#he should have a propeller hat

[mopeytwat]

ofmd but Izzy wears a propeller hat for the entrie show.

[fanaticsnail]

Cross-Guild Masterlist

Navigation Masterlist Here

Buggy D. Clown:

You Kissed the Clown? (15/15 Series)

An upper-class tinkerer finds herself amongst the crew of the Staw-Hat pirates. Falling within the blast of a giant flash of red smoke and captured with her crew in the claws of the Buggy Pirates; she is confronted by her flight, fight and freeze response. Immediately, she finds another way of distracting the infamous clown-captain: a passionate and disarming kiss. As time and distance fall between them, feelings of romance, infatuation, fascination and longing cling to the clown and the tinkerer in each other's absence. How could they feel so deeply for each other; they only shared one single kiss?

Happy Birthday, Pumpkin (one-shot)

Buggy longs to kiss you but always shies away in case his affection is not reciprocated. Finally, an opportunity presents itself for a consequence-free kiss and he can barely hold himself back in anticipation. Happy birthday!

I Can't Do This Without You (one-shot)(smut)

Buggy attempted to use some unusual, waxy pollen to form into a "buggy-ball". He was an idiot. He can't manage the consequences without his loyal and ever faithful crewmate to help him out.

A Small Kindness (Smut One-Shot)

A blue-haired man with a round red nose is down on his luck. He's lost everything, not a single berry to his name after being defeated again by the straw-hat crew. A small kindness from a stranger propels him to get back on his feet. How could he repay you? Surely you needed something in return.

Headcanons & Drabbles:

Soft-Dom BuggyBratty BuggyCross-Guild InterrogationThe Clown Apologises

Buggy x Reader x Mihawk:

Swing, Sway, Shag, Smimmy (Buggy x Reader x Mihawk) (4/4)

Buggy is infatuated with his prized acrobat. He issues a dance night-off for his pirate crew, choosing to "make a move" in the hopes of charming his beautiful acrobat under the hawk-like gaze of his guest of honour. Unbeknownst to Buggy, the feeling of infatuation is mutual regarding the acrobat. Can they learn to 'play nice' to woo the acrobat? Yes, yes they can.

Dracule Mihawk:

The Apprentice (6/7 Series)

Mihawk is a bitchy boss, the apprentice is his bratty underling. Professionalism, sword-mastery and affiliation for wine consumption drives their relationship.Mihawk pushed his apprentice a little too far, prompting her to submit a formal resignation effective immediately. Calling her bluff, he attempts to chaperone her towards a cellar door to begin an afternoon of wine-tasting, only to find absence at his side as his apprentice simply walked away from him. And he was angry about it.Ongoing series.

You Should Be Sad (Completed Series):

Upon rising to the title of Warlord and Worlds-Greatest-Swordsman, Dracule Mihawk began to neglect his fiancé and her desires. Unable to provide her with the one thing she truly longed for, he remained apathetic as she broke from their lengthy courtship.A decade later, and many a bottle of brandy relinquished, he drifts to Baratie in hopes of drowning away the memory of her: only to have his hopes shattered as the hired band begins to play with his ex-fiancé singing her vengeance at him.

Let Me Take Care of You (one-shot)

The personal assistant to Dracule Mihawk notices he is not quite acting himself: a small wince as he reaches for his breakfast wine glass, a grimace as he draws it to his lips and the narrowing of his eyes as he begins to slouch. Luckily for the both of them, the assistant has a resume of many a skill: remedial massage being the key element provided to the broody warlord. He reluctantly accepts their touch, longing for the burden to be released from his shoulders.

El Tango de Mihawk (one-shot)

A talented thief manages to obtain an invite to the marine ball and decides to utilize it as a great opportunity to steal from the wealthiest members of the world government. Mihawk immediately recognizes them and decides to toy with their scheming, tango dancing ensues.

The Marine's Mistake (request) (one-shot)

Something horrible occurred to rid the warlord of his signature facial hair. Cadets had gathered and began whispering in hushed tones as Garp held a seated meeting with the warlord at a table in a run of the mill tavern. A new transfer does not recognize the sleek cheeks of the handsome gentlemen and immediately decides to approach to flirtatiously engage him over a drink or two. Mihawk is amused.

My Love Mine All Mine (request) (one-shot)

Mihawk returns to his castle in kuraigana nine days after he was due to return. He finds his lover sleeping in his bed, face falling to rest atop his pillow. Soft drabble, pining, longing.

Hanahaki: The Hawk and the Fledgling (request) (one-shot) Part 2

Mihawk notices his Fledgling, an apprentice he took under his wing, has become lazy in their training. Upon one final vocal reprimand, they collapse; sputtering a cocktail of saliva, blood and... petals? Is that petals in their hand? Surely not.

The Spear and the Sword (request) (one shot)

Drabble Part 2

Mihawk is required by Vice-Admiral Garp to obliterate an approaching armada of barbaric pillagers from their attack on a marine base. As this army was not enough for him to handle alone, Garp calls in another warlord, a ferocious warrior-woman armed with a spear, to aid in his ability to complete this task with as much succession as possible with as little damage done to the defenseless base. Both begin their armed ascension, showcasing their abilities in contest to see how many troops they best by the end of battle, against how many injuries they themselves acquire in the thralls of combat.

Little Sparrow (one-shot: drabble)

Mihawk has been up with your daughter, soothing her as she experiences her leap weeks. You spend some moments with your husband as he holds her in his arms.

Sapsorrow: (9/10 Series)

The two wards of Dracule Mihawk and his green-haired apprentice stumble across a large collection of treasure in one of the large and ornate wings of Castle Kuraigana. The central object in the room is a embroidered pillow, a small circlet of intricately carved gold lay in the middle.

The three of them begin fiddling with it, it becomes stuck on the green-haired swordsman's finger. A struggle occurs, the ring slips from his finger and a large bell-like tinkle rings against the marble floor. Perona frantically tells the Ward to get it before it's noticed. She stoops, finds the ring and slips it on for safekeeping.

Mihawk, stumbling across the three of them, accuses them of toying with the object. His eyes widen as his focus shifts to the ring fitting perfectly on the appropriate finger of his ward.

"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it."

Macule Drihawk (drabble)

When Dracule Mihawk drinks, he becomes an entirely different person. That person's name is Macule Drihawk.

Sir Crocodile:

My Favorite (Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Sir Crocodile has founded a league of highly trained assassins named "The Choirs" - all coded after the nine choirs of angelic influences. You are his favorite: his prized "Seraphim" who's ferocious brutality is only outmatched by your incredible beauty. Not truly knowing if your affection is all an act to continue being paid a wage in berry, he has not made a move of his own aside from calling upon you to sit on his knee of an evening, and have you utter praises into his ear. It is only when the two other members of the Cross-Guild begin flirting does he find his limit being tested. Will he bend, or will he break?

Sands of Time: Intentions of Series

Sir Crocodile thought he was safe from the intentions of the haunting Sapsorrow Queen. His soul has been laid claim, his time is running out. How can he have a stranger fall in love with his within the year? Would she truly take his sould should he fail?

When We Wake (one-shot)

Blissfully waking within the arms of your lover, you are both struck with the thoughts of how precious you have become to one another. Whispering confessions of adoration to one another while the other slumbers, you are both completely overcome with such deep devotion.

The Duality of Sir Crocodile (NSFW drabble)

The duality of a dominating gentleman. Spoiling and endearing, encumbering and brutal.

Misc Multiples:

Get Well Soon (Drabble one-shot)

You're sick, and they do their best to support you through it. Zoro, Sanji, Mihawk

Please, I'll be good (one-shot)

After rescuing you in the heat of battle, he can no longer contain his desires for you. He was so good. He can keep being good if it means you'll keep kissing him.

Koby, Sanji, Corazon, Sabo, Buggy, Shachi, Ace, Penguin

How They Kiss (drabble)

Four different kisses with all of your favourites. Where would you place them in these categories?

Hallmark Piggyback (drabble)

Short piggyback on @indydonuts post about OP characters in a hallmark movie. Drabble is for Law x reader x Mihawk - amnesia trope

You're Angry at the Tall Men: Drabble (One-Shot)

He knows what he did to earn your wrath; your fury ignited in your eyes and the flames physically tangible and searing the room with your scorn. Your brow was furrowed, your lips curling into a snarl to bare your pearled teeth at him.Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Corazon, Doflamingo.

An Affectionate Embrace: Drabble (One-Shot)

It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind?Buggy, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Shanks, Benn Beckman

Forehead Kisses (short drabble)

You're being a brat because they're neglecting you. Prepare to be greeted with the forehead kiss you crave from them.

Zoro, Crocodile, Kid, Killer, Beckman, Mihawk

Interrogation (crack dialogue)

Cross-Guild crack dialogue x reader.

[purrpletiger]

FRESH DRAWING GUIDE:

Hello everybody, I've come to give you all this absurd reference guide for drawing Fresh. yep. I decided to spend hours slapping this together.

If I got anything wrong or should add anything PLEEEASE lemme know! All ideas welcome!

If you want to see my "research" on this character, let me know in the replies, because there's so much to talk about with him and I'd love to do a character analysis or two, I couldn't put much about his personality or source posts in this because it's just a drawing guide!

Link to all the full images

Transcript and close-ups of the text on the image: (May be in a strange order)

Fresh was created by @loverofpiggies (CQ)

Main Outfit:

YOLO sunglasses

Backwards propeller cap

Pink Polo shirt

Crayola Jacket

Gold Tooth

SWAG fannypack

Convertible Zip-off pants

White Heelie shoes

Pink socks

He has thick eyebrows to emote! (The eyebrows are usually depicted with black hair but one human design has eyebrows that match the pink hair color!)

The bag says SWAG on it

His glasses say YOLO by default, but the letters can magically change mid-scene...

this design for Fresh is Tall, we dunno how tall but taller than CQ's Sans characters (or just Geno since he's literally sans undertale with some added steps). But his height is just his host's height sooo it can vary.

those (cyan and yellow) shoe details are on the innerside but not outerside

HE HAS HEELIES!

Pink glove cuffs!

his skateboard is inconsistent dont worry about it

Glasses Off:

The host's soul shows up in their left eyesocket

- The soul tends to look unstable (cracks & a sortve stroboscopic effect.. i couldn't think of a better word.) but not in some cases...

It doesn't have to be a white upside-down heart, that's just a reference to an undertale monster soul.

He has a purple substance full of little RADs that emanate from his eyesockets (when his sunglasses are off)

"The soul in Fresh's eyes CAN be cracked. That soul isn't his. it belongs to his host. And.... after a while.... things go bad for the host, and he needs a new one." -CQ

(example of soul with unstable effect with no cracks) (example of soul with cracks but lacking the effect)

The purple aura(?) can glow and emanate from the eyes when his glasses are on too

i miss this one design specifically. the colors and the SK8 OR B SK8 shirt were peak

I miss the SWAG necklace...

Fresh leaves a rainbow cloud of smoke when he "poofs". Either teleporting him and his host body somewhere or leaving his host behind.

Human Designs:

Fresh can possess humans too.

They all look physically different because they're different people that he's possessing.

Fresh can possess pretty much any body, but I thought I'd show the varied examples of humans anyway

Don't forget the orange jacket flaps! or his hat propeller!

I dunno what's up with the multicolor tongue thing. I think it was extra parasites in the host's mouth? I feel like it was scrapped at some point... but I could be wrong

FURBIES!:

Oh yeah, he also does this: (no image for the bat tho)

"I mean when he fights he pulls Furbies out of his magical fanny pack. takes out a wiffle bat. and hits the furby at his enemies.

And then the furby explodes in a blaze of glory." -CQ

Despite using some furbies as explosives, he seems to 'care' about and treat these two like precious babies:

This one is potentially named McFreshby The Fresh Furbrah (Fresh is mentioned to have one named that, and this is the only other furby he's been depicted with)

It can also do THIS: (roll its eyes back into a spookier look)

This is DJ FurBs. that's all i know about him

The REAL Parasite:

Fresh is actually this little parasite controlling a host body. (if you didn't know that why are you reading this post rn!?! but nah I love new Fresh fans, welcome!)

