#not the fic i meant to start

[kingsofeverything]

5160

[artistmarchalius]

Ambulatory wheelchair user Floyd.

[piningprecussionist]

Weed smoking girlfriends! But they can just be hanging out if you prefer ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Happy 4/20!

[fluffyartbl0g]

“Ace had his own adventures, and I have mine,” Luffy mumbles, drifting off again. “You have yours, too. I don’t want you to miss them. I don’t want you to miss anybody. Or to… be here when you’d rather be…”

“Luffy—”

“Free,” Luffy manages. “Sabo’s supposed to be free.”

@taizi put your faith in what you most believe in

[mishy-mashy]

Bruce is actually really attractive, and I have enough reasoning to make a list

He's:

Tall (. Tall enough to hit his head on the vault doorframe)

Long-legged

Has a straight nose bridge

Has high cheekbones (more noticeable in 2nd pic below)

Has a strong jawline

Sharp eyes, but they aren't small (plus eyebags if you're into that)

Overall, he has strong, attractive facial features

Has broad, refined shoulders. You can tell he works out (or he did, when he was alive)

Even has a thick, muscly neck

He has MUSCLE. Is SCULPTED. NOICE. VERY NOICE. (nice arms. Nice shoulders. Nice neck. Nice legs. Nice butt-)

(There are actually panels where you can see some of his muscles. Other than those already shown here, he's got bricky thighs-

-and in the panels where we first get his name dropped, he's got those shoulder blades too-)

The one time we see him smile, and he actually has a scary one

Has small, kinda sharp pupils, and his eyes remind me of a cat. We only ever saw him tense or defensive, so his resting/listening face is really cute

Other than the physical appearance stuff, he also:

Takes shit without batting an eye (patience, knowing it's just how Kudo is, etc)

Kudo being all "Cut the crap Bruce and give it to me straight", after Bruce tests his blood and is rightfully Concerned because they just faced AFO

Put up with Kudo's experimenting and testing over Yoichi's transferable Factor

Did ya'll see the look on Kudo's face when he realized he had Yoichi's Factor/will? Kudo was going to start in nonsense and Bruce just dealt with that.

Also something I noticed when looking back at the images here; Bruce has bandages on his arms in the void. But not when he faced AFO in the sewers.

Were he and Kudo cutting their arms open in their experimenting over Yoichi's theory? Is this why Kudo has two gauntlets instead of his one? Why we never see his bare arms in the void? That he always keeps his arms down so there's no slip?

Is smart enough to run blood tests, plus has enough common sense to pick Shinomori as his successor

He picked a guy who avoids society, has an Ability to detect danger so he can always stay away from AFO, is also a coward so he's never going to go throw himself into danger, even without knowing instinctively he stands no chance, etc.

Meanwhile, Kudo chose Bruce, who he played Hot Potato Yoichi with; but he did also trust Bruce, and put the only pure combative Ability in OFA through Bruce.

These two made their choices based on what they valued and saw the Factor needed.

Is logical, analytical, and calm.

He tried advising Midoriya on their Abilities in One For All, especially his own.

Midoriya then tried ignoring him about using Fa Jin for the first time, but found he was right, thinking: "Dammit!! I had [Lady Nagant] right where I wanted her, but... ugh! The Third was right. My parallel Quirk processes are all screwed up!" (ch. 314).

Plus, when Midoriya fixed his processing mistakes, Bruce was analyzing the way he reached his new conclusion. Pure facts, no bias, very calm, just saying it as it was.

We never see him panic. When he's caught by surprise in the sewers by AFO, Kudo, and Yoichi's little bubble event, he immediately reacts. He doesn't falter, he just knows he has to do something right now.

Was more willing to listen than Kudo to Yoichi's beckon, and probably was just following Kudo's rejection of Midoriya

While we don't see Kudo's face, we see Bruce's eyes when Yoichi calls on his heroes. Bruce was more open and receptive, or at least more impacted.

Bruce was also the one to start talking, while Kudo just kept quiet.

He actually communicates a lot

When Yoichi called them to support Midoriya, Bruce started talking to paint a picture of why they thought the way they did, so Yoichi understood where they were coming from.

(Though he seems to beat about the bush sometimes, since Kudo spoke up to be direct on how they couldn't just put their trust in some starry-eyed teenager. Plus, when Kudo tells him to just tell him what's wrong [double Factors])

When Midoriya first used Fa Jin against Nagant, Bruce came out just to tell him he knew what he was trying, but that Midoriya wasn't ready; and Midoriya found he was right. Midoriya just didn't want to listen to him then.

He asks Kudo for clarification after finding Kudo had two Factors in him after the sewer incident ("Just to be sure, All For One didn't touch you, right?") Kudo knew him well enough to go "stop beating around the bush and tell me", so Bruce was probably gonna start with questions, theories, and trying to understand everything in general, before saying "yeah you have two Factors. Don't know why".

Is strong-willed and loyal.

He followed Kudo, even to death, carrying on the cause he started until it ended with him.

Plus, when talking about how AFO needs a strong will to override OFA's own, we first see Bruce, Kudo, and Yoichi.

AFO couldn't steal OFA because the will was too strong for him, and that was back during Banjo's time. Since Shinomori never actually tried opposing AFO and just hid, we can assume the first Three (Yoichi, Kudo, Bruce) already had an accumulation of strong willpower that made OFA un-stealable. Those three are a strong enough foundation, and the main wills, that the other users just become bonuses.

Kudo, also saying that Midoriya needs allies with the same will and drive as him... hey Kudo, you're talking about yourself and your old allies, aren't you? That's why you look at Yoichi and Bruce when you say this.

Not only is Bruce attractive, but he's got good character. THE END.

[bucketsofmonsters]

Hunting Season

cw: trophy hunting of sentient creatures, severe leg injury, oral sex, fingering, thigh humping

fem jackalope hybrid x afab reader

Word count: 8k

You hated hunting season. You moved out here, all the way to the woods, to escape people and yet every year they came, the worst people you could possibly imagine. Every summer stupid men came into your forest with their guns and their traps and every year it infuriated you. You wouldn’t be so mad if they were hunting for food, that you understood, but almost all of them were trophy hunters. 

You set off on your daily ritual of trying to set off all the traps they’d set this morning so no one would get caught in them. 

Your head jerked up as the sound of distant wailing pierced through the quiet of the forest. You took off. If you’d heard it, then it was only a matter of time before someone else did. 

As you got closer to the noise, you realized that it sounded human and you cursed, knowing a hybrid had gotten stuck in one of their traps. 

You approached slowly, making sure no one else was around. Your relationships with the hunters were already strenuous. They knew you were setting off all of their traps, if they knew you were also setting their prey free… well, you weren’t sure what they might do but you were certain it wouldn’t be good.

The first thing you saw, hidden away amongst the leaves, was a set of antlers. They poked up above the foliage as you crept up slowly. 

Through the leaves you saw a girl, around your age, with a pair of long fluffy ears that were tucked down behind her antlers overtop her mousy hair. The flattened ears matched her terrified expression, her cheeks wet with tears as she kept desperately clawing at her leg. 

You didn’t even think jackalope hybrids existed, thought they were an urban legend hunters told each other about. And yet there she was, panicked and crying and very much real. 

As you began to approach, her big ears perked up. They were nestled behind her antlers, her nose twitching as you moved through the foliage. 

Big, teary brown eyes met your own as you emerged from your hiding spot. As soon as she saw you she tugged urgently at her leg, which was wedged firmly between the teeth of the metal trap. The only thing she succeeded in was getting digging the metal further into her flesh as she desperately tried to pull away. 

You took a step back in an attempt to get her to stop moving. “Hey, I’m not here to hurt you but if you keep moving like that you’re going to hurt yourself even worse. 

She tried to thrash away from you, muttering no to herself as she was painfully rooted in place. 

“You need my help to open this kind of trap, just please stay still,” you pleaded with her. 

She listened, freezing in place, wet eyes looking expectantly at you as you edged closer. 

As soon as you were within reach you got to work compressing the springs on either side of the trap to free her. After a few substantial pushes the trap fell open and you quickly latched it that way before pushing it away from the both of you. 

The poor girl immediately tried to stand up and collapsed, her injured leg not allowing her to put any weight on it. You went down with her, pulling her arm over your shoulder to help her stand. “There you go, sweetheart, just lean on me. That’s it, there you go.”

She eagerly leaned into your side, putting almost all of her weight on you. There was no attempt to fling herself away this time and you weren’t sure if it was because you’d earned her trust or because she’d realized she had no other options. 

Either way, you needed to get her to safety, and fast. 

Your pace was slower than you would have liked. You’d have preferred to attempt to carry her but you got the distinct feeling that would spook her even further.

Luckily you weren’t too far from your cabin and you managed to make your way back without encountering anyone. 

You pulled her through the door, quickly shutting it behind you, closing her off from any prying eyes. If anyone saw her, you weren’t sure there was anything you could do to stop them. 

“You’re helping me?” She said it like she couldn't quite believe it, like she was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. You had a feeling only time would take away that instinct. There wasn’t anything you could say to make it go away right now, it was too ingrained in her. 

The most you could do was help her with gentle hands and a soft voice. 

“Yup. Come on, up here.” You shifted her onto your bed, the blood from her injured leg seeping into the sheets. 

You cursed under your breath as you realized that all that was left of your first aid supplies was an old roll of gauze and a half empty box of bandaids. Certainly not enough to fix this. You grabbed some vodka and a clean rag, determined to do the best you could to sanitize it before wrapping it up, or at least to remove some of the grime it was currently covered in. 

The wound was barely visible, clots of blood and dirt streaked across her, spread everywhere from her writhing on the ground. 

“This is going to hurt,” you warned her as you soaked the cloth, hoping she understood that this had to be done. 

She drew back a little back a little before nodding and grabbing a handful of your sheets in preparation as you knelt by her injured leg. 

The little shriek she let out as the vodka soaked rag touched her wounds broke your heart. You were going to string those hunters up the second you got the chance. 

The more blood and dirt you pulled away, the better you could to see the gashes in her leg. They were even worse than you’d imagined. She’d clearly been trying to pull herself out for a while before you got there. 

“Really hurts,” she whimpered out.

“I know hun, but we have to get you cleaned up. I promise I’ll be quick, we’re almost done.”

You dabbed at her wounds as gingerly as you could, trying to distract her from the pain by talking while you cleaned her up.

“Your english is really good.”

She swayed back and forth a little, a proud smile crossing her face. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I know very little about your language, I’ve looked but it’s very hard to find anything about it.”

“Secret,” she said with a wince.

“Oh, is it? I had no idea.”

You’d left the worst part for last but you’d run out of opportunities to avoid it. 

Too nervous to get near it, you opted instead to empty what was left of the bottle onto her leg. As you did, she grabbed your unoccupied hand, squeezing it as hard as she could. 

The bottle ran empty and you looked up to see her with her eyes shut tight and her jaw clenched. 

You stood up to go get the gauze you had left and she tentatively opened one eye at the sound of your retreat. At the sight of her bloody leg she promptly shut it again. You couldn’t blame her, it was hard for you to look at and it wasn’t even your blood. 

You grabbed the old gauze from inside your half forgotten first aid kit and promised yourself that soon you’d go into town and gather more supplies so next time you needed it you’d be prepared. 

Your heart sank at the thought of there being a next time, at the idea that no matter how hard you tried, you could never stop this from happening. 

That there would always be some you couldn’t get to in time. 

You shook the thought out of your head. Worrying about them wouldn’t fix anything. All you could do was care for the one you’d managed to save. 

“Do you have a name?”

She nodded, her ears shifting as she did. “Posy.”

“Well, Posy, you should get some rest. I’ve gotta go out for a while but you’ll be safe in here.”

She glanced around the room nervously, eyes grazing over the furniture. She must have found her surroundings satisfactorily safe because after a few moments she fell backwards onto the bed, nestling into the blankets. 

Despite the fact that she seemed content, you were hesitant to leave her alone. The only thing that managed to send you out that door was the thought that she might not be the only one. 

Night was falling but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You knew these woods more than well enough to navigate in the dark and god knows you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, you knew your mind wouldn’t stop racing long enough to allow you to rest. 

You set off the rest of the traps you could find before returning home, breaking and displacing all the ones that you could. They’d already done far more damage than you would have liked. 

Thankfully, every trap you came across was untripped. You already felt in over your head, you weren’t sure you could take care of any more injured creatures. 

You half expected her to be gone when you got back. 

Instead, she was out cold on the bed, curled up around a pillow she was hugging close to her chest.  She was lit up by the rays of the sunrise creeping through the gaps in your drawn curtains. 

