#feat. sunny the cat

[clove-pinks]

Tonight's find in the grocery store: Commodore Perry IPA!!! omg @ussporcupine I've finally made it! To the land of—to the other land of Commodore Perry.

I'm drinking one now, to see for myself if it is "Victoriously hopped, with an arsenal of caramel malt flavors befitting the Hero of Lake Erie."

#oliver hazard perry #war of 1812 #alcohol #feat. sunny the cat #i would say this beer is pretty good #it goes very well with my dinner of hotdogs #shaun talks #battle of lake erie

[bigskyandthecoldgun]

based on this

steve's pov | dragon's pov

Steve had found Dragon hiding in a bush when she’d been a teeny, tiny kitten with mangy black fur and green eyes that took up basically her whole face.

She’d been so sickly, in fact, that the vet had warned Steve she might not make it. Steve had refused to give up on the kitten, though, nursing her back to health as best as he possibly could. Now, she’s an enormous, regal-looking cat that has a meow closer to a roar, a purr that makes her sound like a motorcycle engine, and breath so terrible it should be legally qualified as a hazardous gas. That is, admittedly, where Dragon had gotten her name. Steve had found her just after the events of ’84, and when Dustin came over to bug him for a ride to the arcade, he’d been all but obsessed with the poor cat.

“D’you have a name for her yet?” Dustin had asked, eyes wide with wonder as the kitten had scrambled up Steve’s pant leg and climbed up to perch on his shoulder, shaking and terrified at the stranger in their home.

“Nah. Figured I’d just call her, like, Midnight or something,” Steve had said with a shrug, to which Dustin had taken great offense.

Upon smelling the stench that had come from the kitten’s hiss, Dustin had declared her a fearsome creature with a breath weapon, whatever that means—a Dragon. So Steve’s got a cat that is incredibly clingy and a little stinky, but only when she opens her mouth.

And his cat is ruining his dating life.

The thing about Dragon is that she doesn’t like most people. She tolerates Robin, even when she’s sitting next to Steve, but other than that, she hates it when people get close to Steve. Dragon’s the most territorial cat Steve has ever met, and Steve can hardly go anywhere in the house without Dragon at his feet or on his shoulders. And balancing a cat as large as Dragon on his shoulders is not an easy feat. Dragon screams if Steve closes her out of a room he’s in and sleeps directly atop Steve’s chest. That cat is the clingiest creature on the planet, and Steve would die for her.

But Dragon despises people. She hisses at the girls Steve brings home, yowls when the door to Steve’s bedroom is closed, and swats at anyone that tries to so much as touch him when he’s on the couch. It’s absolutely destroying Steve’s chances at bringing girls home, and while most of his dates are content to bring him back to theirs, Steve’s getting a little tired of being kicked out of bed. At least when he’s at home, he can mope right away when girls turn down his offer of staying the night and leave early, rather than moping in his car.

And it’s not like he’s getting a ton of action lately, anyway. Now that the whole Vecna debacle is over, with Eddie and Max out of the hospital, the Party spends most of its nights together, so Steve hasn’t been going on too many dates anymore. Instead, he spends his time either on someone else’s couch or his own, and if it’s the latter, he can count on Dragon sitting squarely on his lap and everyone but Robin sitting a few feet away for safety purposes.

It’s a late afternoon in November, when he’s hanging out alone with Eddie at his house for the first time, when Dragon does something truly surprising.

She lets Eddie pet her.

They’re hanging out in the kitchen, Steve almost done with his cup of coffee and Eddie nursing a cup of his own mixed with an absurd amount of hot chocolate powder. The coffee in late afternoon is a peculiar habit of Eddie’s; he says it’s because it’s when his uncle usually wakes up, and they have coffee together, so Steve thinks it’s kind of sweet. It’s a really nice afternoon, chilly but not too cold, only slightly overcast so that it’s not too sunny but not too cloudy, either. The cool light makes Eddie’s hair look shiny, and the gleam bounces off his skin like a halo might.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you how cool your cat is,” Eddie says, nodding towards the Dragon in question. Dragon hops up on the counter, then hops up on Steve’s shoulders, purring as she nudges the side of her face against Steve’s cheek. Eddie grins. “Dragon. A fitting name for a majestic beast.”

“I don’t know why she’s so unfriendly,” Steve sighs, reaching up to scratch behind Dragon’s fluffy ears. Dragon purrs even harder. Eddie snorts and reaches up to join Steve in scritching behind Dragon’s ears, but Steve takes a step back. “Woah, careful, man, don’t want you to get clawed.”

Eddie’s grin turns into a small, fond smile. “Cats don’t really like me, anyway, I don’t mind a little scratch or two,” he says, stepping closer to offer his hand up for Dragon to sniff.

Instead of the hiss Steve’s predicting, Dragon pushes her face against Eddie’s knuckles and continues to purr. “Holy shit,” Steve breathes, eyes wide, “she doesn’t do that with anybody.”

“She probably does that with you,” Eddie points out, and Steve gives him a flat look. The answering shit-eating grin he gets is unfairly endearing. “Nah, I get what you mean. But seriously? There must be someone else she likes. One of the kids? Some girl you brought home that happened to have cat treats in her purse or some shit?”

Steve groans and shifts Dragon into his arms, feigning annoyance when Dragon nuzzles against his jaw. It’s actually pretty cute. “No, this little asshole is ruining my chances of getting laid,” he says. “She hates everybody I bring home. She doesn’t even like the kids! The most socializing she’s ever done with another person before this is her letting Robin be next to me. Dragon tolerating a relationship? No way.”

Dragon lets out a loud meow and licks Steve’s cheek. “Well, maybe you just have to find somebody she likes,” Eddie says, scratching under Dragon’s chin. Dragon meows again and squints, chin tilting up to give Eddie more room to scratch. Eddie clicks his tongue. “Aw, see? She’s a sweet girl. I’m sure she’ll have a soft spot for someone other than yourself soon enough.”

Steve decides to play along. “Draggy,” Steve coos, “will you please let Daddy get laid? Be all sweet and good instead of biting people’s ankles?”

“I’m sorry, did you just call yourself Daddy?” Eddie sputters, looking mortified.

Frowning, Steve shifts Dragon so that he’s holding her like one might hold an infant. “Yeah, I’m Dragon’s dad, and she’s my little baby,” he explains. “Duh.”

“No, okay, wh—nevermind,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “My point is, even if Dragon hates the ladies, I’m sure there’s one lady out there for you she won’t hate.”

As Eddie pets Dragon’s tummy—her tummy!—Steve realizes that, yeah, there is one person out there that Dragon doesn’t hate.

Steve resolves that, if Dragon really doesn’t mind Eddie’s company, he should have Eddie around more often. The way Steve sees it, if Dragon gets used to Eddie being in the house and being close to Steve, she might open up to other people who are around a lot, like the Party, and then she could even learn to tolerate girls coming over. As much as Steve hates to admit it, Eddie Munson might just be the reason his dating life gets revived.

At the next movie night, the movie night that Eddie finally shows up for, when Dragon hops into Steve’s lap and everyone scoots at least ten feet away, Steve pats the seat next to him. “Hey, Eddie, c’mere,” he says, and Dustin openly gawks when Eddie’s able to sit right next to Steve with no roaring protests from Dragon.

“What the hell?! I’ve been in your house so many times and I’ve never been able to sit near you when Dragon’s around!” Dustin huffs, scowling at the fluffy bastard. “And I’m the one who named her! I’m practically her godfather!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Henderson,” Eddie says, a slow grin spreading across his face, which can’t be good. “If Steve’s pu—”

“Nope,” Steve cuts in, slapping a hand over Eddie’s mouth, cheeks burning, “not gonna let you finish that.”

Eddie nods. “Very wise,” he says, muffled. “It was gonna be incredibly inappropriate.”

Satisfied with having stopped that, Steve moves his hand away, and Eddie knocks their shoulders together. To Steve’s shock, Dragon doesn’t hiss or swat, just snuggles further into Steve’s lap and purrs harder than she’s ever purred before. The movie starts up, and Steve watches Eddie reach over in the dark, usually a bad move when it comes to Dragon. But Dragon just lets Eddie run a hand over the top of her head, and Steve leans into his side, the two of them sharing a small smile.

After the movie, when most everyone else has gone home, Eddie’s still around, scratching behind Dragon’s ears. “You know, you should hang out here more often,” Steve tells him, and Eddie raises a brow at him. Steve tilts his head. “I mean, Dragon doesn’t get a lot of socializing in, so…it’d probably be good for her.”

Clearly holding back a grin, Eddie nods. “Sure. I’d love to come around more so Dragon gets some socializing in,” he teases, and Steve rolls his eyes, holding back a smile of his own. Eddie leans closer, smoothing his thumb over Dragon’s fuzzy little cheek. “She’s really cute. Has good taste in who she lets pet her.”

Eddie casts his gaze down at Dragon. His lashes are long and dark. He has really nice hands, too, and it’s easy to notice them as they run over Dragon’s pitch-black fur. “Yeah,” Steve says quietly, giving Dragon a pat by her leg, “she does.”

Eddie comes over way more often from then on, and Dragon gets somewhat clingy to him, which is kind of unbelievable, because Dragon’s never rubbed up on anyone’s ankles but Steve’s, but it’s a marked improvement. The only downside is that Dragon still hasn’t improved with anyone else, but Steve figures that’ll change sooner or later.

For now, he’s content to hang out with Eddie in his room, laying on the bed with Dragon sitting on his chest and Eddie laying beside him. “Little lady,” Eddie coos, almost nose-to-nose with Dragon, who purrs. “Sweet baby girl.”

“She’s a smelly girl,” Steve tuts, scratching between Dragon’s ears. He looks at Eddie. “I still can’t believe you’re the only one out of everybody we know that she likes.”

