been forced to switch over to alliance side. hence he falls in with...

MMA & the revengencers: MMA is yet another DK, probably blood, guild lead of the revengencers - rival guild to dethklok, constantly butting heads with them in pvp, ganking their low level members/alts, just generally being a nuisance. MMA wants revenge for Nathan (with the help of GM charles) getting his OG account banned

Edgar - human arcane mage main ("actually, the rotation is quite simple"). has lots of female alts. treasurer of the revengencers, takes everything way way way too seriously. Definitely works for blizzard or is a GM. very tense, sometimes outright hostile, relationship with Charles despite being essentially coworkers. "umm you sir have won the internet" "updoot" guy in chat. full collection of mounts, even the rare and/or limited edition ones

[andisupreme]

One funny thing about my little lady, Tidbit, is that she looks so sweet in photos. So angelic.

And yet the two facts you need to know about her are

The moment a piece of trash appears, she's stealing it. The moment I'm done with something and it becomes "trash", she has teleported onto the desk or my lap and it belongs to her now. She's stolen flosser picks out of my goddamn mouth. I can't have open garbage cans because that's just a new spawn point for Tidbit Treasures. I keep finding hoards of wrappers and pens and trinkets she's stolen. She stole a mini pride flag. I woke up to a scuffing noise once and turned on my phone light to see her dragging my sneaker away like the NYC subway pizza rat. Goblin behavior. Prize-motivated. Is just intelligent enough to have a sense of right and wrong and deliberately make the choice to do crime when the option presents itself.

It's difficult to know when she's actually seriously mad because she only has one urgency level when it comes to complaining. Which is an 11 on a 10 point scale. Any wrong against Tidbit receives the exact same level of screaming. She'll reach the same decibel level when I drag her into the shower for a flea bath as when I gently nudge her closer to pet for a few seconds. (And it's only the initial relocation she loathes, of course. After a moment when the relocation is over she's purring over getting pet but how DARE I move her somewhere without her say so.) From the gravest injustice to a minor momentary inconvenience, all is met with a righteous AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

And yet because of my living circumstances, I haven't had anyone around to socialize her with so the moment a stranger walks in the door, this noisy, annoying (<3) opinionated little Creechur completely disappears. Goes ghost. My dad swears he wouldn't know I have a second cat if he didn't see her in my window from time to time. It feels like she's purposefully acting like a shy little baby around others just to undermine me and my stories about her. She's doing this on PURPOSE. IT'S ALL YET MORE CRIMES.

[indecenthoney]

"One Too Many"

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

I never really had an eventful life. Not because I haven't lived it, it's just that there is a certain comfort to being at home. I'd love to go to a party with friends, but I'm not the best at talking to randoms. But one random night, just like any other night, I got a call from one of my friends asking me to pick them up. It so happens that my friend wasn't doing so good at this party. I quickly rushed over to pick her up. She smelled of booze; carrying herself in a drunken stupor. My other friend managed to open her phone and call me up. They continued to party while I was tasked to bring her home. Not quite how I wanted to spend my evening but what are friends for? I guess.

"Hey... Dude... We're here... Get out... What do you mean you can't walk? Fuck... Of course, you can't walk... Do you know how shitty your tolerance is with alcohol? I mean... Why the fuck are you drinking? What do you mean don't be mad at you?!? Don't you dare start crying... Ughhh... Okay... Okay... fuck... I'm sorry for shouting at you... Tomorrow I am lecturing you till your ears bleed... Get up... I'll drop you off... Careful... careful... Where are your keys? Uhuh... Alright... If you need to vomit... I left your garbage can next to your bed... Call me in the morning..."

After settling her in, I quickly made my way to the door only to be stopped by a quiet voice. Something that I would usually ignore but quickly followed a barrage of tears and sniffles. How could I leave her alone?

"Nooo, I wasn't leaving... I was just going to grab you some water... What's wrong? Do you need to vomit? No? Thennnn.... why are you crying? You don't wanna be alone... Did something happen at the party that I should know of? There was a guy... and he was hot? And you wanted to bring him home... but you said what? Oh my fucking god... You didn't... No shit that would scare him off... Okay okay... I'm sorry I'm sorry... So you're upset that you screwed it up... It's okay we all fuck up sometimes... What? Dude you're plenty pretty... You'll get another chance... Maybe next time don't drink too many drinks before trying to flirt with someone... Especially if you plan on bringing them home..."

I was jealous. I shouldn't be complaining seeing as how I never made an effort to put myself out there. Plus I wasn't exactly ugly or bad-looking. It's more like a hidden treasure type of deal. Under the scowl and heavy clothing, I had a good smile and I was pretty hot. I just never really had the confidence to show myself off or flirt. What's more, is that I always wanted someone to come up to me and shoot their shot. Hearing her talk about some random guy, irked me. But, I hid away the jealousy and wiped away her tears. Searching through her drawers for some tissue to clean her snot-filled nose. She's such a baby when she's drunk.

"Here... Blow your nose for me... Thank you, good girl... I'm going to grab you some water and I'll be back... Promise... What do you mean you don't want me to leave? You really need to sober up... Yes, I'm not going anywhere... What? C'mon, use your words... What do you need? It's hot? Uhm... then go get changed... Help you? No way... I am not going to help you... Do you even understand what you're asking me right now? Hi hello... It's me... Your friend... That'd be weird... Okay okay... stop crying jeez... I'm going to pick out your pajamas...Alright... I'll just be right there... You can see me still... Ugh, dude... I'm literally a few steps away... Fine okay... You can hold my hand and follow me... Better? Good... Yes yes... the fluffy pajamas I know..."

There was a certain appeal to her vulnerability. Funny enough, it's like seeing Batman cry. A rare event. Seeing her cling on to me was nice. Despite that, I had to steel my resolve to get through what came next. Undressing her. I had her sit down on the bed. Unbuttoning her blouse. Lifting her shirt. And finally, finding myself shaking while unhooking her bra. A little difficult considering my eyes were shut. But it was my weak attempt at keeping my morals in check.

"C'mon put your arm through... There we go... Good... Alright wriggle outta that skirt... It looks uncomfortable... You're making me feel hot... Now... Im going to turn around while you put these on... Help you? You're joking right... You're probably just sober and teasing me now... Why would do I have to help you put on panties? I know you're wobbling but... Fine, let's just get this over with..."

Little whimpers escape her lips; each leg is fitted through her panties. Doing my best to stare at the floor than to look at her bare pussy. My thumb grazing along her thighs. A slight tremble feeds back into me. A glance reveals a newly formed wet spot. Upon release, I found my hands around her soft hips. I look back at her; only to find her breathing heavily unsure of what to do with herself. She quickly places herself atop me without a word.

"H-hey... Uhm... We still have to put your pajama bottoms on... Are you-... Wait... Woah woah... S-slow down... You're just a little drunk... Let's slow down before you regret something... I really don't wanna- Mmmph... Mmm...."

Lips interlocked. Time passes both slowly and quickly. Hips picking up speed to ease the tension. My morality slowly crumbled with each and every kiss. Each and every grasp of her body leading us deeper and deeper into sin. Even if she did initiate, I found myself slowly gaining dominance. My entire body leaning into her; needing more. Wanting more. Even her kisses began to stifle at my relentless assault. She gave off a look of complete submission as if to say anything to ease that burning sensation. But enough with pretty words, all I really wanted to do right now was to fill this room with her pretty little moans. My hands finding their way south; rubbing along the newly formed wet spot. Teasing her. An incoherent and feeble attempt at communication was made. Her protests were brought to a halt with every little slide of my thumb. She soon realized the more she put up a fight, the more I would tease her. No amount of bratting would have gotten her out of that situation.

"You're squirming an awful lot... What's wrong? Oh, is that it? Such a needy baby... You want more? What a greedy little girl... Not enough stimulation? What? Unsatisfied? Because I don't fuck you like how the other guys do? Shove my cock into your pretty little holes until completion? Yeah... We don't do that here... You've never been teased properly before, have you? Well, that's no fun... Why don't we fix that? Listen you can fuck whoever you want... however you want... But you're with me right now... And if you want my attention... you're going to have to listen... Let's see... I'll give you what you want... But on the condition that I get to freely do as I please... And all you have to do is sit there and take it... If you can last three minutes without whining or cumming... You can use me however you want... Do we have a deal?"

Not that she was in any position to decline. It was just amusing seeing her struggle to behave. I don't blame her. Kind of hard to resist when the one thing you've been waiting your whole night to have is just right there in front of you. And you can't do a thing about it. It's like placing a treat on a dog's nose. Lesson being, good pups that wait will get their reward. Her hands cover her mouth. Eyes rolling back with every flick of my thumb. Her pussy dripping wet from all the attention.

"Look at you... Doing such a good job... Why so quiet, love? Does it not feel good? Maybe I should rub a little faster then... There we go... Now I can hear you... What was that? Use your words, girl... Slow down..? Now why would I do that? When you're such a drippy little mess... you're basically forming a puddle under us... Aren't you ashamed? Making such a filthy mess... Almost there, sweetheart... Two more minutes..."