She jerked awake at the sound of the door closing. She tried to bolt upright before being stopped by a painful reminder of why she was in your bed in the first place.

She pulled her legs up towards her, tucking them into herself and inspecting the bloody bandages she had wrapped around her calf. 

“How’re you feeling,” you asked, careful to keep your distance so you didn’t scare her even more. 

“Bad.”

You nodded solemnly. “Yeah, it’s going to be like that for a while, you hurt yourself pretty badly. But it’ll heal, I’ll make sure you’ll be okay, you don’t have to worry.”

Her head cocked to the side and she studied you from her position on the bed. 

“Do you want something to eat?” you asked as she surveyed you. 

She nodded hesitantly. 

Her big eyes watched you carefully as you put a pot on the stove, lighting the fire under it. She moved closer, hopping so as not to put weight on her injured leg and quickly settling in on the floor, positioning herself so she was eye level with the flame.

“Be careful, don’t burn yourself,” you called back as you grabbed a can of soup from the pantry, sticking to something with vegetables in it and hoping that jackalope hybrid’s diets weren’t too dissimilar from bunny hybrids. 

“I’m not stupid.” She pouted at you before returning to her fire watching. “How did you make fire so fast?”

She chose her words slowly and intentionally, working her way through the question while you busied yourself with heating up the soup for the two of you, letting her figure out the words in her own time. 

“Um, there’s gas in the stove and the knob makes a little spark that lights it.”

“Gas?”

“Mmhmm.”

“It’s warm in here all night.” It was more of a statement than an observation but you understood what she was asking. 

“Yeah, that’s because of a fire too, it’s a heating system. What do you guys normally do at night?”

“We stay close and sheltered.”

“Well, we’re sheltered here, and we’re pretty close.”

She shook her head. “No, closer.”

“Like cuddling?”

Posy nodded. 

“How do you speak English so well?”

“I learned. We all did.”

“Why?”

“To talk our way out of trouble. If you can’t escape, make them like you. Buys time.”

“You know you don’t have to do that with me, right? You can say or do whatever you want to, I’m going to take care of you either way.”

“Why?”

“It’s the decent thing to do. Unfortunately for you, decency is not a universal trait but I promise, no harm will come to you here. Be as much of a little shit as you want.”

She scrunched up her nose as she smiled. “Challenge accepted!”

“Not quite how I meant it.”

She ignored you in favor of staring at the stove as you worked around her. 

Eventually, you broke her little hypnotic spell as you announced, “Food’s done. Do you like tea?”

She shrugged. “What is it?”

“It’s good, you should try it.”

You couldn’t exactly ask her how she liked her tea so instead you opted to put some sugar in it and hope for the best. 

“Do you need help?” you asked as you looked down at her sitting on the floor. 

“With what?”

“With moving to the table. Come on, I’ll…”

“No. Stay here.”

You weren’t sure if she actually wanted to stay on the ground or if the thought of you helping her up wounded her pride. Either way, you weren’t going to fight her on it. 

“Alright. Is this seat taken?” you asked, gesturing at the floor next to her.

She shook her head with a giggle and you settled down next to her, setting two bowls of soup and two mugs of tea on the floor. 

She took a sip out of the mug and scrunched up her nose.

“Too hot.”

“Well, you have to let it cool down first. The soup should be better, I didn’t bring it to a full boil”

She picked up the bowl, ignoring the spoon in favor of sipping directly from it. 

“What is this?” she asked, giving it a curious look. 

“It’s just soup, I get it from the store when I go out.”

“Store?”

“Yeah, it’s where I go to get food.”

“You don’t make it. What do you do with all your forages?”

“Oh, I don’t forage.”

She seemed baffled by this revelation. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I guess I don’t really know how.”

“You live here? And you don’t know how?” she asked incredulously.

“Hey, I’m not stupid either, I just never needed to learn. We all have blind spots.”

“You should learn. This is disgusting.”

“Sorry, but I’m afraid you’re gonna be eating a lot of this stuff until I can get you back on your feet.”

She made no attempt to mask her pout and you couldn’t help but laugh as you added, “Just think of it as motivation to get better faster.”

She didn’t seem convinced by your arguments but was too hungry to care. She practically inhaled her food, despite her less than glowing review regarding its taste. 

The tea was more of a hit, her first sip not leaving her questioning your survival skills at the very least. 

After a few more tastes she announced, “This is fine.”

“I’m glad it’s to your liking.”

And honestly, you really were. You were incredibly happy to see her settling in, the jumpiness from before all but gone. 

She looked up from an empty bowl, clutching a still warm mug in her hands. “What now?”

“I don’t normally have guests, I don’t really know how all of this works. Do you want to watch a movie?” It felt like an absurdly pedestrian thing to ask someone who’d almost been hunted for sport the day before but you got the sense she’d appreciate the distraction. 

“What’s a movie?”

“I can show you, c’mon, they’re over here.”

You didn’t have any real service out here in the woods, but what you did have was an old tv and a box of vhs tapes. They were all grainy and in black and white but if she didn’t even know what a movie was, you couldn’t imagine Posy would be particularly picky about the quality. 

You picked something light and hit play. Her eyes widened the second the tv lit up with a picture, scrambling to get a closer look. 

“How does it do that?” she asked, her eyes unblinking as she stared at it. 

“I’m not really sure to be honest, it’s a bit above my paygrade.”

She scooted across the floor to the back of the tv, searching for the origin of the little moving image. 

You let her explore, settling down on the couch as she moved across the floor. Eventually, she settled down with her back against the couch, leaning her head against your leg. 

“Hi there,” you said, looking down at the girl and wondering whether or not you should join her on the floor. 

She tilted her head back, looking up at you with big eyes. “Hello.”

She didn’t seem partial to personal space, nuzzling into you as she watched. 

As the movie neared its close you weaseled away from her and got up from your seat to try and clean up while she was distracted. You didn’t want to remind her about some of the messier things that were still lying around. 

Despite her wonder at the movie, she stopped and turned to instead watch you. 

You went to make the bed, removing all the bloody blankets and replacing them with clean ones, tossing everything covered in blood into the trash. You had a feeling they wouldn’t be salvageable. 

“I can sleep on the floor tonight, you can take the bed,” you called over to her.

She looked at you like you’d lost your mind. “No, you won’t.”

“Please, you’re hurt, I can’t ask you to sleep down there.”

“I don’t want to sleep on that thing,” she said, eyeing your bed distastefully. 

You ceded the floor to her after it became clear she would not budge on her position. 

Later that night, you awoke from the feeling of something moving around you. As you gathered your bearings, you felt someone nestle into your chest and you realized that Posy had risen from her spot on the floor and had instead opted to wrap her arms around you.

She was looking for comfort. It didn’t take a genius to figure that much out. 

You never could have done this, been as brave as her, sought out comfort like this when you needed it. There was courage in the gesture you couldn’t help but admire, a distinct bravery in the vulnerability. 

You ran your fingers through her hair and her grip on you only got tighter, pleading you to stay with her. You’d just felt her get into the bed and wrap herself around you but she seemed to already be drifting off in your arms. 

“I’ve got you,” you muttered, positioning yourself to try and make sure you wouldn’t get whacked by her antlers in your sleep.

It didn’t take long for you to drift off. You hated to admit it but maybe the closeness didn’t just help her. 

You were just as close when you woke up the next morning, her head resting on your shoulder and her arms wrapped around you.

“I thought you said you preferred the floor,” you said with a chuckle as she shifted further beneath the blankets, still attached to your side.

“I do. I dont like sleeping alone.”

“No, I don’t think I do either. Well, you’re welcome to stay up here, I don’t mind.”

“Mkay,” she said, sounding like she was drifting off again. “This thing is more comfortable than it looks.”

Before she could succumb to the newfound wonders of your blankets and the mattress, you nudged her awake. 

“Come on, there’ll be time for that later, we need to get those bandages changed.”

She looked nervous about the proposition and you tried to cede ground and make the vulnerable position she was in feel a little less scary. “You can change them yourself if you want, I understand if you don’t want me near your injuries.” 

She looked up at you from her spot on the pillow, a timidness present now that certainly hadn’t been there moments before. Her ears were the telltale sign, rising from their relaxed position and stiffening back. “Can you help?” 

“Of course I can,” you reassured her. “Your wish is my command.”

“Be careful what you promise, who knows what I’ll ask for,” she said with a smile, her ears falling back into place at your words. 

“Aren’t you a little tyrant in the making? Come on then, let’s take care of that leg so you can get right to bossing me around.”

She pulled her leg up next to you, wincing a little as she did. You pretended not to notice. 

Your brain ran through contingencies as you bound her injuries. So many things could go wrong with her being here, you weren’t prepared for this. 

You barely had the supplies to tend to her injuries, let alone keep her safe and hidden. 

“Have you been through your mating season?” you asked, trying to figure out exactly where you stood. 

She nodded, ears bobbing up and down as she did. Her dark eyes shone with mischief. “Why are you asking?”

Realistically, it was because her going into heat in your cabin could cause a world of problems. The last thing you needed was to attract more attention to her presence here. Other hybrids might not hurt her but a congregation of them outside wouldn’t exactly be discreet. 

That didn’t feel like the right thing to say though, so instead you opted for a playful, “I can’t be curious?”

“Maybe. I could show you sometime, if you wanted.”

“Yeah?” you said with a laugh, her enthusiasm infectious. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer one of these days.”

Her cheeks flushed, despite her being the one to propose the idea and you got the distinct impression her teasing was not going to plan. “I thought humans were prudes.”

“Come on, am I anything like the humans they told you about?”

She sighed, knowing when she’d lost. “No.”

She was even cute when she was pouting, it wasn’t fair. 

“I’m gonna go out and make sure no one else got caught in those traps, okay? I hope that pretty smile of yours is back when I get back or else…”

“Or else?”

You hadn’t quite thought that far ahead. “Or else I’ll find out if you’re ticklish, how’s that sound?”

She giggled, her arms moving over her stomach defensively at the mere thought. “Anything but that,” she pleaded.

“There’s that smile again. See you in a few hours.” Before you could really think about your actions you pressed a quick kiss into her cheek. The second her arms dropped in surprise you poked her in the stomach, leaving the cabin as you heard cries of protest behind you.

She was sitting cross legged right inside the door when you got home, her ears perked up and at attention. The second you crossed through the doorway she sprung up, practically tackling you. 

She pressed kisses into both of your cheeks in what you could only describe as an attack. 

“I win.”

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me. What was that for?”

“You poked me!”

“Only because you let your guard down.” You took another easy shot and poked her again 

“You’re doing better,” you noted. She was still significantly favoring her left leg, the right one almost hovering above the floor as she stood, but the fact that she was standing and moving at all was frankly incredible. “Healed enough for a sneak attack.”

“Healed enough for revenge,” she said with a smile and a nod.

There was no way that she had significantly healed in the few hours you were gone. You could see it in every movement, she was just as hurt as she’d been this morning. 

The change in her disposition seemed more tied to her growing comfort around you than anything. 

You wanted to keep that going, make sure she felt welcome here, felt at home. You swore you’d put even more effort into it and make sure she knew she was cared for. 

It was that promise to yourself that led you to making homemade cookies for your newfound roommate. 

You swatted her hand away from the bowl as she snuck another bite of cookie dough away from you.

“You’re going to make yourself sick, you shouldn’t eat that.”

She just giggled, intent on ignoring your protests.

“Well, when we don’t have enough cookies we’ll both know who to blame.”

That seemed to get through to her, her eyes widening as she surveiled the bowl. “You’ll make more for me, right?”

“I’m not your personal chef,” you protested. 

That didn’t stop you from caving and making her more cookies. You were certain even the strongest will couldn’t withstand those big, sad eyes. They were a powerful weapon and she knew it.

Eventually you managed to get a full batch of cookies into the oven, despite Posy making every attempt to stop you. 

While the cookies were baking, you hopped up on the counter and watched Posy on the floor, her preferred seat. 

You tilted your head, getting a better look at her as she stared down at her feet. Normally she stared up at you endlessly but now she seemed lost in thought.

“What’re you thinking about,” you prodded.

“Just wondering if anyone’s worried about me.”

“I’m sure people are. Do you have any family?”

She nodded.  “Yeah, a big one. I have five sisters, Rose, Violet, Poppy, Lily, and Daisy, she’s the only one younger than me. I was out with her right before I got caught, was getting her home, I had her run when there was trouble.”

“And they’re jackalopes like you?”

She nodded. “There aren’t many of us outside the family though.”

“Do you know what happened to the rest?”

“People happened to them. Not my family though. They’re very very safe, they never let me go out.”

