#perhaps to be continued?? >:3c

[prismaticpichu]

Tw for descriptions of Blood/Injury ❤️

Major angst- Nibelheim- what even is this?

~

The man's face contorted in what could only be described as unfathomable pain, mercifully sedated by the numbing haze of sleep yet still potent enough to cause the beaded visage of pale skin to shift and furrow against whatever it was that was plaguing him. Shallow and strained breaths scythed through his lips like invisible blades, each labored slice erratically laced with a faint but unmistakable groan or hiss that rode the tormented undercurrent of his respiration, mercury-pink bangs spilling like sweaty tendrils over the taut countenance and wetly brushing his cheeks as the man tossed and turned against the pillow. His hands clutched at the crinkled blankets, desperate yet feeble, as if a small child trapped in the throes of a nightmare—unable to awaken.

Zack had never felt so helpless in his life.

“Seph…” The First’s voice was failing him, his legs boneless and watery as he made his way across the bedroom, his breath slowly withering away to a rattled breath as he kneeled beside his friend. “Hey… can you hear me, pal? It’s me… it’s Zack. I’m right here now.”

Strained silence, filled only with the strained mumbles and groans

Zack swallowed thickly.

“What’s going on up there? What the heck happened…?” Blue eyes blinked back the encroaching mist, batting away the horrid memory. Batting away all of it—all of it was horrid, from the moment he and Seph stepped foot in that accursed Reactor to the grisly contours of the Makonoids to the vague migraine Seph suffered to the name arching above the chamber to the questions surfaced to the way his vague headache suddenly…

Zack’s eyes boiled with mist.

Raw, guttural—like a wounded animal letting out a blood-curdling shriek of pain. Never had Zack heard Seph scream like that before; never had he heard anyone scream like that before, so utterly agonized and vile, as if the man’s insides were being set ablaze from the inside, and spinning around in a tempest of terror to see Seph’s hands clawing into his skull. Crimson gushed and blossomed over the topmost silver strands, emerald eyes blazing and wide, his mouth pried agape as the agonized scream tore through his asunder and erupted like a shrill grenade around the Mako and machinery.

And he collapsed, crumpling.

“SEPH!”

He caught the man before he could make impact, a warm splash of blood spitting against his chest as the man crumbled into his lap—continuing to hiss and shriek, his eyes now clamped, convulsing and shaking, continuing to violently clasp his skull as if it were in danger of bursting.

“Oh my god… oh my god…” Zack’s body was torn between cradling his friend and pulling Seph’s bloodied nails away from his scalp, his heart palpitating at a painful frequency, his breath turning against him and constricting in his throat. “Seph… Seph! What’s wrong?! What the hell is going on?! Gen—GENESIS! Do SOMETHING.”

Desperate, his gaze shot up to the crimson SOLDIER, whose once vulpine eyes had now been completely eclipsed and subdued into an inexplicable terror of his own. Mouth ajar, he took several shaky steps back—wing quivering, color leeched from his face.

“I… I don’t… This wasn’t supposed to—“

“No… NO.” Seph hissed through his caged jaws, vaguely kicking against the metal, writhing and tensing in Zack’s trembling arms. “NO.”

“Hey, hey…!” Zack was trying his best to soothe his friend, holding him against his chest with fierce, unbridled intensity. “Hey, hey…—Oh my god… holy shit… Your scalp—CLOUD!”

Sephiroth kicked again, quaking and wriggling, his lungs never stopping to inflate again.

“CLOUDDDD!” he shrieked at the top of his lungs, shrieking to be heard over the man’s hellish screams. “I NEED HELP!”

He swept bloody ribbons away from his friend’s forehead, leaving damp streaks, revealing a ten-fingered gash raked beneath the mercury nest.

“Shit shit shit shit shit…! Genesis! Get the trooper outside! PLE—“

The words caught in his throat as Zack looked up and saw the winged man backing away with trembling, boneless legs, his expression bloodless and petrified, a faint ghost of tears casted on his sickly visage as he hobbled backwards and his breath hitched and he tried to mouth words too thick and too real to break through the clog of cotton.

“I’m… I’m sorry—“ was all he could manage, and that was the last Zack saw of him before Sephiroth’s agonizing cries broke Zack’s world into splinters.

“CLOOOUUDDDD!”

Kicking.

“Oh my god…. SIR!”

Trembling.

“What the heck is going on with him…?!”

“I… I don’t know…!”

Hissing.

“We gotta get him back…”

“Oh my god… SHIT. I don’t have any Cures on me.”

Screaming.

“Is it a seizure…?!”

“… I don’t… maybe?! Oh gods… his head—“

“Here! My scarf! Make a tourniquet!”

And screaming.

“You and Tifa know the way back…?”

“Yeah—though it’s gonna take longer without the bridge.”

“Shit… Alright, let’s go.”

And screaming.

“Hey… hey…! Ow—it’s ME, Seph. We got you. We’re getting you help.”

And screaming.

“Don’t worry… shhh… I’m not letting you go, bud. Just hang in there.”

And hissing.

“Just a little bit longer, pal… We’re almost there.”

And panting.

“Hey… hey! He needs help! Where’s the doctor…?!”

And mumbling.

“Alright, bud… alright. I’m handing you to the medics now.”

And breathing.

“I’ll be right there, Seph…”

And further away from the Name.

Jenova…

The catalyst that had been spoken.

Jenova.

Awakened.

Jenova.

Jenova.

Jenova.

~

To be continued? :3c

[queer-omens-in-the-archives]

Rumination (3/7)

Third instalment in our series of 7 Matt/Mello/Near drabbles written for @dnrarepairweek! :3 Prompts: successors, pining.

Near was left behind.

Rarepair: Matt/Mello/Near Other tags: The Kira Case, Wammy’s House

[read on AO3 or below] [series on AO3]

There have been no new enrollments since L and Watari’s deaths. With Matt gone, the room is nobody’s now.

Near often goes there to think.

Sometimes it’s about the Kira case: the clues he is gathering, what he will do to catch Kira.

Sometimes he hugs Mello’s pillow and inhales deeply, imagines he can still smell dark chocolate. Once or twice, he does the same with Matt’s, which has kept the scent of cold tobacco.

Sometimes he pictures different things. L not dead, Mello still here, Matt still glued to him, Near creeping in-between the two of them and staying.

[crowttore]

Note: A completely not targeted at @mewnbuns drabble where reader is praised :3c

Tags: Anaxagoras x reader, praise, slight suggestive end

Minors DNI

Rarely do the foolish sit idle and listen, offering neither ridicule nor reason. That was at least what the world around you seemed to believe.

To their credit, what is belief if not experience?

Still, you couldn't help but smile, pausing your long explanation to admire the keen focus in Anaxagoras' eye. Not once had his gaze wavered while you recited the discussion between two scholars you'd overheard earlier.

He did, however, tap a finger to his lips or rub his chin in thought from time to time, nodding when he agreed, shaking his head when he didn't, and huffing when something was particularly entertaining.

"Well?" He inquired, brushing the pad of his thumb along your lips. "Do I get to hear your own reflections or do you plan to keep me in suspense for the remainder of today?"

Both his tender caress and the teasing glimmer in his eye would undoubtedly be brushed off as tricks of the mind by any who only knew him on the surface. To you, they were a treasured part of the time spent in his presence, best cultivated in the secluded corners of the grove.

"Would withholding the information make you stay longer?"

The surprised grunt that left him when you nipped at his thumb was anything but dignified. Anaxa's own look of surprise making you fight to hold back a laugh, the sheer intimacy of his unrestrained reactions warming your heart.

"Regrettably, obligation must outweigh curiosity today," your eyes closed at the brush of his lips against your cheek, "it would be quite a debacle to miss a symposium that I myself am meant to host."

Catching the carefully concealed regret in his voice, your hands left the lush grass beneath you to instead rub his exposed shoulders. "I know," you began, giving a reassuring squeeze before moving closer to drape your legs across his, "but it was worth a try."

Your heart fluttered at the barely audible 'cheeky' that reached your ears just before Anaxa let an arm snake around your waist.

Although his stance on silence was quite clear, his own hypocrisy ignored, it was impossible to miss how he perked up when you continued. "My thoughts on the matter are that it was a pointless discussion, doomed to an eternity of circular arguments. Our mind decides what we see, it's never the unfiltered truth we're seeing," you clasped a hand over Anaxa's mouth before he could claim himself able, rolling your eyes upon feeling him smirk against your palm, "thus rendering the argument that things exist because we perceive them untrue."

Leaves rustled above as you took a breath, slowly moving your hand back down to squeeze Anaxa's thigh as you continued. "As for the counterpoint, if something exists purely in memory, it will also be warped, even moreso with time. And then we're back to dealing with a poor representation. My verdict," you paused for dramatic effect, forcing down a smile at Anaxa's quirked brow, "you scholars just like the sound of your own voice."

Silence prevailed long enough for you to catch your breath.

And take another mouthful of air.

And another.

Your heartbeat was steadily increasing as Anaxagoras continued to stare blankly at you, almost looking as if he'd retreated into himself. Perhaps you'd taken it too far this time, the hand on your waist slowly falling away.

A surprised squeak left you as that same hand wrapped itself around the back of your neck, cold metal rings pressing against your skin as he pulled you closer. It only took a moment for heat to rise to your cheeks, his lips brushing against your ear as he practically purred, "worked that out yourself, did you? My clever girl."

Undoubtedly, your cheeks were the colour of his tattoos by now, the firm grasp he had rendering you unable to form a single coherent thought. In what had to be an attempt on your life, Anaxagoras pulled away just enough for you to see his almost hungry grin, "Debating suits you, darling, perhaps you should join me for a continuation of this discussion later?"

Hsr masterlist

[lorelune]

playing pretend

|| jing yuan x reader || E/18+ || loss of virginity roleplay || wc: 2k  || ao3 ||

You and Jing Yuan rewrite a memory.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

(a continuation of this piece)

notes: hello loves!!! this is a finished comm <3 lovely commissioner asked for an expansion and continuation of my first!! jing yuan piece, way back from 2023, linked above!! this was a really fun dynamic and concept to revisit :3c oh jing yuan, how adept you'd be at leaving behind a lovely memory in the place of one less kind. thank you for the comm and enjoy my dear reader!!