Two hellish minutes which seemed like forever. I can only imagine what's going on in her head. To make things worse, my touch slowly lost its vigor. Strokes of my thumb dwindle to a tiny tap on her needy clit driving her restless. An incoherent babble of words. A slight buck in her hips to rub herself against me. It would seem she wasn't aware of what she was doing at this point. All she knew is that she needed to cum. Ten seconds remain. I'll tell you now that I am a pretty sore loser when it comes to these sorts of deals. Without a thought, I was also nearing my limit. Sliding myself into her. I could quickly feel her warmth envelop me. It was nearly impossible to stop thrusting into her. It felt as if she was cumming with each and every thrust.

"Cumming again? How many times was that? Oh? It hurts? You can take it, sweetie... I'm almost there... Just a little longer, alright? I promise... and while you take a break... I'll use you're pretty little mouth... and we'll go for another round or two, yeah? I know you're shaking... but this is what you wanted, right? To be fucked senseless? Now just stay there and... take it... Be a good girl... and take it... F-fuck... "

I lost count of the number of times I came in her that night. Bent over the desk. All around the bed. The living room. The shower. On the couch. Even in the hallway of her apartment. I wouldn't be surprised if someone saw us. But we didn't care. Or well, I didn't care. By the end of the night, I had her mindlessly moving her hips on my cock. Up and down. Unattentive to how much time has passed. A cock drunk little slut waiting on every little word that escaped my lips. I knew then that life was going to be a little less boring.

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

Respectfully,

Honey

[agentshades]

Things My Wife Has Said While Playing Baldur's Gate Part 4!

That's right, after an extended break playing Alan Wake 2 (twice...Final Draft is worth itttttt) we're back to Baldur's Gate and @everyoneinmckinneyisdead is still snarky

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

---

Halsin: "Speak to Rath, for your reward."

Kesley: "I've already done enough for you man, dont make a fetch quest out of the rewarrrrddd." 

---

Karlach: "Wait up for me, I'll come find you after the others have gone to bed." *walks away and quietly does a little fist pump while saying "Yes!"

Kelsey: "SUBLIME!"

---

Kelsey: *after a conversation with Gale* "What does erudite mean?" 

Me: "I'm actually not sure."

Kelsey: "GOOD. Now you'll know what it feels like to have to google something."

---

Astarion: "I was hoping for more than a pat on the head and...vinegar for wine."

Kelsey: "You drink blood! You don't get to have an opinion on fine wine!" 

---

*when debating telling someone about being infected with a mind flayer tadpole*

Kelsey: "I'm hesitant to tell people about this because they either offer me some garbage fake cure thing or they point at you and say 'The pox! A devil sits upon thee!'"

---

Me *inspecting some enemies we're about to fight* "Death...Shepherd?"

Kelsey: "Death Wrex."

---

Me: "Oh I think we walked too far, that's the body of that racist woman that tried to kill us."

Kelsey: "Everyone in this realm is racist. And most of them try to kill us!"

--- 

Kelsey: "Hey did you know that you can Zelda stuff?" *smashes barrels*

(Six seconds later)

Kelsey: "Um, so don't Zelda *all* the barrels because some of them uh...blow up." 

---

*in the myconid treasure vault, Kelsey finds a book on Flumph mating rituals*

Kelsey: "Imagine, if you will, that you're a soldier. You save the kingdom,and the king says "Go in to my private treasure vault, and take whatever you find inside. And you go inside. And its spore porn. It's sporn."

---

*Upon leaving the myconid colony*

Kelsey: "I have to check and see, cause I'm sure someone on AO3 has written some sporn."

*searches*

Kelsey: "Wow, nothing. Honestly I'm kind of disappointed in the internet."

[cosmic-glow]

Warnings: Kakuzu x gn!reader; bad language!; Kakuzu being slow with his own feelings; SFW.

Everyone at Akatsuki was used to the treasurer's standard bad mood, the only time he seemed calm was when he was counting his money, but lately not even that. The organization wasn't doing badly, on the contrary, now with one more member they were even more in demand for missions. The new member was you, another wanted S-rank ninja. Even though you often worked alone, you were able to carry out missions perfectly, which was admirable given that you were one of the youngest members.

You were feared, but not by the people in the organization, just as you didn't fear any of them, which is why you were so friendly with everyone, always making conversation and offering to help. That got on Kakuzu's nerves.

You were beautiful, smart, educated, skilled and above all kind, what the fuck were you doing in that end of the world surrounded by murderers and terrorists? Of course, you were also wanted for murder and several other things, but you had everything to be someone more decent, why did you end up there? Why was you always smiling? Why did it torment Kakuzu's thoughts so much? You were the reason he was so stressed, he couldn't get you out of his head and he still didn't know why, or rather, he ignored the obvious reason.

- Whoa, hey Kakuzu! I just got here, need help with something? - you entered the office, as if you had just read his mind.

- No. - he said wanting you to leave him alone again.

Kakuzu was without his usual mask, his hair tied back in a bun, more at ease, he turned to face you with those piercing green eyes, the usual frown even clearer. It was the first time you'd seen him like this, the first time you'd seen his scars on the side of his mouth, the seam badly done because it was the first he'd done, and even so you didn't tremble, you didn't waver a single muscle, you kept smiling. How did you manage to be so kind-hearted and so cold-blooded during fights? How could you attract him more and more? The "stress" only increased.

- Did something happen? You look angry.

- You should have gotten used to it by now. - he turned his back, hoping that by the time he turned again you would have gone, but that's not what happened.

- Are you sure you don't want help?

- Are you deaf or what? Get out of here.

From the peripheral vision, Kakuzu could see you taking a deep breath, trying to control yourself, but you couldn't take it, you slammed your hand against the table letting out an "okay, I'm done!", he looked up at you, surprised but not wanting to show it , it was the first time he saw you get worked up.

- Every time I try to have a civil conversation with you it's like this, since I joined I hear how you provide everything I ask in advance compared to the other members, but every time I try to be nice to thank you you treat me like garbage, Tell me man, what the fuck did I do to you?! - your breathing became irregular after releasing everything that was tormenting you.

- ... What did you expect from me? A "welcome" along with a golden star every time you returned from missions? Look around you, we're not that kind, don't feel special just because I thought to be kind to you in your early days. We are not friends, don't act like it.

- Then why do you still care? Why do you still think of me before them?!

- Look, actually I'd love not to think about you all the fucking time if you ask me! I just thought that if I got rid of your problems soon, I would stop thinking about you too!

Kakuzu, blinded by not wanting to accept what he was feeling, couldn't understand the feeling either, which he interpreted as anger, but your face flushed as you suspected what it was, understanding what he was feeling better than he did.

- Do you think about me? - your voice softened.

- More than I'd like! Your stupid face keeps popping up in my head! It doesn't let me concentrate on anything! - he complained, still not understanding what he felt and making it even more obvious to you.

Realizing that he had no idea of the weight of his own words, you laughed, finding it cute how even though he has 5, the heart was still a mystery to Kakuzu.

- Maybe you worry? For some reason? - you suggested when you noticed him staring at you, even more irritated because of your laugh.

- Yes I do, and that's the problem, it makes no sense. But when I realize it, I've already convinced Pein to leave you with the safest mission, I've ordered your weapons, I've done everything and it still doesn't seem enough, I feel like I'm sick - he sits tiredly in the armchair, covering part of his face while pressing the back of the nose.

Then a little guilt falls on you for laughing at him. You forgot that Kakuzu was much older than you, he shouldn't even remember what it was like to be attracted to someone, to fall in love, to love. He was now a cold-blooded killer, with his only reliable friend being his money, and after so many years it was obvious that he would no longer remember what it was like to want to care for someone. It had only been a few years for you and yet the idea now of wanting to protect someone without an obvious motive, written in capital letters on a piece of paper with a reward amount next to it, was also strange.

- Look, if you must know... It's the first time in a long time that someone cares about me like this - you tried to fix things. He looked at you for a while, silent.

- Well... It's the first time in a long time that I'm worried like this about someone too - he spoke, finally understanding what it could be.

You softly smiled at him, both of you curious as to where this would lead.

Sorry for any typos;

Buy me a coffee?

Drabbles Game

Masterlist;

[blueiscoool]

Lost and Found: Bottle Hunter Digs Extraordinary Farmland Treasures

Tom Askjem is a time traveler. Every May to November, he disappears into the bowels of the earth, descends to depths of 13’-plus, and returns to the surface with treasure—bottles and glassware from farming’s past.

After 1,800 pits and hundreds of thousands of relics, Askjem is equal parts archeologist, thrill seeker, and mole. Muscle on dirt, the North Dakota farm boy has turned an addiction into a career, multiple books, and a captivating YouTube channel with millions of views. However, Askjem seeks more than glass.