Eddie looks up at him, big brown eyes shining with mirth. “I dunno, I think it’s pretty believable. I happen to be very likable,” he says. And, to Eddie’s credit, Steve’s found that he kind of is. “And besides, cats have good judgements of character. I’ve been chosen.”

Steve raises a brow. “I thought you said cats didn’t like you.”

Face scrunched up, Eddie tilts his head. “Yeah…I lied. Didn’t want to make you feel bad if I did get scratched,” he explains.

That’s fair, actually.

Dragon meows, raspy and roaring as always, and she smacks her paw out at Eddie’s arm, using her—trimmed, because Steve takes very good care of her—claws to drag him closer. “She wants you closer? That’s crazy,” Steve comments as Eddie scoots into his space, their sides pressed together. “She must really like you.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but he does smile, soft and private, and Steve thinks it’s nice. It’s a smile he hasn’t seen before.

It’s pretty.

Even with Eddie and Dragon getting buddy-buddy, it still doesn’t seem to be helping Steve’s case with bringing anyone home. Hell, Dragon still isn’t even close to being civil with most of the Party, barring Robin, who actually got in a single chin scratch the other day. But Eddie and Dragon are getting along swimmingly, to the point where Eddie can actually pick Dragon up! Granted, it’s not for very long, because Dragon starts screaming about ten seconds in until Steve takes her from Eddie, but still. It’s insane.

“You are killing me, you little menace,” Steve tells Dragon one night while Eddie’s using the bathroom. “Why do you like Eddie so much, huh? I mean, sure, he’s funny and he’s nice, but it’s not like you can understand what he says, you don’t speak English.”

Dragon meows indignantly at him from her place on Steve’s lap, slow-blinking at him.

“Yeah, yeah, I see your point. Eddie is pretty great,” Steve mutters.

Dragon yawns and starts making biscuits on his thighs, then purrs.

“Okay, so he’s handsome, too, but I don’t see how that’s appealing for you, you’re a cat,” Steve huffs. He blinks, face flushing. “Well, that’s—it doesn’t appeal to me, either, I guess.”

Dragon gives him an inquisitive little mrrowp? in response.

Steve blows out a long breath. “Look, Draggy, you gotta find someone else you like. Eddie can’t be the only other person you can tolerate, it’s just not realistic,” Steve tells her.

Dragon roars.

Shushing her, Steve pets her to sweeten the deal of shutting up. “Yeah, I know, and I like having him around, too—”

“Talking to your cat about me, Stevie?” Eddie asks, bouncing into the room and sitting down beside him with a flouncy sort of flip of his hair. “Well, Madam Dragon, I do hope he hasn’t been slandering my good name.”

He’s using that silly cat-voice he does when he’s talking to Dragon, and it’s almost as endearing as the way Dragon rolls over to let Eddie rub her tummy. “I would do no such thing,” Steve says, feigning offense, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Miss Dragon, don’t listen to a word he says,” Eddie tells the cat. He glances over at the clock and frowns. “Ah, shit, it’s getting late.”

“You could stay here, if you want,” Steve offers. “Maybe Dragon’ll suffocate someone else in their sleep for a change.”

Eddie laughs, but he takes Steve up on the offer, heading into the guest bedroom in a change of clothes that definitely doesn’t make Steve feel a certain type of way about seeing Eddie in his one of his old swim team shirts. Though, the night is not peaceful, because a certain giant, annoying cat refuses to stop screeching at the top of her lungs. Eddie comes stumbling back into Steve’s bedroom, Dragon held in his outstretched arms, Eddie’s hands tucked under the cat’s armpits.

There’s a grumpy, slightly disgruntled look on Eddie’s face. “Please tell your daughter to stop screaming at me,” he says, placing Dragon on the bed, and Steve reaches for her to drag her into his lap. Eddie nods and turns to leave, only for Dragon to scream again, and he whirls right back around. “Oh my God, what?!”

Dragon gives a little chirp and trots to the edge of the bed, nosing at Eddie’s hand. “Draggy, let Eddie go to bed,” Steve says, his voice rough with what little sleep he’d managed to get between Dragon’s long and loud meows.

“Yes, Dragon, I need my beauty sleep,” Eddie says. When he turns to leave again, Dragon yowls and bites down—seemingly gently—on his hand, carefully stepping backwards towards Steve while she does so. Eddie looks just as bewildered as Steve feels. “Does she want me to stay here?”

“I have no idea. I’ve literally never seen her do this before,” Steve tells him. “But, like, you can, as long as it’ll stop her from screeching.”

Eddie blows out a long breath. “Honestly, I don’t even care at this point, I just want to sleep,” he groans, clambering under the covers until they’re laying face-to-face beside each other. Eddie smiles at him, then winces and scoots closer. “Sorry, ah—she’s pushing my back.”

Dragon gives a little mrrp of confirmation.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her, I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, and Eddie just half-shrugs, eyes darting everywhere but Steve’s face. He looks uneasy. “Hey, man, if you’re uncomfortable staying here, you can sleep on the pullout in the den and I’ll just lock her in here, she’s got a litterbox and water in my bathroom, she’ll be fine. And you won’t hear anything down there, so…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah. Wouldn’t wanna put you through that torture.”

He gets slightly closer, and Steve’s face goes a little hot at the proximity. Their noses are almost touching. “She’s being a little douchebag,” Steve murmurs. “Ignore her.”

“She keeps pushing at my back,” Eddie tells him, sounding a little panicked. “Why is your cat so strong, dude?”

“I can take her out of the—”

Dragon lets out a meow so loud that it rings out for a few seconds after she’s done.

Eddie is clearly fighting a laugh. “Okay, so keeping her out of the room isn’t an option,” he says, and Steve chuckles. Eddie gives him a curious sort of look. “Hey…about earlier. What were you telling Dragon about me?”

Oh, just that you’re funny and sweet and, apparently, I think you’re really handsome, is what Steve probably shouldn’t say.

“Oh, just that you’re funny and sweet and, apparently, I think you’re really handsome,” is what Steve says, because he’s an idiot.

Eddie’s brows shoot up, behind his bangs. “I’m sorry, you think what?”

“That you’re really handsome,” Steve says, because, again, he’s an idiot.

Blinking, Eddie starts to frown. “Are you messing with me right now? Because if you are, that is not cool, Harrington—”

“I’m not,” Steve says. “I’m—I didn’t—I mean, Dragon really likes you, and cats are…a good judge of character, and you’re, uh—you’re pretty.”

The frown turns into a poorly-hidden smile. “I’m pretty?” Eddie echoes, lashes batting, and Steve can’t tell whether or not that’s intentional.

“You are,” he says softly. “You also make me laugh, and you get along really well with my cat, which—and I don’t know if you know this—is very hard to do.”

Eddie laughs, almost bashful. “I did say there’d be somebody Dragon had a soft spot for other than you, didn’t I?”

“The little menace is a matchmaker,” Steve mutters, and Eddie leans forward just slightly until their noses are touching. Steve reaches up to cup Eddie’s face. “Can I kiss you?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie says breathlessly.

Steve presses their lips together gently, moving slowly, and Eddie hums into the kiss, one hand on Steve’s waist and the other sliding up to his chest. It’s soft and it’s good, and Steve leans into it a little more, his fingers tangling in Eddie’s curls as he deepens the kiss. Unfortunately, Steve has to pull back for air, but Eddie’s smiling when he does. Dragon meows, much further away than Steve had thought she’d been, and the sound of her collar jingling grows quieter and quieter.

“Well,” Steve says, “I definitely found somebody she likes.”

“Safe to say, she won’t prevent you from getting laid anymore,” Eddie murmurs, his low voice sending a shiver down Steve’s spine. He gets this hesitant sort of look on his face, like he isn’t sure if he’s overstepped. “I mean, only if you want to—”

Steve interrupts him with a chaste kiss. “Oh, I want to,” he whispers.

The next morning, when they wake up tangled in each other’s arms, clothes littering the floor, Dragon is sitting on the edge of the bed with Eddie’s discarded shirt in her mouth, tail flicking back and forth, looking smug as ever.

#i'll drop dragon's pov tomorrow #but for now u get this :] #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #robin buckley #there is nothing more important than platonic stobin #dragon knows this and she respects it

[poisonouspastels]

MINECRAFT AU MASTERPOST

Since approximately the date of 08/23/2022, me and @sherbertclown have been working on a story involving our own takes on the Minecraft universe and those who reside within it. This Masterpost will be updated as time goes on and there is more to add.

Tag Navigation

#Minecraft AU Mastertag - A collection of every in-date writing or art piece made for the AU.

Characters

Mega ref sheet, featuring all 14 prominent characters

Toyhouse page, HEAVILY unfinished as of writing

Character specific art tags:

Steve

Alex

Rana

Herobrine

Groda

White Eyes

Stephen

Sunny

Efe

Kai

Ari

Noor

Makena

Zuri

Mobs

The Creeper

Endermen

The Wither

Ender Dragon

Zombies

Slime

Magma Slime

Glow Squid

Lore + Worldbuilding

(Image courtesy of Beegswaz)

So what's the deal with Herobrine?

Gender identity and how its treated

Pre-transition Steve and Rana

Are humans commonplace here?

The Wither Cult

What the hell did Groda do anyway?

The final encounter

Groda being forced to be a better person: the timeline

Halloween (10th Moon) in the universe

A meal you can no longer make

Put yourself in the shoes of someone during the end of the world

Commonspeak and Galactic

The soul sand

"And the universe said I love you"

The early days

The magic properties of ores

About Jean

After the Wither fight

The dead seldom stay buried

Romantic relationship chart

Beach Episode

Kai and Alex's history

Animatics

Look Who's Inside Again

Alex and Rana have a conversation

The Broken Furnace

The Polycube

for all your favorite 4-player romances

Matching icons

In bed for the night

A quick nap

Emojis

Cat people

Happy 10th Moon!