CWs: gn afab reader, roleplaying, specifically loss of virginity, soft soft sticky smut, minor references to an unpleasant first sexual experience

You hadn’t expected Jing Yuan to seriously follow through with anything, following your drunken confession. In retrospect, this is deeply foolish of you. Jing Yuan is nothing if not a diligent man, even if the way he is diligent is nearly silent and hidden. He is a master strategist, after all. You feel silly for thinking that your fantasy would only stay as raunchy dirty talk and not something he would indulge fully.

Jing Yuan brings it up a few weeks later, after a bath you share. He does so casually, it catches you off guard. He uses it to his advantage, plying you with kisses along your shoulders and up your neck.

The man wants expansion. Candid desires and details. Confirmation that you really do want a redo, with him. As calm and mischievous as he tends to look, there’s a gleam in his eye that is stunningly earnest and hopeful.

So you tell him all. You craft a night together to be shared.

...

You’re laid out beneath him, every part of you bare. 

This part of sex sometimes scares you. The exposure of your core, the softness of your belly revealed to one who could, theoretically, gore you in ways that go beyond physical.

(Perhaps you carry this perception from your real first time. That as much pleasure as this act can bring, and has come to bring you, there’s a blade edge of danger that you can’t ever unsee.)

In this moment, you aren’t so worried. Jing Yuan is good to you. He always is. It’s easy to forget now. To lose yourself in the moment that Jing Yuan has built for you.

He cups your cheeks, and pets over the apples of them with a smile that’s soft and shiny even in the low light of your bedroom. 

“I’ll take good care of you,” he says so softly; you’re certain not even the light breeze within the bedroom heard it. His hand slips between your thighs, hovering but not yet touching. “No one has touched you here, right, dear?”

You melt at his words, the finer details of the past and the world out of your cozy bedroom are welcomingly lost on you.

You nod dumbly as his thumb swipes over your wobbling bottom lip, “Uh-huh.”

“Just me?” He tilts his head sweetly. 

“Just you.”

“A virgin,” he hums, a lacing of sweetness in his voice that you can feel on the sides of your tongue. He noses into your jaw, drawing his lips in the form of half-there kisses. He squeezes the plush of your inner thigh. 

You whine, squirming with his words. You are a virgin for him now, untouched and woefully unfamiliar with the indulgences of physical pleasure. 

Jing Yuan draws his knuckle over the seam of your cunt. You gasp, thighs closing around his hand. He hushes your worry, your shyness, and kisses the base of your throat. He sucks a bruise there, laving over the tender spot with his tongue until you’re writhing, grasping at his shoulders for some type of purchase. 

He pulls away, lips wet and the honey gold of his eyes swallowed by his pupils.

“I’ll take good care of you.” He assures. You know he will. You don’t think you’ve ever been more confident in something else before this moment. “We’ll make sure you’re ready, hm?”

And he does. He does. 

Jing Yuan slicks his fingers down first in your mouth, teasingly pressing the digits to your lips before slicking them himself. He wets his fingers with a suck, making sure they’re dripping, before returning to tend to you.

The first finger he eases into you doesn’t hurt, not really, but there is a stretch.

(You’d held off on sex, or any touch of this kind, for a few weeks. It helps with the immersion, how your body must acclimate to Jing Yuan’s touch again.)

He slinks down the length of your body, leaving kisses in his wake as he thrusts his first finger in and out of you, adding a second when you’re wet enough for it to be obscene and audible. He reaches your navel, trailing further down to kiss your clit. Gentle, teasing, so thoroughly undoing. 

Two fingers aren’t enough. He withdraws the soaked digits only to drip a glob of spit onto them and third, before returning to you. He gives you even more, lapping at your clit with your thighs shifted onto his shoulders. 

It’s— a lot. All of it is. You like that it is.

It does feel like this is your first time. Nervousness brews in your belly, nestled alongside hearth-hot arousal. Both are so instantly balmed and held by Jing Yuan. So lovingly, so easily, and without anything other than care and patience. It’s— it’s so much better—

“I’ll teach you such pleasure,” he tells you, stretching you slowly, cooing when you gasp at the stretch and little sting. “Would you like that?”

“Y-Yes—” Your voice wobbles. “Please—”

He muffles a chuckle into your cunt, “Are you feeling desperate, dear?”

“Maybe.”

“Patience.” Jing Yuan curls his fingers, playing with the idea of orgasm but not giving in to it. “Let me treat you well.”

(Jing Yuan enjoys extended foreplay. His own refractory period is relatively long, and his orgasm isn’t something he chases in the way that past partners of yours have. The act of lying together, exchanging pleasure like blows traded during a particular steamy spar, is one of his favorites.)

In your foggy, blissed-out mind, you’re learning this about him for the first time. You want more of it. More. A greedy thing, you are. You shake as you twine your fingers in his hair and tug, dragging him somehow closer to your cunt. 

Your hips roll down— for more of his fingers, more of his mouth. He groans as you do. Fucking his face like this feels dirty, but it feels so good too. Pleasure runs from your guts to your spine. 

Jing Yuan, however, only lets you indulge so far. He clicks his tongue, bracing your hips down with a single broad forearm before extracting himself, at least somewhat, from between your thighs. 

“Didn’t I ask for your patience?” He tilts his head, sly and cute all at once. 

“... Maybe.”

“Perhaps I must teach you to listen better,” he muses. “A lesson for another day, hm? If you’ll have me once again.”

“Of course—”

It’s a given. He knows this. It shows in his molten gaze as he regards you with nothing but fondness. 

...

Jing Yuan fucks you like it’s really— really, your first time. Your legs are bracketed around his hips while he kneels between your thighs. One of his hands fists around his cock while the other braces against your hips, rubbing little circles there. You tremble with a mixture of trepidation and excitement, all bundled into one. Your cunt drools with a mix of slick and leftover spit.

You shiver.

Jing Yuan’s cock is so hard that the tip looks almost purple. He has a nice cock— a good length and a girth that guarantees a stretch. Now, he slicks it up with lube, looking at you sweetly as he does. 

“We’ll go slow,” he says. “Let’s take our time.”

You squirm.

This is your redo, isn’t it? You deserve the slowness, patience, and care that Jing Yuan gives you without hesitation. It’s the reason for this dance. 

Jing Yuan settles closer, the head of his cock nudging your cunt. You whine and he hushes you as he slowly presses forward.

His hand leaves your hips, instead wrapping itself around one of your own. Your fingers lock together as he rolls his hips. It’s weighted, measured movement. It aches but in a good way. You know you’ll be sore tomorrow as a lingering reminder. You crave it.

A shattering gasp works its way from your lips and you squeeze Jing Yuan’s wide hand within your own. Each grind of his hips fucks his cock a little deeper inside of you. He’s so warm— scalding in all the right ways. The girth of him, the heat of him— it’s rewriting you—

(Just like you wanted.)

By the time Jing Yuan is fully seated in you, you’re both gasping, grasping at each other. Your cunt flutters around his cock, so deep in you that you think you’ll bruise. You want it to. You want to be carved out in the shape of him, forever, like it has only ever been him inside you. It’s a particular type of claim, one you have a difficult time verbalizing explicitly.

You’re glad Jing Yuan understood enough to actualize it as this, though.

When he starts moving, you can’t help but look down between your bodies for the view of it. Jing Yuan’s cock is soaked and sticky with a combination of both of you. It’s hypnotizing to watch him move in slow, deep strokes. The slick sounds mingle with his harsh breathing, and the little gasps and whines muffle against your lips. 

They mix with your own, sweet like syrup that you want to drink down as nectar.

You’ve been on the edge of— something— throughout this entire evening. Maybe you’ve been turned on since Jing Yuan led you to the bedroom, secure in the knowledge that you’re going to be fucked and held like he always does, but under the veil that it’s been like this since the beginning. Maybe, you’ve been horny since Jing Yuan so sweetly pressed you for more details in the bath a few weeks back. Maybe, you’ve been horny since that tipsy night when you gave Jing Yuan a confession that you’d never given any lover prior.

It’s all liquid now, unimportant details as it all culminates in a cresting type of pleasure, low in your guts. You’re close, probably. 

Jing Yuan pulls out, leaving you empty, sitting back on his haunches.  It's a brief, but important motion. He rearranges your legs so your ankles rest by his head. His front braces against the back of your thighs, the full weight of him laid into you. His hands come to rest behind your knees. 

You hardly have time to register the distressing nature of your sudden emptiness before he folds you in half effortlessly and fucks into your against deeper and harder. A sound rips from your throat, desperate, like a sob that you can’t contain. Slick sticks between the two of you, lovely words pour from Jing Yuan’s lips like honey wine. You can’t make out specific words, or phrases, just the notions of care, of desire, of overwhelming pleasure that’s coming to a peak.

His hand lips between you and with a few well-timed thrusts and circles of your clit, you’re cumming on his cock. Your back bows and you tug at his hair, scratch at his shoulders. You maybe beg for more, beg for—

(Him to not go, to not leave, to keep and you have—)

He muffles your words with a kiss, his tongue breaching your mouth and stealing away any doubts in an instant. It’s unfair, how easily he sates and assures you. You shake beneath him, Jing Yuan’s thrusts grow erratic, the sounds he gives you becoming more desperate and high and airy— (pitches only reserved for you—)

He cums with his own cry, ducking into your neck as he pumps into you. You feel the flood of warmth and sticky sounds. 

You pet his hair as he comes down along with you, not stilling until his cock is properly soft and slipping out of you. 

“F-Fuck,” his voice shakes. His arms wrap around your shoulders, caging you, as he drags you under the sheets, beneath him. 

“‘S good?” 

“So good,” he tells you. “I’m not done with you, however.”

“I-Is that so?”

“Give an old man some time.”

He says so with mirth, voice all gravely from pleasure. You luxuriate in it, feeling cored in the way you so craved. 