“I’m digging for adventure, history, and love,” he says. The past is in these holes and there are countless numbers of them across farmland.”

Time to hunt with a master.

The Infection

On the flats of extreme eastern North Dakota’s Traill County, Askjem, 32, prepares for a dig trip. “No mountains and no hills in the Red River Valley,” he describes. “You can see your dog run away for days. The land is mostly featureless, other than a few big cottonwoods and shelter belts where farms used to be.”

A mop of blonde hair sits atop a 6’-tall, lanky frame as Askjem saddles his pony—a Honda Civic. At the current mileage rate, the Civic will be junkyard fodder before it has a scratch: 60,000 backroad miles added to the odometer in the past six months.

Askjem piles layers of gear into the trunk, including three of each tool for insurance: shovels, pronged garden forks, trampoline pads, probe rods, buckets, plastic scoopers, trowels, tents, sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, air mattresses, clothes, and waterproof, Redwing leather work boots.

“It never gets old,” he says, wearing a wide grin. “I caught the infection when I was a kid.”

Digging Bodies

Pushed from the Grand Forks area by the historic Red River flood of 1997, Askjem moved to a farm outside Buxton at six years young. The main property was an 1878 homestead—a progression from sod house to log cabin to the present standing 1898 farmhouse decked in Victorian-era woodwork and hardware.

Surrounded by history, including the skeletons of old wagons and rusting machinery, Askjem explored a 5-acre patch of woods on the property, and chanced on a garbage dump: pop bottles and trash.

Askjem dug.

“I went deep and found stuff going back to 1898. When you’re a kid living in the country, there’s no going down the street and there’s no hanging with friends to play video games—you make your own adventure. I started hitting up all the farmers I could find for leads.”

Behind the wheel of a rattling go-cart, Askjem sought Buxton old-timers and collected tips on abandoned houses. “They all helped me,” he says. “Nobody cared where I hunted because I was just a little kid exploring for all the right reasons.”

“I’ve still got an elementary school journal with an assignment describing my weekend,” he adds. “I wrote, ‘Me and Mom dug up old bodies.’ The teacher marked my paper out of concern,” Askjem describes, with an easy, deep chuckle. “I meant to spell bottles, not bodies. But it shows I was truly hooked.”

Indeed. Wonderfully hooked.

Soft Landing

Why are bottles buried under farmland and old house sites?

Prior to plastic and synthetics, glassware held everything: medicine, hygiene products, alcohol, soda, and beyond. Glass was it.

Additionally, prior to waste disposal services, homeowners discarded trash on-site—in back yard outhouses, trash depressions, burn pits, and wells or cisterns. In short time, the various ground receptacle spots were filled and forgotten.

“Let’s say, for example, a family moved in around 1880,” Askjem explains. “That site likely has two or three outhouse locations prior to World War l. The outhouse spots filled up at a rate according to family size. I dug one farmhouse site that had six outhouses in a 10-year span. Folks went into the outhouses and threw away bottles: medicine, opiates, beer, whiskey. It was convenient and private, and had a soft landing, and got covered quickly. Even now, the bottles often are still preserved.”

“Generally, these houses also had a burn pit and/or dump pit. In the early days, they burned all trash in the stove for heat. Also, homestead bucket wells were filled up with trash and bottles once they were replaced by pump wells. Cisterns also were eventually filled up, but most of those are associated with houses in town.”

And the sites remain, he emphasizes, hiding intact relics beyond the reach of farm machinery or tillage equipment.

X Marks the Spot

Location. Location. Location. Other than a tip or invitation, how does Askjem find dig sites?

X marks the spot, at least in the county courthouse or public library. He spends winters poring over early property transaction documents. “I look at lot sales. If several lots sold for $100 each in 1880, but one sold for $1,000 in 1885, the price climb tells the story and likely represents a building location.”

“I also read old newspaper archives, looking for hotel or business advertisements,” Askjem continues. “Then I can look up the proprietor’s name and keep tightening the scope, narrowing down the exact building location.”

“Every single house is different, but generally, in the countryside, outhouses were 30 paces out the back door. In the city, where most lots were 140’ long, outhouses could be as close as 5-10 paces.”

Confident of a site’s potential, Askjem first asks for permission to dig from the landowner. “Property owners are always so kind to me and I don’t hide anything I find. They’re curious about what is in the ground, just like anybody else.”

Second, he grids out the site. “I put down markers 2 paces apart, maybe 20 paces long. I push probe rods into ground and feel for compaction differences. Depending on the location, I’ll call in and have utility lines marked out for power and gas.”

Decked in Levi’s and a tank-top, it’s time to tunnel.

Claustrophobic Comfort

Shovel in hand, Askjem descends into a layer cake of dirt: black topsoil to brown-colored clay to telltale ash to a use layer containing treasure.

“Generally, I go deep to find old items in quantity. The earliest bottles were used to the last drop by farmers and thrown out empty. Therefore, when they froze in brutal Dakota winters, the glass didn’t break from liquid expansion.”

As Askjem extracts glass vessels from the dirt and grime, his encyclopedic knowledge registers with each find. He recognizes the type, manufacturer, and age. Ink bottles, hygiene bottles, medicine bottles, beer bottles, soda bottles—and far more spill from the holes.

“I find patented medicine bottles across the country, but my favorite are soda bottles because they are unique to their locale and have character. The old soda bottles are usually marked with the bottler and town name because they were returnable.”

The outhouse pits are typically 6’-deep at home sites, with an average size of 6’-by-4’-by-3’. “I’ve dug ghost towns, dug saloons, train depots, and pool halls that were 12’ long, 4’ wide, and 8’ deep. I remember a hotel pit that was 20’-by-20’ and 8’ deep. There was a military fort with pits behind the barracks that was 12’ long, 4’ wide, and 13.5’ deep: That was a week’s worth of digging.”

Askjem’s subterranean realm provides no comfort to the claustrophobic. At 8’-9’, he braces the holes with woodwork. “I’m in a solid clay base that doesn’t cave, but I have a healthy respect for the ground’s limitation. Sometimes, it looks like I’m digging a rabbit hole.”

Preserved in nature’s freezer, the artifacts unearthed by Askjem often are in phenomenal condition.

“Pieces of newspaper can still be read; bottle labels are legible; white lime used in decomposition is visible; and undigested seeds are everywhere. Even 120-year-old human waste sometimes is perfectly preserved and still smells like hell. I wear a hydrogen sulfide respirator in those cases.”

“It’s all there; almost like it was dropped yesterday.”

Ghosts in the Ground

In 2022, Askjem began chronicling his digs via a YouTube channel, Below the Plains, and soon captured millions of views. At two posts per week, he gins footage at a steady rate to feed the algorithm, a tough task considering the ground in his geography is frozen from mid-November to mid-May.

Additionally, Askjem has written two in-depth books (Nebraska Soda Bottles 1865-1930 and A History of North Dakota Bottling Operations 1879-1930) and has more on the way. “I put the bottle prices in the books because they can sell for a whole lot and I always tell the landowners. Listing prices draw criticism, but that’s important to me because it helps preserve the item, and preservation of history is what drives me.”

Covered in dust or mud at the end of each day in digging season, Askjem is highly respectful of what he finds—almost reverent after 1,800 digs. “I appreciate everything I uncover because it represents a part of someone’s daily life and existence. There’s nothing wrong with coveting bottles, but I’m really in those holes for the moment of discovery.”

Even when not digging, Askjem is on the move, surfing on the coasts or river diving for lost cargo. In the decades to come, will he continue burrowing into the past? “Twenty years from now, I hope I’m still digging and there’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now.”

“There’s not an infinite amount of lost bottle sites, but there’s certainly an incredibly high number,” he continues. “There were 300,000 homestead farms in North Dakota with a minimum of one well, one outhouse, and one trash dump. And that doesn’t include towns where most of the population lived. There are millions of these sites in North Dakota and far more in other states.”

Respect to a freewheeling hunter like no other. Bottles draw the eye, but ghosts draw the heart: “The moment never gets old when you uncover a bottle and find that history,” Askjem adds. “Never.”

By CHRIS BENNETT.

[butterfrogmantis]

Religion is a bit tricky in the Butterverse. Since humans exist, human religions exist, and some are even referenced through Smurfs and other characters. But unlike certain universes, there isn't one 'true' religion or god. Instead, there are 4 true deities - Mother Nature, Harold, Father TIme .. and Death.

Also CW for some messed up stuff right here

Mother Nature and Father time are pretty well known and honoured, even worshipped in some cases. Harold is looked to as the man in the moon as as symbol. Death is. An interesting figure. Smurfs - or any race for that matter - don't have a personal connection with Death the same way they might have a tea part with Mother Nature because seeing Death in of itself is an omen. And they sort of like it that way. Death is an enigma. Feared or respected, Death is neither kind nor cruel. It is simply inevitable. Indeed, it's the only true equal of the world. At least, for most.

