#this crack ship is eating my brain

[lewiscarrolatemybrain]

#One Piece #Curly Dadan #Whitebeard #Edward Newgate #Red Hair Shanks #one piece makino #this crack ship is eating my brain

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

OP crews watching you adjust to piracy: Isekai edition

Whitebeard Pirates

"I'm bored," you grumble, lying spread out on the deck of the Moby Dick, as you stare out at the clear blue skies above you.

Whitebeard mumbled, "then go read a book," from his chair, as he read the newspaper

You sighed, "I've already finished everything in the library, twice."

Marco sat up, his leg dangling off the yard he glared down at you and exclaimed, "There's gotta be like a hundred books in there, and you've only been here for a month and a half."

"Yeah, but most of them are shorter than a hundred pages with a relatively low reading level."

Ace, who was lounging on the stairs and eating a bowl of cherries as he said, "oh rub it in, why don't you?"

You flopped over on your stomach, so you could shoot the black hair man a dirty look. "Rub what in? I'm simply stating a fact."

Izou snapped, "he's teasing, ignore him. And if you are bored then go do your chores or something."

You sigh, "I can't, all the chores are done, and there is nothing I haven't already cleaned this week."

Marco squinted at you, clearly using his big brain to try and figure out why you can't just sit still. He slid off the yard, and glided over, landing softly next to you. The blonde started to poke and prod at you, taking your pulse and just examining you in general "I think you're addicted to stress."

"That sounds pretty on point for me." You grumble, "but that might be a result of the way people in my world both live and work."

When Marco squinted at you in confusion, you explained how your usual work week went. Izou huffed, "that explains a lot, you aren't used to having free time. So you don't know what to do with it."

"... but if I'm not being productive what am I supposed to do? Doing nothing stresses me out."

Ace rolled over onto his stomach and groaned, "There's nothing to do because you've done everything already. You even volunteered to clean the bathrooms, who even fucking does that?

Marco took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he sighed, "People addicted to stress, it explains your elevated blood pressure of late, and your insomnia, and lack of appetite."

Pops huffed, "you are my child, you don't have to 'earn your keep' by working yourself to death. Also, I order you to go through rehabilitation, and that you get a hobby that makes you happy." With that he scooped you up and rest you on his knee, and held you there while you squirmed, ignoring all your complaints about boredom.

Red Haired pirates

Shanks waked out on deck to see the entire crew lounging around. The red head walked over to Lucky Roo and gently kicked his side. "What the fuck is going on, why is no one working?"

The large man merely pointed over at your form zipping from one side of the deck to the other as you swabbed the deck.

The captain cocked his head and asked, "didn't they already swab they swab the deck after breakfast?"

Lucky Roo scratched his stomach as get grumbled, "yeah, they also swabbed it before and after lunch as well."

Benn, who was leaning against one of the banisters, takes his cigarette out of his mouth and says, "you wanna take it easy there kid?"

You stopped and looked at him, sweat soaking the bandana tied around your forehead to keep your hair back, you shake your head, "but I'm almost finished, plus I have to earn my keep." You used this brief respite to ring out the mop in the bucket.

Hongou clicked his tongue in disapproval, and a growled rumbled out of his chest, "You've worked nonstop over the last three days, only taking breaks to eat, sleep, and bathe. Working so much isn't good for you."

"But~"

Shanks waved his hand dismissively and flatly stated, "you've done plenty of work for today, go rest. We can't have you working yourself to the bone, all the time, it'll make us look bad if our land lubber rookie is more active in ship upkeep than us. No matter how cute they are to watch having the cleaning zoomies."

Yassop who appeared to be napping, cracked an eye open to glower at you, as he grumbles, "yeah, all the chores you've done in the last three days, is all the usual housekeeping that we do as a crew over a course of two weeks, actually."

The realization you might be over doing it crashed into you like a wave. You pulled off your bandana and rung it between your hands, "okay, sorry, it's just I need to be doing something, or I'll go nuts."