The main parasite is this purple one with the eyemouth and four(?) tendrils, the other colored tentacles are prrrobably Fresh's offspring (freshmageddon moment?) (I'm not actually sure, I'm just pretty sure they're not part of the main parasite but are parasite tentacles)

You can also see Fresh's five or more purple tendrils here stretching out all over his host's body

All art from CrayonQueen/@loverofpiggies

Reference guide made by PurrpleParrasite/@purrpletiger

pls suggest changes or additions if u have ideas!

That's all!

[intimacyequalsdeath]

How about Bo with 7, 30, and 41 :b <3

Thank you for this request anon! I hope you enjoy what I came up with for you with the prompts <;3 The prompts anon chose are: Prompt 7: "I told you to stay in the car" Prompt 30: "I'll take care of you, I promise" Prompt 41: "Show me how grateful you are"

For future requests the prompt list is HERE

Notes: Minors DNI, No descriptions of reader used due to them not being provided hope that's alright anon <3. TW: Not really any for this one. "Bo I don't know why the hell you had to wake me up and drag me out here with you for this"

You grumbled tiredly from the passenger side of Bo's truck. He had woken up at an ungodly hour and instructed you to get in his truck. Apparently Lester and Vincent still weren't back from tracking down a new group of stragglers and Bo was none to happy.

"I woke you up cause your the only one in this goddamn family that was still at the house doing what you were told to do"

"Bo, They've been out thousands of times later then this, I'm sure they'll be fine"

"No! I fuckin told those two to be home by the time it got dark. There's no sense is being out this goddamn late"

You rolled your eyes, when Bo was on a mission there was no getting through to him. He was determined to get it done no matter what he had to do.

Soon enough the two of you pulled up behind Lester's truck and could see both Lester and Vince standing on the side of the road seemingly going over something. Bo parked the car and hopped out.

"Stay in the car" He commanded before walking over to his brothers.

You could hear the reverberating yells from Bo when he reached where his brothers were standing. Reprimanding them for being out so late and not trying to make contact with him at all, with a huff and a certain tiredness when it came to Bo yelling tonight, you hopped out of the car yourself and made your way over.

"I told you to stay in the car" Bo said when you reached the three men

"You did, but if you think I'm going to listen to you over here basically blowing hot air at your brothers you're wrong. It's late Bo, I get that you were scared cause you didn't know where they were but can't we go over this tomorrow?"

Bo sighed before bringing a hand up to lift his hat and the other one up to run through his hair. He then put his hands on his hips with a shake of his head as he looked at the ground.

"Fine, but tomorrow morning no one leaves that house till we have a family meetin' you hear me?"

Lester, Vincent and you all nodded and began to return to your respective vehicles. You grabbed Bo's arm to drag him back to the truck as Vince and Les climbed into Lester's.

"Bo honey I get that you were worried but you need to relax, Vince and Lester know what their doing out there and were perfectly fine" You comforted him as he drove the two of you back to the house.

"I know that, but I'm trying to keep everyone safe, It takes one slip up for everything to go fuckin wrong"

"You already do a great job of keeping us all safe Bo, let the rest of us shoulder some of the load"

"Darlin you know I ain't the best at givin' up control like that"

"I know, but you should really at least try to let me help, I'll take care of you I promise"

You could see Bo think for a moment in the overhead light of the truck as he pulled in front of the family house. You always some how knew exactly what to say to Bo to pinpoint how he was feeling.

"Fine, if you think you can handle some of my workload why not. " He finally relents.

"See was that so hard? you should be grateful for me" You said with a smirk.

"Grateful huh? Sure babe real grateful"

"Well" You started with a smirk, opening the front door of the house "Why don't you show me how grateful you are?"

Bo smirked, placing his hands on yours hips and propelling you into the living room.

"Glady honey, I'd be happy too"

[legiblyloathed]

Ain’t He Darling? (Chapter 3)

Yandere! Wally Darling x Reader

TW: brief gaslighting in this chapter

A/N: And now, back by unpopular demand, me! It took me a bit longer than usual to brain out this chapter, mainly because I’ve been replaying Breath of the Wild to prepare for Tears of the Kingdom. Fun fact, for one innocuous paragraph in this chapter, I had to google very basic knowledge just to get by. Extra credit if you can guess which one it was. /j And now, without further ado, I present: chapter 3.

Tag list: @tikosan @itsyellow @twerkingnutella18 @azoart @elegantkidfansoul @cutsieskull @delvira-only-baby @anaki-kuroshi @jellyfish-fish

Prev

The first thought in my mind when I wake up in a heap on the floor of my foyer is something along the lines of “My bones feel like rusty springs.” Who would have thought falling asleep against a door after a long, stressful day would cause every bone in your body to creak in protest with every bend and stretch? Not even a minute of consciousness and it’s apparent that leaving the house is gonna be a pain in more ways than one today.

The second thought is “Whoever just knocked on my door is dead to me.” Which, I will admit, is a bit harsh, but the headache that rears up from the sound compounded by the burn of every joint in my body would make anyone just a tad grouchy.

Against my body’s wishes, I force myself up off the ground, the sound of joints popping ringing in my ears. Some of the pain subsides with the release of pressure, but it’s clear that a good long soak in a hot bath will be necessary later. I allow myself a good, long stretch to wring out any remaining bubbles before relaxing with a heaving breath and opening the door.

The large stranger is smiling with an air of patience, as if he already knew of my predicament. He’s dressed rather simply: a button up shirt, a multicolored tie, and plain slacks. The emblem on his hat and bag signifies that he’s the mailman, which in hindsight should have been obvious considering the two letters clutched in his hands.

“Well, hey there, neighbor!” His voice holds the heavy twang of a southern accent that’s imbedded itself deep into his soul. “Don’t reckon we’ve met yet, have we?” His empty hand extends itself towards me as he proclaims, “Name’s Eddie.”

You’d think I’d be more accustomed to the sheer friendliness of the people around here, and yet I still have to take a moment to register the greeting and introduce myself. After a firm handshake, he offers me the mail in his other hand. “Got a couple letters for ya. You sure made friends fast!”

I let out a chuckle as I take the envelopes. “Guess I did, huh?” I respond as I take a quick glance at the two letters. One is a bright shade of pink, the other a cool blue. I look back up at the friendly man. “I’m kind of embarrassed to admit I didn’t know there was a post office here,” I say sheepishly.

To my relief, Eddie laughs. “Guess we are a pretty small neighborhood, but every town needs a mailman.” He pats his mailbag for emphasis, and I hear the light crinkling of paper rustling around inside. “Letters ain’t gonna deliver themselves, you know.” He spares a glance at his watch to check the time. “Speaking of, I still got a few more stops on the route, so I’d best be leaving.”

“Oh, alright!” I say with a smile. “Wouldn’t want to keep you. Have a nice day!”

“I will, you have a nice day, too, neighbor!” With a grin and a wave, Eddie sets off while whistling a tune. I watch him walk away for a moment before ducking back into my house and shutting the door. I debate reading the letters right there in the foyer, but my decision to skip dinner the night prior seems to have upset my weary body, which lets out a growl of hunger. The sudden realization of just how starving I was propelled me into my kitchen, where I haphazardly tossed the letters onto the table. Breakfast first, then social life.

As I start to prepare a simple meal, I happen to catch of whiff of myself.

…a bath. Breakfast, a bath, then social life.

—————————

It’s a little past midday when I finally wander back into my dining room, the worst of the muscle pain having dissolved in hot, soapy water. The feeling left me sleepy, and I only came back to grab a quick snack from the fridge before taking a nap. However, the garish colors of the envelopes lying askew on the table are a reminder that I forgot to get around to reading them.

With a vague feeling of guilt for having functionally ignored my neighbors, I grab the envelope on top first, which happens to be the pink one. A scan of the address reveals the sender to be none other than Julie. I huff out a laugh. I should’ve guessed. After a trip to the junk drawer to locate my letter opener, I unfold the paper (Why does it smell like flowers? Does she put perfume on her parchment?) and lean against the table as I read.

Dear Neighbor,

Hope you’ve been feeling better! You seemed a little anxious at the picnic and I’ve been rather worried. I talked to Frank and he said you just weren’t adjusted to the neighborhood yet. So, I had an idea! I’d like you to come over to my house today to play with me and Frank! We still have plenty of treats leftover and a ton of games we didn’t get to play. I think we’ll all be the best of friends!

Lots of Love,

Julie Joyful <3

The whole paper is covered in doodles of hearts and smiley faces and it brings a smile to my face. I smooth the letter out as best I can. When the wrinkles are all gone, I grab a few magnets and hang it up on my fridge. My first letter! I really do make friends fast. As I beam at the page, picking up the other letter, a sense of calm washes over me. A fun day with two of my lovely neighbors. Just what I need to take my mind off-

I don’t move for a second. My eyes stay glued down to the deep blue envelope held in my hands. I know it’s a bit silly to be so scared of a simple name neatly printed on a piece of paper, but that acknowledgment does little to comfort me. All I can do is stare at the letter.

The letter from Wally.

I breathe in. I breathe out. In. Out. In. Out. I let my hand drift back down, setting the envelope and whatever it might hold within back onto the table. It almost feels dangerous to let my eyes linger on it. I walk away, leaving the kitchen without the snacks I once intended to grab.

I’m not hungry anymore.

—————————

Julie’s house is every bit as bright and cheery as the woman who lives there. The colors border on overwhelming, both the exterior and interior being so vibrant you could make out all the furniture in the dead of night. The smell of grass, flowers, and a hint of sugar waft through the air. It’s the kind of place you can enter and know deep down you’re gonna be safe. But the single most stunning feature of her home has to be the flower garden.

I enter under a beautiful picket fence arch which has long been overtaken by interwoven pink roses. Those same roses line the garden, weaving around each other and the white stakes in the ground. Bushes of multicolored hydrangeas line the back of the house, and stepping stones made of pebbles and small glass stones forge paths through the flowerbeds. In the middle of it all is a clearing in which a yellow blanket lies covered with tea cakes and sandwiches.

I’m so wrapped up in the scenery that I bump into Frank as he carries a small tea set to the blanket. The two of us both jump in surprise, and the cups wobble on the tray for a moment before they level it out to keep them balanced. I put a hand on my chest to calm myself. “I’m so sorry!” I exclaim. “I got distracted, are you alright?”

Frank huffs a bit as he continues to make his way toward the blanket. “I’m fine, neighbor. No harm, no foul.” They lower the set to the ground, careful to keep it steady. Once he seems sure of its integrity, he looks up at me, a hint of exasperation on his face. “Just, please pay a bit more attention to where you’re going.”

With a wave of anxiety, my hands move to tuck near to my chest and tug at each other, eyes averted to a patch of daffodils. “Yeah, I’ll try. It’s just…” My sentence trails off as I admire the intricacies of the garden around us. I manage to turn back to him. “This place is incredible, isn’t it?”

Frank stands up and takes a look around too, an air of peace overtaking his grumpy exterior for a moment. “It really is. Julie works hard to keep it like this, and it really pays off.” I murmur an agreement, and we both take in our surroundings in silence for a minute or two.

The sound of the back door swinging open appears in my periphery, and a familiar, chipper voice follows it shortly. “Oh, you’re early!” Julie steps out and joins us, the small plate of warm sugar cookies in her grasp sending steam into the air. “I didn’t think you’d show up for another half hour. I’m so happy to see you!” She moves the plate to her left hand, wrapping her right arm around me in a half hug. I’m ushered back towards the blanket, and the three of us all settle down in the middle of the garden. I don’t waste a moment before picking up a sandwich and taking a bite.

We don’t chat much while we eat, though Frank does have to remind Julie not to talk with her mouth full a time or two. She seems eager for us to finish eating so we can get to the games, the buzzing energy around her so infectious that I find myself rushing to finish my lunch so I can find out what she has planned. She’s done within minutes, and it doesn’t take long before I’m also licking the errant sugar sprinkles from my fingers. We chatter about everything and nothing as Frank works their way through their meal, seeming immune to Julie’s impatience.