Necromancer Smurf was born in an ancient village to a village doctor and a village mortician. Even as a child there was something a little bit different, he didn't talk for years after the expected time for the first word ceremony, didn't play with the other kids, and had an odd fascination with the gruesome elements to his parent's work, including the graveyard business. The Smurfling's father died unexpectedly whilst he was quite young, and even then he showed very little emotion to the loss of his father. He'd been in the room when it happened, supposedly felt the presence of an omnipresent figure. His fascination with the death itself far outweighed any grief he may or may not have had.

His obsession become more sinister - strange things kept happening. Animals going missing, random bones disposed of in the garbage around Smurf village. And as a teenager, the worst of all was uncovered. Necromancer was caught graverobbing at his father's burial sight - and when questioned, simply responded that he simply needed a body to work with, and his long deceased father clearly wasn't using his.

Necromancer was placed into solitary confinment, and his hut raided. The Smurfs doing the search told horrors of jars with organs, bones, someone's pet that had gone missing last week, clearly dead but somehow breathing … very unsmurfish things. The Smurf leader moved to banish Necromancer for good, but his mother, who had been suffering for years after the loss of her husband - and in spite of the horrors her son had committed, protected him best she could. Both of them became outcasts in their own society, but for Necromancer he didn't care. Perhaps his biggest mercy was when his mother finally passed a few centuries later, he left her grave untouched.

But his appetite for defying death wasn't through, not by a long shot. He could reanimate animals and even plants for certain periods but he needed something bigger, better. He knew the village would exile him as soon as he touched one of his own so he sought through records in the public library until he discovered, by chance, an old journal belonging to a pirate Smurf named Captain Bluebeard, amongst who's stories was a retelling of a great treasure heist, and a lift of a young pirate who was lost on the island and who's body wasn't recovered. This was the opportunity Necromancer needed - a deserted island and a lone body he intended to reanimate. This could be his finest hour.

-----

Short intermission now to listen to Rafflesia talk about the types of undead! :)

-----

*"You may not know me, Skeleton Smurf. But I know you - do not be afraid. Although the nature of your existance defies me, this was not your fault. My quarrel is with the one who's lifeforce sustains you, and in doing so has prevented us from meeting. In my kingdom, you were a worthy subject"

Skelly looked up at the empty eye sockets of the crow skull upon Death's face.

"I was in your kingdom? Then perhaps .. you could tell me who I was?"

Death sighed, seeming almost apologetic.

"I'm afraid … that might compromise your current situation. I do apologise, there's little in my power to help you as you are now. But that is not why I am here, Skeleton. I may no longer have the power to bring you back to my kingdom, but I am still a diety. And since you have been wronged in many ways, I would like a chance - however slim - to make it up to you."

Skelly looked curious, so Death continued.

"I am offering you a wish. A single wish, to be used at any time. Know that there are some things even outside of my power. But as long as holds, or as long as it takes, you have this promise"*

Skelly meets Death ,, part 2! They have a gift for him.

Death, Necromancer, Rafflesia and Skelly are mine / Franchise The Smurfs

[spark-my-nature]

The Thrill of It All - DRW & SFK

Now I know people say this all the time, but this honest to god started as a barely 500 word ramble about Sam getting flustered around Danny, but hours later and nearly 7K words later, here we are, so...

Summary: Danny notices something is bothering Sam. Ever the helpful friend, he ends up getting to the bottom of more than Sam's switchy mood. Fluffy, friends to lovers, unrequited requited love, smut, blush sweet boys.

Words: 6.6K | Pairings: Sam x Danny

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol & marijuana, language, slash pairings, graphic sexual content (nudity, oral: m-receiving)

It wasn’t even that late, for Kiszka standards, but the twins had long since retired to pass out in the other identical two-person sleeper cabin next door already, and Sam released a steady stream of air through pursed lips as he switched the half full garbage bag to his other hand. His hyperactive mind was unusually calm this evening, a lovely consequence of the joint he’d shared earlier with his brothers and the numbing, constant white noise of the invisible orchestra of crickets. 

The memory of Danny’s folksy plucking at Jake’s miniature accoustic as he accompanied his cashmere-smooth voice, lulling Sam into a longing trance… well, it had that soothing effect on him, too. 

As he puttered around, enjoying the residual high and tossing cans and wrappers into the bag like the responsible environmentalist (and holier than thou little sibling) he was, his mind wandered as it often did to the curly mop-headed boy who’d taken his leave inside nearly twenty minutes ago. They’d argued their way into occupying the main cabin, the one with the kitchenette and the stand-up shower, as well as a bedroom. 

Bedroom, singular. 

Everyone in the band was more than used to doubling up; it wasn’t even a factor in their booking anymore. Months on the road confined to a bunk at the rear of a bus will quickly strip anybody of any semblance of privacy. But as of late, Sam had found himself torn between the prickling hot, shameful desire to share very close quarters with Danny, and the desperate need for walls between them. 

What used to be occasional, unwarranted… intimate curiosities about his friend had ramped up as of late into full blown, x-rated fantasies that had, on more than one occasion, manifested in a sticky mess in his flannel sleep pants, discovered in the wee hours as he shot awake, covered in sweat, and mortifyingly rinsed out and hidden in the laundry bag beneath t shirts and towels in the dead of night. 

It was through no fault of his own, though, he grappled. Everyone at least thinks about it, right? What it would be like, your best friend’s lips on yours, his body warm, sweaty, pressed tight along your own as he-

A clang of silverware against stainless steel inside the nearest cabin alerted him to his bunk mate’s own restlessness. Not long ago, Danny had called it a night, helping Sam dump the bucket of sand over their comically small fire (one they were expressly told by the property management not to have at all), saying he was grabbing a quick shower and to not wait up. And Sam had, fairly enough, expected him to just crawl right into the comfort of the quilted queen bed after. 

But as Sam struggled his way inside, fighting with the trash bag and the sliding screen door, he was startled, not by Danny’s presence, puttering around and tidying the kitchen, but by his completely inconsiderate, personal-attack-on-Sam, indecent lack of modesty, clad only in his towel. Wet ringlets dripping down his bare chest, the towel low on his hips, obscuring the pot of gold at the end of that dark treasure trail- 

Letting the bag slip out of his suddenly sweaty fingers, Danny looked up from the sink at the sudden tinny racket it made with wide eyes, scrambling to sort out the unexpected racket. Catching Sam’s clumsy manoeuvre over the pile of spilled cans, his hand pressed to his chest as he willed his heart to settle down. 

“Fuck, Sam, startled me,” he chuckled, winded, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned back against the counter, observing his friend crawling and reaching around the wooden floor while keeping his eyes rigidly to himself. As Sam shoved the trash into the bag for the second time, muttering to himself under his breath, Danny’s brow furrowed, already shifting into fix-it mode but baffled as to what could be wrong.

The bassist’s head shot up as the shuffle of Danny’s steps moved around the edge of the kitchen island. For no logical reason, his heart started racing, every part of his body screaming for Danny to stay away from him, but also to get as close as possible as soon as possible. 

“Dude… I thought Jake was the one seeing ghosts, not you,” Danny half heartedly joked, his confusion starting to shift into true concern at the squirrelly, nervous energy his friend was emitting. “What’s the problem?” 

You, Sam’s inner monologue shouted, you and that fucking towel, and your god damn naked chest and your perfect fucking face-

On the outside, Sam neutralized his features as best he could, attempting a wry smile as he tied up the bag. “No problem, just cleaning up their messes,” he gestured vaguely in the direction of his brothers’ cabin. He hoped Danny wasn’t observant enough to catch his fingers shaking and fumbling with the knot, playing it off with a dramatic, “there we go,” letting the bag lean against the door to be dealt with in the morning. 

Danny watched, folding his arms over his chest as his eyes narrowed. Sam shifted his weight, holding the suspicious staring contest for a moment before shrugging and attempting to move past the drummer toward the bedroom down the short hall. The escape was foiled by a toned, tan arm extending in Sam’s path as Danny leaned against the wall by his head. 

“Let me go, weirdo,” Sam chuckled nervously, his dodge under Danny’s arm blocked by his toweled knee lifting in front of him. 

The sudden jerky movement loosened Danny’s already precariously secured towel, the white fluffy fabric slipping in slow motion before Danny’s corralling arm retracted to help protect his little remaining modesty. A rush of blood shot so quickly south through Sams body, it left him feeling lightheaded, and he darted past Danny’s failed bodily barricade, marching in the direction of the bedroom before he could embarrass himself with the pathetic whimper that almost just betrayed him. 

Danny was hot on his heels, and for the first time, Sam wished his friend wasn’t such a god damn mother hen. The last thing he needed was an interrogation, not when the inevitable confession was centred around the curly headed detective. 

“Sam-“ he followed the lanky man into the bedroom, now firmly into worrying territory. The bassist had been just fine when he’d left the fire to cool off. In fact, Sam had been visibly quite enjoying Danny’s serenading, and the romantic atmosphere became too much, toying with Danny’s feelings, a mere glimpse at the kind of evening he wanted with Sam every night. So he’d made his excuses and brought himself back to earth in a cool shower, and that was only half an hour ago at best. He wracked his brain as to what could possibly have set off the unpredictable storm of his friend’s temperament. 