(Only his. Only, only, only his.)

[sanjisleggy]

this love of mine (trafalgar law x reader) [pt2]

summary: Trafalgar Law’s sudden discovery of your past ties to Straw Hat Luffy and Fire Fist Ace leaves his emotions in shambles

a/n: the final part for my first ever Law req! :D i hope this is a satisfactory ending for those who enjoyed the first half :3c

contents: set during Sabaody Archipelago arc w/ spoilers (?) from Luffy’s childhood, Luffy’s older sister!reader, Law has to continue to deal with his feelings and is still a Mess, Ace is causing trouble without even being physically present, jealousy, insecurity, angst to fluff, hurt/comfort !!

wc. 1.7k

wanna be on my taglist?

part 1

i. 

“y’know he’s trying to show-off for you, right?” Shachi comments with a shit-eating grin on his face and you can’t even be mad because he’s right.

after Luffy had handed you Ace’s gift in the auction house, he’d scooped you up just like when you were kids and made a mad dash for the entrance.

“i gotta show you my new moves!! they look super cool i promise!” he’d proclaimed as he jostled your poor injured body with little regard for your comfort but you laughed anyway because it’s been almost 5 years since you last saw him.

Law and the other pirate captain who was present for the whole scuffle–Kid, you think his name was–followed closely after; and purely from the way they were three men with high bounties, you knew immediately that they were about to put on quite a show.

and now as you stand outside the auction house, surrounded by marines, the sight playing out before you has proven your hunch right. except… your beloved captain is perhaps putting on a bit too much of a performance.

you’d always known Trafalgar Law was a prideful man even if he likes to hide it under a stoic facade but this is the first time you’ve really seen him play up his Devil Fruit abilities. from the way he’s toying with the poor marines and their shambled bodies, you can’t help but feel a little bad for them in the way you would with a child abusing their toys.

“(Y/N)!! check this out!” Luffy demands your attention before throwing his head back several feet and launching it straight at some marines, knocking them over like bowling pins. he grins widely when you smile and clap in response. he really has come a long way since you’ve last seen him.

“yeah, he’s definitely showing off,” Penguin murmurs behind you and your attention is redirected back to your own captain. unexpectedly, your eyes meet and you catch a glimpse of his face flushing red before he looks away and returns to tormenting his enemies. 

“no… surely not,” you reply in a manner so unconvincing it borders on sarcastic. right then, Law shambles five disembodied arms onto one panicked pair of legs and you can’t help but stifle a laugh at the ridiculous sight.

the moment the sound of your laughter reaches your captain, he can’t help but turn back to look at you again, as though wanting to confirm his ears weren’t playing tricks on him. upon seeing your smiling face, he feels a familiar fluttering in his stomach and for a second he’s almost breathless. then, his eyes trail down to your hand where it hovers near your chest and he catches your fingers playing with the ring strung on the necklace around your neck. 

he didn’t realise you’d put it on so quickly and a bitter taste rises up the back of his throat as a tightness forms in his chest. reminded once more of the events that occurred just minutes ago inside the auction house, Law’s unable to stop his mind from wandering once again.

is there anything else you’ve been hiding from us? from me? what was the reason you’d kept your secrets?

he grits his teeth as a feeling of embarrassment washes over his entire body. what is he? some prepubescent child completely unable to manage his emotions? what ridiculous situation to be in especially during a battle–no matter how easy the fight is. if he wants so badly to know why you never told him about your past with Straw Hat and Fire Fist, surely he can just demand the answer from you later as your captain; and if he doesn’t like your answer, he can just kick you out–

his internal rambling is cut short by the sound of a gunshot and the smell of your shampoo.

as his back hits the dirt ground, he catches a glimpse of Shachi, Penguin and Bepo entering the fray to keep the remaining marines a safe distance away from him… and you.

the same you that had pushed him out of the way of a bullet aimed straight at his head. the same you that was currently glaring down at him as you laid on his chest with a deep frown on your face as your eyebrows furrow in pain. once Law’s brain connects the dots and expects the worst, he feels a rush of anger as fear clutches his heart. 

“what’d you think you’re doing–”

“get a grip!” you shout, cutting him off. “what am i doing? what are you doing, Captain?! zoning out in the middle of a fight!” you slap at his chest and it’s then he notices the sliver of tears lining your eyes as he feels a warm liquid soaking into his clothes.

he realised he loved you when your life was in his hands.

months after officially joining the Heart Pirates, the crew was ambushed by a squad of marines and a careless mistake nearly cost Trafalgar Law his life–had you not intervened and taken the hit for him.

as you laid on his operating table, on the verge of death, he wondered if he could ever forgive himself if he failed to bring you back to the side of the living. though his heart raced and ached like never before, his hands were steadier than ever.

“i won’t let you die,” he’d promised your unconscious body. “i can’t let you die. no matter what… and when you wake up, i’ll bring you anywhere you want. i’ll let you do whatever you want. okay? so don’t go.”

a few weeks later, you woke up greeted by the angry and tired face of your captain. 

“what’s wrong with you?” was the first thing he said, in a tone sharper than the scalpels he used. “how could you do such a reckless thing? you nearly died, do you understand–”

“i knew i wouldn’t die,” you replied, voice hoarse from the dryness of your throat. “i trusted that you’d take care of me and i was right, wasn’t i?” you smiled up at him.

although the furious expression remained on his face, he could do nothing to stop the way his cheeks began to blush as he felt a warmth rising up his neck. he knew you saw it, too, when your grin grew wider.

“you mean it?” Law asked in a voice so soft you nearly missed it. “that you trust me?”

“of course i do.” you tilted your head as you replied and before he knew it, he’d leaned forward and captured your lips with his.

ii.

back in your shared hotel room on Sabaody, Law changes the dressing on your torso after finishing the stitches. thankfully, you weren’t hit by the second bullet outside of the auction house. you’d simply torn the first bandage after tackling Law to the ground and ended up aggravating the earlier wound.

you can’t help but notice how quiet he’s been, though. he’s usually so quick to scold you for acting recklessly so you’d learned to be more cautious over the years, just to spare his poor heart. right now, however, as you sit cross-legged across from Law on the hotel bed, surrounded by medical supplies, he’s totally silent.

you wonder if he’s more affected by nearly being shot than you think he is but before you can ask what’s wrong, he speaks up just a little bit quicker.

“i’m sorry i doubted you.”

“huh?” you tilt your head, genuinely unsure what he means.

“i’ll admit i had some… childish feelings earlier about your past with Straw Hat and Fire Fist Ace.” Law stares down at his fingers, physically unable to look you in the eye. it’s one thing to be vulnerable with his feelings, it’s a whole other deal looking at you staring at him as he speaks–he isn’t quite ready for that yet. “i second-guessed the trust between us because i thought you were keeping it a secret for a reason.”

“i’m sorry i never told you or the crew, i just–” he cuts you off by grabbing one of your hands and clasping it gently between his two larger ones.

“no, you don’t have to apologise.” he smiles softly, finally tilting his head up to look at you. “i know now i shouldn’t have jumped to any conclusions without talking to you first… it was silly of me to think you owe me something like that, especially if you don’t see a reason in sharing it.”

Law idly rubs your hand in between his palms before bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. your mouth curls into a smile as you feel a light fluttering in your chest at his rare show of affection.

“i trust you,” he says, “wholeheartedly.”

he lets out a satisfied hum when you respond by pulling him into a hug. wrapping his arms around you, he hugs you back a little tighter than usual.

“if you’re still worried about something,” you murmur into his ear while rubbing your hands up and down his back soothingly, “you should tell me. don’t keep it in.” you brush your lips against his jawline and his hold on you tightens even further.

“was… was Fire Fist your boyfriend?” Law asks sheepishly and you can almost imagine the flustered look on his silly face as you bite back the urge to laugh.

“no, he’s also my younger brother.”

“what?” he responds incredulously before peppering your collarbone with small kisses, relieved that his guess had been wrong all along. 

“i had a third brother, too, but he died at sea when we were young.” you feel him nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck in response, tickling your skin. “i like to think he survived though and that he’s out there somewhere.”

“can i ask you one more thing?”

“mhm.”

“if Straw Hat or Fire Fist ever ask you to join their crews, would you?” his voice sounds the meekest you’ve ever heard it, it’s such a rare occurrence that a part of you wonders if all of this is just one weird dream. but you know you’re awake because being hugged in his arms is so warm and soft, it can only be the real thing.

“never,” you reply, pulling your head away to look at his flushed face. “you’re my captain and my partner and nothing will ever change that.”

letting out a quiet chuckle, Law reacts simply by capturing your lips in a kiss. 

gen taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui @paraparakiss @krooschl @teewon @olliesoxenfree @misstraffy @riftmage27 @aletch @somatchajade @Kitsunechan707 @thesmolestsage

[beansprean]

Just a little convo that's been in my notes FOREVER because I meant to use it for something else, but it no longer fit after a while. Gave me a chance to practice painting lol

Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Close up on a side table in Nandor's crypt, laden with a glazed patterned vase, a wooden jewelry box, a line of books, and a single candle on an intricate vintage holder, lit and casting a warm orange glow on its surroundings. From offscreen, Guillermo says, "I've done a lot of thinking, and I've figured it out. I do want to be a vampire...but not for the same reasons I used to." 1b. Wide shot, knees up of Nandor and Guillermo standing facing each other next to Nandor's coffin, lit from the far side by candles. Nandor, wearing a typical tunic under a fur lined cape, stares quietly at Guillermo and idly knocks the knuckles of his left hand against the coffin lid. Guillermo, wearing a violet shirt and tie with red trousers and waistcoat, has his left hand in his pocket and his right placed palm-down on the coffin lid, a few inches from Nandor's. He looks at his right hand as he speaks: "The powers, the sexiness, the cool capes - I mean that's all great but I... I realize I could have all that as a human, too. And I have." 1c. Close up of their hands on the coffin lid as Guillermo's hand slides closer to Nandor's. He continues: "But what I want...what I really want...is to be a vampire..." 1d. Chest up of Guillermo as he looks up at Nandor with a confident smile, back straight, lit warmly by candles. He declares, "So I can stay here with you, forever. As part of this family."