After a good long while, Frank finally wipes his mouth and begins to pile up our dirty dishes onto the tea tray. It doesn’t even take a second for Julie to already be on her feet, bouncing in excitement. “Are we ready? Can we play now? What should we do first?”

“First, we should clean up.” Frank seems to be struggling to balance everything as he stands up, and I hurry to my feet to take the tray from him. They murmur out a brief thank you as they push themself off the blanket. “It’s not a good idea to start running around with glass on the ground. We don’t want anyone getting hurt.” Once he regains his bearings, he kneels down to pick up the remaining few plates and a few scattered pieces of trash. “We should probably take the blanket in, too, so we don’t trip over it.”

Taking the cue, Julie bends down to pull the yellow blanket from the grass, folding it into a messy pile in her arms. “Good idea, Frank! Come on!” Not seeming concerned with waiting for Frank and me, she disappears in a flash of pink into her house. The two of us glance at each other, chuckling as we follow behind, the clinking of china marking our footsteps.

The dishes have only just touched the kitchen counter when Julie darts back into the room. She notices my looking towards the sink and rushes to say “Don’t worry about it, I’ll clean all of them later. Let’s just go!” I match her smile as I follow her back outside with Frank tailing behind.

The next couple of hours seem to soar by, the boundless energy given off by the pastel woman so contagious that I don’t even realize how exhausted I am until I stumble and fall during a game of shadow tag and find that I don’t feel like getting up. I instead stay flopped over panting in the grass, arms outstretched, staring at the sky as the shades of blue begin to fade to soft arrays of green, orange, and pink. A grey face pops into my view, peering at me from the side with their eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Are you alright? That was a pretty rough fall.” Still trying to catch my breath, I offer a thumbs up in lieu of a verbal response. Frank seems satisfied with that, and lowers himself to the ground far more gently than I had.

He’s at once nearly bowled over by Julie, who if I didn’t know better almost seems a little winded herself. With residual giggles, she says, “Wow, I haven’t gotten to play for so long in ages! I knew we were gonna get along great!”

It’s a tad awkward being the only person fully lying on the ground. I funnel all my self discipline into propping myself up, opting to lean back on my hands to continue taking in the scenery above my head. My eyes sweep over it all, noting telltale specks of stars as the sun slips away to reveal them from behind the blue. I don’t think I’ve ever such a beautiful view of the sky before.

“I agree, it’s incredible.” Frank’s voice nearly makes me jump out of my skin. It takes a second to register that I must’ve let that last sentence stray from my mind to my tongue. I keep my focus upwards, hoping no one noticed my embarrassment. It appears to have worked as he continues, “It almost looks like a painting.”

A painting. A simple, commonplace thing that shouldn’t churn my stomach, but I still feel my heart drop at the words. In my periphery, Julie leans in with a giddy look on her face. “Speaking of, you and Wally seemed to have fun yesterday. Why, you two were out by the woods so long, Poppy almost sent out a search party!” She laughs, and I deem myself lucky that she didn’t notice the blood drain away from my head.

A pale imitation of a laugh comes out with the words, “Yeah, I guess we did…” The silence in the air grows thick, for me if not for the others. The rational and empathetic sides of my brain are waging war once more, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Does… does he ever make you guys feel…” I trail off, struggling to find the words with two sets of eyes now focused on me. “…nervous?”

Frank’s head tilts, and he appears puzzled. “What do you mean? Why would he?”

My head begins to sink into my neck, like a turtle hiding from danger. “It’s just, I always feel like he’s staring at me, and some of the things he says while he does it come across a bit… off. Y’know?”

“Oh, that’s just how Wally is!” Julie bats at the air as if to dismiss the notion. “You’re worrying over nothing.”

As I begin to stutter out my disagreement, Frank asserts, “She’s right. He doesn’t mean any harm. You just haven’t gotten used to him yet.”

“I mean, I guess.” I push myself off my hands, the need to articulate my emotions taking over in my flustered state. “But, I got used to you guys and Poppy and Eddie within minutes. Wally just makes me feel uncomfortable.” The words are tumbling out now, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them.

When I force my eyes upward, Julie’s are already meeting them, and my gut wrenches at the uncharacteristic dour edge to her appearance. “It’s rude to talk about people like that behind their back, neighbor. He’s been nothing but lovely to you since you got here, and it’s not nice for you to treat him like some kind of threat.” A glance at Frank reveals a similar sentiment in his appraisal of me, and shame builds up within my heart. Against my will, tears begin to burn my eyes and mist my vision.

Unable to take it any longer, I push myself up. “I think I should go.” Neither of them tries to stop me. I pass through the magnificent greenery, knowing that the memory of it is going to have a permanent black mark tied to it. My hand settles on the garden gate, and I hesitate for a brief moment before deciding on “Thank you for the lunch, and for the games.” A mutter akin to that of ‘you’re welcome’ is heard behind me, and with that, I set off for my home.

The sky continues its transition to the night, and I solemnly await for the colors to fade so I can no longer see the brushstrokes in the heavens.

[hedgehog-moss]

Llama Ear Language 101

Good question! The mystery of llama ear positions is one I now feel qualified to clear up, having doubled the size of my statistical sample this year. (Still, the following study isn’t peer-reviewed, and is only based on careful observation of 4 volunteer llamas, one of whom is Pampe.)

But I can now say with some confidence that llamas are different from equids and having their ears turned backwards isn’t generally a sign of ill mood; it's their most comfortable default position. Having their ears up or pointed forwards seems to require more of an effort and they’ll only do it when actively interested in something.

^ Also unlike a horse who will pin his ears lower the more pissed off he is, llamas’ ear angle is less important a factor than ear rigidity. A llama who wears her ears very low but in their natural banana curvature is in the chill position, while a llama who has her ears backwards in a straight line is annoyed.

It’s sometimes hard to see the difference in pictures, but in real life it’s easy to see if the ears are flopping down in a relaxed way, or held rigidly.

Here’s a sample of llama ear positions, please take notes this will be in the test:

(N.B.: for a baby llama all ear positions mean “confused” except the ones that mean “hungry.” For adult llamas, the “1 ear backward 1 ear forward” attitude indicates that they are alert and paying attention to their surroundings, except when the llama just woke up in which case it also means confused.)

Some illustrations:

(the babies’ ear positions sometimes look meaningful in photographs but ten minutes of observation in situ would have told you that in the first few days of his life, Pyrgus's ears were moving constantly with zero thought behind it, following the wind or something, like a kid’s propeller hat.)

Complications! Pampérigouste rarely wears her ears in the default, relaxed position. I should have declared her an outlier and kept her out of this study but I feared retaliation.

I think Pampe has these Constant Vigilance ears because, like a superhero, she never rests. She is constantly listening for crime (for opportunities to commit it, not prevent it.)

Conclusions:

Llamas have their unique and consistent ear language; the neutral position is backward ears in a relaxed banana configuration.

Pampe is Pampe.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🗡️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Six

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: None.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~3.2k

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The Red Force was closing in on the port of Ingles, a town known for it’s construction services and lumber milling. The island itself was forested and sported mountains that Benn had described as a wilderness. It was no wonder that the logging and construction business boomed in Ingles and you looked forwards to seeing the looming mountains. Kuri Island had hills, the Bonn manor was perched on one… but it held no mountains nor thick forests. Even your best efforts to act lady like couldn’t hold back the excitement running through your veins.

Now you were just standing on the deck, hands clutching the railing as you leaned out and felt the wind and salt on your face. The white sleeves of the tunic you wore fluttered and flapped, dancing to the turbulent wind propelling the large ship across cerulean water. The town meant that you could pawn off your necklace and earrings for Berry, and then get clothes that fit you better.

You were more than thankful to be wearing Shanks’ spare clothing rather than your wedding dress, but the fabric dwarfed your body and was ill fitting. The sleeves tended to drag when you were helping Lucky in the kitchen and you had to use one of Hongo’s bandages as a belt to keep the trousers around your waist. Now add the cut sandals practically taped to your feet…. To put it simply, you looked ridiculous!

But even the ridiculous clothes that your mother would fall in a faint over if she ever saw you wearing such, you couldn’t help bask in the feeling of freedom. You’d never had the luxury of being in charge of your own clothing, you’d never even worn trousers before, and there wasn’t even a corset in sight! You sighed in happiness once more and beamed, wondering what type of clothes you’d want to get for your new life.

Dresses wouldn’t be particularly useful to you, not when you found trousers so freeing and easy to move in, but you wouldn’t mind having one simple nice dress to have on hand. It wouldn’t hurt to treat yourself to a nice dinner at one of the restaurants Lucky had been telling you about. Even you knew that certain dress codes were expected in certain places. So one dress would do. But you’d mostly invest some money in tunics, trousers, two pairs of shoes and a nice hat to block out the sun.

Then there was the glaring fact that you needed to ensure your safety. You were no fool. The blues were dangerous and filled with both good and bad people. Pirates. You were going to acquire yourself a blade and learn how to use it (yet another task of learning you had to accomplish). Dropping your elbow to the railing, you rested your chin in hand.

“So much to do, I haven’t a clue were to start,” You spoke to yourself, eyes watching the whitecaps forming as waves curled and crashed.

“Well for starters we’re getting you into clothes that actually fit,” Shanks voice softly floated into your ears over the sound of waves and Yasopp’s off key singing. Twisting your head, you looked at the red haired captain with a pragmatic smile.

“Oh believe me, the first thing I plan on doing is choosing my own clothing. I’ve never been allowed to pick what I wear.” You replied as he took a spot next to you. Your eyes looked at the cloak he had draped over his arm stump. A cloak, you should get one too, everyone seemed to have some sort of over coat or the like. Shanks eyebrow popped up at your word choice, but said nothing. He wasn’t surprised that you’d never been allowed to pick your own clothes. You’d been nothing but a porcelain doll for your mother to play with. Shanks rubbed his jaw in contemplation.

“The stores in Ingles focuses on practical clothing, the type of clothes that are good and sturdy for traveling. It’ll be nothing like what you’re use to.” Shanks slowly explained, wondering if you’d be bothered by less than luxurious fabrics. He didn’t think you would, but he’d yet to see you interact outside of the controlled environment of his ship. A thoughtful looked crossed your face before you replied.

“Oh I look forward to that,” You sighed in pure happiness. “These trousers might not fit but they are a dream.” You glanced down at the threadbare and simplistic trousers. “I’ve never had the luxury of feeling the wind against my feet and ankles.” Shanks wanted to tell you that normally pants didn’t reveal ankles and your ill-fitting trousers were far from luxury… but the glow of happiness upon your face was something he never dreamed of diminishing so he kept his silence on the topic.

“Just wait until you learn all about shorts,” He chose to say, a grin creeping onto his face at the idea of how you’d react to your entire legs being unhindered by layers of fabrics. Shanks was sure you might even flop into a faint of excitement the moment you realized you could choose to wear something so revealing! He eyed your face a little more closely, drinking in the faint laugh lines and natural curves. The pirate was honestly stunned that you could still smile and appear so full of life after living in such circumstances as you had fled from. Turning his gaze back to the calm sea waters, Shanks looked forwards to seeing what other delights were entail for you.

You were greatly embarrassed to say, that you first few steps off the Red Force had you nearly face planting with a far from elegant squwak. Benn had early caught your falling body, large hands clutching your waist so you comically dangled in his grasp with your arms cartwheeling. You were sure that your face would have been beet red if it were anatomically possible when he steadied you and all eyes were on you. Clearing your throat, you swayed a little and took a deep gulp of air, trying to steady yourself again.

“Is it always like that?” You questioned as if you hadn’t nearly just made a scene of yourself. Your eyes were going everywhere in an effort to not look at their faces for you felt like you might cry in embarrassment. Before any hot tears welling up in your eyes could fall, Bonk Chunk spoke.

“Shoulda’ seen Monster the first day he was on the ship, took to sea like a champ, but when we got back on dry for supplies…?” The man rubbed his bald head in squeamish contemplation.

“Monkey vomit, for days,” Hongo rumbled, moving past you. “Tell me if you feel sick before you vomit on me, okay?”