Date night

Stargazing

Meta/Non-canon

The best advertising

Groda (AU) vs Groda (Creepypasta)

A website with Steve

Rana Adventure 2 (feat. Creepypasta Groda)

But what if they were Warrior Cats

Kill her

Papers, Please

Alternative responses to "I love you"

Arrested for Smash Bros. crimes

But what if they were ponies

Crossover episode

#minecraft #mineblr #art #artists on tumblr #minecraft fanart #minecraft art #masterpost #minecraft lore #minecraft au mastertag

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Vesuvia Weekly: The Marketplace Incident

~ my little written sketch for @vesuviaweekly's prompt "How Things Went Wrong (feat the Arcana familiars)". Enjoy an afternoon from the perspective of my fandom self-insert :3 ~

Word count: 1.5k

The marketplace really is the best spot to write in. The bustle of afternoon shoppers in the sunny square is a soothing view from my shaded nook, tucked between Selasi's booth and an alleyway of stairs. The steady sea breeze makes the parchment in front of me flutter, carrying the smell of spiced bread as it tousles my hair from my forehead.

"Need a refill?" The baker leans on the stone wall above the low table I'm pretending to draft my next story on. "Maybe it will help the ink flow better."

"Thanks, Selasi, but I'm afraid I've barely had a sip." I gesture to my mostly-full clay cup. "It's a good blend, though - what did you use for it this time?"

"A craftsman never shares his secrets." He hunches closer, not-so-subtly trying to sneak a peek at my handwriting. "What is today's writing about? More of our six friends' adventures, by a friendly young man whose signature is a rotting brain?"

I roll my eyes at his teasing smile. "Okay, using the moniker 'brainrot' doesn't automatically mean gruesome physical decay -"

We both jump at the sudden cat's yowl from the direction of the baker's counter. A fuzzy orange blur streaks to my corner, tiny claws digging into my shirt as it uses me as a ladder to get to Selasi's shoulder.

"Pounce? What is it, little one?"

"Bad dogs!" Faust's face pops into view, her body slowly unwinding from the cloth umbrella over me.

I barely have time to stabilize her plop onto my arm before I catch sight of two more barking fuzzy blurs tearing around the corner, a screeching raven flapping frantically after them. All three start heading in my direction as soon as they see me stand up to intervene. "Mercedes, Melchior! Come here!"

As ill-trained as I know Lucio's dogs are, the half-finished roll I hold out in their direction is more than enough to convince them. They slide to a halt in front of me, paws and tail still skittering from side to side, eyes trained on the treat. The flustered raven descends on my shoulder and Faust scoots onto Selasi's arm to give him more space.

"It's rare to see these fellows here without their owners ..." The baker runs his hand over Pounce's bushed-out tail in a soothing arc. "Did something happen?"

"What didn't happen?" I mumble in response. I don't think I recognize the strange goop Faust has left on my shirt, or the hooped earring in Malak's beak, or the concerningly pleasant smell wafting off of the dog's silky coats. I hold out my palm in front of the bird on my shoulder. "Give me the shiny, please. Which friend did you take this from?"

"Took it when I squeezed!"

"Who did you squeeze, Faust? Was it Julian?"

"Stinky count. Stole my fishies!"

The hissed voice clearly belongs to a cat, but it's not coming from the trembling ginger tabby in Selasi's arms. Pepi lopes into view on the wall above me with a smug look on her little face. Oh, right. I keep forgetting that she learned how to talk ...

"Lucio ... stole your fish?"

"Pepi earned the fishies - Pepi was a good cat and caught all the rats! Went to the docks to get the fishies, but he took them first!"

I try to piece the narrative together, noticing what looks like a pearly white owl listening in from the roof of the booth. "So ... Portia went to buy Pepi some fish, but Lucio bought them first? Where did the earring come from?"

"Master tried to help!"

"Oh, did Asra try to trade their earring for the fish? I thought his piercings closed up years ago."

Malak caws loudly in protest. Faust wiggles and bobs from her perch on Selasi's shoulder as the distant owl takes off for a different corner of the marketplace.

"Not Master's earring."

I study the golden hoop, finally catching the protective gleam in Malak's eye. "Ohh, this is Julian's, isn't it? Okay, from the top." I watch five pairs of animal eyes point back in my direction. "Portia went to get fish for Pepi, but Lucio bought them first. Asra tried to intervene, and then Julian offered an earring that he apparently owns to bargain for the fish with. Is that right?"

I almost miss the variety of nods when a thick coat of fur unexpectedly brushes across the backs of my knees. When I look down, it's right into Inanna's bright green eyes - and the torn bag of rice in her mouth. She drops it at my feet, spilling the grains across the ground and sending Malak into a flurry of indignant squawks. The wolf curls up for a nap at my heels, completely unfazed. Selasi gently sets Faust on my abandoned parchment and returns to his oven with an amused "good luck!"

"O-Okay." I drag my hand down my face and do my best to analyze the mess. "So why do the dogs smell nice, why is Faust slimy enough to smudge my ink, and why am I the one currently holding Julian's mystery hoop?"

"Squeeze the thief! Rescue the shiny! Run away fast!"

Faust bleps her tongue proudly, while Pepi takes a smug seat on the stones and the dogs begin to growl. One warning huff from the large wolf pretending to sleep behind me quietens the impending ruckus.

"And ... do I want to know about the slime and the fruity smells?"

Pepi yawns above me, slowly succumbing to the sun-warmed wall. "Beauty stall."

Faust curls herself elegantly over my story draft in an attempt to flaunt her shiny scales. "Moisturize."

"You're practically glowing, Faust. Such a beautiful girl!" Asra's trotting in my direction, a very sweaty pair of Devorak siblings close behind and a red-faced ex-count bringing up the rear. The magician scoops her up off of the table, my freshly hydrated parchment going with it, as Pepi uses the top of my head as a springboard into Portia's arms. Julian gives his judgemental raven a sheepish look before brightening at the earring in my palm.

"Did you leave us the rice trail, Faust?" Asra scritches the serpent's chin.

"Wait - rice trail? What rice trail? Is that how you knew where you were going? Where did they get - my rice!"

Inanna gives the shocked doctor a guiltily amused look, nudging the torn bag with her nose and watching the last of the grains spill onto my feet. Lucio straightens from where's been fussing over his perfumed dogs, finally catching his breath.

"Hah! Serves you right for trying to take my fish!"

Portia bristles and turns on him as Inanna slinks off to the large figure skulking in the shadows several booths away. "Your fish? That vendor and I have been friends for three years, you heard him say that I'd get first pick!"

I can't tell if Lucio is grinning or gritting his teeth. "Does it matter? I already paid for those things, they were the least smelly ones!"

"Enough!" The Countess's firm voice rings across the corner of the square, effectively halting the brewing squabble that's hijacking my writing corner. Chandra reassumes her perch on the baker's booth roof as Nadia rubs her temples in resigned frustration. "I have already paid for a year's worth of cosmetics. I have no interest in paying for your argument with a headache as well."

She heaves a tired sigh as the familiars settle in with their owners, sparing me a comforting glace. "Considering the paperless state of your table, I trust there were no writing casualties involved?"

Portia scurries over with a worried look. "Oh, I'm so glad you hadn't started yet!"

"Well ..."

"I think we did interrupt him, unfortunately." Asra's already taking a seat at my table, holding a fresh bowl of rolls in one hand and my smudged paper in the other while Faust hides guiltily in their shirt. "What's a 'ringtone'?"

Julian helps himself to the paper. "Allow me - perhaps I can shed some light on - ah!"

I've already given up hope on restoring my draft, so I don't wince nearly as badly as my friends do as a sharp, golden hand snatches my handwriting and rips it in the process. Lucio's pout deepens the further he reads. "I'm not in this."

"He's probably not finished it." Nadia holds her hand out, impervious to Lucio's begrudging surrender, and carefully offers the paper back to me. "We should leave you in peace, or you'll never meet your deadline."

Portia takes the cue and begins herding Lucio back to the docks for a fresh round of fish. Nadia gives Asra a pointed look, resulting in them stuffing the last of their roll into their mouth and rising from the cushions. They leave the last two pieces of bread for me.

"Julian," I call as he turns away, "one more question."

"Ah - yes?"

"What's the story with the earring?"

"Oh!" He flushes unexpectedly, fumbling the hoop away into his pocket. "... it, ah, it doesn't go in my ear. Adieu!"