2a. Reaction shot of Nandor, eyes shining as he raises his brows and fights down the happy, wobbly smile that threatens to take over his face. He echoes breathlessly, "With...me?" 2b. Wide shot, waist up of them both. Guillermo looks away with a flustered grin and clarifies, "Uh! Well, you know. With everybody. Nadja, and..." Nandor turns his head away as well, flustered and frowning, and mutters "Right, yes, of course." Guillermo continues, trailing off: "Laszlo..." Nandor grunts "Uh-huh." Their hands are still an inch apart on the coffin lid. Guillermo ventures, "But also..." 2c. Close up of their hands as Guillermo's slides closer again, the tips of his fingers bumping against Nandor's knuckles. Guillermo continues, "Specifically..." 2d. Close up on Guillermo from a slightly higher angle as he looks up at Nandor through his lashes with a shy smile and shining eyes, finally saying, "You." 2e. Reverse shot of Nandor from a slightly lower angle, looking down at Guillermo with open wonder.

3a. Waist up of them both in profile. Guillermo starts to say, "And I know that y-" but is interrupted when Nandor launches forward with his hands on Guillermo's cheeks and pulls him into a kiss. Guillermo's eyes fly wide, perhaps less surprised than he should be, and Nandor's close in something like relief. 3b. Repeat. Nandor's right hand remains on Guillermo's cheek as his left arm snakes around his upper back to hold him close. Guillermo presses into the kiss, opening his mouth to let in Nandor's tongue as his hands creep beneath Nandor's cape. 3c. Repeat. They continue to kiss, heads shifting to the side to allow Guillermo to slip his own tongue into Nandor's mouth. Guillermo has unfastened Nandor's cape and is letting it drop to the floor. Nandor's right hand has plucked off Guillermo's glasses and is holding them aloft as his left tugs at the knot of Guillermo's tie. 3d. Repeat. Nandor shifts his head to deepen the kiss further, right hand tossing Guillermo's glasses carelessly behind him and left curling around the back of Guillermo's neck. Guillermo, tie now loose and top shirt buttons unfastened, presses his left hand to Nandor's chest where his brooch has been removed to allow access to his undershirt. His right hand hovers behind Nandor's head. 3e. Repeat. The kiss finally breaks, but they do not go far, Nandor's left hand still hooked around the back of Guillermo's neck as he turns his head to kiss down his cheek. His right hand pushes Guillermo's vest off his shoulder. Guillermo turns his head into Nandor's, eyes still closed, and gasps out "Mm, you'll...ah..." His right hand is tangled in Nandor's hair and his left deftly snaps open Nandor's belt.

4a. Repeat. Nandor kisses his way down to Guillermo's throat, hands now pulling Guillermo's shirt from his trousers and sneaking his hands underneath. Guillermo arches his neck to allow him room to explore, right hand fisted in Nandor's hair to hold him there as his left slides under Nandor's open tunic front. Smiling with eyes closed in bliss, Guillermo continues, "turn me...after...right?" 4b. Repeat. Nandor pulls back from Guillermo's throat, eyes closed and smiling happily, to let Guillermo press kisses from his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth. Guillermo is pulling Nandor's tunics off his shoulders, the buttons on his undershirt undone and exposing his chest. Nandor's hands are busy at the front of Guillermo's shirt, pulling apart the remaining buttons. Nandor sighs, "Oh, Guillermo..." 4c. Repeat. Nandor fists his hands at the collar of Guillermo's now open shirt to pull him aggressively upwards, looming down on him nose-to-nose with a feral grin. He promises, "During." Guillermo melts and grins helplessly, hearts drifting around his head. /end ID

[wyervan]

Heyy, I really wanted to say how obsessed I'd been with your DCA Slasher Au! I LOVE the designs, the little things you tell us about them and all of that. It's really really cool. I also like A LOT your art style🫂

Also I wanted to share from here some doodles I'd been doing because I'm really embarrassed to share them in my blog but whateverr. As I say.. loved the designs and obviously I had to draw them with my baby (He has seen the horrors)

Also I'm not really sure if you already answered this (feel free to ignore it if so) but..

- Are you planning to make it a fic? Like in Ao3 or some sort of. Or maybe comics or short chapters?

- Are you telling us/showing us more of The Glamrocks in the story?

- What is the relation between Vanessa and Star/y/n?? Friends, It is casual? I really really like Vanessa and if you are ok with it could you tell us what does she thinks of Sun and Moon?

Anyways thank youu you are so cool yay people cheered🫂🫂👏💚

omg you like my style?? No I like your style dude. It’s feels so down to earth? Genuine? You got some great gesture happening in your lines. And you make me laugh 😝

I am planning on doing a fic! But I don’t have the full plot figured out 🤔. I have this fear that if I start writing and publishing chapters without knowing all the details, later on I’ll find out there’s a big plot hole. And then I sweep the rug out from people by going back and needing to change what I’ve already written.

I know though that my own perfectionism often holds me back so I should probably just slap myself on the ass and get to writing at least the first two chapters. I have a very clear idea of how they’ll go.

Yes it would be going on AO3 (as soon as i figure out the tagging culture over there). I will ofc be continuing to do short comics and illustrations alongside any writing.

I’m actually in the middle of doing some design exploration with the Glamrocks rn! Hopefully I’ll be able to share some sketches with you guys by the end of the weekend~~ They are side characters but I want them to be more than just fluff or cameos, ya kno what I mean?

Ahh~~ and Vanessa, nobody’s asked about her yet :3c. I do in fact see her and y/n Star as becoming aquatinted, perhaps to the surprise of both of them!

Vanessa is a cop! Disappearances around town have put a lot of pressure on her small department and she’s had to pay the arcade a visit more than once to take routine statements on a couple of the missing people.

Her presence around the arcade puts Smoon on edge for obvious reasons, though she has no idea why. For now she chalks it up to the general anxiety people get around police and… they’re just… strange men.

[deceit-and-knowledge]

Have you been able to spot anything, Mage Truthless? Perhaps you'll have a better vantage point if Professor Sage was sitting or laying down? Is the colour off? Any surface scratches? - Umbrella Anon

( >3c I try. Technically, I haven't lied either. Also looking forward to meeting Healer Cookie..! )

ooc: okay so you want healer. So far it's 1 to wanting him vs 1 not wanting him (just rn) also I'm sorry but this shit is gonna be a bit spicy. (I mean sage IS still in heat-)

t: hm.. *sits sage down* (he IS short afterall and sage is tall)

f: h-huh..

t: *gets closer and begins touching it to check for anything off*

f: *small whimper*

t: ...everything seems...hm? What's that.. *notices a smudge so begins cleaning it off with his finger* <- btw he's not clueless to the affect this may have on sage

f: r-recluse..!?..

t: I'm cleaning your souljam.. it's dirty..is that dust..there's lots of smudges on it.. do you even clean this, you're meant to.. just like your clothes..

f: w-well.. *whimper* b-be..be gentle..

t: it would be easier if you stayed still..

hm..~.. maybe it'd be easier if you were *pushes him down so he's laying*

laying down..

now I can be really gentle.. <- he's just teasing/flirting

f: ......... R-recluse..?

t: what..

f: ...um..i...i..

t: *continues cleaning the souljam*

f: ....*really trying HARD to not make this weird* <- genuinely thinks recluse is just trying to help (which is kinda right but also recluse is a sucky flirt)

t: *investigating it, really closely, breathing upon it*

f: ....*panting* t-time out please..

t: what..? ..do you not like me doing this~? *Flicks finger gently across sage's souljam*

f: *covers mouth after making a "noise"*

um.. *sits up* recluse.. um.

... you're giving me really really really bad thoughts!!

t: ....

f: ...YES THOSE ONES..

... it's not.. helping my current c-case..

t: ....

f: ....

t: ...

f: ARE YOU DOING THIS ON PURPOSE!?

t: maybe....sage didn't I choke you because I know it tur-

f: I-I KNOW YOU DID..i s-still think about it....*panting* it...it was so...good... haha..

t: huh..

f: THAT'S NOT WEIRD IS IT!?

t: no....

f: ...m-maybe we could.. c-continue.. maybe get some of the edge off my heat..hehe.. maybe you could um.. c-c-

...ugh..NO WHAT AM I THINKING! YOU'RE MY FRIEND!

t: with benefits..

f: ...you're acting like you want to..

t: you're acting like you're desperate...and I like desperation.

f: .....

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

Pairing: Yandere! Ike x reader

Prompt: “You’re so cute when you’re struggling.”

Description: Ike leads you back to his room, hoping to share his feelings for you. No isn't an acceptable answer :3c Word Count: 1715

Tags: Yandere, dead dove, imprisonment, bondage, ask to tag

Notes: I see fic I wrote in 2018. I come back 6 years later and say "this was poorly executed" and I rewrite the whole thing. Also tagging @transike and @tacticianshuru10 because they were the ones that convinced me too <3 previous version can be found here, if you want to cringe with me

He was in deep, that much was certain. Dark water that only rose up further in him, that chilled his bones, slowed his movements, made his thoughts frantic. It blocked out the sun, made certain there was no escape. No, there was only you.

You, darling Summoner; oh, how you clouded his thoughts. Ike was once a good man, he was certain of that-- but a good man wouldn’t have such dark thoughts about you. He was desperate to keep up the facade, though, too convince you he was still a good person. It was almost too easy, too. Perhaps you wanted to believe him, perhaps you didn’t know-- or maybe, just maybe, you thought like him too. Whatever it was, Ike was glad. Glad you were so obvious, glad you were so trusting-- it made everything so much easier.

“Ike?” Your soft voice catches him off guard. He had been so far in his thoughts, he had nearly forgotten you were here with him-- tugged aside by his own hand. “Is everything okay?” You pause, giving him a small smile. His heart might beat out of his chest from that look alone. You made him ache, did you even know?