“I’m sure they miss you, I’ll try and find them next time I go out, tell them you’re okay.”

She shrugged. “I go missing a lot, they always say I’m trouble. Everyone else is always home but I get restless, stuck in there.” She rubbed her injured leg as she spoke, the other one bouncing up and down nervously. 

“Well, we’ll make sure you can tell them you’re okay as soon as we can, when you get all healed up and are able to get back into trouble.”

“Do you get restless?”

“Not really, I like staying put. I do like rescuing you though. How about you keep getting into trouble and I’ll keep rescuing you, deal?”

You stuck out your hand, leaning towards the floor as much as you could so she could reach you. 

She stared at it like you were crazy, moving around it to see if you were secretly holding something.

“You shake it,” you whispered to her. “That’s how we humans make deals.”

She took it and gave it a violent shake. 

“Yeah, just like that,” you laughed. 

Your little timer went off and you hopped down from the counter to pull the cookies out. Per usual, Posy did not wait for the food to cool before trying them, scooping a collapsing cookie into her mouth.

“Are they to your liking, m’lady,” you teased her.

“Better than your soup.”

You scoffed and swatted at her as she leaned away, collapsing to the floor in a fit of giggles. 

“You’re lucky you’re so cute or that mouth of yours might get you into some real trouble.”

A blush began to bloom beneath her facefull of freckles. “I thought you said I wasn’t trouble?”

“I said I didn’t mind and that I’d rescue you, I never said you weren’t trouble. Even I wouldn’t go making claims like that, especially not after you stole my cookies.”

Your little attempts to make her feel welcome got more and more frequent, despite feeling less and less necessary. 

On one of your trips through the forest, you found some lavender, picking some for her without a second thought, leaving a little bouquet of them on the pillow next to her sleeping head. 

It wasn’t uncommon for you to be able to come and go without Posy ever waking. As her initial jumpiness faded, you found out that she was an incredibly deep sleeper. 

She was sleeping in bed with you every night, the cuddling never ending, even when you weren’t sleeping.

When the summer nights got too warm she kicked the blankets off the both of you, staying firmly attached to your side all the while. 

Without a concerted effort from you to get her to move, she’d stay nestled into the covers most of the time. 

There were, as there always are, exceptions to the rule. 

When you got back home, you found her sitting at the door with a sprig of lavender in her hair and the rest clutched in her hands. She was just as excited to see you as ever, already shouting out thank yous and springing up to give you a hug, being able to put a little more weight on her injured foot every time she jumped up to greet you. 

She was getting better and better at English as well, her already amazing English constantly improving. She was an incredibly fast learner. She could hear you use a word once or twice and pick up its meaning almost immediately. 

She’d started picking up curse words from you, which you found endlessly amusing. Her soft, sweet voice would let out an impatient “fuck” and you couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. 

The whole ordeal made her quite cross. She insisted she was just mimicking you and there wasn’t anything funny about it. You unconvincingly reassured her that of course it wasn’t, not funny at all, all spoken behind a smile. 

You, on the other hand, were a little slower with her langugae

She was willing to share but replicating her words was more difficult than you’d anticipated. It had sounds you were unfamiliar with, little clicks and shifts in tone you’d never had to make before.

You’d asked her about her family names, if they were translations or if they just happened to line up with english words

“I translated them. The meaning’s what’s important anyways.”

“What is your real name?”

“Posy is my real name.”

“But how would you say it?”

She made one of the noises you were becoming more and more familiar with. It was more subtle than any word you’d ever heard before, almost being mistakable for a sound of the trees rustling or the wind outside. 

You did your best to repeat back what she’d said and immediately knew you’d gotten it wrong based on her snickering. 

It took a few tries but eventually you got it right. 

“Call me Posy though.” she added. “The meaning is what matters.”

“Yeah okay, I will” 

As you sat there, mulling over the secret words she’d been gifting you, you blurted out a question you’d been unable to shake. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do! Did you really think I might not trust you?” She seemed more hurt by the question than anything. 

Did you? “Not really. I think I just wanted to hear you say it. 

She thought for a minute and then shot back a question of her own. “Why did you get me flowers?”

“I don’t know. I suppose I thought you might like them. Did you?”

“Mmhmm.” she nodded enthusiastically. “The thing is… I’ve just heard things about humans and giving people flowers.”

You felt your cheeks begin to warm and tried to play it off. “Have you? Good things or bad things?”

She shrugged. “Just things.”

You had an idea where she might have been getting these ideas from. 

Her obsession with movies was there from the start. She was endlessly fascinated by the moving images and your inability to explain to her how they worked only seemed to fuel her fascination. You were certain she was going to wear through your vhs tapes. 

Her fascination seemed to warp over time, however. You noticed the movies she’d keep watching, the fixation on romance movies growing steadily the more she consumed. 

For the fifth time this week alone you came home to her watching an old black and white romance, her nose practically touching the screen. 

“Is it true humans mate for life?” she asked as you settled in next to her. 

“Sometimes. Depends on the human.”

“Oh. What about you human?”

“Maybe. I suppose I’d just have to find the right person. Or the right bunny.”

Her face immediately lit up with no attempt to hide it

“I think I like human romance.”

“What, no one ever get you flowers before?”

“We get each other flowers. We just don’t have partners. It seems nice.”

“You could have a partner, nothing’s stopping you.”

“Nothing?”

You slid down from the couch next to her on the floor. “Nope, nothing. Which one’s your favorite?”

She rushed over to your collection of tapes. Her movement was practically normal now. She was still favoring her left side but it seemed more out of habit than from her injury, being fully capable of forgetting all about it and darting about when she got excited. 

She wasted no time before getting comfortable, clamoring up into your lap and nuzzling into you as the movie began. 

You should get more tapes for her, you thought offhandedly before realizing there might not be a point. She was practically healed and as much as you tried to forget it, she would eventually leave. 

You had no clue how to bring up the topic, how to suggest that maybe she could visit you despite knowing that everyone she knew and loved would want her to stay far away from you the second they got her back. 

Maybe you were being selfish by not talking about it, trying to keep her with you as long as possible. Frankly, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

She noticed your mind drifting and brought you back to reality with an elbow to the side. You let out an oof and shot an accusatory glance her way but she was staring at you with frantic eyes. 

“This is the best part,” she insisted. “You can’t miss it.”

You turned back to the screen just in time to catch the climax of the movie. The music swelled, the camera zoomed in, and the pair on your screen finally kissed. 

She must have this movie memorized by now but Posy still seemed utterly entranced by the scene in front of her. 

“I’ve kissed some people, but never like that,” she informed you, her eyes still glued to the screen. 

You wanted to kiss her like that. You wanted to kiss her every way she wanted to be kissed, to show her a romance to rival all of her little movies. 

But what if that wasn’t what she wanted? What if she was just a friend showing another friend a movie and you’d misread every signal. 

Posy put those doubts right out of your mind, staring at you with resolve as she clearly hinted, “If only someone would kiss me like that.”

You laughed out, “you dumbass,” before leaning in, slowly, carefully, intentionally, just like in her little movie, with all the love in the world in your eyes.

You shut them the moment before you made contact, her hands immediately coming up to cup your face, holding you close. 

You fell into the kiss immediately. It just felt right, you fit together perfectly. You were pressed up against each other but you kept trying to pull her closer, wanting more. 

The tip of her tongue teased at the seam of your mouth until you let her in, deepening the kiss.

Her legs fell to either side of your thigh and she slid herself forwards and back, letting out little whimpers into your mouth. 

You pushed your leg up into her grinding, encouraging her.  

You broke the kiss for a second, muttering out, “Do you want to…”

She nodded and cut you off as she pushed her lips back into yours.

You tried to lead the two of you back towards the bed while she refused to let you go, causing you to slightly misjudge how far away you were from it and go tumbling down onto the sheets, giggling into each other as you fell. 

You guided her onto her back, pulling your shirt off as she desperately pulled hers off, dragging you back down while your arms were still wrapped up in its sleeves. You struggled to pull it the rest of the way off and throw it to the floor while she trailed kisses down your neck. 

Your hand slipped under the waistband of her pants, and you gently slid your fingers inside her. She was so wet they slid inside with no resistance, her walls fluttering around your fingers. 

You kissed your way down her body, pulling her pants off as you went. As you did, you found something you hadn’t known existed. A little white tail sat right above her ass. 

“What’s this?” you asked as you shifted her onto her side to get a better look. 

She rolled back onto her back, hiding the tail from sight once more. “Don’t be mean,” she pouted. 

“I’m not! It’s cute.”

You leaned down to press kisses into her thigh as she tried to pull you up where she wanted you.

Eventually you gave in to her pleas, your fingers continuing to crook upwards inside of her as you pressed gentle kisses to her clit. She bucked into your face, wanting more.

You hooked your arms around her plush thighs to get her even closer to you, focusing more of your attention on her clit as she started to squirm, lapping and sucking at it. As she got closer to her climax her thighs squeezed around your head and you were convinced you might be in heaven. Your hips pushed down into the sheets as you worked her through her orgasm. 

Your hand slipped down to try and provide yourself with some friction but it wasn’t enough. You needed her, needed her to touch you. 

As if answering your prayers, Posy pulled you up and kissed you deeply, licking her own taste out of your mouth. 

She flipped you over, pinning you against the mattress, her bare chest warm and soft against yours as her fingers dove inside of you, her palm pressing down against your clit.  

You were embarassingly close already, her soft touches bringing you right up to the edge. 

Her fingers slipped out of you and circled your clit, swallowing all of your moans as she guided you towards your peak. You pulled away from the never-ending kiss and buried your face in her neck as you came, rolling your hips as waves of pleasure radiated out from your core. 

After you came down you collapsed, your head resting on her chest. Her hand was caressing your cheek as she smiled down fondly at you.

“Was the kiss just like you wanted?” you asked. 

“It was with you so yes, it was.”

“You big sap,” you said with a laugh. 

A wave of exhaustion hit you and you were glad you were already in bed, using Posy as your own personal pillow as you got some much needed rest. 

You woke up to the sound of pounding at your door. 

The first instinct from your half-asleep brain was to ignore it and go back to sleep, snuggled into Posy’s side. 

The sound of a fist slamming against the wood continued ceaselessly and you could make out the muffled noises of the person outside shouting. The second you heard the word traps you sprung up, throwing clothes on and ushering Posy out of sight.

She picked up on your panic immediately, glancing anxiously at the door as you tucked her away. 

“What the fuck do you want?” you hissed as you threw the door open. 

Your attitude towards the hunters wasn’t pleasant on a good day but now, after you’d been taking care of Posy for weeks, you’d never felt angrier. 

“I want you to stop messing with my shit, that’s what I fucking want,” he shot back. “Do you think we didn’t know it was you? You’ve become a real pain in my ass.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Not my fault if you can’t trap prey to save your life, maybe get better at hunting and stop blaming me for your shitty haul.”

“We found blood coming from one of our traps, you know. After a few feet, the trail went cold. Like someone covered it up.”

“Well, I suppose that’s the price you pay when you’re hunting intelligent creatures, sometimes they outsmart you and your shit-for-brains friends.”

He lurched towards you and you instinctively drew back towards the shut door of your cabin. 

As you did, you saw a familiar face peek through the curtain and panic shot through you, endlessly worried they’d spot her. You talked a big game but if it came down to a straight up fight you didn’t like your odds. 

“Listen,” you said, knowing you needed to end this as quickly as you could. “You’re not the only one with a hunting riffle. I advise you to stay away from here or that camouflage you’re wearing may end up being a defense of mine. Now please get the fuck off of my property.”

You were bluffing, you didn’t have a hunting riffle. But at the end of the day, you didn’t need one. All you needed was for him to believe you.

His wide eyes and nervous glance back at your home told you that he did. 

“Bitch,” he spat at you as he began his retreat.

As he drew out of sight, you slipped inside, careful not to open the door anymore than you needed to. 

You locked the door and immediately whipped around and looked for Posy. 

She was sitting on the floor with her back to the wall, her legs curled inwards and tears streaming down her face. She was visibly shaking and clutching her leg and you got the sense she’d collapsed from her spot at the window.  

You grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped her up, pulling her into you. Her breaths were coming fast and you just held her, pressing gentle kisses into her forehead and rubbing the base of her ears while whispering soft reassurances to her. 

You slowly pulled her leg out from under the blanket and gently unwound the bandages from the leg she was clutching, trying to show her what you’d been putting off mentioning for days, what you couldn’t help but notice every time you changed her bandages.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re all healed up. Look,” you said as you revealed her leg, covered in scars but functionally healed. “You’re fine. They can’t get you in here, you’re okay. You’re all healed up and I’ll never let them touch you again, you’re gonna be just fine.”