#vesuvia weekly #familiars screwed up #ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fanfic #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson #selasi the baker #faust the arcana #malak the arcana #chandra the arcana #inanna the arcana #pepi the arcana #mercedes and melchior

[covenantofthedeep]

electric love ☆

feat. | mona, childe, zhongli, & jean summary | they have a crush on u! a/n | i am trying to write so bad. pleeaseee rb if you see this it really helps esp since i haven't written in a while <3 thank u

mona megistus |

mona's not sure how to explain the crimson flush that spreads from her cheeks to her fingertips when you're around, nor is she willing to.

she doesn't know what's happened; just a couple of weeks ago the two of you were hanging out every day, friends forever, but now it's like something's changed. she can't think of you without picturing your lips, or the sparkle in your eyes, and that throws her off so much she goes out of her way to avoid you.

sometimes from her window she can see you talking to someone in the square, the sun highlighting your face and it's like you've been bathed in an ethereal spotlight. when she thinks about talking to you, her mouth goes dry and she finds herself at a loss for words, and she's not sure how to carry a conversation with you anymore. she hates it, actually. she detests it. you? distracting her so much from her every day tasks that she drops a stack of books on her foot when she sees you sprinting after a cat? how dare you.

the last straw is when she takes a walk through the woods and ends up in a sunny clearing, and she starts to daydream-the sun is just so nice on her face like that, and she's needed a break--and her mind wanders to you. your hands, she can imagine them intertwined with hers. would they be callused, she wonders, with all the sword-wielding you do all day? and then she catches herself and her eyes fly open and she stands. this can't go on any longer. you're taking up too much space in her mind.

she never used to feel this way. what a curious thing.

tartaglia |

childe would rather saw off his own fingers than admit he cares for you, and that's quite a sacrifice, seeing as he needs his bow and arrow. he has tried denying it, going so far as to shoot you down when you ask him to go monster fighting with you, or telling you he's "busy" when you ask him if he wants to hang out.

the crease in your brow when he tells you no kills him every time, making him want to turn you around and shout, i like you!

but that's a childish move, and childe doesn't resort to such tactics. he's decided the best option is to squash down his feelings and act as though everything's okay, despite the fact that taunting you isn't the little game it used to be--the two of you firing insults at each other for ages. now he takes real digs at you, because maybe that'll convince his stupid heart that he doesn't like you. the wounded look in your eyes before the whip-quick insult you spit back makes him want to kiss you, and he's embarrassed to admit that your lips take up more time in his head than they should.

he has no words to say how much he likes you, and he doesn't want any words, either, because that would mean he would have to tell you. even if he didn't want to tell you, he's not confident that his lips would stay sealed around you--one quick smile throws him off his balance these days, and sometimes when you wink (you've always done that, how has he just now noticed how cute it is?) he thinks he sees stars.

jean gunnhildr |

jean's already busy enough without you bothering her. that's what she tells you when you hang in her doorway, complaining that you're bored and will she please hang out with you? she always felt like tearing out her hair when you bugged her, although lately it's been for a different reason.

sometimes when you come in and throw yourself across her desk, she can't focus anymore; she used to be able to tune you out, but now, for some reason, you've been a distraction, one that she can't afford. she's had so much paperwork lately, so many requests from the townspeople asking her to take care of this, look over that, does this sound good. she's just so tired of it all, and she finds herself looking forward to you coming in and throwing her off kilter.

there's something almost magical about the dust motes floating through beams of sunlight that cut across your face when you lie on the floor, an arm thrown over your eyes and paperwork strewn on the ground beside you. she can't put a finger on the emotion she feels, she just knows that on the days you don't pop in, it feels empty and lonely. on those days, she catches herself staring out the window, watching for you, waiting to see if you'll drop by with some sweet madames and an offer to go to the tree by the statue of seven.

thoughts of you won't leave her mind, and it irritates her to no end. her work's been sloppy for the past few weeks, and that's not her brand. she wants to yell at you for distracting her this way, but those arguments just end up with you taking her hand and kissing her on the cheek, which is a strange thing to be imagining about you.

and she asks herself every day, is it odd that she wants to kiss you?

zhongli |

zhongli prides himself on his emotional disconnection from this world, and the way he can stay stable in every situation. except, the other day, your arm brushed his when you were laughing, and his arm tingled. maybe he could've convinced himself that he's imagining things and you just shocked him, maybe, which sometimes happens between people when there's static, except it happened again, and this time when you were handing him a pile of scrolls and books you thought he'd like.

he had dropped them all, sending the scrolls unraveling and the books landing splayed on their spine, which he knew would bend them. you had flashed him a dirty look, but laughter danced in your eyes. and you'd helped him pick them up while he wondered what had just happened.

sometimes he thinks you've noticed that he's been stumbly and stuttery and a mess around you lately, but you choose not to comment and instead tease him about it, which irritates him, and makes him wish that he could fluster you the same way. unfortunately, you remain the same--irritatingly, frustratingly perfect.

he wishes he could invite you to dinner more often without it seeming strange, although you are his closest friend--it can't be that weird?

but he regrets it instantly when you show up dressed up, as though you were going somewhere else than his dining room. after apologizing profusely for not telling you that it was just with him, he feels bad the whole meal and decides to make it up to you by taking you outside to see the stars (although you don't seem to mind being overdressed).

the stars shine and mirror in your eyes, pools of night set into your face. he wonders how much he could possibly love you without his heart exploding.

#this ones electric love by børns! #im sorry if they were ooc #its been ages since ive played and written lmao #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli fluff #tartaglia fluff #tartaglia x reader #childe fluff #childe x reader #childe #zhongli #mona #jean #mona x you #mona x reader #mona fluff #jean x you #jean x reader #jean fluff #i feel like im overdoing the tags but well whatever #mona genshin impact #jean genshin impact #childe genshin impact #zhongli genshin impact #🔆 writes

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Twenty-Seven

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Alcohol. Love It or Hate It.

“Keee-kohh-kuuu,” you sing out loud, wriggling on a mattress you’ve managed to slug away from the front of the Sunny to the back – of course, it wasn’t an easy feat, what with having to shoo a stringy Luffy off its surface. But with an evil grin and a few deft fingers, you managed to throw the mattress spinning in the air, peeling your captain off it like a sticky toy.   

He fell flat on his face, his body only a rubbery plane of thin paper, and with a grinning “Good game, Captain!” you patted him on his squashed shoulder as you pranced away from the hubbub of the festivities. 

You kick your legs in the air, your belly pressing against the feeling of sweet victory of softness. Although your body springs softly upwards in response, your fingers are anything but reckless as they fumble over Law’s prized possession. 

‘Kikoku.’ A voice hisses in your head, clearly aggravated by the dizzying display of your giddiness. ‘If you’re trying to talk to me, then at least get my name right.’

“Ah, sorry…” your lips sheepishly form into a crazy grin from behind the beer bottle that rests against them. Meanwhile, you distractedly shuffle over and peer over the wall, observing the chaos of celebrations.

The party doesn’t seem to be slowing down by any means – and that makes your muscles unconsciously dig deeper into the mattress. You needed this – a break from real life, to drink and nerd out with your best friends... Your swords. 

And you couldn’t be more thankful to Luffy for coming up with the idea. To Luffy, it seemed perfectly natural to hold a mattress party – to Luffy, Law and his crew taking refuge on the Sunny equated to having a never-ending slumber party with his friends.

This party isn't being thrown only because he’s formed yet another alliance with Torao, no. Moreso, it was managing to hold him and his crew hostage, indefinitely, on his ship, that Luffy felt was definitely something worth celebrating.  

“Shut up, Mugiwara. We’re not friends!” Law had bitingly snapped back, glaring at the toast Luffy had just made on welcoming the new crew members aboard the Sunny. 

Regardless, the rest of Trafalgar’s crew roared consumingly after Luffy’s toast, throwing him in the air like some sort of prophet, and, somehow, you had a slight inkling it was because of the alcohol they were downing like water. With a stubborn growl, Law immediately jumped into his crew and took care of that, as expected... Or, well, at least he tried to before his own crew grabbed him by his arms and dragged him into the centre of the noise. 

Franky and Usopp did their absolute godsent best at decorating, as always. With hundreds of mattresses sprawling across every breathable space, you can’t even manage to see the wooden planks of the deck that rests underneath them. Nami brought her fluffiest pillows and Robin, her thickest blankets, and with a copious amount of candles and fairy lights you’d scrounged around in your storage, the whole place looked like an evening none of you’d ever forget. 

And trust me, you'll notedly never forget this one. 

Brook lays casually like a lounging cat across a mattress, strumming his bones thoughtlessly across his guitar with one of his newest melodies. You and Nami start downing shots, competing with each other’s tolerances as Robin smiles widely behind a glass of wine. 

And later on, something unexpected happens. Law comes stumbling and tripping over the springing ground towards you, his face scrambled with overcoming embarrassment, with Kikoku hanging in your face. You gape at him in surprise.  

He rolls his eyes, his arm unwavering. Somehow, he knew you hadn’t been able to have time to really inspect her, what with…circumstances eating up at your delicious time. True to his word and refusing to owe debts to anyone, he gifts her to you with a pointed warning flashing in his eyes and a slight twist of his lips. 

And you…well you’re quite fantastically drunk right now.  

‘How impetuous. How dare my wielder offer my body to the likes of you,’ Kikoku snaps, the metal humming furiously in your fingers. You raise an eyebrow and snap your neck down to the sword.

“I’ll have you know, you’ll never be wielded by someone like me again,” you mutter, taking a large swig of your beer. “Don’t come complaining to me when you’re all broken after battle.”

A raucous laughter erupts from the other end of the deck, drawing your attention away from your conversation with the sword. You spot Bepo attempting to teach Chopper how to fold his small arms into a heart, while Law and Sanji engage in a heated argument over who can cook the best barbecue.

You stroke the blade affectionately, relishing in the way it vibrates with energy beneath your touch, and despite Kikoku's protests, you can sense a begrudging acceptance of your presence from the sword.

“Tell me, what’s your wielder like?” You ask softly, rolling around so that your back lays against the mattress.

Kikoku hums sharply in the resemblance of a human scoff. ‘What do you think? He’s worthy to wield me.’  

“Gods, deflate your ego at once or I’ll start adoringly calling you Kiki,” you smile, a devilish grin stretching across your cheeks. 

Kikoku emits a low, disgruntled hum, clearly unamused by your joke.

‘You may jest, but my wielder is a formidable warrior,’ it retorts with a hint of pride seeping into its tone.

You chuckle, taking another swig of your beer before setting the bottle down beside you. "I don't doubt it," you concede, feeling a strange sense of excitement for the sentient blade. "But tell me, what's he like when he's not swinging you around in battle?"