It was hard to find his voice. He can’t help but clear his throat, color rising to his cheeks. “Sorry, I was… distracted.” He admits, voice as soft as his rough cadence can let him. He seeks your eyes, his heartbeat not calming at all as you meet it-- not without some color to your own cheeks. “I wanted to speak with you. Privately.” What a lie. The things Ike would do to you, if you would only let him.

“Privately.” You repeat, nodding softly. “Where did you have in mind?” Ike looks around you. A few other Heroes milled about here, (not worthy of your presence-- as if he was?) but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. The chance to get you alone good enough to eat. And did he ever want to consume, to savor you.

“I was hoping we could go to my quarters?” The words come out like a question but Ike is already guiding you that way. It wasn’t far, it’s not like you hadn’t been there before, he rationalizes. Even still, he spirals-- you and he, alone in his room. Where would things go?

“Of course we can!” You’re all to happy to let him lead the way. Did you have any self preservation? No, of course you did-- you just didn’t realize Ike had bad intentions, did you?

All too soon, the two of you arrive. Ike is quick to let you in, to close (to lock!) the door behind you. He watches you settle on the edge of his bed with familiar ease, a sight that sets his heart beating fast once more. “So what did you want to talk about?” You hum softly, but Ike can’t help but notice the way your fingers curl into his unkempt blanket, digging in and out of the soft texture.

Were you nervous? Perhaps even afraid. You ought to be, Summoner. He didn’t plan on letting you leave without getting a taste.

“It’s… not that simple.” Ike laughs, settling beside you. His hand finds way to one yours, easing your nervous fidgeting. Color dusts your cheeks once more and emboldened, Ike continues. “_____…” Ike dares to call you by name, to look you in the eyes and find the right words. He hadn’t planned this, didn’t know what to say now that you were here. Now that you were alone together. “There’s… no easy way to admit this.” A small laugh leaves him, one that has him smoothing back blue hair and taking a deep, fortifying breath. “Do you know what you do to me?”

Do you know how you’ve changed him? Made him feel more beast than man? Do you know the hunger that strikes him, when he sees you turn his way? The ache he feels, when you smile and say his name? Gods, _____, the all consuming urges-- to take you, to claim you, to have his way with you. To lock you away, hide you from the horrors of the battles you fought and the wars you took place in…

“Ike…?” Your voice rises in pitch, with a tone Ike can’t begin to place a name too. He was in too deep to quit talking now, though. You would know of his desires-- and either you would meet them, or you would be caught running from that dark water. Either way, Ike would have his way. But it wouldn’t come to that, would it? Ike could tell-- you wanted to be good for him.

With that new found confidence, Ike continues. “I want you to understand… how much I want to protect you-- see you happy.” Your features soften, only spurring Ike only. Feeding his dark thoughts. “When I see you… when I’m near you… I’m happy, relived. When you’re away, I… feel like I’m not myself. Like something is missing.”

“That’s… so cute…!” Your eyes widen. Ike can practically see the way your heart must be pounding. Did you feel the same? Were your thoughts just as filled with him? Oh, if you felt at all similar, Ike might fall apart on the spot. He might not be able to hold back! Gods, you were holding a hand to your chest. You were in just as deep, he was certain. Two fools, heads underwater.

“All this to say… I love you. I love you and.. I have to keep you as close to me as possible.” He moves towards you, slinking over your form, peering into your eyes with a strange, intense look. But you’re almost too caught up in the moment to even realize how wrong it is. Almost. Precious, oblivious. There was nothing you could do.

“What are you doing, Ike?” Your raise your voice a hair, but don’t fight him as he eases you down. No, Ike sees you shiver instead. Does his touch excite you that much? Does it set you aflame like it does him? He really hopes so-- he can see the excitement in your eyes, see how it dances with fear and trepidation. “Ike?” Would you keep calling his name, the further he pushed?

“You love me, don’t you?” Ike can only smile as he sees you nodding dumbly. He smooths a hand along your jaw, caressing your cheek softly. He keeps his smile a moment, before it falls as he begins to speak again. “Then put your hands up for me.” It’s an order, not a request. You merely sit there, hands at your side as Ike unties his headband, staring up at him confused.

“Ike, come on this isn’t funny.” You try once, face falling when Ike doesn’t respond. “Ike, really, what’s wrong with you?” You wretch your hands free of his gentle grip, looking up at him with confusion, fear dilating your pupils. He could see the startings of a cold sweat on your skin, the way your eyes shifted around the room. But there would be no escaping this. No escaping him.

“I have to keep you here.” The words are stern, as hard as his grip on your hands this time. You struggle on still, your strength surprising Ike as you free your hands again. You attempt to sit up, breathing fast, the surge of adrenaline hitting you obvious. Perhaps you weren’t as dumb as he had thought-- no, you just really thought Ike was one of the good ones. Too bad for you, he was even worse. “Here, I can protect you, keep you safe… keep you to myself.” He grunts, grabbing your hands even tighter than the moments before. Still, you fight him.

“Ike you can’t be serious!” You raise your voice, still fighting off his attempt-- wiggling and wrenching, trying in vein to fight him off. A valiant effort-- but unfortunately, a mere wave in the storm of Ike’s dark desires.

“Don’t you want to stay here, with me?” You falter a moment, seeing something in him. A sliver of the man you had fallen in love with? Or an invitation to sink further into the darkness with him?

“Ike, no, I can’t. Not like this. Not when so many people depend on me!” Instead, you double down, fighting even more. Ike can’t help the small frown that fits his face. He had really hoped you would understand-- perhaps, it was too much to ask for. Even he was aware how twisted his affections had become-- he couldn’t find it in him to care, though. Not when you were here, finally, in his arms.

“You’re so cute when you’re struggling.” Ike chuckles softly, pressing his hips down into yours. You freeze, breath hitching. Now, now you know what you do to him-- and keep acting this way, you’ll know the consequences too. “But don’t make me hurt you. We both know how easy that would be, _____.” You shrink back like a violet, your features showing just how betrayed you felt. It’s all too easy to capture your hands now, holding them in one of his large ones.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Ike. Please.” You try one more time to appeal to a better side of him. But Ike had long since drowned in these feelings for you. Now it was time to pull you under as well.

“No, I think it does. This is where you belong-- all pretty and compliant, struggling so cutely under me...” Ike has to look away from your face a moment, to tie you to his headboard. Tight, but secure. You would need his help if you wanted to leave.

“Ike, please.” You whisper, tears welling in your eyes. Ike merely leans in close, his lips a hair’s breath from your eyes.

“Shh, it’s okay _____. I know it’s scary right now-- but we love each other. You’ll come around to my way of loving and you see… you won’t even want to leave.” Ike cradles your head, soaks in the look of helplessness on your face. Yes, soon you’ll come to understand-- you would feel so loved and protected, you wouldn’t even dream of leaving him.

[kinkmom]

New to all your AUs and they are so fun! I'm super curious about the Obsessive Dave AU, do you happen to have anything on why he's so obsessed? I'm really curious as to how it all began! >.<

Mmm, excellent vintage pick! Long post incoming. :3c

The premise of the AU is that the whole gang is together on the Meteor, the final fight is delayed indefinitely and they can't move on, perhaps a dead session for some reason or another. Also very importantly Dave has something very, very wrong with him. :)

Dave and Dirk meet, as they did in canon, have the talk about Bro (but Dave conveniently leaves out that he had a massive crush on the fucker, despite everything), figure out they're cool broskis and continue on as usual. Dave has the "oh no, he's hot!" crisis, Dirk is a cuter, softer and weaker Bro AND he knows a certain someone thinks the same.

Dave and Davesprite strike up a deal that neither of them can pursue Dirk, even though their session is bust, nothing really matters any more and they're gods anyway. But......Davesprite can't quite resist the allure of Dirk's chicken butt hair. The animal instincts overpower his reason and he secretly starts building an impressive nest in some remote room, full of anything orange he can get his talons on to win his future mate's heart.

Uneventful time passes, Dave is normal, Davesprite acts a bit suspiciously but Dirk isn't that bothered. One day Davesprite approaches Dirk when he's alone and promises to show him something real cool he's been working on quite some time. Dirk agrees and follows him. And to be honest, the room is real cool. But less cool when Davesprite locks the door behind them and pins Dirk down on the couch, tears his clothes off with his talons and brutally rapes him.

Hal is in this case still in Dirk's glasses, sees everything and promptly contacts Dave. Dave isn't sure he can overpower a rogue sprite on his own, so he gets others to help him, as mortifying as it is for everyone involved. As they bust down the door, crazed Davesprite lunges at the intruders as expected, but is shrunk by Jade, caught in John's windsock and put into a gilded birdcage Roxy conjured up.

Dirk is in a really bad shape, he's full of deep gashes and puncture wounds and barely conscious. Jane can heal the physical marks, but mentally he's in shambles when he wakes up proper. Dave offers to take care of him, take him to his room to get showered and changed. Dirk agrees and nobody objects, in a way he's taking responsibility for Davesprite's behavior. This must have been the bird part, our Dave could never...

But while Dirk is showering, Dave thinks. Davesprite already broke their promise, so why should he hold up his end? Something about Dirk's meekness turns him on like nothing else. He wants to hurt him so bad.

And when Dirk comes out, Dave approaches him, presses him against the wall, kisses him and presses his raging hard-on against him. Dirk, having just survived an extremely traumatic event, just freezes and lets Dave do what he wants and that's also insanely hot in Dave's opinion. He tells Dirk he deserves this and Dirk thinks he's correct, his splinters' sins are his sins and he has been so awful to Dave, so obviously Dave should punish him for it.

Then we get to the part where Dave takes full advantage of Dirk's freeze-fawn-reaction and has as much crazy torture sex with his brother as he can and Dirk doesn't even rat him out. To everyone else it seems cute how close the Striders are now, but at some point it becomes weird how Dave never lets Dirk be alone with anyone, and then sinister when Dirk gets just smaller and quieter with time...