Her shaky breaths got slower as she started to calm down, her hand tenuously reaching down to touch her old wounds. 

She slowly calmed down, her hand grasping a handful of your shirt as if she was afraid you’d leave her. You had no plans on doing so, keeping her as close as you could. 

You did your best to cheer her up, to show her that things really were getting better. “Hey, on the bright side, your legs all healed up. You should be able to leave soon, go back home.”

“What?”

“You’re fine now, you should be able to walk. We can get you back home.” You focused on keeping a pleasant smile on your face, on not showing her how distraught you were of thinking about her leaving, about this place being empty, about not having Posy to come home to.

“Oh. Okay.”

She didn’t speak much after that. You left her alone for days, wanting to give her space to recover, ignoring that nagging feeling in your gut screaming at you to just say something. You refused to push. You would wait for her to speak first, to make the first move. 

She never did. 

Against your better judgment, you left her alone again, setting off to undo as many traps as you could once more. 

When you got back she was gone. 

Panic immediately bloomed in your chest, convinced that someone had gotten to her, that she’d been taken. 

The pile of clean bandages wadded up and thrown in your trash indicated otherwise. 

Maybe you shouldn’t chase after her. Maybe this was what she wanted, to go home to her family and forget all of this. Maybe this was her way of saying she didn’t want to see you again.

You barely even had time to process any of those thoughts before you took off running. 

She hadn’t been careful. Her trail was easy to follow, much easier than it should have been. 

You were out of breath when you came upon her. You knelt in front of her sobbing form, making sure she wasn’t hurt before you spoke. 

“Hey, what… what’s going on? Why did you run, what’s happening?”

She sniffled, trying to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “You dont want me.”

“What?”

“You were just waiting for me to heal and now you want me to leave. I thought you really wanted me.”

“I do! I want you to stay, I thought you would want to leave.”

“Why would I want to leave?”

“To go back to your family, back home. You’re not like me, you have people to go back to.”

“You’re my people. Wait, so you’ll let me stay.”

“Let you? Posy, I want you to stay, I’ve been dreading you leaving ever since you showed up. Besides, with you gone who else would I sav-”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, it being cut short as the wind was knocked out of you when she tacked you, knocking you on your back as her arms wrapped around you. You could feel her massive smile as she pressed her face into the crook of your neck, kissing you every time she managed to suppress her smile for a moment.

She sat up suddenly, her thighs on either side of your waist, keeping you trapped where you lay.  Her ears were perked up as she grinned down at you

She started talking a mile a minute, the excitement taking over her. “I can take you to meet everyone one of these days, when hunting season is over. I’ll get to show you off. Oh, and I can forage for you. Then you’ll find out how gross all your food is. ”

You snorted. “Posy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I get up please?”

“Oh. Right, yeah of course.” She helped you to your feet, still eagerly making plans as she grabbed your hand, tugging you behind her as you both headed back home.

[aster-draws]

I just wanted to tell you that it was pretty much single-handedly your fics and art that got me into the DP x DC (specifically Dead Tired) brainrot. Both the characterizations and the storylines are so beautifully crafted (and the art too, but that's obvious lol). Thank you for putting so much time and care into what you're doing for free. Thank you for pulling me into this wild fandom. Thank you for being you!

You're so sweet!!!! They are on my brain 24/7. I wasn't really into shipping danny with any of the bats when I first entered the crossover fandom, but i read some deadtired oneshot and i have been waist deep in this quagmire ever since. I'm so honored that now I am the one to drag other people in.

Have a cozy fall vibes wip that i never finished the background on :)

[itsnautica]

honestly the amount of courage it must've taken arthur to admit that merlin might not even be alive anymore is rlly something.

gaius walks into the room and asks "where's merlin?" - we're talking about gaius, someone arthur respects and values the opinion of greatly, but more importantly merlin's guardian, his father figure. sure, "he's alive" is his first answer - the hopeful, optimistic, reassuring answer. the 'don't worry, i've got everything under control and it'll all be fine' answer. but then maybe he realises that could be a lie. he doesn't know if that's true, and maybe lying to gaius' face about it is worse than admitting his failure.

so he continues to look gaius in the eye and tell him merlin (who he lost, in the middle of the forest, injured, weak, unwell, surrounded by bandits) was still alive, last he saw of him. he's saying 'i don't know if he's alive anymore, i dont know how he is, where he is, if he's ok'.

it probably makes him sick to his stomach saying it out loud, but he has to state it plain and true. he has to tell gaius that his ward (read: son) may no longer be alive. that takes guts.

[magnusbae]

If you're interested, here's a prompt from the ones who just shared:

"Then why did you do it?" "BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!"

No rush hehe I hope you get rest and have fun writing this!

Now, see, I could have taken this as an open prompt and went with something else, but I know you like dreamling and so I was good.

Thanks for the prompt dear! 💖 Also special thanks goes to @cuubism for actually going through it 🌻🌻🌻 any mistakes are me ignoring her wisdom or straight up forgetting to edit it. one of the two.

Dreamling - some flavor of hurt/comfort(?) 'you dare?' kind of situation going on there, 1,394w

▾▾▾

“I cannot fathom why—” 

Dream halts mid-sentence, his outrage rendering him speechless for a precious moment in which Hob tries, fruitlessly, to come up with a way to placate him, to explain in a way that will somehow pass as acceptable to Dream. The betrayal is tangible in the air, so charged that Hob’s hair actually stands on end as if from static. It feels like standing at your front door, still safe but seeing the hurricane on the horizon, knowing that this false safety can and will change in moments. Hob cannot think of a single thing. 

“You.” Dream grits his teeth so tightly that they scrape loudly, the sound of it making Hob’s own teeth ache uncomfortably. “Know.” Dream says each word as if it takes a great burden to even use human speech and not simply burn a hole in Hob’s mind. Given Dream’s past record, which Hob had recently learnt of, perhaps it does. “You know I do not ask.”

“I know.” Hob winces.

There’s no denying that he knew. Knew full well that asking Dream’s sibling for help was a guaranteed way to not only outrage him, but also land Hob a very creative punishment and the end of their long friendship.

He knew that, and did it anyway. 

Would again, if he had to.

He will not apologize for that.

Dream seems to come to the same conclusion, cheeks reddening in a surprising display of humanity, of lack of control over his appearance. The darkness that creeps into his eyes is distinctly not human. Hob shudders but fixes his eyes on Dream’s, refusing to avert his eyes like a reprimanded youth. He did what he did, and he’s not sorry.

''Then.” To Hob’s surprise, Dream seems to level himself, to school the darkness out of his eyes and ask with a calm that is somehow more unnerving than his rage. “Why did you do it?" There is a finality to this question, like a judge asking for one last confession to tip the scale one way or another. There will be judgment at the end of it, Hob knows. 

“Because…” he sucks in a breath, there’s a ball of nerves in his stomach and frustration, surprising him with its intensity, it feels almost like anger.

Why is he here, searching for excuses for something he believes in wholeheartedly? He doesn’t want to learn firsthand of Dream’s notorious pettiness but he’s not here to play these sort of games. 

The outraged huff is stuck in his throat— he didn’t even realize he had raised his voice this much, not until the ring of it strains his ears. He is practically shouting. And he doesn’t care. 

 ''BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.''

There’s anger in it, frustration, a measure of desperation.

“I bloody love you more than I fear you, that’s why.” His own cheeks burn, itch, tingle with the indignation of it all. “Because I’m a besotted fool who would make a pact with the devil if I had to, if it meant helping you.” He gestures curtly at Dream, then spreads his arm in an exaggerated motion of question. “Why else? Seriously, why else?!” He stops at that, breathing harshly. This is not how he had imagined, not even close. Fuck it. And fuck Lucifer, too. And Dream’s all too pleased sibling, on top.

Through his outburst Hob had stopped paying attention to Dream’s face, only his eyes, latching onto them as if they were his anchor in this universe, the only constant thing, in life, in this.

When he finally looks, really looks, he realizes with a start that Dream’s cheeks are no longer red with anger, that his eyebrows are not as tightly knitted, that his pale lips form a small and lax ‘o’. 

His friend looks taken aback, pacified and…surprised.

Like he couldn’t fathom this being the reason for Hob’s supposed betrayal of trust. Like this was the last rationale he had expected to hear, like he, an Endless being of incomprehensible wisdom, is unable to conceive this simple truth. Like he’s at a loss now.

Like he’s a bloody idiot. Hob shakes his head in amazement, his own anger evaporating as quickly as it came. Yet again he wonders how it is possible to be all knowing and yet so blind, so oblivious to such a simple truth, one Hob didn’t even try too hard to hide, really.

“I know you didn’t want me to,” he softens his voice, speaking more quietly “but I really didn’t have a choice. If I could do this on my own, you know I would have, I’d do worse for you.” He smiles at Dream, he doesn’t even try to sound self-deprecating, it’s the honest truth. He would.

His hand drops by his side and he awaits then, for his judgment.

“You love, me?”

Hob doesn't know how to respond to such a simple question other than–

“I do.”

There’s nothing else to add to that, he said it all, he did it all, even Dream must understand this is no passing fancy. One does not risk their immortal soul for something insignificant. Especially not Hob. One does it when it means everything. And in this case, it did. Dream did. 

Dream seems to again, come to the same conclusion. 

He wilts, shoulders sagging. He looks both much older and much younger at the same time, like this knowledge has stricken him, hurt him.

“You shouldn’t” is all he says. 

“But I do.” Hob answers in return. 

“I see that.” Dream’s voice is a whisper carried by the breeze, gentle, endless, aching. He looks torn in that moment, the judge whose scales no longer measure in any understandable manner. He casts his gaze down. 

“Just let me,” Hob says. He did not come here demanding boons, nor love, only to help Dream. “Forgive my impudent human inclinations to save what I love, and let us continue as we were. Friends. “

“Friends…” Dream repeats after him, as if in disbelief.

Dream opens his mouth to say more—to accept or refuse, Hob doesn’t know—but in that exact moment Matthew half-crashes, half-lands on Dream’s shoulder, a flutter of black feathers and barely muffled curses.

“Boss! Oh for fuck’s sake— I mean cracker’s sake— I mean what the hell— I mean you’re fine—you’re actually okay, I was sure that this time you’re like legit—” he notices Hob then, and cawing loudly he curses again “You actually did it you son of a bitch— you really did!” His wings open excitedly, brushing against Dream’s face, covering it up.

“Matthew.” 

“Uh-” Matthew folds his wings immediately. 

Hob looks at Dream then, the moment is decidedly broken but he has to know if he’d see him again, he can’t just go on not knowing, it’ll drive him insane. “Dream—” he starts, but Dream speaks over him.

“We will discuss this—” Dream’s lips tighten, eyes flicking to Matthew and then back at Hob. “At a later time.” He concludes rather curtly, seemingly deciding that addressing exactly what they will be discussing is not something he wants his Raven to be privy to.

“Right…” Hob murmurs, not speaking further of the topic either. It’s one thing to break Dream’s boundaries over life and death, another entirely over his own impatience and need to know. Dream wanting to see him again at all is already a damn good sign, and Hob will take it, gladly.

“I’ll see you later then, Dream” He uses the name even while not being sure he is still permitted to, that he did not lose the privilege. Dream tilts his head but doesn’t object, instead he nods once and disappears in a swirl of golden sand.

“Show off…” Hob murmurs into the empty air, shaking his head in disbelief. There’s a good feeling in his gut, he should probably be worried but he has a feeling that things will work out, that it all will be just fine. He can’t explain it, but he has learnt to trust his gut over the years. After all, it once led him to believe that he would never die.

It was right then, and it’ll be right now too. He and Dream will figure it out and will be better for it. Just like the other time, just like always. 

[crescentfool]

somehow i never drew the big cat from persona 3??? so here is ryoji and the big cat. as a treat.

[sentientobjects]

an assortment of object ocs :D

[five-and-dimes]

Smile Like You Mean It

Hob wants nothing more than to make his boyfriend laugh. Dream very much does not want to scare away his boyfriend with his laugh. They work through it together.

Read on AO3

Hob Gadling did not have a single ‘life goal’. His life was simply too long for that. No, he merely had current goals; the objective that caught his attention the most at any given moment which he dedicated himself to with the single mindedness of a man who couldn’t die until he succeeded.

And his current goal?

Making Dream of the Endless laugh.