Kikoku emits a low, contemplative hum as if considering your question carefully. “I… admire him. Burdens weigh on his heart - a lot of them. And he may not know this, but I have vowed to protect him until death parts us.’

You almost choke on the alcohol in your mouth, eyes brimming wide in shock. “You willingly protect him? Isn’t that, like… suicide in the sword realm?”

Kikoku hums in affirmation. ‘I must admit, I have not been as giving to my previous wielders as I am now. Before, I demanded to be protected. To be kept safe amidst battle - as would any other sword, with any other wielder. But with Law…well, he is worthy. He needs me.”

"He's lucky to have you," you murmur, a newfound respect for the swordsman blossoming within you. "And you're lucky to have him."

The metal vibrates softly in your hand. 'Indeed, we make quite the pair.'

And then, you hear heavy footsteps. 

RORONOA ZORO

Zoro’s drinking. A lot. 

A lot more than usual, actually. More than his already high tolerance can surprisingly handle. 

But really, can you blame him? 

Look, he knows this. Guilt and alcohol don’t mix well – and, normally, Zoro wouldn’t disagree. Being a swordsman meant being in control of your feelings, of the way you present yourself to yourself, of staying still and accepting the thoughts that come and go like a soft breeze that passes through hanging leaves. 

But this time, he couldn’t reign it in. He couldn’t keep himself under control. And so he drank – he drank until his jug went dry, and then some more. 

Anything to release the convulsing storm in his muscles, the tension in his brain. The thoughts of guilt and grief and swords and the swordsmith and the swordswoman and…

“Oi Zoro! Where ya goin’?” Luffy shouts from a few metres away, his eyes brimming with an unquenchable light amidst the dark sea. “Can I come?”

Zoro waves him off, a few fingers loosening from the jug of his sake. “Need to walk a bit. I’ll be back.”

Luffy stares at him, silently taking in his first mate, a resigned purse of his lips affirming his observation.

I’ve got you, Luffy’s eyes say as they meaningfully squint in a smile. All ya gotta do is ask. 

Zoro huffs out a short breath and nods. His captain really is something, isn’t he?

And with a spin on his heels, Zoro slips away from the buzz of the party. 

As he trudges along the deck of the Sunny, the weight of his heavy eyelids threatens to drag him into the depths of sleep – but, somehow, he fights against it, knowing that the demons lurking in the recesses of his mind will only torment him further in his dreams.

Each step feels like an eternity as he weaves his way through the maze of mattresses and bodies strewn across the deck. His muscles ache with fatigue, protesting against the relentless march of time and the burdens he carries upon his shoulders.

The alcohol coursing through his veins offers little respite, its numbing effects doing little to ease the turmoil within him; instead, it serves only to cloud his thoughts further, blurring the line between reality and the haunting memories that plague him. The rhythmic sway of the ship beneath his feet threatens to send him toppling overboard at any moment, but Zoro presses on, driven by a primal instinct to escape the suffocating confines of his own mind.

And then, like a spectre rising from the shadows, a stray mattress materializes before him, its presence a cruel reminder of the shitty obstacles that are always thrown in his path. He tries to manoeuvre around it, but his coordination’s too impaired by the haze of alcohol and exhaustion.

With a sudden jolt, he finds himself hurtling forward, his body careening uncontrollably towards an unseen obstacle. His heart lurches in his chest as he braces for impact, his mind racing with thoughts of surprise and confusion.

And then it happens.

KOZUKI RAYA

In an instant, time seems to slow as Zoro's body careens toward you, his form hurtling through the air like a falling boulder. With a gasp of shock, you brace yourself for the impact, instinctively raising your arms to shield yourself from the impending collision. But as Zoro slams into you with unexpected force, the realization of what happens strikes you like a bolt of lightning.

With a sickening crunch, the blade snaps in half, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the still night air

Kikoku.

For a moment, there is silence as you lay stunned on the ground, the weight of what has just happened sinking in like a heavy stone. You stare at the broken sword in disbelief, your mind racing as you try to comprehend the magnitude of the damage.

Kikoku, Law's prized possession, lies broken at your feet, its once formidable form now reduced to two jagged pieces. Panic grips you as you stare down at the shattered remains, the weight of what has transpired hitting you like a physical blow.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp, your voice barely a whisper as you reach out to touch the shattered remains of Kikoku. 

As Zoro staggers back to his feet, his eyes widen in shock as he takes in the scene before him. His gaze flickers from the broken pieces of Kikoku to your stunned expression, and a string of curses escapes his lips.

"What the hell did you do?" he growls, his voice thick with disbelief and anger as he glares down at you.

You bristle at his accusatory tone, your own frustration bubbling to the surface as you shoot him a glare of your own.

"Me? What about you, stumbling around like a drunken bull?" you snap back, your voice sharp with irritation.

"Shut up. This is your fault," he seethes, his voice low and dangerous as he gestures towards the broken sword.

“Last time I checked, you were the one tripping over your own feet," you retort, your tone dripping with disdain.

Zoro's nostrils flare with anger, his eyes flashing dangerously as he takes a menacing step forward. "Watch your mouth," he growls, his voice low and threatening.

“Watch your feet,” you retort. 

Zoro rolls his eyes, taking a huge swig of his sake. With a tired exhale, he rests himself against the banister, observing you sprawled over Kikoku like some sort of distraught mother. "S'not like you can't fix it," he mutters tipsily, his breath splintering against the cool air.

And that literally makes you growl.

You snap your neck upwards, pushing yourself up from the ground as you stumble towards Zoro.

"Fix it? In less than – what – a day?" You snap, getting in his face. You throw your finger in the direction of the sword. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to repair a sword like Kikoku?"

Zoro's growls impatiently, his jaw clenching. "You know that's not what I mean, woman."

You take a deep breath, trying to reign in your frustration as you survey the damage before you. The broken pieces of Kikoku lay scattered on the ground, the once formidable blade now reduced to a jagged mess. 

"I'll need a miracle to pull this off," you mutter. Your gaze hardens as you turn to face Zoro. "And you, Roronoa, are going to help me make it happen."

#one piece #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro #one piece luffy #luffy #monkey d luffy #one piece ace #straw hat pirates #usopp #sanji #tony tony chopper #nico robin #straw hat luffy #one piece fanfiction #one piece fic #one piece fanfic #op fanfic #op fandom #female reader x zoro #zoro x female reader #zoro x fem reader #three sword style #zoro roronoa #zoro rorono x you #zoro roronoa x y/n #straw hats

[nylpad]

MASQUERADE

Warnings: secrets, mild peril (correct me if I left some out)

In the heart of Paris, where the city lights dance with the Seine, Y/N lived a life colored by the mundane strokes of daily routine. But amidst the ordinary, there was one extraordinary exception—Chat Noir, the enigmatic hero whose daring feats were the whispers of legends.

Y/N's fascination with Chat Noir was no secret. They followed every reported sighting, every tale of his heroics spun into the night air. Yet, for all the admiration, Y/N never imagined their paths would cross beyond the pages of the morning paper.

It began one evening, as Y/N lingered at a café terrace, the remnants of an espresso painting patterns in a small white cup. A flicker of movement caught their eye—a shadow against the moonlit backdrop of the city. It was him, Chat Noir, leaping across rooftops with feline agility.

Their meetings became a series of chance encounters, each more thrilling than the last. Chat Noir, always the gentleman, would often escort Y/N home, ensuring their safety with a playful wink and a promise of "Until next time."

But as the nights passed, Y/N noticed something—a pattern in Chat Noir's disappearances, a familiarity in his mannerisms. Curiosity piqued, Y/N began to piece together the puzzle, each clue bringing them closer to the truth behind the mask.

Chat Noir, however, was no fool. He saw the curiosity in Y/N's eyes, the questions on the tip of their tongue. He knew the danger that knowledge could bring—not to him, but to Y/N. The hero's life was one of solitude for a reason, and that reason was to keep the ones he cared for out of harm's way.

So, he tried to distract Y/N, with grander tales and more daring rescues, anything to keep them from the truth. But the heart wants what it wants, and Y/N's heart wanted to know the man behind the myth.

The game of cat and mouse intensified with each passing day. Y/N's pursuit of the truth became a silent obsession, one that filled the pages of their sketchbook with notes and theories. Chat Noir's visits, once a source of joy, now sparked a burning curiosity that refused to be quenched.

Y/N began to notice the little things—the way Chat Noir's laugh echoed a familiar tune, the subtle hints of a shared favorite book, and the peculiar timing of his appearances. It was as if the universe itself was dropping breadcrumbs, leading Y/N down a path they couldn't resist following.

Chat Noir, for his part, was becoming increasingly flustered. His attempts to divert Y/N's attention only seemed to fuel their resolve. He knew he had to be more careful, to guard his secret with even greater vigilance. But the heart has a way of betraying even the most guarded of secrets, and his was no exception.

One evening, as the city celebrated the Festival of Lights, Y/N and Chat Noir found themselves amidst the vibrant display of fireworks. The sky was ablaze with color, each explosion a symphony of light that mirrored the turmoil in Chat Noir's soul.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Y/N remarked, their eyes reflecting the spectacle above.

Chat Noir nodded, his gaze lingering on Y/N's face. "Not as beautiful as the truth that's hiding in plain sight," he thought to himself.

As the night drew to a close, Y/N made a bold decision. They would confront Chat Noir, demand answers to the questions that haunted their dreams. But as they turned to speak, they found him gone, vanished like a whisper in the wind.

Days turned into weeks, and Chat Noir's visits ceased altogether. Y/N felt a void where once there was excitement, a silence where there was laughter. The absence of the hero left a bitter taste, a reminder of the unresolved mystery that lay between them.