The scenario eventually evolves when Dave figures out he could actually be having sex with all his family members, why fuck only your hot brother when you have your hot sister and hot mom around? But that's only after Rose starts snooping into his and Dirk's arrangement. :9

[spotted-owl-sketches]

And here's day two! I actually really liked this one uwu

So yeah my best friend @winsday09 / @winsdayink and I have SO many thoughts about Volo. We both love the idea of him being a faller too who landed WELL before the events of the game. So here we see a glimpse of his forgotten past, with his younger sister Shinji!

Eichi was an up and coming baseball star for the Hearthome Drifloons- known for his signature pitch- who suddenly disappeared one day... perhaps we'll get more glimpses as the month continues ;3c

[traintrainingmontage]

‘Ello ‘ello Te! Kit here and I think it’s my turn to give a prompt >:3

You think you can write something cute/fluffy with Ryan and Oliver? Perhaps the latter asking the other out on a date? Only if you’ve the time of course!!

See ya around ✨

Hello Kit!! Thank you for the prompt! ✨ Ryan and Oliver, hm? I would be happy to! They're an interesting pair, too, so there's quite a bit I can say about them :3c

(Want to see what I've done so far? Have a prompt idea to send in? Take a look at the masterpost here!)

Ryan had found that, despite everything he'd gone through regarding Sodor's "lost treasure," he'd also developed a strong love for the sea. Bringing goods down the Harwick branch line had proven to be an absolute delight with the smell of the sea following him wherever he went, and the easy breeze grasping for his steam like it was a source of endless fascination. Sure, his work wasn't glamorous, or even all that special, but it was necessary, and although Sir Topham had assured him of such many a time, it was the smiles on the faces of all of the people he'd met that, thanking him for his work, that truly convinced him of it.

He especially liked working alongside Daisy, who managed the passengers. At first, Ryan wasn't too sure how the two of them would get along, given Daisy's rather forward (and sometimes prissy, if Ryan was being honest with himself) personality, but after working together for half a year now, the two had settled into a comfortable routine. As haughty as she could be, Daisy was also both clever and reliable. Although they'd had their troubles early on, the two of them now managed their branch line with little fuss, allowing Ryan to feel that finally, at long last, he was someplace he could hesitantly call "home".

There was one other reason why he'd come to call his branch line "home," however, and that was due to the presence of the engine who'd quickly become his best friend. In fact, they tended to meet up every so often once the day's work was done, about once a week, admiring the ocean view and taking the chance to catch up and talk, confiding in each other many a fable and fear that neither were quite willing to share with their co-workers.

As Ryan took his place on a familiar siding at Arlesburgh Harbor, watching the sun start to set and cascade her flowing tresses of gold across the water, the familiar puffing of another tank engine caught Ryan's attention. Hesitantly pulling his eyes away from the sunlit seas, the purple tank engine's gaze was instead drawn to the empty space beside him, where the smiling face of the NWR's No. 12 was fast pulling up, running light.

At all other times, Oliver was generally accompanied by his faithful brake van, Toad, but only when he was meeting with Ryan did he come by himself, leaving everything else behind.

"Sorry I'm late," the olive green engine called, "but we had an extra run to do. Hope you weren't waiting long!"

"Nope!" Ryan grinned as Oliver pulled into the siding. "I just got here myself. Make yourself comfortable."

Once they'd both gotten settled, both of their crews got out of their cabs, promising that they would be back in an hour or two after dinner. Thus, the two tank engines were left alone, enjoying their shared solitude as they admired the sun.

"You know," Ryan began conversationally, "I was thinking about something the other day."

"Yeah?" Oliver hummed, eyes shifting to look over at the Gresley, although Ryan continued to stare out over the water, his expression thoughtful as his thoughts began to wander.

"Do you remember when we talked about the burden of legacies?"

"...Yeah."

Oliver sighed for a moment, thinking back to a previous evening much like this. "The Weight of the Way, as Toad liked to call it. Duck and I get along when it comes to everything but that. He used to say that it was our duty to keep it alive; I never told him just how much I wished it could die. He wasn't there when it all started falling apart, when all of those good engines younger than me were told they would be made useful in our next lives."

There was a long pause before Oliver spoke again.

"I was proud to be a member of the Great Western. I did my work, and did it well enough. But in the end, they didn't care about me, or any of the rest of us. They cared about efficiency and innovation alone, much more than any of their individual engines. As long as the hive functions, who cares if older bees are replaced with new ones?"

The tank engine's eyelashes fluttered, shivers wracking his frames, although Ryan couldn't tell if they were of deep sorrow or an even deeper anger.

"I don't mind wearing this green. I don't mind our line being called the Little Western. I don't even mind Duck's 'devotion' to the Way that he remembers. But I won't do it. His Way isn't mine, and given how ready they were to toss me aside, it never was. I don't owe it, or the GWR, anything."

Oliver's face had twisted into a bitter scowl at the recollection, but closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. Ryan had to admit that Oliver had been making great strides at that; his best friend tended to have a hair-trigger temper, always getting agitated over something, but at Ryan's suggestion, he'd started working on some effective anger management methods that seemed to be getting some decent results. The Gresley was quite proud of his progress, but saying so would only embarrass him, so he held his tongue.

"Anyway," Oliver exhaled, eyes fluttering open once again as he returned to fixing his gaze on Ryan, "why do you ask?"

Now that it was his turn to speak, Ryan suddenly wondered if he should. Oliver was his best friend, but this particular subject was one that he was rather hesitant to discuss, to say the least. Could he open up about this? Or really, should he?

Beside him, Oliver seemed to shift in place, biting at his lip. "Ryan, if... if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. I—"

But Ryan didn't hear the rest of his words. Suddenly, he realized that he did want to talk about it, very much. And that grace from Oliver, the empathy of mutual understanding, only solidified his resolve.

"It's fine," Ryan breathed, willing himself to find his courage. He knew he was a pushover. He knew that despite how much he wanted to be, he could never call himself brave. However, here with Oliver, he didn't need to be brave. He didn't need to pretend things he didn't feel. In fact, it was quite the opposite; here on this siding, with only Oliver and the ocean to hear, he could bare his heart. Not brave, just honest.

The Gresley tank engine took a breath.

"I realized that before I started working on this branch line and got to meet you, I was always so worried about what I would accomplish. There was so much pressure to uphold the Gresley legacy, and to be an engine worthy of my name. I... for the blessing of being created, I owed the family, the legacy, a great debt. It was something important enough to die for, should the need arose."

Oliver was silent next to him, not saying a word, although the furrow of his brow and the flickering anger in his eyes spoke volumes.

"I... I wanted to be recognized," Ryan continued, "as all Gresleys do. It's why I looked up to Thomas; he was famous, but earned that fame through his own efforts, and as a tank engine, no less. He didn't pull any famous trains or be the star of any exhibitions; he simply worked hard with what he had, and that was enough to be beloved the world over."

Despite his best efforts, Ryan could hear his voice crack, shattering beneath the weight of all he had to bare. Oliver made a small noise, as though to say something, but Ryan pushed through it. If he stopped here, he would never finish, and for Oliver, he so desperately wanted to.

"I... I did everything I could to try to understand him, but he pushed me away. I shouldn't have been surprised, I guess; I am cursed to be a Gresley, after all, and perhaps he thought I was... I don't know... trying to show him up. Hell, any other Gresley would have."

The admission brought with it a frame-deep shame, one that sent a shiver through Ryan's rivets, but he pressed on anyway, determined to finish his thoughts. If not here, where? If not now, when? It had to be now. After all, only here was he safe to say such things.

"After we figured things out, Sir Topham sent me to help out over here. Now I have my own branchline, and... part of me wondered if I could be as famous as Thomas is. If I was finally going to get my opportunity to contribute to the fame of my family and pay back the debt I owed for being born.

"Yet, the more I worked, the less I found myself caring about all of that. The Gresley name, the legacy, the accomplishments... what did any of that matter when I could see the sea every day, and just be Useful doing the jobs that needed doing? Even if I did become famous the way I was raised to believe I should, would I ever get to do anything like run my own branch line, or would I be put in a static display to get gawked at?"

Ryan's eyes crinkled slightly in fondness, once again smelling the sea air and taking in the sight of the last rays of sun stretching across the water. "I was sure that I wasn't supposed to feel that way, so I thought about it more, and somehow, Ollie, I always thought of you. You, who didn't let your past weigh you down. You, who decided that you didn't have to love your burdens if they'd hurt you, but didn't judge those who clung to them. You, who wanted to live for yourself, and not some great legacy that you could never live up to. And that... that helped me make a decision."

As the sun continued to set, a newfound resolve found its way into Ryan's words, as though he'd taken the last of the sun's embers into his own firebox, letting them smolder.

"I don't want to give this up. I don't want to give you up. And so, somehow, I just... don't think the Gresley legacy really matters much to me anymore. I'm just Ryan, who works on the Harwick Branch Line, and that's enough for me."

At this, Ryan's eyes slipped over to see how Oliver was taking this, suddenly feeling slightly nervous, yet not at all prepared for the other tank engine's expression.

Oliver's cheeks were quite pink, and he seemed slightly preoccupied, like he wasn't quite present. After a moment though, his eyes suddenly seemed to snap back into focus, and he stared deeply at Ryan. "Erm, yeah! I think... I think that's good! Really good! You shouldn't let some legacy control you, especially one that hurt you. Yeah."

"Erm... thanks?" Ryan hedged, suddenly feeling a little disappointed, and Oliver must have seen it written all over his face because the green tank engine hurried to explain himself, tripping over his words.

"I, I'm glad that you feel that way! Really! I just, um... kinda got hung up on what you said. About... not wanting to give me up."

"O-oh!" Now it was Ryan's turn to go pink, eyes suddenly shifting every which way. "Um, yes! I... well, Ollie, you're my best friend and all, so..."

Another pause, another blush.

"There's nobody else I could tell all of this to. Nobody else I could be this honest with. You... you're just that important to me."

At this, Oliver blinked, and his expression became a little more serious. "You know, Ryan, I... I feel the same way. There's nobody else I can talk about all of this with other than you; Duck would never understand, Donald hates my guts, and Douglas is great, but he doesn't get me like you do. Nobody does. It's part of why I really like getting to spend time with you like this."

Another sigh, another swallow.