“I’m not going to vomit on anyone!” You huffed out indignantly, still dangling in Benn’s hold while the rest of the crew lumped off the ship with containers to be filled. “That would be rude and unsightly of me!” Monster let out a screech and swung himself onto a barrel to glare at you accusatorially. You regarded the primate with a frank look. “I am a lady, you are a monkey. You have no expectations to meet, Monster. I do.”

Your words seemed to make sense in the monkey’s brain because he leaped back onto Bonk Chunk’s shoulder as Benn carefully set you back on your feet. You still felt like you were swaying, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been.

“No one expects anything from you, Aria,” Shank’s voice came from behind you as he jogged down the gang plank, adjusting his hat. “So if you vomit on Hongo, no one’s going to judge, or care.” The doctor in question began grumbling while your face burned.

“I will absolutely not be vomiting on anyone and that is final!” You clearly stated, stamping your make shift sandal on the dock. “Gods, you are all such… such men!” You erupted flinging your fingers upwards. Shanks only grinned at you and held out his hand to you.

“I’m glad you noticed, now, why don’t you stick close, we’re going to be splitting up. The men will get supplies while I get you clothes,” Shanks told you, watching as your face morphed to give him a look. He took your hand and pulled you along. “And no making passive aggressive faces at me, Aria, I already said I was paying and that is final.”

As Shanks pulled you along and away from the rest of the men, Benn leaned over to Hongo.

“How much you wanna bet she’s gunna argue with him when it comes time to pay?” Hongo snorted and shook his head.

“I’ll double whatever your placing… there is no way that little lady isn’t going to dig her heels in till the last second. Stubborn as mule that one…” Yassop dropped his arms over the two men’s shoulders.

“How ‘bout we make bets on how much he’s gonna spend cause we all no she ain’t going to be allowed to part with a single berry.” Hongo and Benn nodded in agreement, fully realizing that no matter what you said or did, Shanks would be paying at the end of the day. “Alright! Who’s betting what?” Berry numbers were called as the crew made their way towards the market.

You’d been led back to the alteration room by Annie, the seamstress of Ingles, and stripped down to your lace bridal underwear and bra set. The woman hadn’t said a word about the clearly too formal undergarments but had informed her assistant that you would also be requiring undergarments with your purchase this day. Annie had been no nonsense in whipping your undergarments off to be measured and within a matter of only a few minutes you were wearing a set much more comfortable and appropriate for your new daily life.

Shirt’s were the easiest to pick out for you. You’d indicated that you wanted practical clothing, something that would survive the seas but look nice enough milling around a market. Annie had packaged up nearly ten shirts of varying designs and colors, all to match the simple trousers you’d picked out. Two pairs you’d picked, cream and black. Those colors went with everything. You had picked a pair of grey trousers that were too short for your legs, stopping mid calf, to wear out of the shop. Annie had tried to convince you to try on a pair that fit the length of your legs but you had stated that you’d wanted to feel the wind on your ankles so Annie had acquiesced. Now you were picking out a shirt to wear out of the shop and having trouble deciding on a color.

“What about this one?” Annie’s assistant offered, holding up a green shirt that reminded you a lot of the tunic that Shank’s often wore. You blinked at it, squinted in observation, and nodded.

“I like that color and style, it’s not too tight but also made from sturdy material.” You spoke in approval. “I plan on spending a lot of time traveling, is it easy to clean?” The assistant nodded as Annie walked over, carrying fabric draped over her arm.

“That material is resistant to stains and tearing, but don’t go looking for knife fights.” Annie agreed, also approving of the choice. “It’ll be a good one for spending time at sea, the die used is resistant to sun bleaching so the green will last longer.”

“I hadn’t thought about sun bleaching,” You softly comment, scolding yourself for not thinking of such a thing. Your clothes wouldn’t be hanging in a closet meticulously cared for by an army of maids. Placing your hands on your bare hips, you nodded firmly. “I would like to wear that shirt out, please set it aside with the trousers.”

“Now dear, you mentioned wanting to have a nice dress to wear?” Annie spoke, tabbing through some fabrics on a shelf. “Something to impress your man out there?” Your eyes darted to the front of the shop where Shanks was presumably reading the towns paper. Heat filled your cheeks.

“Not mine, not mine,” You uttered out frantically, holding your arms against your chest like they would keep your heart from beating out of your body. Shanks was a very handsome man. Kind and generous too. But he wasn’t yours and it certainly wasn’t a good idea to entertain such a thought… never mind that you didn’t really know him in the weeks you’d spent on the Red Force and for all you knew, he was a terrible person having a nice streak!

It would be nice to have a man like him though…

You cleared your throat, quelling the heat within your cheeks.

“Shanks is not mine, he is just being incredibly kind in helping me out of a tough situation I found myself in. Nothing more.” You said that last part more to yourself than to Annie, and the seamstress raised her eyebrow.

“Oh?” She spouted, eyeing you closer. You may think that you hid your emotions well, but the seamstress was no spring chicken. “Well dear, not just any man spends this much on a single woman unless he’s got a claim.” That made you begin to sputter.

“But I said I would pay!” You erupted, embarrassment quickly shifting to anger. “I specifically told him that I would be the one to purchase my clothing and he had already done enough for me!” Annie snorted this time and rolled her eyes. Oh to be your age again…

“Tell that to the stack of berries he handed to me when you were changing…” She said dryly, enjoying the way you huffed and puffed in belligerence. “Face it, dear, he’s paying whether or not you want him to.” You were left stewing in place as the woman began to build the dress you wanted from scratch.

Annie had pinned the dress to your body and made adjustments until you had been happy with the result, then spent an extra hour fussing over each and every detail of the lavender fabric that matched your hair so well. You didn’t understand why she had wanted to spend so much time on a dress meant to be something that would never see a ball or gala… but she had muttered something about liking details and the beauty of simplicity. So you let her fuss.

Now you were dressing yourself in the gray trousers, green shirt, shoes that actually fit your feet properly, and looking at the selection of hats available. You’d braided your hair back so it would be out of the way and less of a hassle while sailing the sea. Most of the hats would fit your need just fine, but it was going to be your hat. You didn’t want just any old hat. Unconsciously you found yourself leaning towards the straw hats, liking the way they were simple yet would do their job perfectly.

Plucking a straw hat with a wider brim than other, your finger traced the black ribbon wrapped around it until you stroked the neat bow at the back. It was perfect! It was simple, would do the job, and had just enough femininity to it to match your wardrobe. Turning the hat, you placed it on your head and adjusted it before walking over to the floor length mirror you’d spent the morning standing in front of.

Oh my.

You hardly recognized your reflection. Gone was the refined lady of the Bonn family, replaced by a lavender haired woman that held herself with regality but looked like she belonged on a ship at sea.

“It’s perfect,” You sighed happily, running your hands along the coarse material of your trousers. There was nothing delicate about your trousers, your tunic, or your boots. They were built for travel, for daily trekking, for use. Fiddling with the strings hanging from your new hat, you turned on your heel and looked to Annie and her assistant. “I’ve never picked my own clothes before, does this look okay?”

“You look like an average traveler,” Annie told you, walking forwards and nitpicking nonexistent creases in your clothing. “Which I believe is the look you are going for? Course nothing you wear will take away from your natural beauty, dear, can’t hide that.”

“I just don’t want to be found by my family, it was trouble enough leaving them.” You sighed, picking at the end of your short braid. “Maybe I should dye my hair.”

“That’d be a right shame if you did, miss,” The assistant spoke up. “You don’t want to erase yourself trying to find your freedom. You might lose yourself entirely if you do.” She had a point, you could admit that. So you’d leave your hair alone and hope that your luck would continue.

“Alright then,” You said, turning to address them. “How much do I owe you?”

“A smile, girl, and if you offer me Berry one more time I’m going to sic your gentleman on you.” Annie told you with a strict look. Your shoulders slumped and you let out a soft groan, realizing that Shanks had indeed won this battle. Very well. So you gave Annie and the assistant one of your best smile and thanked them before venturing for the front of the shop. You could see Shanks standing outside, across the road from the shop leaning against the railing of the overlook to the port of Ingles. No doubt he’d felt cooped up in the shop.

Knowing that Annie would have your dress and clothes delivered to the Red Force when everything was ready and packed up, you departed the shop and quietly walked up to the red haired man.

“Finally done, eh?” Shanks asked, admiring the view of the ocean and the breeze he could feel on his face. It was a rather nice day he had to admit, too bad you had spent most of it inside. Perhaps tomorrow he’d have more of a chance to show you around.

“I am not happy you wouldn’t let me pay,” You announced, stopping beside him and enjoying the view. Shanks chuckled and rolled his eyes. He’d practically spent the entire day arguing with you over who got to pay for your clothes. Shanks had ultimately put his foot down and talked with Annie about not letting you pay.

“Consider it a gift, Aria, you’re starting a new life.” Shanks chuckled before giving you a brief glance. Looking back at the horizon, his head snapped back to you in surprise. He knew that you would be leaving the shop wearing new clothes, but he hadn’t realized just how fitting and beautiful you’d look in just pants and a shirt. While he stared at you, drinking in the sight and realizing just how well you’d fit in with the crew now, you blinked at him and wondered if you looked odd to him. He sure was staring for a long time.

“Do I look weird in these clothes? Annie said I looked fine but I feel odd wearing them since I’ve never picked my own clothes before.” Shanks reached up and flicked his finger along the edge of your straw hat, reminded of a certain boy he’d left behind years ago. You had the same passion in your eyes. A frightfully attractive passion he was slowly coming to terms with. Better move on before you caught on to the fact that he was unabashedly checking you out.

“You look like you fit in with a crowd, Aria, the clothes are perfect.” He said before straightening up. “I got word that the men finished with the re supply and found a tavern. We’ll meet up with them there.”

Date Published: 1/11/24

Last Edit: 1/11/24

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[sassenach77yle]

“Where is your hat, Lieutenant Ransom?” The colonel spoke behind me, quietly reproving, and for the second time in five minutes I felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck. Not at the colonel’s words but at the murmured reply.“… rebel whoreson shot it off my head,” said a voice. It was an English voice, young, hoarse with suppressed grief, and tinged with anger. Other than that—it was Jamie’s voice, and Jamie’s hand tightened so abruptly on mine that he nearly crushed my fingers.We were at the trailhead that led upward from the river; two more steps would see us safely into the shelter of the fog-veiled trees. Instead of taking those two steps, Jamie stopped dead for the space of a heartbeat, then dropped my hand, turned on his heel, and, taking the hat off his head, strode over and thrust it into Lieutenant Ransom’s hands.

“I believe I owe ye a hat, sir,” he said politely, and turned away at once, leaving the young man blinking at the battered tricorne in his hands.

Glancing back, I caught a glimpse of William’s baffled face as he looked after Jamie, but Jamie was propelling me up the path as though Red Indians were at our heels, and a stand of fir saplings hid the lieutenant from view within seconds.I could feel Jamie vibrating like a plucked violin string, and his breath was coming fast.“Have you quite lost your mind?” I inquired conversationally.“Very likely.”

“What on earth—” I began, but he only shook his head and pulled me along, until we were well out of both sight and hearing of the cabin. A fallen log that had so far escaped the woodcutters lay half across the path, and Jamie sat down suddenly on this and put a shaking hand to his face.“Are you all right? What on earth is the matter?” I sat beside him and put a hand on his back, beginning to be worried.

“I dinna ken whether to laugh or to weep, Sassenach,” he said. He took his hand away from his face, and I saw that, in fact, he appeared to be doing both. His lashes were wet, but the corners of his mouth were twitching.“I’ve lost a kinsman and found one, all in the same moment—and a moment later realize that for the second time in his life, I’ve come within an inch of shooting my son.” He looked at me and shook his head, quite helpless between laughter and dismay.“I shouldna have done it, I ken that. It’s only—I thought all at once, What if I dinna miss, a third time? And—and I thought I must just… speak to him. As a man. In case it should be the only time, aye?”