Determined to find closure, Y/N set out on a quest to uncover the truth. They retraced Chat Noir's steps, followed the tales of his heroics, and slowly, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

It was on a rainy afternoon, in the quiet of a quaint Parisian bookstore, that Y/N's world shifted on its axis. A chance encounter, a familiar voice, and the sight of a well-worn ring led to the revelation that would change everything.

The man behind the mask, the hero who had captured Y/N's heart, was none other than...

Adrien Agreste

The son of the famous fashion designer, Gabriel Agreste. The revelation hit Y/N like a thunderclap, the pieces of the puzzle fitting together with a clarity that was almost blinding.

Y/N's mind raced with memories—Chat Noir's grace, his humor, the way he seemed to understand the heart of Paris. It all made sense now. The hero of Paris was the boy who had sat two rows ahead in art class, the one whose sketches had danced across the page with a life of their own.

But with the truth laid bare, Y/N was faced with a dilemma. Adrien, or rather Chat Noir, had gone to great lengths to keep his identity a secret. Did Y/N have the right to confront him? Would revealing their knowledge put him in danger?

The days that followed were a battle between Y/N's conscience and their desire to share the burden of the secret they now carried. They watched Adrien from afar, noticing the weight that seemed to rest upon his shoulders, the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

It was a chance encounter at the Louvre, amidst the timeless art and wandering tourists, that fate decided to take a hand. Y/N and Adrien reached for the same sketchbook, their fingers brushing, and in that moment, a silent understanding passed between them.

"Y/N," Adrien began, his voice barely above a whisper, "I know that you know."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. "Adrien, I—"

"Please," he interrupted, his green eyes pleading. "Don't say it out loud. Just... promise me you'll keep my secret. For Paris."

Y/N nodded, the promise sealed in their heart. "Your secret is safe with me. But why do you do it, Adrien? Why risk everything?"

He smiled, a genuine smile that Y/N had come to cherish. "Because Paris is worth it. Because you're worth it. A bit of freedom.... You know."

From that day on, Y/N became Chat Noir's silent ally, the keeper of his secret. And as the sun set over the city of love, Y/N realized that their love for the hero hadn't changed with the unmasking. If anything, it had only grown stronger, for now, they loved the man behind the mask as well.

#chatnoir x reader #adrien agreste #Chatnoir #Adrien Agreste x reader #yn #x reader #Miraculous Ladybug #Spotify #viralpost

[thisisnotthenerd]

and we're back with another edition of thisisnotthenerd's d20 stats. this time we're talking character races. mechanically. they are not all italian.

most common character races

a couple of things:

the chart displays the character races as they present within their individual seasons. this is not always reflective of their mechanical races, which is what i'm using to evaluate. if you go into the spreadsheet and look at the notes, you'll see the mechanical race for each character.

some characters are not counted because they do not have an accurate equivalent, e.g. the creepy co-eds and the prefrontal p.i.s. the magical misfits are because i don't know that you can get more variant human than what they have going on.

obviously there are repeats in the chart. those are not counted in the totals.

at the top, as most would expect from d20, is variant human, with 40 characters. this tracks for several reasons; it's a fairly solid race that allows you to start with a feat and tool proficiencies and focuses asis rather than spreading them around. the other reason is that it's used as the base for most characters in most seasons that don't fit the dnd standard races, i.e. tiny heist, a crown of candy, mice & murder, and the ravening war.

next up is actually harengon with 6, though it might not look like it from the chart. that's because all of the stoats from burrow's end are using harengon stats with the addition of at will primal savagery and claw/bite attacks. it's a solid build that fits well for this season, but makes the rabbit comments from the top of the season funnier.

next up is half-elves, with 4 characters: fabian seacaster, danielle barkstock, misty moore, and agnes. mechanically, those marked as faeries are half-elves. they are marked as faerie to distinguish them from fairies, who are also on this list a little later on.

in fourth place is tieflings, with 3 characters: fig faeth, magfelda/maggie, and gertrude. two fo them sit in the same seat in back to back seasons. tied with them are half-orcs: gorgug thistlespring, katja cleaver, and sokhbarr, who is another reskin, much like the faerie characters.

tied for fifth with two each are: bugbear (marcid the typhoon & k.p. hob), drow (lilith (as a reskin) & andhera), changeling (rick diggins & binx choppley), high elf (adaine abernant & efink murderdeath), kalashtar (pete conlan & riva), kenku (chirp & squak), ratfolk [different types] (kugrash & jack brakkow), vampire (squing & may wong), and warforged (car-go jones & pinocchio)

and with one each we have:

aarakocra: sunny biscotto

aasimar: barbarella sarsaparilla gainglynn

android [ryn]: sundry sidney

cerebroslug: skip/valdrinor

clone soldier [shistavanen]: big barry syx

dwarf: ostentatia wallace

fairy: twyla

genasi [water]: sam nightingale

gnome [forest]: cheese

goblin: riz gukgak

halfling [lightfoot]: penny luckstone

hobgoblin [frog-man reskin]: gerard of greenleigh

hollow one: leiland

merfolk: myrtle the bitch

orc: princess foehammer

owlbear: delloso de la rue

satyr: zelda donovan

shifter [beasthide]: ylfa snorgelsson

tabaxi: puss in boots/pib

triton: troyánn

there were a total of 34 pc races used over the course of dimension 20.

now for the fun part, beyond the numbers:

commentary

a lot of this won't make sense without the notes. if you're interested in reading through this, i'd suggest at least a cursory look.

most of the pc races used on dimension 20 do actually have a standardized background (or two or more) in dnd. generally they stick to the same variants most of the time, usually the ones that grant the best versions of racial abilities. even the reskins have a solid background: kashai->half-orc, faerie->half-elf, the usage of kalashtar stats for pete, frogman->hobgoblin, cat->tabaxi, puppet->warforged, rick diggins as a changeling clicko man. they make sense and make sure that characters have a balance of racial traits.

however there are a few that don't have a standard. some of them only show up in the bestiaries. some are straight up homebrewed or borrowed from 'unofficial' sources. i pieced them together based on wiki info and what i could find on each of these.

drider: from what i found, drider isn't currently playable. i suspect they combined drider traits from the bestiaries and drow/dark elf stats to make lilith. it gives her a bunch of really cool abilities.

ratfolk: this one was tough, because murph and matt used different sources to make their rat-men. murph's likely comes from kobold press, wherein ratfolk are small, with 25 ft of movement, rodent empathy, darkvision, and poison resistance. hell, kug might still be a reflavored dwarf. i don't think so, because he doesn't use any of the racial abilities that would make him a dwarf as opposed to ratfolk, but who knows. matt's comes from adamant entertainment's ratkin, whose ratfolk are medium, humanoid rats, with 30 ft of movement, low light vision, immunity to disease, and proficiency with bite attacks. matt specifically references ratkin during pirates of leviathan, so i'm fairly confident that that's what jack is.

cyborg: gunnie is a base human, but has a lot of cybernetic replacements and so has a few extras that come with it. he gets an additional +1 to any skill, at the expense of augmentation side effects i.e. vulnerability to ion damage. this is a combination of sw 5e's cybernetic augmentation rules with the sw 5e human.

cerebroslug: norman is a base human in sw 5e. that part is easy. i'm pretty sure that cerebroslugs were a homebrew creation based on existing starstruck lore and zac's character pitch. i had to go back and watch a few episodes of starstruck to figure out what he's using, because it sure as hell is not on the wiki. body thief is the one named ability that i can recall. if a creature is incapacitated, the cerebroslug can enter its body start running it. if not incapacitated, the cerebroslug cannot attempt to overpower their vessel. other racial traits allow the cerebroslug to a) retain it's own mental statistics while using the vessel's physical statistics, b) run the body by using piloting statistics, e.g. making piloting checks to run the body upon waking. with enough successes, they stop being required. cerebroslugs are sensitive to cold--they are ejected from their vessel if 20 points of cold damage are dealt to them. they must succeed on a dc 15 con saving throw or be paralyzed upon ejection. i really hope this is actually written down somewhere and isn't just me hallucinating after hours of rewatching starstruck.

owlbear: this was simpler: rue is an awakened owlbear as opposed to a standard owlbear. the adaptations: innate savagery. ancestric physiology, natural instincts, and clumsy are the noted racial traits.

stoat: they're actually harengons as noted previously. they also have the cantrip primal savagery that they can cast at will in order to up the damage of their claw/bite attacks. these stoats are literally built different.

and that's all! let me know if there's something i missed; i'd love to hear it. the spreadsheet is open to perusal.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 meta #thisisnotthenerd's d20 stats #dimension 20 statistics

[lonelydadsblog]

Friday May 3rd 2024

Sunshine and sparkles

Life can be absolutely shit, and for a lot of people it’s all they have ever known. You’ll meet peoples whose lives are free of physical and mental pain, and the interactions will conflict with your hyper vigilance, “when is it going to hurt/go wrong/ go bad/ feel shit”, and the people who have never experienced this will make you feel like shit, avoid those people.

It was lovely and sunny here yesterday but cos I’m a real fucking handsome mess these days, my wardrobe consists mostly of winter clothes and I looked like the weirdo I am in that waterproof jacket instead of t shirt and shorts. Oh well, if my neighbours needed any (more?) proof I was indeed a weirdo - they probably got it.

As we walk the dog, there is a small black and white cat that comes to the window to ensure we’re going about our business appropriately and leaves condensation on the window and it watches us walk past the house, which is hilarious - I adore animals, not a fan of cats but I do appreciate their hilarious demeanour.

My hands don’t hurt as much - and I out that down to the ambient temperature, they are still incredibly stiff, but I have noticed a bit better range of movement, I’ve also sorted the private appointment for a referral, I just need to call and arrange.

I dunno what’s happened to me to be so scared of planning and arranging things, but literally everything scares me.