"I've made so many mistakes while on this railway, yet you've never cared or thought less of me for them. You see me for who I am, and who I'm trying to be, instead of the screw up who got stuck in the turntable decades ago."

Suddenly, Oliver was licking his lips, and staring at Ryan with such intensity that the purple tank engine's eyes went wide, thinking he might feel nervous but instead feeling oddly expectant.

"Ryan, you're my best friend too. We've shared so much with each other that it would be ridiculous to say otherwise. But... do you think that maybe... we could also be more?"

Another shiver shot up Ryan's frames, gaze locked onto Oliver. "Ollie... are you saying—?"

"Go on a date with me," Oliver blurted, before realizing that perhaps shouting was not the best way to get his point across. "I mean... I know that you could get with anyone you wanted. You're smart, you're sweet, and you're too kind for your own good, sometimes. But I just thought that... maybe you'd like..."

Here, his words began to falter, nerves setting in, but this time, it was Ryan's turn to pick up the slack. "Maybe I could," the N2 replied, a small smile and a bright blush returning to his cheeks, "but I don't want to get with just anyone. I want to go out with you because it's you. There's nobody I'd rather go on a date with than my best friend."

Subconsciously, Ryan's smile stretched a little wider, as if reflecting the newfound lightness of his heart, and across from him, Oliver's hesitant expression also shifted into a beaming smile, one that was bright yet surprisingly shy for the normally boisterous engine. It was incredibly cute, in Ryan's humble opinion. "Then... since our crews will come back soon, shall we go next week?"

"I'd love nothing more," Ryan replied with a chuckle, and by the time their crews came back, both tank engines were smiling and laughing louder than they ever had before. After all, given what they'd been through and who they were now, there was so very much to smile about.

[spookyboywhump]

Hello sorry it’s me again with Zander having seizures on my mind (I love both medwhump and Zander if you can’t tell).

Was he on medication for them?

Did he ever have one during a fight?

When was the most inopportune time he had one?

Ugh I will read and enjoy any piece you write in general tbh but also would LOVEEE a Zander seizure piece >:)) ESPECIALLY if he gets some compassion + caretaking afterwards (perhaps from Cain 😯😯😯) and also Cain feels guilty >:) etc etc etc

No need to apologize anon I am always happy to see a return :D!!!

So, the thing about Zander's seizures is that while the very first one was triggered by excessive shock collar use, the seizures he continues to have are Psychogenic Nonepileptic Seizures- linking to This Ask where such a thing was recommended to me! However that. Likely won't be discovered until long after he's been rescued, everyone who was there when it first happened kind of came to the conclusion they were caused by the shock collar and he simply won't understand for a very long time why they didn't stop even after Cain stopped using said collar (he's convinced they'll stop completely once he's home and he finds out the hard way that. Won't be the case.)

This got long oops the rest below the cut-

It's very likely he eventually tries medication for it once he's free, but from the information I have they apparently don't necessarily respond to medication- only further adding to his frustration and confusion around them. While I've never considered it before, it is absolutely possible he's had one during a fight, in which case that would definitely be the most inopportune time for it to happen, though, while he rarely gets much sympathy from Cain, Cain wouldn't be able to get that mad at him about it (He honestly blames himself for this issue and even if he doesn't necessarily show it, there's absolutely some guilt there). It's smth I would definitely be interested in exploring in actual writing sometime :3c

As for pieces regarding his seizures, I can link to a couple here!

This is the very first one I wrote!

And This One was not written by me, but @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi!!! And I absolutely LOVE it, I cannot recommend it (and all of her writing while we're here) enough!

[theresattrpgforthat]

Okay! So, is there an RPG that's more rural, like farms and fields, windmills and carts, swamps and forests, but also still like big monsters and magic? Vibes wise, something akin to Amphibia the show, or Atomicrops the game. I'm sure one could just repurpose any regular RPG to make a world like that, but I'm curious :3c

THEME: Farming Plus

Hello friend, so I have a few games here that feel at least slightly fantastical, as well as a game that definitely works as a post-apocalyptic kind of game, although I don’t think any of the games listed here have the cartoonish-ness of either Apmhibia or Atomicrops. My main goal was to find games that felt like they communicated a slice-of-life style of game, while making room for a setting that feels outside of our normal experience. I hope you still find something that works for you!

Take Root, by katykoop.

You've achieved the dream! You have a farm, in a cool place full of forests and the mysterious dungeon keep, and there is the promise of glory-- with a festival at the very end of the year. Play against several farmers, with a world master controlling it all, to win by having the most points in your farm display. 

Each season is condensed into 9 days,  with harvest on the 4th and the 8th. Unlock cool items through random events with NPC's, buy livestock, and traverse the dungeons of Dungeon Keep. 

This is take root. 

Take Root is a very procedural game, with each player responsible for their own farm, which they are tasked with caring for until harvest and the bringing of your fruits to market. The phases of the game are (predictably) sorted into 4 seasons with 9 days in each season, with two market days per quarter of the year. Different seasons have different basic crops, and certain items are more valuable than others.

However, you’re not just farming in Take Root - you’re also venturing into dungeons, and trying to romance select NPC’s. Diving into the Dungeon Keep is dangerous, but could have you coming away with rare items that give you money for seeds or items that allow you to fulfill mini quests - such as wooing the love of your choice, for example. The end of the game results in a winner - the player with the highest accumulated points, acquired through selling items, adventuring, and romancing NPCs.

All in all, Take Root is streamlined and simple, and yet manages to combine both dungeon delving and farming into one neat little brochure.

Farmtasy Simulator, by Guanaco Games.

The goal of this game is to build up your farm by managing resources, while dealing with threats both mundane and fantastic. Using cards for the encounters and dice to determine the outcome of actions taken, the player will gain resources and try to figure out how best to use them to continue building their farm. This game is meant to be played with one player and a GM. Farmtasy Simulator can be used as a supplemental mini-game for an on-going fantasy campaign, or as a standalone to enjoy some agricultural fantasy hijinks.

This is meant to be a two-player game, with one player and one GM. The character has dice and five stats with varying modifiers, while the GM has a deck of cards that they will pull from over the course of each year, used to generate encounters that will make the farming difficult. Farmtasy Simulator appears to be primarily designed as an add-on to another game, incorporating farming mechanics into a larger story. I think it might be a neat way to watch time pass for one character who’s trying to settle down and start a farm - perhaps each player takes their turn running through the simulator with the GM, or the GM use this as a mini-session with the only other player available to build their backstory before they went adventuring.

What’s So Hard About Farming?, by K.Petker.

This is a game about working on a farm and dealing with the triumphs and hardships of such a life.  It might not be any kind of farm or farmers you’re familiar with, but the connection to the growing green and the earth is still there.  Regardless of the season, there’s work to be done.  And things might get a little weird.

I don’t own this game, but my experience with What’s So Cool About…..? games is one of light rules and plenty of freedom to let you take those rules where you like. What I expect from this game is just enough rules to give you a reason to roll dice, and the rest of the world is up to you.

On the plus side, this means that if you want to farm in a swamp, or in a post-apocalypse… well, you can do that! On the downside, the experience won’t fundamentally change according to to the setting unless you decide to do a bit of game design yourself, which is a delightful challenge for some, and an unnecessary amount of labour for others, so take from that what you will!

Mectors, by Harper Jay.

After the war, thousands upon thousands of bipedal mechanized fighting vehicles (or “Bimechs”) were left scattered across the land. Many were brought back to the capital cities to be repaired or scrapped, but the majority of them were too damaged to be easily transported. With the war won, the victors simply left their mechanical refuse in the battlefields to rust and wither. 

In Mectors, players take on the role of a farmer, miner, fisher, carpenter, or some other worker in a labor intensive field. Mector Owners come from all kinds of backgrounds. Some own a Mector that’s been in their family for generations. Others came across theirs recently, through purchase or luck. And a rare few have managed to piece their own together using scraps from decommissioned Mectors, but this is even harder than it sounds. No matter how they got it, they now have a powerful tool with a long history.

I’ve recommended Mectors before for a similar request, and I think it definitely holds up as a great option for a fresh take on the slice-of-life farming sim - because it involves mechs! The setting is post-war, in a country that has learned to beat their technological swords into highly efficient plowshares - and the troubles that plague your settlements are less sinister and just the problems of a small community, such as the mushroom fungus spirit who is willing to guide lost travellers out of the cave, but also can’t seem to stop herself from feeding them mushrooms that also leech away their memories. If you want to tell stories about people solving everyday problems, set in an agricultural setting that’s wholly divorced from our own, I recommend Mectors.

Weeds in the Waste, by Megan Cross.

Weeds in the Waste is a solo storytelling game about tending a garden in a post apocalyptic wasteland.

Determine the state of your wasteland, create your gardener, plant your seeds, and tend your garden as you play through the seasons in the wastes. It is a narrative, storytelling game played using 2d6s and a 6x6 grid, as well as a series of prompts. 

As primarily a solo game, much of the tone and pace of Weeds in the Waste is set by you, the singular player. This includes describing how the world ended, and how your garden started, as well as what kind of gardener you are. The game moves through different phases for every season, indicating what parts of your hard work pay off, and what parts are unfruitful.

The end game (and reflection phases) revolve around what withers, and where - which I think is truly reflective of the post-apocalyptic themes in this game. Try as you might, the current conditions of the wasteland can only be so fruitful, and you will have to learn how to live with a drastically reduced yield in comparison to the work that you’ve put in.

There are also rules for multiple players of Weeds in the Waste, so you can also make this a collaborative effort, answering the questions together, and strategically planting your crops as best as you can.

I’d Also Recommend….

My Small Town Farming Recommendation Post (some overlap with this one)

Grandpa’s Farm, by Tyler Crumrine.

Iron Valley, by M.Kirin.