Cap66 DEATHBED ~An echo in the bone

Outlander season 7 episode 08:" Turning points"

[captainzigo]

since I have been making my little pony comics for the past few months, I have basically forgotten what every single one of my duckverse comic prompts means. I had a big list full of one sentence prompts for duckverse comics that I was going to make, and I was reading through it yesterday, because I thought about making one. I was surprised to find out that I have no idea what any of them mean. instead of just deleting the list, I have decided to share with you. For what good it will do you. Think of this as a little shout out to the people who followed me for duckverse content. i havent forgotten about you. it’s also a little peek in my twisted mind. my horrible creation process. a behind the scenes look from hell. the list of prompts is below the break

max college fund

launchpad rescue hero

costco 22¢ per bite

house of mouse

door to darkness

because i’m hispanic?

donald cousins catch and release

fish wife

the greatest skateboard trick in the seven seas

backyardagins movie

evil versions boy band

gladstone gay moms

the poor part of town

private army of freaks vs my boys

you own the town. you are politics - what do you think taxes are for - not gladstone bail - id be doing everyone a favor

kids table is great actually

donald cry gold swim

beautiful gold moon

villains table

these lovebirds

gladstone can’t read

gladstone hyper specific thrift store shirt

louie seeing anyone right now?

managed my uncle’s finances

june dolls episode

may louie webs spy episode

house of mouse christmas hdl want to come

propeller cap start to turn. big wind. its a helicopter landing. thanks babe

double gay batteries

daisy likes donald snoring

if you can understand anything he says then yeah!

sora. quack pack. bald monkey

i respect your pronouns. i dont not respect YOU scrooge

why are you friends with my rival’s girlfriend

we’re sisters now too???

The dancing hacker - do you know how hard it is to lucid dream

are you guys playing dancing hacker?

how did you do that? Those dice were rigged i mean.

you guys were supposed to prepare a musical number every session

Lady in pink but with a knife

girl boss? No girl lady. But not a girl.

sephirof at the door. never seen Donald that serious in my life.

I have a superhero alter ego - like super Grover?

louie x robin the frog

daffy: i’m getting you a job in Hollywood, kid! You gonna make big times. Why? uh… i’m friends with your mom.

Duckburg community college is the only community college that does dance scholarship

duckberg community ducks, and the Duckburg University geese

in helicopter: you ever going to get tired of having our dates like this? no never.

donald take responsibility for our son! panchito what

babe your costume is terrible. why are you still in a sailor hat

tasha austin gay lesbian solidarity

hey webby! *glittery hands*

webby diary

shake for trust? glitter on hand. body slam

why did t you tell me your girlfriend is a pilot? tasha said i shouldn’t tell you because of what happened to you pilot ex. he’s still alive!

pablo: sleeper agents be like time for my next mission

CHRISTMAS GIFTS

WHATS UP T-BOYS?

donald’s boyfriends what does gladstone have against gay people

donald you should wingman for me. i thought you were gay

dugan duck is your secret kid isn’t he

huey ponytail

donald has three boyfriends why can’t i have two

woops i mexed up their super powers - let’s go, t boys! i didn’t make them trans! they were like that before, right?

your brother donald has like five partners. yeah and i’m not my brother donald. you’re right. i should date your brother donald

dewey damn girl your ass phat what are your pronouns. katy nun/ya

tying normie trans girl to a chair turbo pablo

don’t worry. the promise ring is just a tracking device

punch buggy gets steadily more and more violent

dewey’s many licenses

duck twins cobwebs

beaks: help! #911

katy can not entertain in her tiny trailer

uno gaydar donald i finally give you a job and you’re being gay on the clock??

when mom comes in and you have to hide your DS under your pillow

HDL Tulin

HDL chart

[just-some-guy-joust]

im stubborn and i like talking here's the reasons i put every character i did in side a into the tourney. I'll do side b later cause i gotta go to bed soon

important first note, quite a few of my decisions were because i was trying to get women in here and it was getting desperate because i had to cut out a lot of women for only being "just some guy" because they were written by a misogynist that made her sit on the sidelines and cheer for the male leads. The Woman Situation Is Always So Fucking Dire.

anyways on to the actual contestants im gonna start with the characters that have been causing the most people to start up shit about them not being just some guy

barry bluejeans (taz balance): 2 submissions, personal bias. i think a lot of people are misunderstanding what this tournament is tbh. this isnt about the "normal" characters, tho normalcy does play a factor in it. this is about dudes who are just some guy. there is a difference. barry is a dnd npc who wears blue jeans in a fantasy world and he loves his wife. yes he is a lich. yes he is involved in the main plot. he's also just chillin. like if the plot didn't happen the way it did barry would be playing sudoku or crosswords. he'd be an average man in a very fantasy world. he is so average and human its funny. he is just some guy

tommy (hlvrai): 1 submission, personal bias. his just some guy energy is so there. he gets a propeller hat that does nothing when all of his crew is getting cool guns and upgrades. his life goal is to go home and take his dog for a walk. he gets a chuck e cheese birthday party. he sounds like he's going to burst into tears at any moment. compared to the rest of the crew, tommy is comedically just some guy

ulala (persona 2): 1 submission, description swayed me. it described the list of characters in persona 2 and ulala was just "your roommate that wanted to go to a party". that's hilarious. also i was getting fucking desperate for women that didn't suck ass as i stated above

apollo (ace attorney): 2 submissions, personal bias, descriptions swayed me. yall the submissions for him were so fucking funny. he's just a lawyer. he just wants to do his job but he lives in the ace attorney universe so everything is fucked all the time. he would've been a normal lawyer if he hadn't met phoenix wright. he's just chillin.

ok now here's every other character

sasha james (tma): 1 submission, friend bias, good description. i asked r if i should put her in because they know tma and they said yes. submission described her as loving to organize and avoided many monsters by being just some guy.

reigen arataka (mp100): 2 submissions. i thought it'd be funny and i was right. he is also just a normal man pretending he's not and he refuses to give up the bit he 100% deserves to be here

joy (underworld office): 1 submission, friend bias. the mc is going through wild ghost related problems and she's just going . hey man. you good??? r's sister submitted her and im not letting her down dude she's awesome

junpei (zero escape): 3 submissions, personal bias. he is literally the only character who has no connection to the larger mystery he's just there because he loves 1 girl. he's PAINFULLY and VITALLY just a dude. i need him

horse (centaurworld): 1 submission. i thought it'd be really funny to include just a horse. her name is horse. thats fucking awesome dude

phone guy (fnaf): 2 submissions. he was the only character from fnaf that got more than 1 submission and there were like 9 fnaf submissions i kinda felt bad tbh. he was also the best example of just some guy out of all the fnaf submissions

gordon freeman (hlvrai): 1 submission. he is a guy playing a video game. he is the straight man to the rest of the crews antics and by god he plays his role well

joshua gillespie (tma): 4 submissions, friend bias, hilarious descriptions. he avoids getting killed because he's so good at following instructions despite him clearly supposed to be dying here. they said don't open the coffin so he didn't. simply don't tuesday

namari (dungeon meshi): 1 submission, personal bias. i like her c: she's pretty level headed compared to like. everyone else in laios's crew. she seems like somebody i could just be friends with and hang out with

shez (fire emblem): 3 submissions, hilarious descriptions. i might try getting into fire emblem because of this. ok so they got murdered in a previous game off screen and now they're the playable character of a new game in a new timeline and they're fucking everything up because they're just supposed to be some guy? thats so fucking funny holy shit i want to know more

henry stickmin (henry stickmin): 1 submission. henry stickmin. like idk i dont feel like i gotta explain this one he's a stickman

stanley (tsp): guaranteed entry

whole (chonny jash): 1 submission, friend bias. tbh i saw him and went oh fuck yeah thats the thing my friends like and then i put him in there. i dont actually know enough about chonny jash to say anything on this but i fully trust the submitter knew what they were doing

larry (pokemon): guaranteed entry

luke carder (inscryption): 1 submission, friend bias, good description. he is just a normal youtuber in the lore of the game. he fucking love card game. good for him man good for him

leorio (hxh): 3 submissions, friend bias, good descriptions. idk a lot about hxh but the descriptions of him compared to the other main characters was pretty convincing

barry the quokka (sonic): guaranteed entry

april o'neil (tmnt): 1 submission, friend bias. absolutely normal girl that just happens to be the one that found the turtles and become their friend

tsuzuru (a3!): 3 submissions, friend bias. descriptions definitely made him feel like a good fit. he's so good at being just some guy i actually thought he was a different character and was shocked when i went to grab images for the tourney and he wasnt the guy i thought he was. which is really funny. like who the fuck is he then. this didn't change my opinion or anything it was just so good

matt (woe.begone): 1 submission. woe.begone fans have ALWAYS been kind to me so they got some mod bias sprinkled in. i dont know what this guys deal is but in the dbtn tourney the guy who got in there had a giant fucking list of things that are happening to him all the time and apparently thats just what woe.begone is like so i believe it when told matt is normal in comparison. everything else is so batshit wild I Just Believe You

gilear (fantasy high): 2 submissions. he seems to be just a dad. wasn't going to get in at first tbh just for personal reasons but i was running out of characters that i felt actually fit the tournament well so ultimately he got in

emmet (lego movie): 4 submissions. honestly with the number of submissions we got, 4 submissions was basically a guaranteed entry. and emmet's whole story is about being just some guy

stahl (fire emblem): 1 submission, hilarious description. fire emblem fans are so funny. what do you mean he can only be perfectly average because everyone else improves/gets worse with him to keep him perfectly average. what the fuck. thats so good

doug (wolf359): 2 entries. i dont know jack shit about wolf359 and honestly the submissions didn't tell me a lot but it was enough to figure he qualifies and i was running out of characters that felt good for the tourney. i trust you wolf359 fans

jack townsend (tales from the gas station): 1 submission, good description. he works at an evil gas station and the description gave me no follow up on what an evil gas station is which is awesome. apparently the horrors are constantly happening and he's just kinda staring at them. he's not paid enough for this

frisk (undertale): guaranteed entry

brian pasternack (yuppie psycho): 1 submission. im gonna be super honest with you here. i dont remember. i know he qualifies but i have 0 thoughts about him. maybe thats a good thing in this tourney. he's an average office worker who has now been tasked with killing The Witch.

trevor (american arcadia): 4 submissions, personal bias, good descriptions. dude i fucking love american arcadia it's so fucking good what a nightmare. he's so normal they were going to kill him for not being entertaining enough

[foli-vora]

jealousy, jealousy

frankie morales x f!reader

A/N: y'all opened the door for this with your love of 'You Broke Me First' so let's do it.

Read 'You Broke Me First' here.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: swearing, SMUT 18+ ONLY: rough unprotected p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, brief choking, infidelity

He shouldn’t. He fucking shouldn’t. Not here, not now –

But as much as his mind screams at him to stop, to just turn around and fucking walk the other way, he continues on, eyes wild as they flicker through each room until he hears the run of the tap in the bathroom. He has suspicions, checks behind him to ensure no one has followed him or stumbles this way, before knocking sharply on the door.

Sure enough your voice calls out a sweet reply, saying you’ll only be a moment and Frankie checks one last time over his shoulder. Clear. He moves as soon as the door cracks open, lashing out like a snake striking, his hand wrapping around the edge of it and shoving forward forcefully, clearing taking you off guard as you stumble back in surprise.

Your anger is extinguished almost immediately when you realise it’s him, and you watch with a frown of confusion pulling at your brows as he all but slams the door closed behind him, his fingers deftly flicking the lock and ensuring its hold with a vigorous pull of the door handle.

“Frankie?”

“Do you know?”

“Know?” Your frown deepens, “Know what?”

His eyes flicker between yours, the tremble in his hands building. Of course you didn’t know. He wouldn’t have told you about it, these things were meant to be a fucking surprise. Why would you know? He flicks his hat into the sink and runs a shaky hand through his flattened hair, wanting nothing more than to spill everything he knows.

The tasteless, basic ring; the planned date of execution; how he wants to take you out to the lookout you went to on your first date and get on one knee and ask you the fucking question Frankie only dreams of uttering…

No.

It wasn’t his place. It was wrong. This whole fucking thing – it was so fucking wrong. Why was he even here? He shouldn’t do this, he couldn’t. Not again. He’d already broken his brother’s trust, and more than once! What kind of person does that make him? Not a fucking good one. 

You take a tentative step closer, reaching out and smoothing a hand along his arm.