He had certainly come a long way in six hundred years. Or, maybe it was Dream who had come a long way. Since reuniting, his stranger, his friend, was more open with his expressions. Still stoic and poised, for certain, but more willing to grace Hob with small smiles and gentle eyes. The first few months had been a little rough. Dream was clearly trying his best at the whole friendship thing, finally telling Hob his name and agreeing to visit more often, but there were still some growing pains. Hob was reluctant to push for fear of chasing his friend away again, and Dream didn’t seem to know what was expected of him.

(Eventually, Dream had quietly confessed where exactly he had been during their last meeting, reassuring Hob that he had not stayed away intentionally and promising not to run away again. Hob, through his tears- because if Dream would not cry then Hob would damn well cry for him- had put that statement to the test almost immediately, pulling the Endless forward to kiss him softly.

(Dream kept his word. He didn’t run away.)

(He kissed back.)

Now, as they fell more easily into a comfortable rhythm of friendship and more, Hob found himself focusing his attention on coaxing any expression of joy from Dream’s impassive face. Every day he smiled a little easier, like rays of sunshine peeking through the clouds, and Hob couldn’t get enough.

Today, they are sitting in a quiet corner of the New Inn. Hob has learned that jokes and puns don’t get him far, but Dream always loves a good story, and so he is currently regaling Dream with the tale of the time he made the mistake of starting a new life as his own nephew instead of son.

“I just figured I’d mix it up a little,” he groaned, “If anything I thought it would be more suspicious to constantly be claiming to be my own son. How was I supposed to know Helen’s mother still had a picture of us?”

Dream is watching him with rapt attention, as if he will be quizzed on his words later. His drink is untouched as always, and he gives a quiet hum, which Hob has learned is Dream-speak for ‘please tell me more’.

“So Helen comes to me, with this faded picture she found in her attic of my ‘uncle’ who is the spitting image of me, wringing her hands and near tears, explaining to me that she thinks my mom might have had an affair,” Hob put his head in his hands as he remembers the incident, “Honestly, I should have just gone along with it, but I’m bloody awful at fake crying, so of course, what do I blurt out?” He looks up at Dream, putting on a faux surprised face as he reenacts himself, “‘Oh, did I not mention my dad and uncle were twins?’”

Finally, Dream’s blank expression cracks. His eyes crinkle just slightly, and he lets out a soft huff of breath through a smile, the closest to a laugh that Hob ever manages.

And Hob loves it, to be sure, but he can’t help but grin and quip nonchalantly, "One of these days I'm gonna get a proper laugh out of you, just you wait."

The change is immediate.

Dream's face falls so fast it gives Hob whiplash, and his entire body stiffens in his seat, hands clenched in fists on the table. He looks away, so Hob can't quite figure out what emotions are swimming there.

"I do not recommend that."

Hob furrowed his brows in confusion, "And why would that be?"

Across from him, Dream shifted uncomfortably, looking almost… guilty? Before the Endless finally responded, "I have been told my laugh is. Unattractive."

And that has Hob's eyebrows shooting into his hairline, "Wait, really?" Dream nods solemnly, and the grave look on his face has Hob bursting into surprised laughter, "Oh, oh now that's something! Now I really have to hear it!"

When his laughter dies down, he expects Dream to be pouting, perhaps huffing regally or glaring in fond annoyance, as he has taken to do when Hob teases him lightly.

Instead, he is met with a carefully blank stare. The kind that Hob has learned means that Dream is hurting and doesn't want to show it.

"Your efforts would be wasted. I have long broken myself of the habit."

And, well, that is certainly. A loaded sentence. Hob feels the smile slip from his face, as it starts to occur to him that he may have tripped into a landmine without realizing it.

"Laughing isn't a 'bad habit', mate," he responds slowly. He can’t help but tilt his head a little, looking at his friend through a new lens. Dream has always been so stoic, so reserved and guarded and reticent. It had never occurred to him that those traits may have been learned.

Dream is older than Hob- much, much older- and he is too afraid to ask how long Dream has been smothering his own joy.

"Even if you do have an ugly laugh or what have you,” he continued insistently, “that's no reason to just… never laugh again. I mean, come one, laughing is great! It’s, it’s unrestrained joy! Happiness! There’s no bad way to laugh.”

A pause stretches between them. And then, Dream shakes his head. Slowly. A single, deliberate movement from side to side, and he speaks as though reciting a fact of the universe. "Joy is. Unbecoming on me."

Hob has always worn his heart on his sleeve, and even though he somehow manages not to burst into tears at those words, he’s certain he looks as heartbroken as he feels, “Dream,” his voice is pleading, “That’s not the point. That- that’s not what joy is about!” There’s a tinge of desperation in his voice, egged on by the way he finds himself gesturing wildly in front of a being who might as well be a statue for how still he is, “It’s not about looking good, it’s about feeling good. If I had to choose between you being unfairly attractive and you being happy, I’m always going to pick your happiness.”

Part of him also wants to argue that he very much doesn’t believe that there is anything Dream could do that would make him unattractive, that Hob is compromised by his appearance 24/7 no matter what he does. But given how dense and stubborn his friend is, he worries it would be taken the wrong way. So for now, he just leans forward to lay a hand over Dream’s.

“We both know I’m more stubborn than you, so just you wait. I’m going to get a laugh out of you, and we’ll both have a right good time with it, and you’ll find that joy is in fact very becoming on you. And you know I wouldn’t lie.”

For a long moment, Dream just looks at him, blinking slowly like he’s just been handed a particularly vexing puzzle. Eventually, he responds steadily, “I am always happy with you. Even when I do not laugh.”

Huffing lightly, Hob smiles, “Well, I’m glad to hear that my friend. But you won’t dissuade me.”

“Hm. You cannot blame me for trying though.”

That startles a laugh from Hob, and he squeezes Dream’s hand fondly, “No, I suppose not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hob figures, since he is dating the Prince of Stories, that movie nights are a pretty solid bet as far as dates go.

Flipping through the selection of movies on his laptop, he tries very, very hard not to think of the reason why Dream hasn’t experienced these particular stories, instead focusing on the excitement of getting to share them with the one he loves.

Lately, he’s been concentrating on comedies.

He had started with the older ones, suffering through adaptations of Shakespeare’s comedies so that Dream could have something familiar while adjusting to the new medium of film. Then he showed him some of the classics; Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, The Princess Bride, The Great Race, The Marx Brothers. He learned that Dream loved Clue and the idea of a story having multiple endings, but didn’t care for Monty Python’s absurdity.

And through them all, Hob got small smiles and abrupt exhales.

They laid together on the couch, Dream’s back against Hob’s front, Hob resting his arms around Dream’s chest. He barely watches the movies on the screen, so tuned into Dream, trying to ease any tension out of his frame, hoping for at least the gentle shakes of restrained laughter.

But there’s nothing.

When the credits roll, Hob stands, kissing Dream on the forehead before taking their empty wine glasses to the kitchen for a refill. Setting them on the counter, Hob allows himself a sigh of frustration. He hadn’t expected this endeavor to be quite so difficult. Tapping his fingers, he racked his brain for what else he could do to loosen up the stubborn being on his couch enough to shrug off some of his poise.

“Hob.”

Dream never made a sound when he moved, and Hob really should be used to it by now. Still, he jumped nearly a foot in the air at the sound of a voice barely a foot behind him. Whipping around, he clutched at his chest dramatically.

“God’s wounds, Dream, if I could die I think I might have!”

For a long moment, they simply stare at each other. Dream stands tall and regal, hands clasped in front of him, and blinks slowly. There is such gravity in his expression, in the way he carefully considers Hob, as if trying to disarm a bomb.

(Hob looks at him and wants to ask ‘What are you so afraid of? What’s got you so scared of me?’)

(Dream looks at him and wants to ask ‘Is this enough? Is this enough? Why can’t this be enough?’)

(Neither of them ask.)

Eventually, Dream’s eyes flutter closed, and he steps forward to press his face into the crook of Hob’s shoulder. On instinct, Hob circles him with his arms, swaying them both slightly as he buries his nose in wild black hair.

“Everything alright, Dove?”

He feels Dream nod against him, “Yes. I am happy. Here, with you.”

And he sounds happy. Something peaceful and relaxed in his tone that makes Hob’s face crack into a wide smile and squeeze him a little tighter, “Good. That’s what we’re going for, Love.”

Dream hums contentedly, nearly a purr, and Hob figures he must be doing something right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In all the centuries since meeting Dream of the Endless, long before he knew his name, before the lust turned to love, Hob had been convinced that he would never so much as lay a hand on his stranger’s skin. He always seemed so far above him, so unreachable, it had felt like the most painful kind of pipe dream.

So now, six hundred some odd years later, being able to kiss Dream felt like a miracle.

This, too, had taken some adjusting between them. Hob was a tactile person, and he got the feeling Dream was too, but he wasn’t used to it. For the first few weeks, Dream couldn’t help but flinch away from skin contact, and Hob couldn’t help but feel rejected by it. But as time passed, Dream began to relax into the affection, and Hob learned not to take it personally, though it still made him sad to think of how long Dream had gone without kind contact.

Similarly, going farther had taken time. Dream had expressed a want to be with Hob intimately, but taking his clothes off was a struggle. They grew together in this, too. They took it slow, learned each other’s bodies under clothes until Dream was comfortable removing that barrier so long as the lights were dimmed, so long as he didn’t feel displayed.

Now they fell together with practiced ease. They both knew how to make the space comfortable, how to make the other gasp and pant. Hob knew how to ease away the endless tension Dream carried in every part of his body, and Dream knew how to make Hob feel seen and wanted in ways he never had before.

They had both shared a couple bottles of wine, though Hob was the only one seemingly affected by it, his kisses a little more clumsy and a rosy flush over his face. They stumbled into Hob’s bedroom, Dream pulling his body on top of his own, encouraging Hob to press his weight onto him the way he liked. Hob took a moment to kick the mess of sheets onto the floor, his movements hindered by the way Dream was shoving his shirt over his head. He laughed as his arms got tangled in the sleeves, nearly tipping over before Dream’s hands reached to steady him, finally freeing himself of the fabric. He saw Dream’s lips twitching before he zeroed in on Hob’s chest, running his fingers through his thick body hair and palming at his pecs. Hob had always thought he was decent looking, but Dream had a way of bearing down on him with hungry eyes that made him feel like the most attractive man in the universe.

But he doesn’t let himself get too distracted, tugging at Dream’s shirt questioningly and then pulling it off as soon as he’s given approval. The same way Dream is minorly obsessed with Hob’s hair and muscles, so is Hob enamored with the miles of smooth, hairless skin exposed to him now. Dream sighs, his body going lax beneath him and running his fingers lovingly through his hair as Hob kisses along his collar bones.

They are both still in their jeans, but there’s no rush. Leaning back, Hob is happy to take his time admiring his love, smiling at the way Dream’s eyes have drifted closed under his gentle touches. Hob skims his fingers down Dream's sides, brushing over prominent ribs and the vulnerable space of his waist, and he feels Dream twitch, a huff of breath escaping him and at that moment, a lightbulb goes off in his brain.

Suddenly, Hob feels himself grin mischievously, because why hadn't he thought of this before?

Curling his fingers, he drags them back up Dream's skin, not pressing, just fluttering up and down the soft, white skin. Below him, Dream begins to squirm, sucking in a breath, and Hob grins wider, begins to move his fingers just a little faster because he is brilliant and then-

-and then Dream's entire body goes rigid, and cold fingers shoot out to grip Hob's wrists.

"Stop."

Dream's voice cracks with desperation and Hob feels like the scum of the earth.

Before he has a chance to pull away, to give Dream space, Dream is scrambling back, sitting up to press his back against the headboard. All the soft relaxation Hob had coaxed from him is gone, his body wracked with tension, and even cast downward he can see the anxiety and shame warring in his eyes. He keeps his shaking hands around Hob's wrists to hold him at arm's length, as if bracing for Hob to ignore his wishes.

Yeah. Hob definitely feels like scum.

"Hey," he whispers, leaning back and keeping his hands lax and unthreatening, "I'm sorry, it's okay. I won't do that again," he promises. He tilts his head to try to catch Dream's gaze, "I'm sorry."

Dream doesn't respond, but he does loosen his grip. Tentatively, Hob shifts to curl his hands around Dream's softly in return, letting his thumbs stroke the inside of his wrists soothingly. He waits patiently, letting Dream breathe, occasionally whispering soft apologies and comfort while Dream gathers himself.

After several long minutes, Dream swallows thickly, "I do not understand."

Furrowing his brow, Hob asked, "What do you mean?"

There is another pause before Dream answers slowly, his voice thick with fear and sorrow, "You have already seen. All the ugly things inside of me. That you still allow me in your presence at all is a marvel. Why, then, do you seek to see me ugly on the outside? It would be…too much. To ask for you to still want me. If I am, if nothing else, no longer appealing in that way to you."