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

ben i love your wip titles. so much. they're way more fun than mine hehe <3

please tell me what the hell is "xisuma oh my god what the hell man" i need to know.

also "hybrids are friends not food" yanks my attention :3c (because of course it does. you know me.)

pls share anything u want about these two!! 💕

(ask game)

god okay. okay. headinhands. this will take some explaining I fear.

cw: cannibalism, whatever it's called when a big sentient rock absorbs someone, mind manipulation?, hybrid discrimination

'xisuma oh my god what the hell man' is the sequel to 'grian oh my god what the hell man', also known as Love is the King of the Beasts (and when it gets hungry it must kill to eat) ALSO known as my fic where Grian get's eaten/absorbed by the Entity (does anyone else remember the entity? from the start of season 9???)

So. My Niche.

For those who haven't read it, Grian accidentally falls asleep inside the Entity and wakes up kind of entangled with it's flesh, starting to get absorbed / digested? into it. At first he panics, but then he's like 'oh this is kind of relaxing actually maybe I should just be cool about it'. He gets all mentally connected with the Entity and either it makes him think a certain way, or he's just naturally a bit of a freak and willing to become prey.

Mumbo finds him before the process is complete and sends him to respawn, then has to physically stop him from going straight back to the Entity, which calls out to him sadly. Mumbo says they need to make sure Grian would survive being eaten by a giant sentient rock before he tries it again. Grian begrudgingly agrees and the fic ends with them going to find Xisuma to give the Entity a scan.

Grian and the Entity remain mentally connected. It sends emotions through to him and he's obsessed with it. My freak.

This fic was going to basically follow Grian and Xisuma after Xisuma deems the Entity relatively safe. It is implied that Grian gets eaten by the Entity on the regular as a weird form of stress relief I guess? And Xisuma is curious and wants to try this out for himself.

As Grian is connected to the Entity, he can also sort of taste what the Entity tastes. So...

Here's a snippet from the only part I've actually written:

Strange, the sensation of something touching his skin. Usually so cold and protected, within his armour like an insect within a shell, nothing penetrating the hard metal.

Instead, here, the soft, warm surface of the Entity's insides tickled the ridge of his back. Scraped against his skin. Joined it, melted into it, and quite suddenly he couldn't pull away.

“It likes you.” Xisuma turned his head to see Grian, and barely caught him smoothly running his tongue over pointed teeth.

The avian stared with blown-out pupils. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “You… taste good.” A warmth, perhaps pride, settled in Xisuma’s chest.

Grian continued, “sweet--like chorus fruit.”

Maybe it wasn’t pride. He gasped, vision blurring, as something heavy punctured through his spine and found its way between his ribs.

~~~~

'hybrids are friends not food TWO' is a spinoff of I Bite At The Hand That Feeds Me - my au where hybrids are not seen as people, and due to an international meat shortage, are basically rounded up and treated like cattle, farmed for their flesh.

This spinoff takes the story into a more minecraft-based world, rather than a 'realistic' one, with servers, hub worlds, and respawn mechanics. The similarity is that hybrids and non-humans are once again discriminated against and rounded up to serve as food, slaves, decoration, and pets.

There's a lot of lore to this one, as you are aware because we have discussed this au in a lot of detail together, but for everyone else, I'll break down a couple of basic concepts:

Hub worlds: a main, public server world used to move between different servers- can also be used as a home for players who have nowhere else to go. There are several of these, tending to be split up by language as well as distance.

Public servers: imagine the Hub is the centre of a web, and the public servers surround it! These servers are open to anyone (unless they are banned).

Bridge servers: servers settled somewhere between two or more Hub worlds- these tend to feature multiple languages or cultures, or they are heavily modded. Can be public or private.

Private servers: servers a little further out from the central Hub, which can only be accessed if you are invited or whitelisted.

Moderators: each Hub has an elected council of Moderators who are given ultimate power over how the Hub is run- they can (but are not expected to) also influence their Hub’s surrounding servers.

Respawn: players can respawn once killed. If they die on a Hardcore world, they are teleported back to their local Hub.

Permakill: a player can be permakilled (killed with no respawn) by a number of factors: 

Dying and respawning hundreds of times in a loop (starts to unravel and corrupt code after about 300 loops, becomes fatal after 500)

Being killed by a Moderator, powerful player, or some form of deity with the intention to permakill

Code decay: code is corrupted in some way, via a virus or an illness, slowly decaying into nothing

Old age: once a player reaches a certain age, their code begins to malfunction and unravel, eventually killing them

Age: players tend to spawn into existence at a certain age and stay that age until they die, unless they are born naturally in which case they will age up to a certain point and then cease to age- the wider playerbase is about 50/50. The average player can live up to 1000 years, but most are not that old, the older players tending to live in isolation or become Moderators.

And here's some History:

Once, humans and hybrids lived in harmony, all accepted as players and treated equally, never afraid of being harmed for their species.

Around 60 years ago, this changed, with new Moderators being brought into power who slowly shifted laws surrounding hybrid players while simultaneously releasing plenty of propaganda to human players about hybrids being inherently animalistic and lesser.

After a long decade of this treatment, combined with an unusual decrease in food resources on Hub worlds and public servers, the Moderators made a decision to rid themselves of hybrids once and for all.

This manifested in new laws stripping hybrids of their rights completely, and they were quickly rounded up in droves, forced into ‘farms’ which basically existed as slaughterhouses.

Many hybrids were permakilled, but an equal amount of the captured were kept to allow the farms to continue production. However, very few actively chose to have children (and due to the stressful environment, most couldn’t) so the farms went out in search of escapees.

Closed servers were broken into, public servers scraped clean of hybrids, and the definition of hybrid was expanded to include human/hybrid offspring as well as seemingly ‘inedible’ hybrids.

The human population was mostly content with the situation, though there have been/are protest groups and individuals who choose not to eat hybrids. Many prefer to hunt and farm for themselves when playing on survival worlds and private servers.

Hybrids caught by farms now tend to not be permakilled, instead killed with respawn over and over again to provide a limitless supplies of meat.

Hermitcraft is a closed and whitelisted server which is designed as a safe haven for hybrids looking to escape the farms. It accepts hybrids automatically, though upon entering they must be screened and every member must agree to them joining. Humans cannot enter without being invited. It is protected by incredibly strong code and firewalls, and is a thorn in the Moderators’ side. 

Hermitcraft’s portal is located a long distance from a Hub world, making it quite inaccessible to anyone who isn’t desperate.

Some hermits are human, but they are the most trusted server members, having proven themselves one way or another to be safe for hybrids to interact with.

The Moderators want to eliminate Hermitcraft for obvious reasons, and additionally because it has inspired several other hybrid-safe servers with similar protections.

OKAY, all that being said, I... don't have much to show for this one. The fic was going to potentially be a journal / admin's log written by Xisuma, but I didn't get past the first paragraph so...

here it is:

ADMIN’S LOG: XISUMA VOID

LOG 0006

It’s official. We’ve closed the server. Admin controls have been handed over and I’m not sure if I’ll ever see the others again. They’re going cross-hub to spread the word to hybrids. The ones who can’t go are staying here. I’ll make a list of who we have staying. These logs are confidential---if this ever gets out, I won’t forgive myself. But it won’t. It can’t.

...

Okay. I tried to make a list, and it backfired. Quite dramatically. Our numbers are so low now that it just looks kind of sad. How am I meant to carry the torch here? Why did they choose me??

I have to protect them now. I have no idea what I'm doing. This could all end so horribly, and the only thing between us and them is...

It's not even my code. How am I meant to repair it if it breaks?

I'm not cut out for this.

~~~~

ok that's literally it lol

[neallo]

what are your headcanons for how mello and near first met? who was at wammy’s first? did mello hate near immediately or was that not till later?

oh omg hi this is one of the only semi-general questions you could've asked that i have a blanket answer for. i'm sure some of my older works diverge from this -- and probably some new ones will continue to, just because i like to switch it up -- but i do have a sorta standard history i like to work from. standard disclaimer: these are my preferences for my own writing, and i think a really wide range of headcanons can work quite well here :3c

in my mind, mello was at wammy's first, and was the top student in his age / ability category. when near arrived, he was not immediately placed at mello's level; not only was he younger and newer, but the headcanons i have about near's background also generally mean he didn't know english when he first arrived at wammy's, so at least some of his time each day would've been devoted to learning that, & perhaps to help him catch / keep up he would have a tutor in his native language until he understood english well enough to be in one of the general classes. perhaps there are even small groups of ESL students for different languages.

i don't know. whatever. the point is that near is not in mello's class to start with, and mello feels some amount of pity towards near. not because of the ESL thing lmao (i imagine mello had to learn english when he first arrived as well) but because of all near's near-ish traits. honestly, i don't tend to think of mello as having been a particularly nice child to the other orphans, even pre-rivalry, but near's scrawniness + health problems + social isolation i think on some level prompts a small protective streak in mello. he's this small, sad-looking, lonesome child, and mello is the first and only person he likes and trusts. in an unpublished bury us both companion piece i have their first meeting occur while near is hiding from roger and mello lies on her behalf, then shows her another hiding place. actually. damn i should post that. can't remember why i haven't.

i vary somewhat on how close they were as children depending on what dynamic i want to go for, but i tend to think there was at least some care & friendship there. the basis of their friendship, i imagine, is that mello feels older and wiser and cooler and stronger than near, and gains a sense of importance and security from near relying on him. this implodes horribly when near is moved up into his class level and starts besting him in every subject. so begins the rivalry. so ends their friendship. i do tend to imagine mello would intervene on near's behalf if he were ever being physically bullied / threatened, but they're never close like they were before again, because mello leaves before they can both mature and grow enough to sort anything out. except in AUs where that doesn't happen, which are my roman empire.

there are a few reasons i like this general sort of setup best for my own works. for one, having mello arrive first means that he got to experience, for however long or short a time period, being the golden child of his class. i think having this sense of specialness and accomplishment would make near beating him all the more painful. i could get way into mello's self-worth problems here but instead i'll just say: mello believes himself worthless and needs to be The Best in order to prove to himself that he's good enough at all. which has never actually worked for him, but, you know. i also like them having been friends prior to the rivalry because it resonates better for the sorts of dynamics i like best, and twists the knife a little from near's side. mello cared for him and looked after him, once, but now he sees near as his enemy. ough.

wow they make me bonkers!