“Frankie, what – is everything okay? What happened?”

He looks at you, the molten rage bubbling beneath his skin as his mind assaults him with the vivid memory of it all. It wasn’t fair. You weren’t for his friend – he wasn’t right for you. He didn’t know you, not in the way Frankie did.

Frankie knew you at your very core. He knew your body, your soul – he had laid you bare, physically and spiritually. He’d studied every inch of your skin, relished in the glow of what makes you truly you. Tom couldn’t make you feel the way Frankie did – he knew that for a fucking fact.

“Nothing happened,” he mutters. Nothing yet, anyway.

“Then what’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? What’s wrong is you’re going to marry one of his best friends and there’s not a fucking thing he can do about it. You’d already had this conversation, already agreed that there could never be anything more, that what you both had done was wrong and should never happen again…

And yet, here he is.

Here you are.

The fury thrumming along his veins propels him forward, his mouth smashing against yours and rendering you weak against him as your hand slides into the ruffled curls at the base of his skull. It lasts only a moment before something probes at your mind, a loud reminder that this was Tom’s house, this was risky. Too fucking risky, what was he thinking?

You break away, tongue sweeping along your lips. “What are you doing? He could walk in, he could hear –”

Frankie grunts, his hand roughly winding around the back of your neck. “Fucking let him.”

He couldn’t care less.

His lips are back on yours before you can even form a response. You can taste the rage that soaks his tongue when it pushes into your mouth, the fury that causes the tremble in his fingers. You want to ask more questions, something had to have happened for him to be like this, but with another lick of his tongue against yours, your mind blanks.

The worry at being caught evaporates under the rough pads of his fingers, your body slackening and allowing him to manhandle you into a position that suits him best with your heart wild in your chest. It borders pain, the way he handles you. His rage isn’t directed at you, you know this, but you can’t help but relish in the ache his touch leaves across your body.

The counter digs into the back of your thighs and he drops suddenly, ripping away from your mouth and leaving you clutching the cool surface behind you and panting like you’d just run a marathon. He shoves your dress up to your waist, eyes rolling over the soft cotton of your underwear. 

You say it so fucking sweetly. He’ll never get enough. 

Frankie?

His eyes roll up to meet yours, his teeth nipping at the inside of your thigh before moving to mouth hungrily at your covered pussy. Saliva builds on his tongue as the familiar taste of your arousal melts through the thin material, and he wonders if it’s from him, or him. The thought alone drives him to push your dress further out of the way, fingers slipping into the waistband of your panties and giving them a sharp tug downwards.

“Here?” You breathe quietly, eyes flickering to the door.

Anyone could be out there, anyone could knock at any minute –

Yes here.

He doesn’t even bother pulling them off all the way. His fingers part your folds and he dives in, tongue slipping through what he could reach of your slit before moving up and circling your clit. You whine along with his ministrations, fingers falling to tangle in his short waves and tugging.

You can only just hold in the noises building in your throat as he moves like a man starved, pressing his mouth into you as his tongue probes and swirls and practically drinks you down. His lips latch around your clit, sucking sharply on the aching nerve and tearing a whimper from your chest.

His groan soaks into your cunt when your hips start to roll, the hand tangled in his hair keeping him still as you grind on his mouth, the slick feel of his tongue running back and forth along your slit causing your pussy to clench hungrily as you take what you want.

He watches you from where he kneels at your feet, eyes dark and swimming with something wild that has your climax building quicker than you expected. He feels it in the way your thigh muscles start to tighten, sees it in the way your face pinches and eyes flutter, your mouth hanging open in a silent cry.

Tom could never make you feel like this.

You cum against his mouth with a broken gasp, your hand tightening in his hair to the brink of pain and he delights in it, his groan vibrating against your pussy only intensifying the high your body crashes through.

His tongue forces its way into your cunt, probing and dragging along the spasming walls and flooding his taste buds with the taste of your cum. His blunt nails leave crescent moons in the back of your thigh, digging into your flesh just under the swell of your ass as he keeps you against his mouth, working you through one orgasm and all but throwing you into the stirrings of another, forcing you to move through the overstimulation and endure every rabid move of his mouth.

“G-god Frankie, calm down –” you whimper, legs twitching and knees weak with the threat of giving out completely.

He ignores you, uncaring as your slick floods his chin and soaks his skin. He works impossibly harder, tasting deeper, pushing you further and further until you fucking snap –

“Fu–uck,” you cry, hands flying to rest on his head as you buckle, practically folding over him as another orgasm snaps through your core and floods your body with waves upon waves of ecstasy.

He tears himself away with a grunt, rubbing your cum away from his chin with the back of his hand before locking fingers beneath your jaw and manoeuvring your head back, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth as his lips mash against yours.

You moan into him, the taste of your cunt seeping into your mouth with every swipe of his tongue.

The solid feel of his cock straining against his jeans digs into you as he presses himself close, grinding against you in need of friction. His hands fly to your hips and spin you until your front presses into the counter, your eyes following the frantic movement of him behind you in the reflection of the mirror.

His lip curls when the fly catches in his haste and he shoves his jeans down and out of the way, the denim burning along his skin at the rough rushed movement. You arch, sticking your ass out far enough for him to run the blunt end of his cock along your folds until it presses into your entrance.

He’s met with little to no resistance, your cunt opening and soaking him with each shallow thrust until he sinks fully into you, his hips flush against your ass. His eyes follow the slight roll of your eyes at the feel of him, the hot walls wrapped around his cock fluttering around him.

Your hand flies to brace yourself as he pulls back and slams forward, the solid length of him filling you and hitting a soft spot deep in your cunt. He does it again, and again, and again, until you’re left weak against the mirror, no longer able to hold your body up from the onslaught of his savage thrusts.

The glass fogs with each pant, the surface of it cool and icy against your fiery skin. His hand locks around the back of your neck, the other locked around your hip and keeping you in place as he takes his anger out on your body, practically breaking you apart with the heavy slam of his cock. 

“Am I better than him?”

It takes a moment for the question to register in your mind, your body too focused on his brutality and the way your cunt clenches around him.

“You know you are,” you reply weakly, eyes rolling back from the pain fuelled pleasure.

Surely you both were being too loud. The obscene slap of flesh fills the small bathroom, blending in with your barely contained cries – anyone would instantly know what was happening if they stepped within a metre of the door.

You don’t care, and by the way Frankie drills into you, he doesn’t either. 

Frankie grunts, “Tell me.”

“You’re better than him,” you babble, mind spinning. “You’re so much better, Frankie –”

The hand digging into the back of your neck moves to curl around the front of your throat, applying pressure and forcing you to arch further.

“Do you love me?”

It’s dangerous territory, but he wants to hear you say it. He needs to hear you say it. He knows you do, despite never having heard you utter the words, but some feral part of him wants to hear you cry it out in your boyfriend’s bathroom while he splits you apart.

You nod, but it’s not fucking good enough. 

“Say it,” he grits out,

“I love you,” you sob, the thick length of him unforgiving as it slams into you. “I love you so much –”

It’s immediate.

He fucking breaks. 

The crash of his climax hits him out of nowhere, his balls drawing up and tightening, his cock throbbing as he spills into you, filling you to the brim. You whimper with every twitch of his length, the flood of his cum hot and sticky as it leaks out of your cunt with his slowing thrusts and drips down the inside of your thighs.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, keeping this softening cock shoved into your pussy as he catches his breath, his forehead resting softly on the back of your head.

“You know I love you too, right?” He mutters, not quite able to stand straight and meet your gaze in the mirror. He hides the shine of tears threatening to spill over his lash line when he feels your small nod in return.

Why did it have to be this way?

-

everthing pp tags: @maievdenoir, @william-butcher, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @h-hxgirl, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927​, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76,

frankie morales tags: @a-reader-and-a-writer​, @sanfransolomitatm​, @pedrohoe04​, @evyiione​, @stardust-galaxies​, @xjsteph​, @androah​, @wildmoonflower​, @naughtynecromancer​, @quica-quica-quica​, @stevenmylove, @lawfulgranola​, @notagamersdey​, @fuckoffbard​, @yt-adriana​, @dins-cyare, @clydesducktape​, @serini-ty​, @chaoticevilbakugo​

[eruden-writes]

Room & Board - Part 18

Anonymous asked:

For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

Links under cut!

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x x x x x

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The shock of the run-in with Lachlan runs out by the time the three of you get home, the sun already beginning to set. Not even five minutes through the door, your brain is already churning with ideas, ways to fight back, ways to save Tabaeus. As you kick off your shoes and stride further into the living room, turning on lights, you turn to your two companions, “Alright, he gave us a day. We should plan what to do.” 

“What do you mean?” Ewan shoots you a curious look as he flops down on the couch. There’s something wilted about his posture, as if he was a dog exhaustedly returning home after being dumped elsewhere.

Eager to get planning, your feet propel you into a back and forth pace as your hands gesticulate. “We could booby trap the house. If it’s all anti-vampire stuff, Tabaeus would need to stay somewhere safe, but-” 

“No. There’s no way to defeat Lachlan.” Tabaeus suddenly steps between you and Ewan, casting a desperate expression between the two of you. Their movement has halted your pacing.

Your eyebrows furrow, confusion dampening your verve as your hands fall to yoru sides. “But-” 

“There is no way,” Tabaeus hisses, that desperation in their eyes tinged with miserable fear. Their pointed ears droop a little as they step away, turning their back on you and Ewan. Removing his hat and setting it on a nearby hat rack, Tabaeus’s voice softens and cracks, “He always finds me, always drags me back.”

Ewan sits a little straighter, his concern piquing. You and the werewolf share a worried look, but say nothing. With the appearance of Lachlan, you’re not surprised that memories have finally triggered in Tabaeus. 

Lachlan had been… a lot to take in. Intimidating and powerful, affecting a whole library with some sort of enthrallment. An icy sort of vileness in his movements and words. The promise of danger. 

But you and Ewan don’t have the experience, the traumatic memories, that Tabaeus undoubtedly holds in reference to the other vampire. It’s a bit disheartening that, after so long trying to figure out Tabaeus’s amnesia, Lachlan is there to sully the recollections.

“What did he mean by punishments?” The words come out of you before you can consider them. Tabaeus’s back stiffens at the question, but they remain turned away. Licking your lips, you take a step forward and softly push, “Tabaeus?”

At the creak of the floorboard beneath your foot, the vampire half-turns to you. They don’t look at you and you get the feeling they can’t bring their gaze to you. Too ashamed or miserable to catch your eye.

After a long moment, Tabaeus sighs and turns around fully. “He killed Kieran and… others. The ones I sheltered with in all of my escape attempts.” 

Conflict scrunches Tabaeus’s features further as their hand presses to their own chest. “If the people I am with have other ideas that could be construed as a punishment, Lachlan sits back and observes.”

Your lips thin, eyes narrow as you remember the autopsy scars marring Tabaeus’s torso. You don’t want to imagine what other torture Lachlan sat back and watched. It’s hard not to let your brain feed you awful scenarios.

“There has to be some way,” you say with soft earnestness as you touch Tabaeus’s arm. Their attention flicks to you, quick as a flinch, and your eyes flick over their face, tallying all the anguish crimping their features. 

“No, nothing.” Shaking their head, Tabaeus dislodges your touch gently. They swallow heavily again, fighting down discomfort to continue speaking, “I suspect Lachlan can track me, hear me. Peek into where I am at. If not him, then others perhaps.” 

Ewan has pushed himself off the couch by now and stands behind you, dallying at the edges of whatever is happening between you and Tabaeus. But at Tabaeus’s words, he presses, “Others?”

“Anyone who has used my… services.” The words sound bitter on Tabaeus’s lips, mixed with shame and frustration. 

“For memories?” You’re still not entirely sure what that meant. The worrier in you thinks it’s something sexual or perhaps meant for a litany of experiences. Like a sex worker that will allow anything to happen to them, despite how they feel about it and despite little compensation. But you don’t think that’s all there is to it, even if a lot of vampire media loves the thought of bloodsucking debauchery and parties.

“Yes,” Tabaeus hisses, their lips puckering and eyes narrowing. “For memories.” 