Hob feels like his heart has been drawn and quartered. His chest goes tight, and there are so many things he wants to say, so many reasons he wants to cry, and they're all fighting for first place in his mind. For too long he simply stares, eyes wide and watery, while Dream curls in on himself, his gaze still locked on his lap.

Finally, finally, Hob gently releases Dream's hands, opening his arms and just barely managing to choke out, "Come 'ere, Love. Come here."

Dream hesitates, his eyes at last glancing up to search Hob's face. Whatever he finds there must be enough though, because he releases a shuddering breath and lets himself fall forward into Hob's arms.

Hob gathers him in his lap, settling in the center of the bed and pressing a kiss against his sharp cheekbone. He grips him tight, and after one last moment of hesitation, Dream curls his arms around Hob's back to return the embrace.

For so long, Hob has felt small compared to Dream. Immortal though he may be, he was still just a human next to an Endless. A speck next to an existence he could barely wrap his head around. Each day, Hob felt it was a marvel for Dream to want him. Not once had he ever considered that Dream might feel less than. It had never even crossed his mind that Dream might think it even a possibility that Hob wouldn't want him in whatever way he was given. As if there was anything that would make Hob give up on him.

Especially something so inconsequential.

"I love you," Hob whispers against his temple, "You. It doesn't matter what you look like, or sound like. Ugly, beautiful, plain, it doesn't matter as long as it's you. I won't stop loving you- won't stop wanting you- just because you're not, I don't know, aesthetically perfect or whatever."

He squeezes the bony body a little tighter, "Although that said, I love you. And so you'll always be beautiful to me. Inside and out."

When Hob pulls back to look at him, there are tears slowly running down Dream's face, and he doesn't look like he believes him.

It breaks Hob's heart.

But they've got time.

Kissing the tears from his cheeks, he makes one last promise, "I'm going to prove it to you. However long it takes. The rest of my immortal life. I'll prove it to you."

Dream still doesn't respond. He simply closes his eyes and swallows back all the arguments bubbling in his chest. They don't have sex that night, but Hob pulls the covers around them and holds Dream until he stops shaking. Until he's warm and relaxed in his arms again.

Dream never responds. But he's still there in the morning, waking Hob with a gentle kiss, and that’s enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hob stops trying after that.

There’s a subtle relaxation to Dream now, as if he has exhaled after months of holding his breath, and it is a painful realization for Hob to acknowledge that his attempts had, in fact, been making things worse.

Nothing for it now but to learn from it, he supposes. So he doesn’t push. He savors every smile Dream graces him with, every soft touch and loving gaze. They start watching different genres of movies and shows, and sometimes Hob manages to convince Dream to go somewhere in the city with him. Dream shows his happiness is a thousand quiet ways, and Hob cherishes each of them.

On this day, Hob isn’t even expecting Dream at all. They had already seen each other several times that week, and Dream was a busy being, so Hob was anticipating a quiet night and maybe a dream-visit later in the evening. They were approaching the one-year anniversary of Dream returning to the New Inn, which Hob knew was a complicated time for Dream. It was, after all, also approaching the one-year anniversary of his escape from the monsters who imprisoned him.

Hob is, admittedly, a little lost on how to handle the occasion. Dream has been dealing with it the way he deals with everything, which is to say he hasn’t mentioned it and if pressed would make some excuse about arbitrary dates or something. So Hob falls back on one of his tried-and-true love languages.

Food.

Sure, Dream doesn’t eat much, if at all, but he knows he appreciates the gesture when Hob offers him treats. So Hob has dedicated the evening after returning from work to trying out a fancy recipe he found for a lavender cake with lemon curd and buttercream. If it works out well enough, he’ll make it for Dream on one of their more official date nights. Cooking has always been more of his forte, but it can’t be that hard to switch to baking, he figures. Besides, last Christmas he splurged on one of those expensive Kitchen Aid stand mixers, so he should be set.

At first, it does go smoothly enough. The lemon curd is thinner than he wanted, but it still needs to cool a little, so he’s not giving up on it yet. He’s beaten the eggs and sugar, and has just poured what he feels is a reasonable amount of flour into the bowl. It’s a little full, sure, but as he drops the paddle in he figures as long as he keeps the setting low he’ll be fine.

And that’s when Dream shows up.

And, to be clear, by ‘show up’, he means just fucking appear next to Hob in the kitchen out of absolutely nowhere.

“Hello Hob-”

Dream is interrupted by Hob’s high-pitched shriek, accompanied by the way his full body flail catches the switch on the mixer. The paddle, half buried in flour, goes from zero to ten, a mushroom cloud of flour engulfing the kitchen followed by waves of egg and sugar.

“SHIT! FUCK!” Hob sputters, waving his arms blindly as his vision is obscured by the explosion of batter, until his fingers finally find the switch and slam it off.

The entire kitchen is hazy with flour in the air, and Hob is sputtering, trying to spit out the mixture that got in his mouth during the explosion. He is spitting into his arm, shaking his hair out like a dog, and so it takes a moment for him to register another sound in the room.

It is, undeniably, a laugh, but only in the sense that there is a distinct “ha ha” to the sound. But there’s a quality to it, like if you scraped gravel across a chalkboard, deep and low pitched but still somehow grating, broken up by long notes that remind him of a braying bloodhound.

Snapping his head around, he only catches the last moment. There is a split second where he sees Dream, flour in his hair and bright streaks of egg and sugar on his black clothing, his eyes bright with glee, his mouth smiling wide enough to show his teeth, sees how his whole face seems softer and brighter and he hunches slightly under the force of his laughter.

Dream’s laughter.

Only for a second though. As soon as their eyes lock, Dream chokes on a breath. He actually takes a step back, away from Hob, as he slaps both hands over his mouth, fingers curling to clutch at his own jaw, and he doesn’t go red with embarrassment, but gray from mortification.

Deep in his mind, Hob knows he should be saying something comforting. Something to console the anxiety that is obviously crackling under Dream’s skin like an electric current. He should definitely be doing something soothing.

But the sound of laughter is still ringing in his ears, every splitting note of it echoing in his head, and, really, there is only one way to respond to that awful, ridiculous noise coming from Dream's mouth:

"Marry me."

Dream's hands are still covering his mouth, but Hob sees the way his eyes widen, and his shoulders jerk up to his ears, and he thinks he hears a muffled squeak of surprise, and what else can he do but-

"Marry me right now."

They spend a long moment staring at each other. Slowly, so slowly, Dream pulls his hands away from his mouth, just an inch or so, still ready to clamp down anything he deems unseemly, but enough to let out a soft, "Pardon?"

And, really, how could anyone be expected to stand in front of this Endless- this unfathomable, multifaceted being who is powerful and elegant and ridiculous and adorable and perfect- and not leap forward to embrace him?

Dream's hands are still in the way, and so as Hob wraps his arms around him, his lips land on his knuckles, pressing the hands back against Dream's mouth just as another surprised squeak escapes him and Hob is so in love. He doesn’t care that they are making a bigger mess, and Hob's kiss is no less enthusiastic for the bony barrier between their lips. It's still Dream's skin, and so it is still a gift.

Eventually, he pauses long enough for Dream to uncover his mouth, his hands hovering over Hob's chest, barely touching enough to leave light fingerprints in the batter coating his shirt. He blinks in confusion and Hob is smiling so wide his cheeks ache.

"You. Do not think it is…?"

Hob pulls him tight against his chest, peppering kisses all over his face, careless of the flour getting in his mouth as he rambles lovingly, "It's ridiculous. You sound like a choking donkey. You've never looked more beautiful. It's hideous. It's perfect. I want to hear that laugh every day for the rest of my life."

When he looks, Dream's eyes are shining with tears, but he's also smiling, his face full of wonder and fragile hope as he whispers, "That is. A long time, Hob Gadling."

He's still smiling, which makes their teeth click when Hob leans in to kiss him properly, "Longer, if I have any say in it,” with effort, he pulls back just enough to point out, “You haven’t answered my question by the way.”

Raising an eyebrow, a bit of shyness returned to Dream even as he replied petulantly, “You did not phrase it as a question.” Hob rolled his eyes, and Dream continued, “That was not. One of your jokes?”

“My love,” Hob takes one of Dream’s hands, laying the other over his own heart dramatically as he drops to one knee on his disastrous kitchen floor, “I have never been more serious.”

Dream burst out laughing.

Tugging on Hob’s hand, he pulled him to his feet and pressed their mouths together, “You ridiculous, absurd, wonderful man,” Dream declares when he can catch his breath, “Nothing would bring me more joy than to call you my husband.”

Eventually they have to stop kissing.

They are both laughing too hard against each other's mouths.

[camels-pen]

For the prompt thing:

How about Sanji or Zoro being jealous of how much time the other spends with Usopp.

Or

Zoro/Sanji being impressed by how skilled Usopp is because he saves him/them in battle or something.

(Your writing is really good btw)

thank you for the prompts 💚 and im glad you like my writing :D

-

There was a tremble in his arms. In his bones.

The beating of his heart drowned out everything else. Nothing but the odd bump babump bababump.

His body started to feel light. His head too.

His vision flickered a moment. Then two. Hearing was next, he thought, but he wasn’t sure.

Just as his breathing stuttered, his vision was filled with brown boots.

Someone was calling his name. Someone familiar.

He looked up.

Oh.

“Zoro! Hey!” The familiar voice and distant sound of rapidly growing plants soothed his aches like a balm. “Answer me, you bastard!”

“‘ere,” he said, fighting against his fluttering eyelid. “‘m awake.”

“Good! You better stay awake until I get you to Chopper!” Usopp shouted, readying his slingshot with a quick glance backwards. Zoro went to nod, but nearly sent himself falling over.

At some point, he’d ended up on his knees, swords on the ground next to him in a loose grip. He didn’t remember that happening. Regardless, he wouldn’t leave Usopp to fight alone no matter how much blood he’d lost. He started to tighten his grip, to pick himself up, but paused when Usopp spoke again.

“Don’t, you idiot! Let me handle them!” 

He looked up again. “Not leaving you to—”

“Give me a break,” Usopp said with a laugh, letting another shot fly. Moments later, a line of bamboo shot up out of the ground followed by pained screams. He turned and jabbed a thumb in his chest. “These guys are hardly a challenge for the Great Usopp!”

“Not them…” Zoro trailed off. He gritted his teeth, the pain forcing him to stay conscious. “Big fish,” he said quickly, quietly.

Usopp squatted in front of him. He lightly patted Zoro’s arms and chest, not enough to really do an injury check, rather just brushing over the larger and more visible wounds all across his front. Usopp’s gaze stayed on Zoro’s. “I know,” he whispered. “I can feel them too.”

“Feel—?” Zoro’s eyes widened. “Usopp, when did—?”

“Later, okay?” Usopp gave him a soft grin. “For now, just let me handle this.”

And what was Zoro to say to that, except, “She turns into a bloodsucking gnat.” 

“Mosquito, I’m a mosquito!” shouted the gnat woman, her voice echoing across the clearing. “And quit flirting, it’s annoying!”

This was the moment where Usopp’s knees would start to shake, or his entire body would tremble, or he would start muttering about how he didn’t want to die from a gnat woman. 

Instead, Usopp simply held his gaze and cupped his cheeks. Zoro hardly noticed the blood on his palms, through the warmth seeping into his skin. “I’ll take you to Chopper soon, don’t pass out until then.”

There was a kiss on his forehead. Then another to his bleeding temple. A third, above his left eyebrow, at the tip of his scar. Zoro’s brows furrowed. “‘Sopp?”

Usopp shushed him lightly and continued, slow and unhurried. He pressed a kiss between Zoro’s brows and Zoro couldn’t help it. His face smoothed out and he started to relax under Usopp’s attention. “Thought… wanted me to… awake?” he said, his aim for an irritated grumble completely missed and came out more like a contented sigh. 

Still, Usopp stayed silent. Zoro’s eyelid was fluttering again, but he could recognize the determination in his eyes.

“That’s it!” the gnat woman shouted. “You’re dead!”

There was a high pitched zipping sound and Zoro stiffened. “She’s com—”

In one swift movement, Usopp turned and fired. The gnat woman made some kind of choked noise and Zoro heard a series of small thuds before she skidded close enough for him to see. There was a trickle of blood running down her face and a rather large indent in her temple. One of Usopp’s Lead Stars was rolling around, not far away.