Sam busied himself by unzipping his bag, rifling a little too frantically through balled up socks and messily folded shirts as he kept his back to the practically naked Greek god standing behind him. 

“Sam.” 

“What, Daniel?” His head whipped towards his friend, immediately regretting the way his words hissed harshly past his lips, though Danny paid him no mind, well versed in Sam’s attitude by this point.  

“What happened? Why’re you acting so… weird, all tense and shit?” He took a step closer, instinctively causing Sam to step back as well, the dresser now digging into the small of his back. 

Their eyes met briefly, Danny’s gaze analytical and concerned, while Sam’s face began feeling uncomfortably warm. 

Danny was among the most patient men on the planet, but Sam’s stubborn vow of silence was wearing thin, and he pushed once more, “Sam?”

Sam blinked, shaking his head and forcing his eyes away, anywhere but Danny’s bare torso, the remaining moisture of his shower catching the nightlight plugged into the wall and the moonlight streaming through the open window into the otherwise dark room. 

“I’m fine, Danny, seriously, leave it,” he mumbled, sounding unconvincing and small even to his own ears. 

Danny shook his head, closing the distance further, reaching a hand to Sam’s shoulder, the smell of his earthy body wash drifting past his nose. 

Sam rapidly shot his face towards Danny’s movements, reminiscent of a wild animal, and Danny scoffed, although there was no animosity behind the sound. “…’Kay, you never call me Danny, will you just tell me what your issue is?” 

“Maybe if you’d stop chasing me around with no clothes on, I’d be able to think!” Sam blurted, his eyes widening immediately in regret. 

Danny’s brow furrowed, his brain lagging severely with the mixed messages it was receiving. Sam’s issue was… him? His body? Since when?

The drummer’s face slowly shifted from confusion to a sort of timid, hopeful understanding. “Sam, I-“

Sam shook his head quickly, his face bright red and his chest tightening as he ducked down, anticipating his friend’s grabby hand swinging out to stop him.. His mind was reeling, his stomach feeling like it was through the floor in the wake of his unintended confession. 

This time, Danny’s swinging hand grasped successfully onto Sam’s forearm, spinning him back towards Danny’s body. 

Sam gaped up at his friend, those extra two inches of height really making their presence known in this moment of stunned silence. Danny simply gazed down at him, holding him securely, practically chest to chest, his warm stare working to calm Sam’s panic immediately, as it always did, even now when said stare was the source of the panic. 

“You’re… bothered by me… in a towel,” Danny confirmed softly, his own cheeks tinting pink. Sam’s eyes fell down the column of his friend’s neck, sweeping across those broad muscled shoulders that carried him around, the sculpted but subtle pecs separated by the triangle of chest hair he had never been able to grow himself.

Sam chewed his lip, putting his trust in Danny’s unlimited understanding and caving a little. 

“Maybe, a little. Yeah.” His wide eyes were quick to meet Danny’s, “But this doesn’t have to be, a- a thing, I don’t ever want to make it weird, we can just, just move on. Like this didn’t happen, yknow?” He rambled nervously, shutting himself up when he saw the hint of a smile tugging at the edges of Danny’s lips. 

“Hmm,” Danny nodded, a cruel part of him enjoying letting Sam squirm a little. It wasn’t often his feathers were ruffled, and watching his cheeks flush bright as he got himself increasingly flustered, it was… cute. 

Sam, after a pause that dragged on for longer than he could stand it, huffed out, “What? What’re you- what?” 

Danny’s grin spread wider. “You’re cute.” 

Backup. Refresh. Error 404, train of thought not found, system failure- Sam’s intelligent, articulate brain was a blank slate, wiped clean with the words that had just been uttered so casually. 

“Cute?” Sam sputtered. “Excuse me, what?” Stampedes of butterflies swarmed mercilessly in his stomach, slowly unfreezing where he stood before Danny unceremoniously in the middle of the room. 

Danny had the audacity to giggle at him, “Yes, cute. You’re cute.” 

Sam squinted at him, fighting the incredibly strong twitch of his lips as they threatened to defy him in a bashful smile. “Shut up, don’t mess with me-“ 

“M’not, I’m not messing with you. You are. Like, always, in fact. Especially right now,” Danny confessed, too preoccupied with the endearing shock painted across the bassist’s face to feel shy.

Sam let out a short disbelieving laugh, letting the smile win its valiant efforts to take over his face, hand in hand with a deep blush in his cheeks. 

“Oh,” he said simply, shyly dipping his face down. “…cool.”

Danny barked a laugh, his hands lifting to cradle either side of Sam’s face. “Cool? You’re such a dork,” he snickered. 

Sam rolled his eyes, chuckling along. “Whatever, Daniel, you’re the king of dorks,” he unoriginally shot back, slowly becoming more and more aware, once again, of Danny’s clothing situation, or lack thereof. 

The drummer watched in fascination as those heated brown eyes drank in his figure, still bashful but lacking the prior shamefulness. 

“Well don’t start drooling on me, I did just shower.” 

Sam shook his head quickly, huffing petulantly through Danny’s giggle, pushing away from his body. 

“Nope, that’s fine, you can go fuck yourself, I should be getting to bed-“ 

A sudden tangle of limbs, a brief wrestling match, and a litany of strained curses found Sam pinned to the mattress beneath a pleased, half-naked Daniel Wagner. 

“Jesus, dude,” Sam exhaled, blown out-pupils drinking in Danny’s far-too-smug face until his eyes blaze down his naked torso of their own accord. He watched, powerless to stop his own long, dexterous hand from slipping out of Danny’s grip and hesitantly placing against Danny’s pec, faintly digging his fingernails into the skin experimentally. 

Danny bit down on his bottom lip as air whooshed into his lungs, shifting his weight on the arm beside Sam’s head to smooth a hand of his own down the soft fade of Sam’s shirt. 

“You’re really driving me crazy, right now,” Danny quietly confided, hand now sneaking its way underneath the shirt’s hem. 

“Good then, the feeling is mutual,” Sam whispered, blinking demurely up at him, scratching at Danny’s chest lightly as an outlet for his racing heart and heated lower half. 

Danny’s hand flattened against his soft stomach, smoothing steadily up his lithe abdomen, pushing the t shirt up past his ribcage, until Sam curled a hand around his roaming wrist. 

Slightly terrified, but in the most exhilarating possible sense, the two men lock eyes, searching each other in the dead silence of the room, deafened by their own heartbeats pounding in their ears. 

One perfectly arched nose brushed against the tip of another more angular tipped up one, the oxygen fleeing the room suddenly as Danny’s lips loomed so close, so close to Sam’s. 

“Kiss me.” 

Looking back, it was rather a blur of who actually spoke the words, but it didn’t matter in the slightest. 

Danny’s lips captured Sam’s pout in a searing, momentous kiss, the ache of longing finally quenched, relief seeping through Sam’s veins like an IV drip. Relief and carnal, animalistic craving. Sam was deaf to his own wanton moan, but Danny lapped it up in the figurative and literal sense, his tongue darting between Sam’s parted lips. The drummer groaned, every neuron firing left and right in an overwhelming chorus of take, give, need, provide. Sam felt drunk, his senses consumed with Danny’s greedy lips working against his own. 

Lungs burning for a reprieve, Danny regretfully detached from Sam’s mouth for a gasp of air, Sam’s longing, pitiful whimper putting an end to remaining self-control. 

“Oh my god,” Danny slurred in a whisper, eyes drooping heavily before he dove back in, lips feverishly massaging and dominating Sam’s mouth. Having freed his other hand at some point, Sam sank both sets of fingers into Danny’s luxuriously soft curls, damp but steadily drying in the heat of the summer air, stifled in the tiny bedroom. He tangled himself in Danny’s hair, cementing himself desperately to his body and to this moment they found themselves in. 

Sam whined breathlessly as Danny licked into his mouth, mumbling what sounded like, “Fuck, baby,” letting himself be worshipped and mauled by Danny’s lips. 

Parting from the escalating kiss, stealing greedy pecks as he mournfully pulled away, Danny panted, still supporting his weight on one elbow at Sam’s side. Even as his shoulder ached from the strain, Danny realized then that redistributing the weight of his body would require two things. 

One, putting distance between him and the gorgeous boy laid out beneath him so submissively, distance he wanted little to do with from here on out.

Two, a delicate manoeuvre to keep his towel from completely unfurling from around his waist, a movement he wasn’t sure he had either the skill, nor frankly, the desire, to attempt. 

Sam fluttered his eyes open, his pouty lips swollen, as he tried to determine the reason for the absence of more kisses. Letting a playful grin sweep across his face, he gave a questioning, flirty glance down the drummer’s bare torso. 

Danny smirked, that single expression capable of melting Sam into a puddle, before cocking an eyebrow in a questioning tease. 