Thanks for adding some sparkles to my life, you know who you are. ✨

- one day at a time

#SoundCloud

[withinthebrain]

Converging Fences

As I drive through this subdivision where houses could shake hands, I notice the fences doing just that. Privacy fences intermingle with cute picket fences, playfully nudging the tattered chainlink that runs between a blue house and the neighbor's yellow garage.

The walkways, or narrow alleyways between each house, are barely a wingspan apart. I would swear the houses must be claustrophobic, uncertain if the hedge row belongs to them or the neighbor.

Backyard fences, connected like a complex electrical grid, pass messages from house to house. Squirrels scale the tops of the fences, displaying acrobatic feats in pursuit of a snack. Stray cats scurry through gaps and holes, following well-traversed paths between houses.

Neighbors check in, each comfortably seated on plastic lawn chairs on their own back stoop. Their conversations easily resonate across the entire block as they discuss Bill's chicken on the grill, Jen's freshly picked tomatoes, and the new pup Sammy has curled on her lap.

Of course, for children, it's an endless playground. Houses so close that you can send flashlight messages from the window in the dark or rig up a pulley system from one house to the next, passing toys and notes to friends. Not to mention the endless yard space as they pass through gates and over fences to use a basketball net, take a swim in a pool, or play on a swing set.

In a neighborhood where houses are packed tighter than sea lions on a buoy on a sunny day, they practically lean on one another. The fences not only delineate but also support each other, fostering connections among families.

#spilled thoughts #spilled ink #writing #my writing #writing blog #description #subdivision #my friendly neighborhood #neighborhood #typography #words typed #typed words #word art #EKW

[rvchelking]

—OCS as OBSCURE ASSOCIATIONS, pt. 2

Tagged by the lovely @perpetuagf once again to join this cool oc game! thank you so much <3 would love to introduce my Witcher OC lady Violet de Gris of Creyden.

Tagging @stacispratt <3

ANIMAL: doe; Abyssinian cat

COLORS: beige, pastel green, gold, rose gold

MONTH: july.

SONGS: nobble blood - fleurie feat. tommee profitt; Can't Help Falling in Love feat. brooke - tommee profitt;

NUMBER: 1

PLANTS: water lily, white tulips

SMELLS: strawberry, field flowers

GEMSTONE: diamond

TIME OF DAY: sunrise.

SEASON: summer and spring.

PLACES: open fields, castles, Tournament (medieval)

FOOD: cotton candy, apple in caramel

DRINKS: red wine, sweet apple cider

ELEMENT: earth and air.

ASTROLOGICAL SIGNS: virgo, cancer, pisces

SEASONINGS: mint, melissa.

SKY: soft blue skies, the orangey-red skies during sunrise

WEATHER: sunny, no clouds.

MAGICAL POWER: mind reading.

WEAPONS: her voice and status.

SOCIAL MEDIA. instagram in a modern au.

MAKEUP PRODUCT: a perfume!

CANDY: sweet and sour candy.

METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL: horse riding.

ART STYLE: victorian paintings.

FEAR: losing her family.

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: phoenix.

PIECE OF STATIONARY: feather.

THREE EMOJIS: 🎀🐎👑

CELESTIAL BODY: milky way, Betelgeuse!

#tag games #oc: violet de gris

[nerdynikki94]

Honestly? Did I want more from DTAMHD? Yes, I did. I wanted something signifying actual progression for Dennis' character (even just a crumb of genuine growth) , and I sincerely don't think we got that. However... we did get a fascinating insight into the process of his mind. Dennis' level of self-denial is so ironic and profound. He can't acknowledge the inevitability that he's middle-aged.

(I swear this episode honestly has given me an alt hc, that the show is based in his mind; because logistically, a man of his lifestyle and malnourishment could not commit the feats he is constantly sailing through. TGGB & DTAMHD... back-to-back? What happened to his hand? Did he even sprain it? Or is he just the most dramatic brat in the gang - clearly the latter.)

It is important to note that he didn’t fix the actual problem. He momentarily masked the symptoms, but ignore long-term help with blood pressure medicine is not going to fix the issue, nor is it going to protect him from fucking keeling over in a stressful situation (when he's not in a contained and quiet Doctor's exam room) and his blood pressure spikes.

I'm honestly a little jaded at this point (16 Fucking Seasons of crumbs, y'all), but if one were to continue 'trusting the structure' this episode conveyed a lot.

The B Plot: The pressure cooker. The metaphor parallels the building pressure Dennis quick-tempered bouts of rage. So, to toss out a little 'cat-in-the-wall' conjecture here: The pressure cooker is Dennis, but we all saw him eat that bloody diamond in the end and we all heard Mac's speech about coal turning into diamonds under massive pressure. Dennis' experience is a theory of pressure, he daydreams it all in the span of a minute or so. He's roleplaying with hypothetical obstacles. There's no risk. Maybe Dennis, isn't the pressure cooker, but the coal.

If I were to try and take anything hopeful out of this episode, it would be the way the narrative is showing us that this episode acknowledged that Dennis isn't ready yet. It's not his turn to break. It's going to take real, substantial pressure to get that diamond.

It was a hell of a misdirect (and honestly a little bit of a slap in the face), but if these characters live in the real world, where people are bound by the laws of mortality, then Dennis should have his time.

Genuinely, who fucking knows?

I'm not hating on the episode. We all know this is the trashy dick joke sitcom. I just thought that if Mac & Charlie could have moments of genuine heartbreak, culminating in deep catharsis, that maybe Dennis could have that too.... but no.

Can't wait to see the sunny dudebros miss the point & proclaim Dennis Reynolds - SA victim, traumatized individual with an emotionally tumultuous personality disorder - the new Andrew Tate.

I'm sorry, but yeah. I'm a little miffed. It was all a dream, and everything goes Dennis' way. Y'all I'm fucking tired. This was a great episode for Glenn, but a fucking frustrating episode for Dennis. I may have wanted a little macden, but all I cared about was seeing Dennis face the limitations of his mortality, to see that he's failing his body and his brain. He didn't have to actually take the medicine (I wouldn't expect him to), but Goddammit, everything seems to work out in his delusional favor. So, of course he's going to continue being delusional, and probably only change for the worse.

I'll say it: I wanted a broken Dennis, and we did not get that. He didn't even crack, the unbearble and apparently now canonical Golden God. That episode's title was intended to tease sunnyblr.

Excuse the plethora of tags. I just kept getting more irritated.

#what i take from the episode is further insight to the lengths of Dennis' repression which adds to my fic #iasip s16 #i will say this: i can't dislike this episode solely because of how phenomenal glennjamin's performance was. #I'd say I'm retracting the title of macden 'truther'. I'm still a stan. but this ep made me realize dennis is too coddled by the narrative #with TGGB he's constantly winning. even the game he doesn't stay to watch the end of. his body performing near miracles. wtf #the real reason I'm seriously bothered is the sunny dudebros. they already idolize dennis #this ep has only made it worse because the obvious point of Dennis' actual delusions will go right over their heads. #anybody with a grounded sense of reality can tell you that dennis did not solve a problem #he dreamt up a scenario in some kind of toxic meditation session. he's getting older. and his denial is metastasizing #Dennis' denial isn't sustainable. I'm kind of cutting off my investment in that regard. he's a fucking mess & he's currently being idolized #dennis reynolds #definitely not my favorite episode. not bc of lack of macden. a little bc Den needs limitations. mainly bc 'it was all a dream' is cheap #ranting.excuse me for wanting 1 of my fave characts actually have his poor health.self-destructive coping mechanism/trauma acknowledged #can't believe i was actually afraid i wouldn't be able to write because too much might happen in DTAMHD...! 🤣 #it should've all happened. but instead ended w/him getting charges pressed when he tried to break into ceo's home #ngl. this one hurt. I'm ready for Mac to give up on Dennis. i just wish this fucking show would let him. #excuse me while i go bawl like a baby watching MFHP. because I'm heartbroken that Dennis' BPD makes him push Mac away. #let's just say that realization has been bogging me down in my personal life the last couple of days. & this bummed me out. #Robert McElhenney. I'm outside the studio screaming at you to just let Mac move on & actually meet someone! #I'm not saying he deserves a relationship. but fuck... after 40 yrs of repression can he at least have a fling & fall out of love w/Den? #Dennis won't ever let him meet someone. & he'll never treat Mac like he actually cares about him.bc his own vulnerability terrifies him.😭

[thanksforthedinosaur]

owen - qui je plaisante?

esme emerson - please

beeson - best case girl

silvie - big dreamy head

crumb - the bug

bloomsday - virtual hug

rocco! - keep a benny

buffchick - when i was pretty

luna shadows - heroine

the sewing club - loser 4 u

slow pulp - hanging by a moment

brye - not a baby

lucy rose - life's too short

winnetka bowling league - sha la la

love spells - dope sick

idlework. - willow

vampire weekend - hope

lizzy mcalpine - all falls down

kina grannis - northern lights

the ophelias - rind

ålborg - window

the goalie’s anxiety at the penalty kick - system of one

bnny - nothing lasts

babehoven - chariot

sunday (1994) - tired boy

marika hackman - slime - acoustic

chase petra - soapy water - acoustic

orville peck - cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other

toledo - way it was

bedbug - mount moon

bala - galaxy in your eyes

greyl - tsuiarei

hovvdy - every exchange

låpsley - angeles

bryan. - passionate

babebee - happy ending

capo2 - sweetie

griff - cycles

girl in red - ★★★★★

porter robinson - knock yourself out xd

ggwendolyn - windows r the doors 2 the soul

amelia moore - push up bra

josie dunne - die slow

fuvk - sos

annika bennett - power, sex, dreams

nilüfer yanya - like i say (i runaway)

sjowgren - twenty

ill peach - sigh

savoir adore - better for you

tiffi - chemtrails

eyedress - it's all in your head (feat. rico nasty)

rachel chinouriri - it is what it is

smol fish - if only

dellaxoz - come again

wisp - pandora

floral print - grubby little hands

softcult - one of the pack

thursday - application for release from the dream

lakes - kids

sunny day real estate - grendel

into it. over it. - a trip around the sun

annabel - worldviews

microwave - let's start degeneracy

orchards - i feel terrible

cloud nothings - daggers of light

rush week - do you remember

paramore - david byrne does hard times

jasimi - sting v1.mp3

tobi lou - hitchhiker

bladee - false

hannah cottrell - up/up

doja cat - headhigh

tei shi - no falta

young miko - wiggy

戌神ころね - trouble “wan”der！

#mae makes playlists #Spotify

[theretirementstory]

07/04/2024. Today is my 14th day in hospital and it doesn’t look as if I will be going home just yet! I could wrong of course 😉.