Zoro’s eye widened. He knew Usopp was good—he never doubted his ability in sniping—but that was… wow. The woman was about the size of a Tontatta, yet Usopp knocked her out of her high speed attack like it was nothing. And with a single shot, no less.

Although, he shouldn't be surprised. He huffed in place of a laugh. What was that line Usopp used to say?

“Even a mouse’s eye,” Zoro said, sheathing his swords. “You’re amazing… you know that?”

Usopp sputtered, turning back to Zoro. “I’ll take the compliment, but please don’t bring up Sogeking. I’m strong enough to not need him anymore!” he said, practically whining. 

“You are,” Zoro said, the words easy and immediate. “Strong enough to show off, even.”

“Ah, that was—” Usopp scratched his cheek, looking away.“I-I needed to draw her out, and I thought it’d be fitting, y’know? After seeing the way she was hurting you with her tricks.” 

Liar, Zoro thought fondly. Aloud, he said, “We should kiss.”

Usopp laughed, his face splitting into a brilliant smile. “Sorry Zoro, you know the rules. Make outs are for after medical treatment.” 

Zoro grumbled. Chopper wasn’t even here and Zoro wasn’t about to kick it. “You shouldn’t listen to him as much.”

“You should listen to him more.”

Usopp hoisted Zoro into his arms with ease, one hand under his knees and one around his shoulders. Zoro rested his head against Usopp’s chest with a sigh. “S’rry,” he mumbled, the fight against unconsciousness growing harder with each step his boyfriend took. 

“Apology not accepted.” Usopp leaned down to leave a peck on his nose. “I’ll come to your rescue anytime, just like I know you’ll come to mine.”

[little-mouse-adventures]

A Timeline of Events in the Artemis Fowl Series

If anyone's interested, I did do an actual analysis for where I pulled some of these dates from. But because I cannot type succinctly to save my life, it's 5,000 words long, so that's below the cut. I also put the timeline there again, but in three separate images, so hopefully they load well enough to be fully legible if the above isn't.

A thousand thanks to @sadbitchapologist and @zahnie for their help and advice with this, despite neither of them having any more than the barest interest in the series and therefore having no clue what I was on about. Thanks also to @orangerosebush for fielding completely out-of-the-blue questions about the French school system, so I didn't have to attempt to navigate web search results to figure out what mandatory gym classes were like for the sole purpose of plotting Luc's birthday on here.

An Analysis of the Timelines in the Artemis Fowl Series

A Brief Introduction

The Artemis Fowl series is made up of eight books covering a range of years and events. I wanted to see how accurate the timelines present in the books were, as well as try and plot out some other details implied in the novels but not explicitly stated, to have a better understanding of the overall world-building. To that end, I went through the series and made the above timeline. I colour-coded it based on the relevance of the specific items to certain categories, namely Humans, Fairies, Villains, and the Series itself. This does mean that some things could have fit into multiple categories. For instance, you will see some items involving Opal categorized as Fairy-Specific (such as her college years, as those are fairly neutral to the main plot or her villainy), Villain-Specific (such as her setting up her emergency fund, as that is mostly related to her schemes as opposed to relevant to her existence as a fairy, or part of the main plot of the series), and Plot-Specific (such as her opening the Berserker Gate, the primary plot point for the final book).

Before we really delve into things though, we should establish the baseline assumptions I was working with. Firstly, I am only using the original series. I have not used anything written in The Fowl Twins trilogy, given that those books seem to ret-con a considerable amount of the original information, and that is far too many headaches to give myself. Any supplemental series information, such as the short stories found in The Artemis Fowl Files, or anything from interviews is also not included. The premise here is: using just the original books, what is the event timeline of the world? The second thing we need to establish is that I am using the North American releases of the novels. I did make notes on where each bit of information comes from, but there isn’t really a citation style for this kind of thing, so I’m not sure how relevant that is. The third assumption is that the first book takes place the year it was originally published. According to my copy, the original publication was 2001, with the first American paperback edition coming out in 2002, and the first mass market paperback being released in 2003. This means our starting point is in 2001.

For sake of clarity, this analysis will start with setting the dates of the books and continue on from there.

The Basics of The Books

With that out of the way, let’s talk about the first book, Artemis Fowl (AF). It is actually not until the very end of the book that we get a solid answer for when it takes place. It’s only in the last few pages of the novel that Angeline Fowl leaves her attic room after all the plot points are tied up and announces that it is Christmas Day. This might be cause for concern – Angeline had not previously been established as a particularly reliable narrator – but given that we are asked to believe that Holly’s ‘feel better’ mood booster worked, and that neither Butler nor Artemis balk at or question the pronouncement that is Christmas Day, we’ll accept that it’s true and move on. This means that, with Butler’s earlier announcement that he was stuck doing four months of stakeout, we can say with a fair amount of certainty that Artemis obtained and translated the Fairy Book in September 2001, and managed to capture a fairy in December of the same year.

Moving on to Artemis Fowl: The Arctic Incident (TAI), we are given a decent chunk of information, albeit spread out a bit. The first is the announcement that the ransom drop for Artemis Fowl I is to be held on the fourteenth. The fourteenth of what, you might ask? Well, we are told that Artemis is currently thirteen years old. Clearly, things are past September 1, 2002 (we know Artemis’s birthday is September 1 based on information in both the fifth and seventh books). We are also told that Luc Carrere has been trading with the goblins for six months, starting in July. That puts us in either December or January, but we can narrow it down further since Artemis gives us another helpful clue. He mentions they are not expecting to see the dawn while attempting to rescue his father in the Arctic. There are only a few latitudes on Earth where polar night (of any type) occurs, and at Murmansk, polar twilight occurs between December 10 – January 2. Combining all of this, we learn that TAI takes place December 14, 2002, give or take a few days to either side.

This can be corroborated by information in Book 3, Artemis Fowl: The Eternity Code (TEC). After Holly heals Artemis Senior, we are told that it takes over two months for him to wake up. Since we are specifically told two months, as opposed to two and a half or three, we can conclude that the events of TEC take place in March 2003. Mulch gives us some information that confirms this. He was living in LA “less than four months ago,” and since he was conscripted to help with the events of TAI in December, a March plotline fits the bill. We are given further confirmation as well: Spiro mentions that Artemis will be fourteen in six months. A specific date for Artemis & Co.’s attack on Spiro’s Needle can be pulled from the throw-away line that Pex and Chips are “burying” Mulch on the full moon. A quick web search tells us that the full moon in March of 2003 takes place on March 14, and the rest of the events in the novel take place roughly two days to either side of that.

In Artemis Fowl: The Opal Deception (TOD), the fourth book in the series, we are given several very clear indications of when the events take place. Firstly, Artemis is contemplating that at fourteen years and three months old, he is the youngest person to successfully obtain The Fairy Thief. Based on previously noted details that his birthday is in September, the events of TOD must take place in December of 2003. Additionally, we are told that things are the middle of winter and Opal has been in a coma for eleven months and counting as of the end of TAI, another December plot.

Artemis Fowl: The Lost Colony (TLC) requires the most math and interpretation so far to figure out when it takes place. We know Artemis is still fourteen, so the main events clearly happen sometime between January 2004 and September 2004. Beyond that, we are using a fair amount of context clues. Artemis and Butler have evidently been traveling for four months looking for demons, so we are dealing with events in at least May. But that still leaves us several summertime months to work with, so to establish a timeline here, we will need to look forward a bit. In the sixth book, Artemis Fowl: The Time Paradox (TTP), it’s noted that Artemis is not yet fifteen, and has, on multiple occasions, spent the full moon in the study. Ergo, he’s spent at least a few months back from Hybras. If he has been back for two months and not yet turned fifteen, he would have had to have returned by July at the latest, and since he returns almost three years later than he leaves, we are looking at him returning in either May or June. This would have him disappearing to Hybras – and by extension, dealing with the earlier events in the book – in June, July, or August. After his conversation with Minerva, he notes to Butler that they “are planning a June wedding,” which wouldn’t make sense to say if they were currently in the month of June. From all of this, we can extrapolate that the first three-quarters of TLC take place in late July or early August 2004, with the triumphant return of our intrepid heroes occurring in June 2007.

As previously stated, TTP mentions that Artemis is still not fifteen, but is nearly there. He has also been home again for at least two months. This would put the events of the sixth book in August 2007. At least, the events set in the current time period. TTP does bring back time travel, and with it some problems. We are told that Artemis and Holly jump back nearly eight years to Artemis being ten and trying to fund searches for his missing father. This would put the events of the past in early 2000. However, other details presented regarding Artemis Senior’s disappearance, which we will discuss later, make that impossible. Artemis also admits, in TEC, that he was eleven when his father disappeared, not ten. If we take a bit of creative license with our interpretations and base the time-jump to the past on other presented information as opposed to the dates given in TTP, we can say that Holly and Artemis instead return to early 2001. This lines up with further details, such as the sinking of the Fowl Star (as calculated a few paragraphs down in this analysis) occurring in December of 2000, and the textual confirmation in TTP that it’s barely two months past that sinking when Artemis brokers the deal(s) regarding the silky sifaka lemur. Since, at the end of the day, the time jump impacts very little in the grand scheme of things, and the year 2001 actually fits in better with other textual evidence and events, that’s what I’m going with for this timeline.

The seventh book, Artemis Fowl: The Atlantis Complex (TAC) gives us a very helpful base point! It takes place on Artemis’s fifteenth birthday, September 1. From our previous results on setting dates for book events, that would be September 1, 2007. The sections in which Butler and Juliet are fighting mesmerized wrestling fans and meeting up with Mulch are noted in the novel as happening “the day before,” which would fall on August 31, 2007.

Artemis Fowl: The Last Guardian (TLG), the eighth and final book in the series, creates some problems. If we assume that Artemis starts receiving treatment for his Atlantis Complex immediately after diagnosis in TAC¸ that would put him receiving treatment in September 2007. We are told he is certified as cured after six months. Yet we are also told that the rest of the events of the book take place in the week or so leading up to the Christmas holidays. Everything so far has said that the Artemis Fowl series follows the current calendar, in which case there is no way that six months can fit between September 1, 2007 and December 25, 2007. However, the only reference to Christmas is in two lines noting that the Fowl parents were planning on holidaying with their children on a foreign beach. If we simply say that six months have passed, and they are instead planning on spending the Irish school system’s spring holidays in the French Riviera, everything else lines up much better. So that’s what I’ve done. This would also put the resurrection of Artemis, after the events of the book and a further six months have passed, at roughly September of 2008. There is a pleasing symmetry to Artemis being born and then re-born in September, though if you want to get really technical and say the events of TLG take place during the 2008 March full moon as Opal claims (as noted in another web search as March 28), a six-month wait time for the clone to grow would put the resurrection in October. Still, there is something to be said for having a boy’s ghost haunting a clone of himself close to All Hallows. Since it’s the last plot point of the series, you can choose which you’d like; it doesn’t have to lead to anything else after it.

Let’s Talk Timelines: The Beginning of the Line to The End of The 19th Century

Now that we have our baseline book time periods established, we can get into the math used to determine some of the events in the timeline above. Several events are easy; we are given specific dates for them. Turnball Root meets Leonor in 1938, Juliet wins the Miss Sugar Beet Fair beauty contest in 1999. Other things are based on some basic math, such as Artemis claiming his parents got married fourteen years prior to AF¸ putting that event in 1987.

The majority of the items on the above timeline, however, do take some mathematics, extrapolation, and interpretation to plot out. To try and keep everything organized, we’ll start at the far left of the timeline, and work our way forwards, looking at events oldest-to-newest to explain why they are where they are on the graph. I won’t be getting too in-depth on everything in the graph, since I’m not sure how relevant the notes on the very minor side characters such as Carla Frazetti are, but I’ll at least try to touch on some of the more relevant points.

To start with, the Battle of Taillte was noted in the 2000’s as being ten thousand years ago, putting that at 8000 BCE. Similarly, the last dome breach at Atlantis was apparently eight thousand years ago in the 2000’s, so that would be 6000 BCE. Troll sideshows were legal in the early middle ages, which implies they were not legal after that. A quick web search says the early middle ages ended around 1000. The first crusades were in 1096-1099, and as those crusades are the start point of the Butler-Fowl working relationship, a point for noting that comes next on the graph.

From there, we get into more modern – relatively speaking – events. Briar Cudgeon and Julius Root are noted as attending the LEP Academy together and being raised in the same tunnel, as well as having about 600 years of history together. If one assumes “being raised in the same tunnel” is similar to the human equivalent of “growing up in the same neighbourhood,” we can assume the two were born roughly 600 years ago, in the 1400’s. Vinyaya is portrayed as being of a similar age to Root, so her birth can also be put in the same general era. We are also told that Fowl Manor was originally a castle built in the fifteenth century, that in the early 2000’s the theories of timeline corruption were first introduced over five centuries ago, and that cloning has been banned for over five hundred years, so those three events are also tossed into the 1400’s.