Lachlan had said something about making the memory of himself fresh in Tabaeus’s head, before they did a forced feeding. Something clanks in your thoughts, trying to piece together the meaning. Whenever Tabaeus fed on you, you saw things, hadn’t you? And there were moments where Tabaeus didn’t seem like themselves. 

Did Lachlan mean that Tabaeus was used for memories in a more literal way?

“What does that mean exactly?” Ewan voices the question your brain suddenly churns over. He’s hovering behind your shoulder, his body heat warm. There’s a tingle along your back, as if you can feel the werewolf’s own anxiety.

“I am a vampire created to store the memories of other vampires.” Even as they answer, Tabaeus doesn’t bring their red eyes to your face or toward Ewan. They speak slowly, picking their words carefully as they explain something that, hours earlier, even they knew nothing about. “A receptacle for others to deposit or withdraw memories as they wish. As such, I am not supposed to make memories of my own, so they may utilize me to the fullest potential.”

Their explanation dips further into bitterness and frustration the longer they speak. Grim lines crease the corner of Tabaeus’s mouth. 

“Why would they need that?” Ewan presses, eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

“Our brains are not meant to store centuries or millennia of memories," they explain, pressing fingers to their temple. As if the explanation causes some deep-seeded pain. “Remembrances deteriorate over time. Well, unless a coven has a Memory Keeper.” 

Ewan voices the outrage that you feel, “Then let them make another Memory Keeper!” 

“According to Lachlan’s memories, I am one of the last. He was not even my original owner,” they say, disgust radiating over the last word. “Ironic, the skills and ritual meant to create one of my own has faded from recollection.”

Driven by the unfairness of it all, you take a step closer and reach out to the vampire. “But we still have to try and stop-”

Before you can touch Tabaeus, they grab your hand in both of theirs. They clasp it tightly, the cool of their palms an unwanted balm against the heat of your adrenaline and determination. The fact Tabaeus is finally looking at you is a small consolation. 

“Amata, I care for you. I love you. I do not want to risk you suffering Lachlan’s wrath.” The words come out rushed and watery as they give your hand a squeeze. Your heart stutters at their declaration, your mouth opening to say something but no words come. Their red eyes flicker to Ewan, continuing the earnest and pained timbre as they add, “Nor do I want that to happen to you. A werewolf would be tortured far worse than a human.”

A glance at Ewan tells you he agrees with Tabaeus’s words, his shoulders slumped and a discontented frown on their lips. From the way he holds himself, you can almost imagine wolfish ears drooping down and a sad sagging tail. Despite all this, Ewan quietly asks, “Then what do we do?” 

“I will get my things in order and comply with Lachlan. It is the only way I can be sure neither of you are harmed.”

You can see where Tabaeus thinks the situation is unwinnable. A vile master of sorts that may be able to track or see through Tabaeus’s own eyes. If not Lachlan, perhaps others. Which made the situation worse, since even if they dispatched one enemy, more may come in their place. That wasn’t even considering the actual experience Tabaeus has.

However, you can’t help but want to fight. Rolling over and just letting Lachlan take Tabaeus sours your stomach. “But-” 

“Please, this is hard enough as it is.” “Do not fight me on this. I do not wish to enthrall you and wipe your mind of me, but I will if I must.” 

“Tabae-” They swoop forward, not letting you finish your plaintive dissent. Their desperate lips catch yours, their palms cradling the sides of your face. The force of the gesture makes you stumble backward into Ewan, whose warm hands catch you by the hips. 

Uncertainty pulses from the werewolf, his fingers curling into you. “Tabaeus, I don’t think-”

Ewan’s disgruntled words cut off as the vampire breaks from you and lunges for him. The werewolf yelps as Tabaeus grabs him by the hair, dragging him into a kiss of their own. It has the same level of desperation as the kiss they bestowed on you.

When Tabaeus next pulls back, they hold you and Ewan closer, lowering their head between the two of you. Pained and miserable, Tabaeus sighs, “Please, allow me to have one more night, one more good memory, before it ends.”

Tension echoes along your body and you can feel similar uncertainty radiate from Ewan. Both of you are stiff, even as your arm reaches around Tabaeus and your hand brushes down their back. An ache throbs through your chest. You’d like nothing more than to comfort the vampire, give them another good night, but your heart won’t comply. “Ewan?” 

“Yeah?” The werewolf’s reply nearly comes out as a whisper.

Hesitance causes you to pause for a beat, mentally struggling with your next words. Finally, you dismally ask, “How can we stop Tabaeus?”

The vampire tenses against you, an almost imperceptible whine keening from their throat. “Do not, amata.”  

After his own beat of reluctance, Ewan finally answers you in a soft, sober tone, “I can go full wolf and wrestle him down into… whatever he sleeps in.  Wrap it in chains, put it behind anti-vampire protections so Lachlan can’t get to them but they won’t be able to get out.”

Even as Ewan talks about the options, he doesn’t sound convinced. If you were truthful, you doubt either of you want to go that route. It was one thing to have Tabaeus’s cooperation, and another thing entirely to lock them down against their will.

“Enough!” The snarl lights fast from Tabaeus’s lips as they forcefully push you and Ewan away. The power of the shove sends you flying into the far wall, air knocked from your lungs. Across the room, you hear Ewan land against one of the end tables with a grunt of pain as wood splinters beneath him.

Sparing a short glance at Ewan, you can tell the werewolf is okay. Perhaps a little sore and shamed but overall alright. Your attention jumps back to Tabaeus, your eyes widening as you take in the vampire’s state.

They have ripped most of their outfit off, red tears streaming down their cheeks. Whatever fabric still clings to their body has darkened, moldered as if it has been in the ground for ages. Lights flicker around them as their hair plasters to them, becoming a layer of short fur that creeps over their body. Their pointed ears have grown large, wide, bat-like.

To your left, you hear the telltale cracks and snarls of Ewan shifting. You don’t even need to glance over to know he’s gone full lycan, a heady canine scent tinging the air.

“I have made my decision,” Tabaeus growls, their red eyes glowing behind the still intact sunglasses. Their eyes flicker from you to Ewan, their words taking a rougher edge, “Do not try me, either of you.”

Even with their shoulders hunched, it feels like they tower over you. Innate power crackles through the air, heavy and dark.

Recollections of your first night meeting Tabaeus careen through your head. This was what they looked like, except with different disintegrating clothing. Inhumanly tall and lanky, claws bursting from their fingertips, eyes glowing in a dark-purple complexion and dark fur. 

The sight makes residual fear stumble through your thoughts, but care and concern for Tabaeus refuses to let you back down. “I’m not going to just let you walk back into Lachlan’s control!” 

“It is not your decision,” they snarl, their claws flexing with agitation.

A sense of hopelessness descends through your thoughts as you blink back tears. Faintly, you wonder if Tabaeus is projecting or if it’s your own dreadful feelings. “Just because you don’t think you can fight him-” 

“I said enough!” Tabaeus slices their hand through the air, the action silencing you as they take a step forward. Before you can line up an argument, a brown furry figure tackles the vampire with a growl of their own. All you can do is stare as a fully shifted Ewan grapples with the transformed Tabaeus, fur and obscenities and growls flying. 

It takes you a few breaths before your brain kicks you into gear. Attempting to separate the two would only get yourself hurt. Instead, a thought blooms in your head: The vampire hunter box. Was there anything in there that would incapacitate Tabaeus without killing them? You can’t remember, can’t recall.

Where did you even put the blasted thing? 

Your feet are moving before you even think, making a beeline for the stairs and up to your bedroom. That’s right. You left it on your dresser, before heading to the library. 

As you clamber upstairs, you hear a gnarl of rage behind you. That had to be Tabaeus, realizing your destination in your noisy ascent. Which meant the following growl was Ewan, returning the vampire’s attention to him.

The sounds below become fiercer, with wood splintering and glass breaking. Shoving the worry aside, you focus on getting to your bedroom, getting to the box.

Your lungs ache as you get to the landing, bruises from Tabaeus’s earlier toss throbbing along your back. On auto-pilot, you fly to your room and slam open the door, scrambling wildly to your dresser. 

The box sits there, innocent and ignorant to the chaos below. Grabbing it, you throw the lid open and riffle through the contents. It’s not until you hear a loud crash downstairs, followed by a whimper, that your fingers start trembling. 

“Amata.” Tabaeus’s voice echoes up from the stairs, just before you hear the creak of the wood underfoot. 

Each resounding footstep breaks your concentration further as you try to make sense of the items in the box. Glass vials of water, presumably of the holy variety. The stairs creaked. Silver trinkets. The footfalls got to the landing. A crucifix. Wooden stakes. Closer, the footfalls echoed along the hall. A jar of beans. Outside the door, the steps paused. A hand mirror. A shadow filled the doorway, bringing with it a sense of deeper darkness. 

Wildly you look up, blinking back tears.

The clothes on Tabaeus’s form hung like rags now, but it didn’t matter much. Fur coated the rest of their body, their face morphed into something somewhere between a bat and a human. In the scuffle with Ewan, they have lost their sunglasses, leaving you staring into familiarly terrifying glowing red eyes. They took a step forward, into your room. Inky darkness trailed at their back, like they brought the night with them.

Without much thought, you grab the jar of beans and fling it at Tabaeus. You’re not even sure if the jar hits them when it explodes in a cloud glittering shrapnel, little dry beans scattering. As the beans clatter on the floor, Tabaeus takes another step in, ignoring the mess.

Vampires do not obsessively count beans. One bit of lore determined useless. 

Grabbing the box, you stumble backward, trying to gain distance between you and Tabaeus. Your hand rummages around in the box, until you feel the silver crucifix. With a shaking hand, you bring it up, holding it in front of you. “What did you do to Ewan?”

“He will be fine,” Tabaeus simply states, cocking their head to the side. Their glowing red eyes narrow on the religious symbol and you briefly hope it’s working. They dash your momentary reprieve by stepping forward once. Twice. Undeterred by the cross.                                                                                                                                                                            

“Tabaeus, please. Let us help,” you plead, your shaking hand abandoning the cross to the floor. 

“No!” The vampire’s word shakes the window panes in your room and sends dust floating down from your ceiling fan. They close the distance on you, eyes burning with frustration and pain. Their eyes rimmed red with bloody tears. “You read what happened to Kieran.”

As you continue to back away and grapple for something of use in the box, your fingertips graze the wood of a stake. Your stomach lurches at the very thought. If the other bits of lore failed, however, maybe a wooden stake wouldn’t kill Tabaeus. Maybe it would simply incapacitate them until you could figure something out. 

Clinging to that hope, you try to buy a little more time. “But we can-” 

You don’t get a chance to finish your plea as Tabaeus, a dark smear in the air, suddenly pins you to the bed. The wooden stake in your hand falls to the bed, bounces, and clatters to the floor. A shriek rends from you as your arms and legs lash out. 

“Please, let us help!” Hot tears stream from your eyes as you struggle against the vampire, but it’s no use. They’re too strong. Their clawed fingers wrap tight to your wrists as they peer down at you. The expression they give you makes that pain in your chest ripple again and the tears come harder.

“My apologies, amata,” Tabaeus quietly says as they move your wrists to one palm and lean close to your neck.

Your struggles increase in desperation as you arch and dip your back, writhe under their hold, trying to shake off the vampire. “No!” 

The singular word is all you can shriek as you feel the prick of Tabaeus’s fangs sink into your throat. A fuzzy feeling swallows your thoughts quickly as that strange suckling latches to your neck, but you still feel the tears stream down your cheeks. Sensations fill your head, your chest. Confusion and delight and fondness and happiness. Brief snatches of your time together saturate your conscious thoughts, bringing more of your own tears to your eyes. 

Nothing lasts forever. Good things always end. The foreign words echo in your head. Not yours, not Tabaeus’s. Perhaps something they were told long ago, something that resonates in this very moment.

Further heat trails down your neck, but you know the tears aren’t your own. They are Tabaeus’s tears, staining your throat with further red streaks. Through the haze, a harder sob bubbles up from your chest. But your struggles have lessened, fallen slack. The world, your thoughts, your senses are dimming, turning dark.