“Can I help you?” he coyly flirted, leering at the suggestive looking bassist. 

Sam narrowed his eyes, his smirk remaining in place. 

In hindsight, he only meant to brush his hand down Danny’s abs, a tease in retribution for the unbearable, cruel torture Danny was inflicting, what with him hovering so tauntingly above him like the most forbidden treat, refusing to meet his lips again. 

But as he felt the rippling flexing muscles under his fingers tensing, and heard Danny’s flustered inhale through that gorgeous nose of his, he didn’t stop his exploring hand from travelling south, breath held in his chest as he monitored Danny’s face curiously. 

Danny, who’s towel was now dangerously close to falling away from his waist (given the extra girth his rock-hard erection provided) unexpectedly let out a pleading, cut off whimper. The sound choked in his throat as he swallowed harshly, leaning, pressing ever so slightly against his friend’s wandering fingers as they mapped out his abdomen.

Sam’s teeth sunk painfully into his bottom lip, steadying his hand against the unusual affliction of shakiness, and he continued silently searching Danny’s eyes for any sign to stop. He was consistently met with Danny’s rhythmic puffs of breath near his face, his expression needy and trusting, so Sam hesitantly rotated his hand one-eighty, to slide fingertips-first down his friend’s happy trail. 

Danny shivered delightfully, eyelids fluttering shyly as Sam finally dipped his fingers beneath the taboo-checkpoint of the towel. Both boys inhaled sharply as callused fingertips mapped out the transition of Danny’s happy trail into his patch of dark curly hair. 

“Hang on,” Danny whispered, rushed out in a tense exhale, causing Sam to freeze in place, terror gripping his chest with fear of having upset his friend, having gone too far, hurt him somehow-

Danny ducked down, stealing a soft kiss from the bassist’s parted lips, then lifted off Sam’s body toward the pillows. Holding onto his towel still, though he was starting to feel a little silly about it, he laid himself out against the cushioned headboard, holding an arm out in shy invitation. 

Sam relaxed visibly, making Danny smile, endeared by his best friend’s nervousness. He decided he rather liked being the one to make Sam nervous for a change, granted Sam made him nervous more often from the reckless mischief he got roped into with his older brothers rather than… well, whatever type this was. 

As Sam climbed up the bed, eager to lose any space between his body and Danny’s, Danny interjected softly. “Why don’t you take your shirt off?”

Sam paused, straightening on his knees as he grinned, tugging the threadbare tee shirt over his head. Smile broadening, Danny bit his lip as the shirt was discarded to the floor. 

Sam sat back on his haunches, displaying himself to be admired. He thoroughly enjoyed Danny’s eyes raking down his bared torso, despite it not being close to the first time he’d been shirtless in his presence. He was looking at him now with new eyes, in this ambiguous but safe new development of their dynamic. 

“So pretty,” Danny whispered, so mindlessly that Sam wasn’t sure he was even aware he’d uttered it out loud. He positively preened under Danny’s gaze.

Danny finally lifted his eyes to Sam’s. “You wanna c’mere?”

“Yeah,” Sam breathed simply, smiling crookedly, not feeling the need for words when he planned on letting his actions do the talking. He encroached towards Danny, laying out on his side parallel to the drummer’s body, and Danny tipped up his jaw sweetly, capturing his lips in another needy kiss. Push and pull, the rhythm section of the band did what they did best and quickly established a rhythm. Danny sucked Sam’s bottom lip, releasing it gently for Sam to lick at his lips in return, each exploring the other’s mouth in the knee-buckling ways Sam had only ventured in his dreams. 

When Danny’s tongue slipped hot and wet along his own, quickly followed by a muffled groan beneath his hand on Danny’s chest, Sam gave into the urge to get back to where they had been before the readjustment. Humming like a pleased housecat under Sam’s sensual touch, Danny paused his kisses when he felt Sam’s hand snaking once more beneath the cloth draped around his hips. On a mission, Sam simply moved his kisses from Danny’s stagnant lips down the drummer’s angled jaw, seeking that tempting patch of hair once more. 

Danny moaned softly, Sam’s lips working diligently to unravel him, one nipped kiss at a time. Encouraged, and despite his thumping heartbeat, Sam felt himself rake his fingers through Danny’s hair, the way he’d fantasized about. 

So often was Danny the subject of Sam’s nocturnal musings, his masculine build, the muscles, the hair, the broad shoulders and chest, all of it always conjuring filthy, forbidden images in his mind, scenarios he felt guilty about pining for. Well, up until this interesting development, that is, where he now realized that perhaps his filthy daydreams had more in common with Danny’s than he’d thought.

Danny brought him back to the present with the tiniest, most delicious grunt of withheld desire, jaw flexed in anticipation from Sam’s fingertips drawing nearer and nearer to the base of his erection. 

Sam instinctively curled his fingers in, withdrawing shyly from the point of no return, this part of Danny’s body that he’d never been privy to before, but Danny’s responding petulant huff was tinged with a barely vocalized whine, accompanied with a barely-there buck of his hips, and Sam wordlessly teased him with a smirk and an arched brow against his sweaty neck.

“Oh, can I help you?” It was exhilarating, throwing the drummers earlier tease in his face.

Danny huffed a breathy laugh, blushing and tucking his jaw against his chest, looking down at Sam’s roaming fingers and licking his bottom lip. 

“Now who’s the cocky bastard?” He answered, voice low and smooth, rumbling out of his bare chest. His tone, much like him, was sweet as honey, and Sam was the owner of a very prominent sweet tooth. 

That, and his curiosity never could be withheld for very long, least of all now, and given that he’d been waiting for this moment practically since their sophomore year, he felt his ability to joke around depleting by the second, replaced with the voyeuristic streak tugging at his brain and his stiffening groin. 

This was his best friend in the world, though, and at the end of the day, not even his own insatiable need to scratch that itch would overcome his need to ensure Danny’s comfort. And so, Sam lifted his face from the fortress of Danny’s neck and captured his eyes with a bashful smirk. 

With his hand still brushing featherlight circles through Danny’s pubic hair, he nuzzled his lips against the apple of Danny’s cheek in an uncharacteristically sweet and shy display of affection. 

“Can I touch you?” Sam breathed, words so soft they reached only across the small space between his lips and Danny’s ear, before melting away into his raven hair.

“Sam…please.” 

Two shaky, whispered words, flooding Sam’s mind with a rush of sudden, insatiable lust and a need to give his friend, his best friend, anything in his power that he could ever possibly want on a silver platter. 

Throwing caution to the wind, Sam finally pinched the lip of the towel and uncovered Danny’s body fully, drinking in his swollen, throbbing erection resting patiently against Danny’s thigh. 

“What the fuck, you’re so big,” Sam’s words coming out under his breath, hardly more than if he’d just mouthed them. He felt faint with need, considering for a second the slight size difference between them, though it was his first time fooling around with a guy, you couldn’t blame him for at least considering it. His mouth watered at the impressive girth, coupled with the obvious extra inch or so. 

Danny blushed, feeling so exposed, but God if he didn’t feel desirable under Sam’s ravenous stare. 

True to their nature, Danny weakly joked, “S’rude to stare, Sam.” 

Sam bit his lip hard, groaning softly, moving his hand tentatively to curl around Danny’s thick base. “I’ll try to mind my manners, Emily Gilmore.” he sassed breathlessly, stroking his fist over Danny’s impressive length once. 

Hips bucking into Sam’s touch, he gasped, “Oh-“ Swallowing harshly, Danny let his jaw hang open lazily, watching in awe as Sam’s fist begin to work his cock into a steady rhythm. “Feels good,” he murmured, bashfully catching Sam’s smug grin. 

Sam shifted uncomfortably around his own painful erection, ignoring it in favour of his new toy between his best friend’s legs. “I’ve had some practice,” he deadpanned. 

Danny snorted, distractedly flexing his fingers into the sheets. “Thinking about this, no doubt?”

Sam flushed, ignoring the teasing question in favour of lifting up on his hands and knees, releasing Danny’s twitching cock, letting it rest, leaking against his navel. 

Danny watched him crawl between his thighs and settle unceremoniously on his stomach, taking a deep lungful of air in realization. 

“Oh fuck, Sam,” he leaned up on his elbows, heart threatening to beat out of his chest as Sam, again, picked up his erection, “You don’t have to- ohh!” 

Sam’s lips enveloped Danny’s velvety pink tip carefully, slipping his tongue from the delicate underside of the head, to over the little slit that leaked a droplet of precum. Sam’s eyelids felt heavy with lust, but he forced them open, unwilling to miss a single expression flicker across his lover’s face. 

Danny watched, completely taken with lust and stunned grattitude, his lips parted attractively as he reached a hand down to sweep a tendril of chestnut hair behind Sam’s ear.

“Oh fuck, baby… shit,” he panted, giving in and letting his head fall into the pillows, panting at the ceiling as he let himself just feel.