Julius Root is noted as doing his LEP basic training 500 years ago in Ireland, so that would have to be in the 1500’s. He would have attended the Academy before then, putting that in the mid-to-late 1400’s. As previously stated, he was in the Academy with Cudgeon. Opal also met Cudgeon in college, and competed with Foaly for science prizes there, so they were all in school at the same time.

Mulch now enters the picture. We aren’t ever given a specific age range for him, but we are told about his career. He has, apparently, spent three centuries in and out of prison after a couple centuries of success as a thief. This would make him at least five hundred years old. There is a brief mention that he tried the athletic route at college before becoming a thief, so he would have to be an adult at that point, putting his age at roughly 550 years during the events of the series.

We then enter a period filled in from one-off lines throughout the series, presumably added to give some depth to the world. Things about the wine cellar at Fowl Manor being a seventeenth century addition, Captain Eusebius Fowl and his crew dying in the eighteenth century, and Mulch first faking his own death over two hundred years ago.

Time Marches On: The 20th Century

There is nothing of much relevance to linger on between the 1550’s and the 20th century, so we’ll jump ahead to the 1900’s, when we have Holly Short’s birthday. She is in her eighties during TLC, and her father died “over twenty years ago” when she was “barely sixty” as of TAI. Based on that, she would have been in her early eighties in 2002, putting her birthday sometime in the 1920’s. What a doll.

A few more birthdays now appear, and we’ll ignore, for the most part, some of the irrelevant ones. I don’t think we are at all concerned with Gaspard Paradizo’s birthday, or Mikhael Vassikin. We are, however, rather more interested in Jon Spiro, Domovoi Butler, and Artemis Fowl I.

Jon Spiro enters the series in TEC, as a middle-aged American. A quick search on the Internet says that middle age is generally noted as being between the ages of 40 to 60. We are told that Spiro has worked in three main industries over the past two and a half decades. Additionally, we are told that law enforcement has been “trying to put [him] away for thirty years.” If we assume he entered the working world at twenty, spent five years developing his professional self, and then started going down a path of questionable legality to get the police after him, that would put him at fifty-five in 2003, and born in the late 1940’s.

It was a bit easier to determine Domovoi Butler’s age, and we can get more specific with his actual birthday. We are told that he is forty at the start of TEC, and he is still forty during TOD. From that, we can assume his birthday is not between March – December, which means it has to be between January – March. Now, we can just leave things there, but contextually, Butler says in late March 2003 that “a lot of people know [him] as a forty-year old man.” Since I doubt he’s the kind of person who introduces himself by announcing that his birthday was last week, we can assume that his birthday is not in March. Since about half the books in the series take place in December, and there is never any mention of Butler’s birthday coming up soon, we can likely assume it isn’t in January. We can therefore conclude Butler was born in February, 40 years before 2003, which puts his birth year in 1963.

We then have Artemis Fowl I. This one took the most extrapolation to determine. We know he has run an ethical empire for a few years as of 2007, which coincides with his return to his family after being kidnapped by the Mafia. He apparently ran a successful criminal empire for two decades before that, though, so in 2007 he has been working for at least 25 years. Based on the interactions he had with his own son, I’ve assumed he was also taught to take over the family business from a young age. If he started working at his age of majority at 18 (as possible in the 1980’s in Ireland, based on a web search), we can assume he was born in roughly the mid 60’s.

Billy Kong, born Jonah Lee, is one to touch on. He plays a large role in TLC, during which we are given possibly the most backstory of any villain in the series. He was evidently born in the early 1970’s, and was eight years old in the early 1980’s. Mathematically, that can only lend itself to so many birth years, so it’s easy enough to put his birthdate somewhere in 1973, and his brother’s death date in 1981.

While we’re here, let’s talk about the 1980’s. A lot of things happen in the 80’s, so we’ll be here for a few paragraphs. Butler would have graduated Madam Ko’s Academy in the early ‘80s, Artemis I would have started working in his family’s business and stolen some warrior mummies (of note, the theft is only noted as being in Artemis Sr.’s “gangster days,” but if you are a young, rich criminal, you’d likely commit a wild theft in your early years as opposed to your thirties, which is why this is put in here). Additionally, in the mid 1980’s, Holly graduates the LEP Academy and her mother dies, as noted in TTP when she is contemplating missing three years of her friends lives.

Butler would have started his five-year stint in Russia with an espionage unit in the mid-to-late 80’s, and become a big brother in 1985. Juliet is noted at being four years older than Artemis in AF in 2001, and he is twelve then, making her sixteen at the time. We can extrapolate the month from TEC, wherein she is apparently eighteen when she is called regarding her brother’s apparent death. At the time, we are told what gifts she received for her birthday, implying it was fairly recent. Additionally, Artemis was only thirteen at that time, which would make Juliet five years older than Artemis. If, however, we trust that acolytes at Madam Ko’s start their training on their tenth birthday and get one chance to graduate per year, it would make sense for that one chance to be on their birthday, or within a day or two to allow for as much training time as possible. Since Juliet was in the midst of this one graduation evaluation when she gets the phone call and joins the crew for the March heist at Spiro’s Needle, she’d have to be born in March. (We can also corroborate this with some details from AF: if AF  takes place in mid-September, that would be just after Artemis’s birthday, which puts the 4-year age difference back into play.)

Spelltropy begins for the People in 1987, if it appeared 20 years ago from 2007. Artemis I and Angeline Fowl would get married in 1987. They would have their first child, Artemis Fowl II, in 1989, as calculated by Artemis being twelve during the initial siege of the Manor in December 2001. Artemis II’s grandfather was noted as having been dead for over ten years at that point, and it was mentioned in TEC that Angeline married her husband before he really took over the family business, so those events would likely happen when Artemis was but a baby in 1990.

The ‘90s are a period where a lot of things are happening, but few are particularly important. Spelltropy has a cure found, Minerva Paradizo is born, Juliet begins her bodyguard training and her brother refuses to let her shave her hair. These, and other events in the 90’s, are mostly calculated by math along the lines of “Event A happened X number of years ago,” but since the 90’s was mostly a time of worldbuilding events rather than plot events, we’ll just skim over the specific details.

‘You Are Here’: The 21st Century, and Where The Storytelling Begins

Welcome to the 2000’s! The kick-off point of not only the 2000’s, but also the entire series, is the sinking of the Fowl Star. We aren’t given a specific date for this, but we are given enough information to extrapolate the date. Specifically, in September 2001, in AF, we are told Fowl Sr. has been missing for almost a year. In TAI, in December, we are told he has been missing for almost two years. That does have the potential to have the ship go down in either December or January, so we need to use a bit more details from TAI to make a final determination. Mikhael Vassikin and Kamar were told to dump Fowl’s body in the Kola if he didn’t wake up in “another year,” so they’ve been looking after him for one at that point. Fowl Sr. wakes up two weeks before the deadline, and as noted earlier, the ransom drop for him takes place December 14, after he has been awake for perhaps a week. From that, we can tell that the deadline for “another year” was mid to late December, putting the initial sinking of the Fowl Star in late 2000.

The analysis gets a bit confusing at this point, because 2001 is when future Artemis and Holly join the party via time travel, as well as having their regular selves in the timestream. Essentially, we’ve established the timeline for the events of TTP above, so we know the whole lemur fiasco takes place in March 2001. Artemis wakes up at the end of that book thinking about fairies, which ties in rather neatly to him then dragging Butler across three continents for six false alarms (with an assumed approximate 3 weeks between each jaunt) before striking metaphorical gold in Ho Chi Minh City in September. During their time-traveling, Holly also gets a chance to talk to Root, who wonders why she isn’t in Hamburg, which was noted in AF as Holly’s first major failure as a Recon officer and was nearly preceding the events of AF. The time-traveling would also mean that Opal would have had to harvest her DNA for future diabolical plans before March 2001, when her younger self travels to the future. Since it takes up to two years to grow a clone to adulthood, and her clone has to be ready in September 2003, we are a few months off in the time requirements, but really, for a practice that’s been outlawed for 500 years, I can offer a bit of leeway.

We are now well and truly in the thick of the main events of the series. Most of this will be tied into the initial assessments we made way at the beginning of this essay, where we established when each book occurs. Because of this, we aren’t going to spend time on anything plot-related. However, a brief note on Turnball Root and Artemis’s Atlantis Complex is likely in order. Artemis was, as previously stated, dealing with his return from Hybras and the after-effects of stealing magic during July and August of 2007. His Atlantis Complex, and Turnball Root’s plan to escape the Deeps prison, are in full swing in September of that year. We have a brief note in TAC during the evacuation of Atlantis, that Turnball had, a month before, spied on Artemis and noted his Atlantis Complex developing. Therefore, Artemis’s Complex likely came into play in late July or early August 2007. This is close enough to Artemis’s magic theft to make sense for the deterioration of his mental health, and enough time for Butler to have started to notice something was wrong, as he did. We can therefore assume that Atlantis Complex, at least in the case of magic-stealing humans who have a propensity for time travel and getting involved in supremely complicated and improbable plots, develops relatively quickly.

This leaves just one major discussion point from the last few books: the age of Artemis’s twin brothers, Beckett and Myles. The twins are first introduced at the very end of TLC. They are written as being two during the events of TTP, three during the events of TAC, and four during the events of TLG. Regardless of the time-traveling shenanigans of their elder brother, it is impossible for the twins to age two years in the eight months between Artemis’s return from Hybras in June 2007 and the finale of the series in March of 2008, so we need to look at what makes sense.

Myles has already potty-trained himself, and done so at fourteen months, so they must be at least that old. Their other behaviours would make sense for them to be two in TTP. Diapers are still a part of their lives, and their language and vocabulary fit what a two-year-old would have, at least in Beckett’s case. Since Artemis was surprised by their existence, it doesn’t seem likely that  Angeline would have known she was pregnant, or at least not have told Artemis yet, when he went to Limbo. Ergo, they can’t be any older than two, since (one would hope) Artemis would have noticed his mother’s pregnancy if the twins were any older.

Additionally, in TLG, we know Artemis gave his brother a birthday present, so he had to have been around during the twin’s birthday at least once. With this fact, the twins cannot be born between March – June, which just leaves the question of when are the twins born?

 The most logical answer is February 2005. If Angeline was early on in her pregnancy, say six weeks (which is when most women start noticing symptoms), when Artemis disappeared in July 2004, she wouldn’t necessarily have told him yet. Then, if we assume that since most twin births occur around the 35-week mark, that would math out to having the twins be born in February of 2005. Fast forward, and they would turn one in February 2006, and two in February 2007, which puts them at the correct age for the events of TTP. [One could argue, of course, that a twin pregnancy in an older woman (unfortunately, there is nothing in the series to indicate Angeline’s age) and in a woman already dealing with significant stress could result in a very premature birth, thereby voiding any of this math and leaving the whole question of the twin’s birthday unanswered. However, since I’d rather not subject the Fowl parents to the strife and misery of having one son missing and presumed dead, and their younger children in the NICU with a low survival rate, I’m working with the assumption that the pregnancy was a healthy and normal one.]

The brief comment from Juliet in TAC about the twins being three can be passed off by them being a little over two-and-a-half and Juliet not being around as she is touring in Mexico. By the time TLG takes place, in March of 2008, the twins would have had their third birthday, allowing for Artemis to give Myles his chair as a birthday present, Beckett to be old enough to no longer need diapers, and the behaviours to act more like children than infants. While this doesn’t quite allow for the repeated textual confirmations in TLG that the twins are four, we’ll go with what mathematically makes sense.

That brings us to the end of the timeline! Not everything is touched on in the timeline, and not everything in the books is plotted (we are never given enough context to know Foaly’s or Opal’s birthdates, for instance). But the main events of the Artemis Fowl series are all analyzed, mathematically or logically or textually corroborated, and plotted out, for use or ignoring as personal preference dictates.

[dapper-lil-arts]

I don't have many ships of active interest in the show outside of these; i thought it'd be fun to see what my followers, amidst this MLP infection i'm currently entering terminal stages of, think is the best among my favorites specificaly!!

[crabsnpersimmons]

Y'ALL HAVE ME LIKE

I DON'T KNOW WHAT I DID

BUT Y'ALL HAVE BEEN SO SWEET

I'M SORRY IT'S TAKING ME SO LONG TO REPLY

I WANNA DRAW THINGS BACK

AND I WILL

after my exam tomorrow :')