Shanks ogles you and purrs, "well, how about you do me instead?"

Benn karate chops the top of Shanks' head and grouses, "if anyone on this ship needs to get laid it's me, since I have to deal with all of you dumbasses."

Beast Pirates

You looked around, it was a quiet afternoon, one of many on Onigshima. Most of the core crew had gathered in one of the large banquet halls, to lounge and enjoy the breezy autumn afternoon. Kaido was sprawled out on the floor, drinking sake and snacks. Maria was snuggled up to Kaido, resting her head gently on his chest. Yamato, Ulti and Page one were reading comic books on the floor, and sharing a bag of chips. Sasaki and Who's Who were sitting on the floor playing shogi and drinking. Queen was tinkering with his prosthetic arm, his tools softly clicking against one another. Jack sat in the corner whittling. While King lounged on his back up in the rafters as he napped, the crackling fire on his back that usually filled the silence to a comfortable level for you, was out, so he didn't burn the wood

Despite the peace and tranquility of the room you felt like time was moving painfully slow, and the unfamiliar silence made your ears ring.

As the silence dragged on, you grew more uncomfortable and restless. After a few minutes of constantly shifting around, King sat up and snapped, "would you sit still!"

You whined, "I'm sorry," flopping unceremoniously onto your back. After a few minutes you rolled into your side and asked, "is there any news or~"

Kaido rumbled, "News comes with the paper, which comes in the morning, like it does every day."

Queen took a long drag of his cigar and mused, "I wonder what has got you so antsy, perhaps it's a crush?"

Everyone in the room turned their attention to you, interested to seed if you did indeed have a crush. You shook your head and explained you were just adjusting from our fast past-paced information stream and constant stimuli bombardment to one newspaper a week with important news on it sometimes, and life on a sleepy pirate island. By the end you sighed, "I am just not used to living in boring times, I'm used to knowing world changing events within five minutes of them happening."

King stretched his wings and sighed, "well, that explains why you keep asking about the news, and for stuff to do. But that doesn't explain why you seem afraid of silence."

You hummed thoughtfully, "It's like I'm experiencing silence and tranquility for the first time, because there's always noise, be it from machines, or nature. And it's unfamiliar enough my brain is just like" and you mimic the noises and body language of an angry monkey. Before continuing, "that, and it makes my tinnitus like three times worst, so it's just a constant high-pitched ringing in my ears, which hurts."

Most pirates have tinnitus from the constant gun fire and howling wind. So some of them nodded in empathy. King muttered, "Sometimes I forget you're from a different world, until to do weird shit like that, but I hate that I’m used to it enough that I understand your prattling nonsense."

You puffed out your cheeks, "Well if you'd light your fire again, there'd be enough noise for me to be comfortable."

Queen shrieked, "I asked you a question, will you please answer it!"

Ignoring him, you and King carried on your conversation. King asked, "oh so this is my fault?"

You shook your head and admitted, "no, it's just it helps fill the void, and it's rather calming." Which made King flustered enough he didn't respond, and he looked away from you.

Queen looked between the two of you, realizing what King's body language was saying what he refused to say. Before the round man cackled, "oh my god, you two have a crush on one another."

King swiftly turned on the man, and tackled him to the ground while adamantly denying that he had feelings for you. The tussle resulted in the shogi board being launched against the room, the bag of chips crushed, a bottle of alcohol to spill onto Maria's lap, and an all out brawl.

Kidd Pirates

Kidd rubbed his stomach, drowsy from the large break just ate, and looked at the clock and groaned, "balls, it's time for morning roulette." It was practically tradition that the crew took a thirty-minute break after a meal before starting their chores. There were tasks people volunteered to do routinely, but there were certain tasks that no one wanted to do. So what the crew decided a roulette wheel with everyone's names on it, was the least problematic way to pick who has to do the undesirable tasks. There was even a semi-elaborate ritual they did in order to make sure the wheel wasn't tampered with that involved everyone gathering and taking turns doing a series of checks of the moving pieces.