Sam pulled back, taking a moment to breathe while he pumped Danny’s girthy cock in his hand. “You taste good,” he honestly told the blissed-out man above him. 

Danny let out a tortured sob of a laugh, sinking his strong fingers into Sam’s hair both affectionately and dominantly. He mustered up the willpower to glance down to where Sam worked him, thumbing over his tip with an expectant, submissive face.

“Don’t stop,” he directed, gathering silky hair in his large fist, his stomach tensing tight as Sam’s lips enveloped him deeper than before with his own guidance. Swallowing him about halfway, Sam breathed shakily through his nose, the air tangible against Danny’s base as the brunette exhaled. 

What with the thickness of his cock stretching Sam’s smart mouth so prettily, combined with the breaths and the gag reflex he struggled to control, Danny’s balls tightened, feeling his orgasm nearing embarrassingly quickly the longer Sam bobbed and sucked on him. 

“Sam I- Babe,” he whined, head falling back against the pillows as his face twisted in arousal. 

Sam hummed around him, blissed out with a mouthful of Danny’s perfect cock and the breathy, muttered praises and moans that drifted down. 

The fist holding his hair back tightened, torn between the need to pull him off or shove deeper into his throat. Suctioning his lips tighter, Sam hollowed his cheeks and squeezed while twisting his base gently, his efforts rewarded with a high pitched cry. 

“C-cumming- oh fuck Sammy, I’m cumming baby, please, please-“ Danny gasped, hips pitching forward erratically as he twitched, then gracing Sam’s tongue with warm pools of his cum. 

Sam whimpered, face hot with his own arousal as he struggled to swallow down Danny’s load, coughing as he gagged involuntarily from the unfamiliar texture and taste. 

Danny’s chest heaved, his eyes screwed shut. Sam panted, a proud smile suddenly stretching across his face. He watched Danny come down, his furrowed brows relaxing into place as he draped an arm lazily over his forehead. 

Feeling a little unsure of himself, and ridiculously turned on, Sam kissed the inside of Danny’s thigh, his heart fluttering at Danny’s lazy, affectionate smile from the action.

Pushing up on his hands, Sam quietly moved up the bed, laying beside Danny. He purposely left a few inches of space, his rational mind forcing his lust aside for now. 

He just made his best friend cum. While the thought made his own screaming erection throb, it also raised some very pertinent questions about the nature of their relationship. Sam’s brain struggled to process any tangible thought, the evening and the endorphins and his long-time crush spread out, naked and spent beside him, all tangled together in a fog of confusing feelings and uncertain outcomes. 

Danny could practically hear the cogs turning in Sam’s head without even looking at him. He blinked his eyes open sluggishly, a relaxed smile permanently etched on his face in the afterglow of one of the most intense orgasms of his life. As he turned his body on its side to face Sam, he met the boy’s timid eyes. 

“Sammy?” he quietly questioned, his brows furrowing at the face of churning anxiety looking back at him. 

Sam raised his brows expectantly, licking his lips. “Hm?”

“Why do you look like I’m gonna beat you?” Danny chuckled humourlessly, his smile fading as the unwelcome feeling of worry set in.  

Sam shook his head, offering a half-hearted smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Just, y’know…” He shrugged awkwardly, curling in on himself and rubbing his arm. 

Danny shook his head, shuffling toward Sam’s body, feeling a wave of relief when the initiation for cuddling was accepted. That was something at least.

“No, baby, I don’t know, talk to me,” he quietly prompted. 

Sam huffed a short breathy laugh against Danny’s neck. “This, Daniel, you just called me Baby, we’re cuddling, I just had your dick down my throat,” 

“Sam…” Danny’s cheeks flushed hot.

“…and up until an hour ago, I had no idea you felt anything like how I feel about you, I mean,”

“Sammy-“

“I still don’t, I- I didn’t want to assume you had, y’know, feelings for me, cause you’re my best friend, and if this is a one-time thing, then I’ll take it, I will, we can forget it happened if you want, but I-“

“Sam, shush,” Danny asserted, whipping out the harsh tone only to drag Sam back to earth. He pulled the pretty boy’s face out of his neck with two hands on his cheeks. Levelling with the, honestly, petrified stare Sam was giving him, trying to convey as much reassurance in his eyes as possible. “I do,” he confessed quietly. 

Sam’s wide, vulnerable eyes peered back at him, tempting Danny to lose himself in their pools of warmth, in the beautiful face that belonged to the boy that made his heart race and his head melt. 

“You do… what?”

“Have feelings for you,” Danny filled in, feeling his cheeks growing warmer. 

Sam blinked, and Danny grinned hesitantly, gaging his reaction. 

After a second, the bassist’s brain caught up, and once it did, his whole face erupted in his dazzling smile. “S-Seriously?”

Danny giggled, “Yes, dummy, seriously. I like you. In fact, I like-like you,” he joked, “as in more than friends.” 

Sam let out an incredulous laugh, “You- Daniel!” he scolded affectionately, blushing himself now, but too wondrously happy to give a shit. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

Danny shook his head defiantly, “Now hold on, that’s not fair, you never told me, either,” he protested, pitch climbing but not volume. 

Sam buried his face in Danny’s neck, rolling his half-clothed body half on top of Danny’s naked one, grinning wildly. He made his confession in the safety of Danny’s collarbones, sheltered with mostly-dry curls. 

“S’cause you’re so gorgeous, you make me nervous.” 

He felt giddy, light as air. And as Danny’s bashful chuckle vibrated his sculpted throat, he felt more desperate than ever for his friend’s touch. 

“Oh, whatever,” Danny dismissed, leaning his head on Sam’s shyly. He pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, delighting in Sam’s happy little squirm. 

Then he felt the sting of a playful bite, the flesh of his shoulder reddening as Sam’s mouth soothed it with a wet kiss. 

So quickly, he was flushed with warmth again, Sam’s mouth the most heavenly on-switch that had ever triggered his hormones before. 

The smug culprit lifted his face from the evidence bruising his skin, and Danny’s jaw dropped slightly as Sam’s hips rolled into Danny’s thigh. Sam exhaled, slow and shaky, eyeing Danny’s face as he ground into him again, his erection prominent through the sweats he wore. 

“Such a needy boy,” Danny’s eyes darkened with his deep rumble of words, flicking his tongue over his top row of teeth in a rather animalistic display. Gaze landing on the tented outline of Sam’s groin as it twitched in response, Danny huffed a low breath of desire and pushed himself up on his elbows. 

Sam watched in rapt fascination, allowing his beau to manhandle him onto his back and crawl swiftly overtop of him. Before he could string together a coherent thought, his lips were sealed with a searing kiss, his mouth eagerly returning Danny’s hungry attack. 

Tensing his stomach, he felt Danny’s fingers nimbly fumbling with the drawstring in his way. Impatiently, he lifted his hips and shoved his pants and boxers down as soon as the bow was undone, and Danny tugged them off his ankles for him as he laid back down. 

Sam watched Danny’s eyes eagerly. They trailed up his thighs, landing on his stiff, near purple-ish cock bobbing impatiently against his stomach. Danny’s face drooped in lust, biting his bottom lip so hard the skin whitened. He swiftly closed in on Sam’s cock, kneeling between the boy’s legs and balancing on his left hand, his right reaching out and wrapping delicately around his length. 

Sam shuddered, taking his lip between his teeth as his eyes flitted between the hand on his cock and the pair of lips longing to suck it in. 

“Daniel, please,” he breathed, pleading with his eyes. “M’so hard, it hurts.”

Danny’s eyes flew shut, and he huffed through his nose. Lowering his body onto his belly, he pumped Sam shallowly a few times before he met Sam’s eyes again. “Relax for me, sweet boy, I’m gonna take care of you. Promise,” he sealed his words with a kiss to Sam’s thigh, above his knee. 

Sam whined, losing his composure quickly after such a tenuous build up. He nodded quickly, putting his trust in his best friend like always. 

Danny held eye contact, sparks flying between them as he lowered his face to Sam’s tip, pausing his lazy strokes to flick his tongue over the delicate slit glistening with pearlescent precum. The unspoken words exchanged through looks alone felt like a live wire of white-hot energy, threatening to snap any second. Steadily, though, Danny held Sam’s unblinking gaze, sinking his mouth partway down his cock. Even as his gag reflex faltered, pushing the limits of his throat, Danny blinked away tears and maintained their connection. 

Sam’s mind, normally buzzing incessantly as his brain tried to process every piece of stimuli, felt soothed, quieted. As though Danny’s mouth had the power to flip the off-switch to every frenetic thought, leaving only a melty, viscous puddle in his wake. His mind consumed with Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. 

Danny finally fluttered his eyes closed, working Sam’s length with determination. His lips sealed as tight as he could manage around the salty, soft skin, and he pushed his limits again, sinking down farther as his hand left the base of his cock to cup and fondle his balls. 

Sam cried out brokenly, tossing his head back, his hand shooting forward to hold Danny’s head firmly in place. 