As I am unable to get out and about to photograph the flooding that has been happening here or to take advantage of yesterdays warm sunny day when the mercury hit 27c! I decided to use “throwback photos” from places I have visited. The first photo is of “Temple Saint-Étienne” in Mulhouse, a city I visited in March 2022.

So it was Easter Day last Sunday and to celebrate we were given some appalling food which I returned untouched. The highlight of the lunchtime “plat” was the birds nest cake with jelly beans, it was delicious. In the evening there was a pastry square with chicken and mushroom and as much as I wasn’t going to eat it, it was rather tasty. It certainly beat a lot of the food we get here!

On Monday,we had coffee in the afternoon 😳 with a little cake and a couple of mini Easter eggs. Anie messaged and visited me bringing another couple of Easter eggs.

Everyday it seems that something else is low, red cells, white cells, platelets, potassium or blood pressure! I must admit by Wednesday I felt quite low myself. Asking why my body wasn’t working as it should? It turns out this is quite “normal” for the type of chemo I am having now (wish they had told me earlier). Anyway, a good talking to and I settled myself down, my positivity returned and I was “up there” again.

I now have provisional dates for my stay in the hospital in Paris. However, I really need to go home for a couple of days to get my case packed ready to take.

I have run out of reading materiel so I need more books. I have had to resort to reading the blog from inception December 2016. After two full days I am only at Xmas 2019. It’s interesting to look back on though, I must admit.

This week I have chosen two songs by someone I think has been very underrated. The songs go back to 1967 and 1968 respectively. Apparently the songwriter, Cat Stevens, sold this first song to P.P. Arnold for £30 and it became a big hit for Arnold as well as for other artists including Rod Stewart and Sheryl Crow, the song is “The First Cut Is The Deepest”.

The second song, written in 1967 and recorded by P.P. Arnold in 1968 is “Angel Of The Morning”. I must say I have loved both of these songs since first hearing them in the 60’s and was only too happy to sing them at any opportunity. However, I must admit it was much the same for lots of songs from those decades.

Pauline messaged last weekend, from Barcelona, where she is currently working. At some point over the Easter weekend she had her phone snatched out of her hand and the thief made off on an electric scooter. I imagine that was quite a shock! She, fortunately, had an old phone with her and just needed to buy a sim.

I have been messaging lots of people, French friends, English friends and catching up on “Hatched, Matched and Dispatched, unfortunately it is mainly now the “dispatched” that are known to me.

“The Photographer” had his daughter for the day on Tuesday. He sent me a photo of them waiting for the stately home they were going to visit, to open. They had such fun until my granddaughter fell in mud, all over her new leggings! She was worried Mummy would be unhappy, so they took a photo to let Mummy know what had happened. This weekend he has both of his children, it was wonderful to get photos of their happy smiling faces and then of my grandson catching “forty winks”. It was ok as Grand-mere has slept rather a lot today. Hope I sleep tonight! Last Monday “The Photographer” made the trip to Kings Lynn to photograph the home side v Scarborough AFC. At half-time the score was 3-0 and he felt sure Scarborough were going to be beaten, However, they pulled off an amazing feat to win 3-4. No-one saw that coming at half-time, absolutely brilliant!

“The Reconnect Navigator” is thrilled this week as she has now been given her own cases. She worked overtime one evening and so on Friday she had a 3pm finish which was great! Makes the weekend longer.

“The Trainee Solicitor” is feeling better about his job now. A new “young man” has joined the company and is working full-time. He hasn’t worked before so comes with no preconceived ideas (which is good), he is keen to work (always a plus point) and I think given time will be an asset to the firm. “The Trainee Solicitor” has applied for his Uni course and is hoping to get that done during May, June and July. It’s all positive steps. One thing that he messaged to me, really resonated with me and I thought it was a beautiful thing to say, he messaged “It doesn’t matter how long the road is, as long as you are walking it”. I was quite moved.

“The Jetsetter” is recharging her batteries ready for the next adventure. Not only that but you do need to work to have money to enjoy these jaunts. On Easter Sunday, she spent a lovely day with “The Photographer” around York. They took a photo of the house I once lived in. A view that was a favourite of mine when walking around the city walls and some photos of the Minster and the Clock Tower at the old Terry’s Chocolate Factory.

Monique and Ludivine (her daughter) have been messaging me, plus Nadine sent a message and said she will come and say “hello” on Monday or Tuesday. I messaged the ladies at the knitting workshop, it was thin on the ground, two at first then the 92 year old lady came for the cake and a drink. I am missing all of this but the treatment has to take priority.

My best friend from senior school messaged me yesterday to say that her mum had had a stroke. She is in hospital and I hope that is the best place for her. My friend is an only child who lost her father about eight years ago. Her mum is coming up 93 and although you “expect” things to happen due to age etc., it is still a shocking time because that person is your Mum. Thinking of them both ♥️.

I will leave you with this photo of the Cathedrale Saint-Christophe de Belfort . Thé photo was taken in February last year and I likened it to the Treasury at Petra due to the red hue.

Jusqu’à la semaine prochaine

#churches #france #photography #troyes #mulhouse #belfort #60’s music #York #family #friends #lovinglife #travel

[medicus-mortem]

@chatcambrioleur asked: Perhaps it was an act of thievery, perhaps one to show ownership between them, or maybe it was an act of distraction. —- However, the cat thief hardly acknowledged the yellow hoodie, trimmed in black fur, yielding Law’s Jolly Roger, which she was sporting when he came aboard the Sunny. When had she taken that for herself? Her foot popped in the air behind her as she looped her arms around him, a sly smile on her countenance. “You look surprised. What’s the matter? Don’t you think I look nice in yellow?~” Unprompted

   Eyebrows rise with his growing smirk when golden eyes focus on the Straw Hat navigator moments after Law steps onto the Sunny’s deck. Looking for her has quickly become the first thing he does when boarding this vessel. She may not necessarily be the first person Law talks to, Straw Hat Luffy often deciding to throw himself at the older captain before Nami gets a chance to get to him, but her location is the first thing Law always clocks. This time her outfit comes with a different kind of observation than usual, because that jacket, though incredibly fetching on her, doesn’t belong on Nami’s shoulders.

   A certain amount of pride can be seen in his smirk as he watches her, gaze moving over Nami while her arms loop around his neck. His own hands are quick to slide onto her person, settling on her waist. Law hums, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of here wearing something that is both his and his mark on it.

   “Oh yeah I do,” he says, smirk slipping into a more wicked grin. “You look gorgeous in yellow. You should wear it more often.” A pause before he addresses this little act of thievery. “There’s more admiration in me than surprise. Looks like the Cat Burglar has finally managed to get one over on the Surgeon of Death.”

   Another pause as Law’s grip shifts on Nami. He stoops a little, grip tightening on Nami’s waist moments before he picks her up. He loops a strong arm under her ass, positioning her to sit in the crook of his elbow as he holds her close. Now looking up at the cat thief he asks his questions.

   “When did you manage this feat, hmm? What’d you do to distract me?”

#chatcambrioleur #boring question // answered ask #as planned // ic #[shoe horns Law picking up Nami because of that art]

[sunandflame]

Sunny my love♥️♥️♥️

Congratulations on 550! You deserve the recognition and love for all the heart throbs and angst you give us😘🤣

Question time feat. my weird taste lol

1. What’s your favorite snack? Let’s do Salty and Sweet in case you find yourself at a stand still.

2. Do you put on one shoe, tie the laces, and then repeat with the other shoe or do you put both shoes on, and then tie the laces of each shoe?

3. A talking magical cat approaches you, and tells you that you’re the key to saving humanity: do you…?

A). Let the magic kitty give you special powers to become a magical girl but the obligations are highly suspicious.

B). Use the magic kitty to conquer the world but become a villain in which the world will eventually have killed (undefined rule time).

C). Kill it. Burn it with fire or smash it to death, but it needs to go. It will put up a fight.

YAN MY BABYGURL THANK YOU SO MUCH and I am so sorry for the pain and traumas I gave you all through my writing I can't promise that I am gonna stop with it🙈

1. I am a weak hoe for salty things! No, I am not talking about cum (tho that is nice too), but I fucking love chips. Especially with paprika flavour that is very common in my country.

2. EEEHM! I kinda do both! I really needed to think back how I am tying my shoes because this is such an automatic process in my life. But it depends on if I wanna try on the shoe or just going quickly out. If I am in rush then I can be really chaotic who puts the shoes on and ties the laces in the elevator. For trying I finish with one shoe, look in the mirror and then decide to put the other one. Maybe even asking Mr Sun (my husband) for his opinion.

3a) Gimme the powers you magical sweet pussycat.

#slkdjflskdf this was so fucking fun #Thank you so much for these asks #sunnys 550 follower ask game #sunny answers ☀︎