In your quickly fading consciousness, you realize Tabaeus has let go of your hands. Their own grip at your shoulders, long spindly fingers trembling. Turning your face toward the hand on your right, away from Tabaeus’s feasting mouth, you find your sight blurring. 

Before unconsciousness claims you, you press a gentle kiss to the back of their palm. Driven to somehow comfort the vampire, even at such a discordant juncture. Their fingers flex, claws digging into your skin as something akin to another sob bubbles up from their mouth.

That’s the last thing you hear as darkness pulls you under.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

If you like my content, please consider supporting me on: 

*:･ﾟ✧ Patreon or  Ko-Fi *:･ﾟ✧

[oonajaeadira]

WINKTOBER DAY 7: Costumes (Frankie Morales)

I don’t usually write for Frankie. The main reason is that I tend to gravitate to fantasy and sci-fi and Frankie is downhome, grounded in reality, and damn if he isn’t well represented in this fandom. I dunno what I could contribute to his library that isn’t already there, but here’s a little something that I couldn’t get out of my head.

This takes place anywhere that Halloween is celebrated with trick-or-treating.

You’re refilling the candy bowl as the sun begins to set, getting ready for the older wave of trick-or-treaters when there’s a knock at the door–a little too hard and nuanced to be a little one, but too polite to be a teenager–and when you open it, your new neighbor beams and nods, “Alright, Snickers are my favorite!”

You’ve been nursing a crush on the single dad since he moved in a few months back, taking any invitation to speak to him over the backyard fence, waving to little Abril while he pushes her in the swing or helps her dig in her sandbox or when he leaves her dancing with her bubble wand to come lean on the fence and smile shyly at his feet.

But right now she’s asleep and hanging off his chest in a kind of military parachute harness, her chestnut curls–so much like her father’s–tucked up under an army issue pilot’s cap and goggles, and above her you notice Frankie’s best olive green baseball cap has been fitted with a propeller and wings and holy crap it’s all you can do to keep your heart from melting out of your eyeballs.

“Hey,” he laughs nervously, a broad hand coming up to rub the back of his neck but bumping awkwardly into his homemade helicopter hat, “so…we went out trick-or-treating and I must have lost my keys and the locksmith says it’s one of those nights where it might take a while and I was wondering–”

“I dunno,” you smirk, stepping aside, “I mean, I’ve got a bed she’s welcome to nap on, but all I’ve got for you is scary movies and popcorn and beer….heeeyyyy waaaaaait a minute…that sounds like an awfully good deal for you…are you sure you didn’t lose your keys on purpose?”

That not-so-elusive dimple shows itself as he takes a step inside, and while he’s keeping his voice low for the benefit of his sleeping toddler, it also serves you well as he chuckles softly, “Damn, I should have thought of that weeks ago.”

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Y’ALL!!! THIS FICLET HAS ARTWORK! CLICK HERE FOR PATERNLANTERN’S TAKE ON HELICOPTER FRANKIE AND PILOT ABRIL!

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WINKTOBER 2022 MASTERLIST

[blazestar3450]

The Dani fic is finally here!!! I'm sorry it took so long but I hope you all like it despite it being pretty short.

The winds howl as the sirens blare. Dani smirks astride the Devil Ride as she tries to get to the compound before the Ash Storm arrives. The moment she heard a storm was coming she booked it to Brass as soon as she could. As she slides into the compound doors, she sees many a racer, some new some old. She reminices a moment on Amun the Ancient, the Mummy Lord that sadly perished during the last race she was involved in, before stepping off the bike and looking around and walking up to the organizer.

“So, what’s the pool this time?” she asks as she hands them 20 gold for the race. The organizer, another Fire Genasi, says “Got about 180 gold this time around. Big turnout this time. You sure you can keep your spot on top?” “Oh, you know I can” she responds before turning back to the bike and getting ready near the giant double doors that face the track. Well, less of a track, more of a bunch of markers put around winding city streets and markets.

As she puts her goggles down over her eyes the doors begin to open, clouds of ash and soot carried by strong winds blew at her face. She steadied herself on her bike as the organizer walked in front of all the racers and gave the usual shpiel. Dani was just waiting for the queue to start. The organizer starts counting down “5…. 4…..3….2….1….” As the countdown ends Dani speeds off along with the other racers, following the dancing lights set up across the course.

As the ashen winds whip across her face she sees three people ahead of her. First, Flint, the Fire Genasi that also showed up to her very first race, looks like he got his ride fixed up after his defeat last time. Then a Salamander riding an odd mount that looks between some sort of reptile with white hot glowing scales and a phoenix. Finally, an Azer astride a very similar bike to hers except it still lets out that infernal scream and combined with Flint’s it’s a cacophony of sound that almost makes it hard to think.

Yet as she gets just behind them, she comes up with an idea. She lays a hand onto the Anarch Sphere that powers her bike and hopes for the ability she called on last time.

As the sphere powers up it lets out a huge gust of wind that propels the bike into the air and forward 60 feet before settling the bike onto the ground. Not what she was hoping for, but it works. She’s now about 20 ft ahead of her opponents but they’re gaining fast. She needs a way for them to not catch up. Oh yeah. That should work.

At this moment a sphere made of shimmering blue energy appears around her, blocking a Produce Flame attack that was coming in at her from Flint. Suddenly she’s moving around in this thing like a hamster ball and speeding towards the finish line, her opponents hot on her tail as they all are vying for that 180 gold.

As they all round the final corner Dani tries one last hail mary, hoping to trip up the other three. She casts Grease directly behind her and it gets one of them as the Azer tumbles off their ride. It’s just her, Flint and the Salamander and in one last ditch attempt she smacks the Anarch Sphere one more time, pushing them away with a wave of water that knocks them off the course right before she crosses the finish line.

The fire Genasi from before walks up to her, handing over a bag that clatters with what can only be gold coins. “Congrats, now you know what to do. The Illuminators will be out any second now, get outta here before then”. Dani nods and tips her hat to him before speeding off towards the docks.

When she arrives to the Per aspera she sees Kyana and Vhas sparring on the deck. “Oh, hey captain! Did you win?” she asks as she holds the Githyanki’s sword between her monstrous spectral arms. “Yeah. I actually think it might be enough to finally get the ship fixed up” she says. “Oh finally!” Vhas exclaims as he pulls his sword from Kyana’s grasp “Been waiting to have the ship at full working order again since that job in Gehenna”. “Yeah, well, we’re in Brass. Gotta go see Oto for this so we can take care of this while we’re here. Anyways I’m gonna go down and get to work” Dani says. “Alright boss, you have fun” Vhas says as Dani proceeds to go below deck to prepare her next project.

[lphoenixspiritl]

A Brother's Grief

"Aang, we need to talk." a shadow moved across the tent floor blocking the flood of warm afternoon sunlight.

"What's up Sokka? Borrowing Momo for a week not going as planned?"

Sokka glanced over his shoulder where the small lemur rifled through his things and procured one of his socks as a hat.

He turned back to his friend and took a seat on a small stump, "No that's fine, it's about Katara."

A sudden nervousness twisted Aang's stomach.

Had Sokka found out about his crush on his sister? 

Would he be mad?

"Uh, sure. You know I like Katara." Aang's hands shot up, "I-I- mean care about her! Like you do! like a brother!" the boy's cheeks warmed at the fumble.

Sokka stared at him oddly, "Uh, sure."

"So what about Katara?" Aang's voice softened, "Is it what she said about your Mom before she left? It sounded like it hurt."

Sokka could only blink in response, he expected that kind of bluntness from Toph, but coming from Aang, it blindsided him. Suddenly the weight of his emotions were too much, his shoulders collapsed and his chin dropped to his chest.

"It did," he admitted.

"I'm sorry Sokka, maybe you two should talk about it when she gets back." Aang paused his face souring, "That is if you don't have other things to talk about.

The watertribesman stared at his hands, "There's nothing to talk about."

"You have to." Aang pushed, "If that's how you feel then leaving it will just make things worse!"

"There's nothing to talk about because she's right." Sokka blurted.

"What?"

"She's right." Sokka's shoulders slumped even further, like wax melting to the floor, "I always wanted to be a great leader and warrior, just like my dad."

"But you're already a great warrior and a really good leader."

Sokka put up a hand halting Aang, hearing anything resembling praise right then would have made his stomach sick.

"You don't understand. I idolized our Dad, but Katara? She wanted to be like our mom, kind and caring and able to do almost anything - she definitely got some of dad's warrior side though." Sokka's half smile disappeared as quickly as it came, giving way to something grimmer, "But after what happened, Katara had to become what our mom was. She filled that role and in a way, I think that made her closer to Mom even though she was gone."

"It sounds like you loved your mom a lot."

"I did, but Katara's right, not in the way she does." Sokka looked up, anguish breaking across his features, "If I did, I'd be right there with her, looking for the man that took our mother from us."

"Sokka no!" A gust of air ruffled the sides of the tent, Aang propelled himself up from his seat on the floor, "Revenge isn't the way! You forgave him and Katara hasn't."

"No, I didn't," Sokka ground out, standing to meet the younger boy, "I grieved our mother and I might have accepted that she's gone but I never, ever forgave them for what they did our family. I never will." Sokka forced himself to unwind his clenched fists, he took in a breath of calm and let it out in a deflated stream that dropped him back on his seat on the stump, "If I'm being honest I don't think I would have ever moved on if Katara hadn't been there to fill the hole Mom left."

"But-"

"No buts," Sokka's eyes shone as that old pain lodged in his chest, "you had no right to tell Katara to forgive. You have no idea what we went through, what she went through."

"I lost my entire people!"

"And?" a hardness crept into Sokka's voice "This isn't some kind of competition Aang. If you can forgive the Fire Nation for wiping out your entire people, great. Katara and I don't have to do the same."

"But forgiveness is the only way to let go!"

"You had no right to ask that of her! You can't force people to forgive because you think it's the only way to let go. Newsflash kid, it's not." he had, had enough, this was a mistake.

Sokka got up to leave pausing at the open tent flap, "I never forgave the man who killed my mother and I never will. I learned to let go in my own way, now Katara has to find hers."

"By running around the Fire Nation with Zuko?"

"If that's what she needs."

"It's not safe." Aang refuted.

"And you flying out in the middle of a storm and almost blowing our cover was?" Sokka shot back.

Aang froze guilt weighing on his brow.

Sokka reigned himself in with a sigh, "Katara is safe with Zuko, I wouldn't have let them go if I didn't think he could take care of her."

"Do you trust me to take care of Katara?"

"You're just a little kid."

"You trust Zuko but not me?" Aang asked incredulously, "I'm the Avatar!"

"I trust Zuko to look after Katara because he's been the only one of us to put her first," Sokka admitted, guilt hanging from his words, he left not waiting for an answer.

The flap fell behind him with a soft rustle and Aang found himself alone in the dim tent.

…

"How did it go?" Suki's appriaching footsteps were muted by the wet sand.

"Not great." Sokka replied staring out at the crashing waves, "I'm a terrible big brother."

"No you're not, you're a good big brother," she brushed her knuckles gently along his cheek, "I've seen it myself."

Suki took a seat on the thin blanket next to Sokka and he turned to look at her, "I don't feel like it."

"You've taken care of her this long."

"Not as well as I should have. It should have been me with her, instead, Zuko is doing what I couldn't."

Suki shook her head, "I think Zuko is who she needs to be with right now." she took one of Sokka's tanned hands in hers, "but when she comes back? She's going to need you. She's going to need to know you still love her no matter what might have happened."

"I will."

"Good."

Suki leaned her head against Sokka's shoulder and quietly, they watched the sun descend to kiss the waves.

[liminal-station]

hey you two +Akari, we're hosting a mad tea party at the Mad Hatter's place. It should be close by to the castle, maybe you guys should drop by?

@that-one-poison-trainer

A party?! Should we get dressed? Do we need a more impressive hat? I mean, the Hatter said he likes our hat, but what if we had a BIGGER one?

With more ribbons and bows and- ooh, what if it had a propeller? We would never have to touch the ground again!

But I like the ground. Don’t you? And I also like parties! We should go and finally meet our new friend!