“Fuuuck-uh,” the curse flying from his lips an octave higher than his speaking range. His hips bucking in time with Danny’s rhythmic suction, Sam’s forehead began shining with sweat, chasing his orgasm in the warm, wet heaven of Daniel’s mouth.

“Gonna- gonna cum, almost there,” he panted, brows knit tightly at the centre of his forehead. Danny moaned around him, steadfast in pleasing his best friend. 

“Sooo so so so fucking good, Danny, shit-“ Sam babbled. His orgasm taking hold quickly, he huffed a whine through his nose, arching his back into Danny’s inviting mouth. “Ohh- fuck, please- Danny, yes-“ 

Interrupted by the sheer force of his orgasm, Sam’s mouth dropped open in a silent moan, cumming violently across Danny’s tongue. His fingers flexed, white knuckles as he gripped the bedsheets, crying out his release as he began to slowly come down from the high. 

Danny pulled away, and as Sam peered down with blissed-out eyes, he winked up at him.

In a display that stole Sam’s breath, Danny parted his lips, letting Sam’s cum drool out of his mouth as he lapped up the length of his dick, coating him base to tip with his own release. Sam whined breathlessly, gritting out, “Oh, my fucking. God.”

Danny hummed in smug agreement, sinking his mouth around Sam once more and slurping up the mess he’d made, swallowing with a filthy lick of his lips. 

Sam stared down at him in stunned, aroused shock. “…You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

His breathless declaration made Danny chuckle, climbing back up to Sam’s level, and flopping beside him. “You also taste good,” he softly flirted, smirking at Sam’s pitiful groan. 

“Shut up,” Sam insisted, rolling over and curling bonelessly around Danny’s warm body. “You’re a menace.”

Danny giggled, wrapping his arms snug around Sam’s lanky figure, content and sleepy. 

“Maybe I just like getting you all riled up, huh?” He pressed a lazy kiss to Sam’s face, unable to see the resulting little smile playing at Sam’s lips from the simple display of affection. “S’pretty cute.”

Sam let out a dismissive ‘psshtt’, half-heartedly swatting at Danny’s face. “I said shut up.”

Danny hummed amusedly, nodding his agreement, if anything just to pacify the sleepy boy cuddled up against his thrumming ribcage. Absent fingers toyed with his small dusting of chest hair, the two of them soaking up the affection and comfort that being held in each other’s arms was bringing. 

After a short while of comfortable silence, Danny was roused out of his near-sleep by Sam gently, shyly tapping a finger against his chest. 

“Psst,” came his hushed voice. 

Danny smiled to himself, gleeful all over again. “Yeah, baby?” 

A hesitant pause. 

“So are we… boyfriends now?” 

Danny’s grin spread wider, full fledging across his face. He whispered sleepily, “I mean… I know I wanna be.” His eyes fluttered closed again, patiently awaiting Sam’s response. 

A gentle nod. “I’d like that.”

Another pause, then a timid whisper.

“…I love you.”

Danny squished his newly-deemed boyfriend into him, heart swelling with warmth. “I love you, too, Sam.”

Sam’s chest tightened with the reassurance, the confirmation of Danny’s requited feelings making his head spin. Dizzy with happiness, he let himself drift willingly with the gentle waves of sleep, his heart on his sleeve, and his favourite person by his side. 

☆

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[joannechocolat]

Dear Mr X...

It’s hard to give up a relationship, even when it has become toxic. Even when it brings you no joy, it’s hard to accept the fact that you’re better off without it. To look at the time you spent building it, to write off those years and start again can feel like jumping off a cliff into a bottomless precipice. You start to think of all the things you’ll lose if the relationship ends; the good times, the shared friends, the laughter and the memories. Your heart sinks at the thought of trying to rebuild all that from scratch. The time. The work. The energy. It feels like a bereavement.

I feel like that about Twitter now. A relationship that began fifteen years ago, when I was someone different, and the platform was new and hopeful and designed for communication, rather than spreading division. Sometimes I still find myself mourning that time; the friends I made; the stories I wrote, the thousands of incarnations of the Shed. Some of my friends have been left there for good, their Twitter accounts frozen in time; their words all that remains of them. Perhaps that’s why I’m reluctant to leave, even though the bluebirds have flown, and even the logo is changing to something that looks to me a lot like a modified swastika – an apt comparison, given the way in which certain voices and political views have been given unasked-for prominence, while others seem to have vanished altogether from my feed. Feed someone garbage for long enough, and they start to sicken and die. That’s what happening via this site. I have watched it happening ever since Elon Musk arrived - a man so cartoonishly self-obsessed that it’s hard to even believe he’s real, except that no writer of fiction or game designer would dream of creating such a crass and substandard character.

X. What a choice of symbol.

X marks the spot for pirates in search of buried treasure. X is the mark of a person who is unable to write their name. X is the identity of someone who needs to stay anonymous. It’s a voter’s mark; an erasure; a mystery; a chromosome.

And it’s also an occult symbol, a rune: the rune Gyfu according to the Old English Futhorc, and Gebo in the Elder Futhark; both of which translate as “gift”.

The Anglo-Saxon rune poem that accompanies it goes like this:

ᚷ Gẏfu gumena bẏþ gleng and herenẏs, ƿraþu and ƿẏrþscẏpe and ƿræcna gehƿam ar and ætƿist, ðe bẏþ oþra leas.

which translates as follows:

Generosity brings credit and honour, which support one's dignity; it furnishes help and subsistence to all broken men who are devoid of aught else.

At first glance, this seems the opposite of what Elon Musk has done for the world. A man who sees social media as his own personal platform; a man who sees the cosmos as his own personal joy-ride.

The mistake we made was believing that Twitter was our playground. Elon Musk has made it his, and is currently in the process of breaking the toys, chopping down the trees and nuking the site from orbit, just to prove that play is overrated, and that only money counts. I can’t help feeling sorry for the little boy he must have been, and to wonder what he might have been like if he’d actually had any friends. But it’s time: and the change of branding makes it even easier to step away.

So maybe this is a kind of gift to the ones of us leaving Twitter. Misinformation, misogyny, transphobia, conspiracy theories and other kinds of social media poison have already made it increasingly difficult to feel safe there. (And fun fact, the word Gift in German happens to mean “poison”.) Perhaps the ultimate gift of X is the freedom from the toxicity that has built up in this most volatile of media; the gift of better mental health; of greater connection to our world; an escape from a toxic fantasy back into the open air.

I won’t leave altogether – Threads still isn’t open to Europe, and the jury’s still out on Bluesky - but I don’t want to give any more of my content to a man who values power and money over human connection. I’m @joannechocolat across all my social media - that’s Threads, Bluesky, Tumblr and Instagram – and I’ll still be posting stories on my ko-fi account at: https://ko-fi.com/story. But if you want to know what I’m doing, then sign up to my free newsletter on my website at joanne-harris.co.uk. I’m coming to believe that social media as I once knew it may have run its course for me: I won’t leave it altogether, but from now on I plan to invest more of my time and energy elsewhere.

And as for Mr X - I doubt you’ll be around forever. But while you are, my gift to you is this final story: written live on Twitter, as was, for all the little bluebirds.

There once was a boy who had no friends. His father gave him everything money can buy: toy cars, model aeroplanes, even rockets that really flew, but friends were impossible to buy, and the boy was lonely, angry, and bored. 

One day, when he was playing alone with one of his expensive toys, he saw a group of children playing in a nearby park. They sounded so merry and carefree that the boy was jealous. 

“Why don’t I have friends?” he cried. “I shall buy the park, and then everyone will notice me.”

And so the boy asked his father to buy him the park for his very own; and he settled there with his expensive toys, and put a notice on the gate, saying: Entrance fee, 8 shillings.

The children of the neighbourhood looked enviously at the empty park. Some of the wealthier ones paid the entry fee, but many of the children did not; instead, they waited outside the gates, and looked into the place where once they had all played together.

But still the boy was not content. None of the new children played with him. Instead they played their own games, and climbed trees, or played hide and seek, or lay on the grass watching the clouds. None of this served the boy at all, and he was sulky and discontent.

“If I have all the trees cut down, then maybe the others will notice me,” he thought.

And so he ordered his servants to cut down all the trees in the park. But apart from a few toadies and flatterers, the children still did not play with him, but mocked him secretly from afar, and fell silent whenever he passed by.

“How ungrateful these children are,” said the boy, getting angry. “I bought this park for them, and still they refuse to play with me! Very well, I shall cease to pay the groundsmen and the gardeners. The park will be overrun with weeds. Wild animals will roam there.”

And so the boy did as he had promised, and the park became a wilderness. No-one wanted to pay for it, and even the toadies and flatterers and children of wealthy families went elsewhere to see their friends.

The boy was very angry at this, but there was no-one to be angry with. All the other children had gone. And so he took out his rage on the deer who had begun to roam in the park, shooting them with his toy crossbow, and became known throughout the land as a mighty hunter.