Killer, who was nominated by the crew to keep the keys two the closet where the wheel was stored, nodded his head and went to go get the wheel. As the wheel was being set up, Eustass noticed you were watching with particular rapt attention. From what you'd told him of the diversity of your old life back in your world, he only assumed your interested was because this was new to you. Kidd slapped his brawny hand on your shoulder and boomed, "you look like you've never seen a roulette wheel," and shook you playfully.

Kidd was shocked when you turned your attention to him and admitted, "no, we used them at school festivals for games like the cakewalk. I just have never seen it done so thoroughly. I figure it's to make sure it's not tampered with?" Kidd nodded, and you hummed, thoughtfully, "I admittedly was trying ways to figure out how to rig it in a way that gets around the inspections."

The crew stopped their examination, to glare over at you. You held up your hands and promised, "Not to cheat, but to come up with more inspections."

Wire sauntered over and engulfed your skull in his hand, and warned, "do not futz with the wheel."

As you nodded in his grasp, Killer chuffed, "you better not, also saying that out loud is a good way to get framed by someone trying to rig it?" His blond hair dancing along his back as he shook his head in disbelief.

That night, as you headed to join the crew for dinner, you noticed everyone was inside the galley already, and that their precious wheel was left attended out on deck. You grinned as the most wonderful and irresistible idea took root in your head.

Kidd took the plate of pasta that Killer made for dinner, and turned to go sit down. As he looked for a spot a very sharp and familiar rapid clicking from out on deck pierced the quiet hum in the room. While The red haired man thought nothing of it, Killer asked, "where's (y/n)?"

When everyone connected the dots, many of them raced to the door, and threw it open, expecting to catch you red-handed. Only to be met with your figure fully illuminated in the moon light, standing an arm's length away from the wheel, gently spinning the wheel with an outstretched finger. As they stared at you, trying to figure out what they were looking at, you let out a dark chuckled, "hehehe, If I cannot find problems, I will make them..." making them realize you were fucking with them.

Killer snapped, "why are you like this!"

"I dunno, I'm bored."

Killer momentarily took a few deep breaths to calm himself, before he gritted out, "if you're bored, there's plenty of work to be done."

You shrugged, "I don't wanna, besides tormenting you is so much more fun," and walked over towards them.

Kidd's eye twitched as stopped you, threw you over his shoulder, carried you into the galley, and roughly dropped you into a chair. "Sit," he ordered, pointing down at you, before he wandered over and handed you a plate of food. "Eat, and stop causing problems."

As the captain walked over to his second in command, you exclaim, "how about we play a different kind of roulette!" And you pull out an unloaded revolver from the back of your trousers. Killer quickly brings his fist down on your head, and pulls the revolver out of your hand and replaces it with a dart gun.

Kidd pointed a finger at you and bellowed, "that's it, you're sorting the scrap in my workroom, so I can keep an eye on you."

#one piece #one piece x reader #whitebeard pirates #edward newgate #marco the phoenix #one piece izou #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #red haired pirates #akagami no shanks #benn beckman #beast pirates #animal kingdom pirates #one piece kaido #eustass kid #one piece killer #king the conflagration #king the wildfire #kid pirates #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #10/13/22 #no beta we die like men

[perfinn]

let neptune strike ye dead

merman!din djarin x lighthouse keeper!reader - chapter two

wc: 4.4k

summary: you confront the inevitability of your insanity, and finally meet the elusive entity that's been leaving you gifts

cw: nsfw, female reader, DUBCON based purely on lack of communication, paranoia, isolation, oral (f receiving), once again lighthouse keeping inaccuracies, biting, ummmm... monsterfucking?

chapter one, read on ao3, divider by cafekitsune

You hadn't thought too much about the mythosaur since Captain Fett had told you about it. It had been a short conversation, really, something easy to forget. But you remembered it, always clinging to his stories to think back on later when you truly have nothing to do. 

“That? That’s pounamu,” he’d said initially, gently picking it up to show it to you. “Greenstone, if you like. It was my father’s.”

“Ah,” you’d responded, not disinterested in the material but more focused on the carving itself. “What's the symbol?”

Captain Fett had given you a vague huff of amusement. He handed it to you, and you’d gently trailed the calloused pad of your thumb over the surface. “It’s a mythosaur.”

“A mythosaur? That's creative.”

“A great sea beast,” he’d continued on. “Said to be extinct. But the story goes that when they were running amok, it was merfolk that tamed them, or culled them to extinction. Spared both the land and the ocean of their dominion either way. The skulls are supposed to be their symbol now.”

“Merfolk?” You’d echoed with a chuckle, handing the mythosaur back to him. “So it’s not real then?”

“Well, now, I wouldn’t rule it out completely. Can’t say I’ve ever seen a mythosaur myself, but then they’re meant to be extinct.”

“What then? You’ve seen a mermaid, captain?”

He had smiled, that mirthful chuckle that had been plaguing your late night fantasies rumbling in his chest. “Never can be quite sure what it is you’ve seen out there. Sailors are a mad lot.”

You remember blithely telling him that you must be a sailor too, then. 

You stare intently at the cowrie shell cradled in your hands, trying to force yourself out of what surely must be some sort of hallucination. But you can feel it, you can trail your fingers over the carving and feel every little notch that seems to have been etched with such care. 

(You think tactile hallucinations are a thing, aren’t they? But you’re not certain they're meant to manifest like this.)

There’s obviously the potential that it belonged to another sailor, that it had dropped off their ship and washed up onto your dock in the chaos of the storm. That’s perfectly reasonable. Maybe it’s the answer you would settle for if not for the seaglass and the fish and that tail you’d seen in the water.

With all that in mind, and the echo of Fett’s words in your head, you know there’s only one answer. 

You don’t know if you can let yourself accept that, though. It would be an irreversible acceptance of your complete insanity. There’d be no calling your mother to trick your brain into believing you have company. No satiating the lonely ache with Captain Fett’s occasional company. You’d be well and truly cracked.

But even so, even if you accept that there may be some degree of merperson out there, that doesn’t explain the offerings. You’re not exactly an expert on the extensive lore regarding merfolk, but from what you can tell they’re elusive and solitary creatures. It doesn't seem exactly in their nature to leave gifts to a human. You briefly consider the option of some sort of siren– but then why not just sing to you, drag you to your watery death and be done with it? 

No, it feels like… you’re being wooed. 

This doesn't feel at all like a creature baiting you into a horrible death so they can store you away in their lair and eat you. It feels borderline romantic. Pretty gifts to decorate your home, fish to feed you. 

(The cowrie shell feels a bit like a proposal, doesn't it? Or is that your fractured mind, making sense of the senseless?)

The morning after the storm, the weather isn't much improved. Though the wind has died down some, it still rains lightly and the sky remains overcast. It’ll be clear enough for the fishing boats to go back out, so it's clear enough for you to get to work. No doubt the storm has wreaked some havoc, and you’ll need to tidy up and ensure everything is still in working order. 

So you tuck the shell into the pocket of your raincoat, pull on the matching hat that always makes you feel a bit like a toddler, and head out into the pattering rain. 

You wander through the mud and down the hill that the wretched tower sits on, watching as your boots get covered in the muck. Sometimes there are puddles, and you indulge yourself by jumping in them. But today it's all just sludge, begging for you to step wrong and slip right onto your backside. 

You make your way along as carefully as you can bear, feet carrying you to one of the cliffs at the edge of the island. One of the shorter ones, short enough that you could probably jump and the only risk would be rolling your ankle if your foot landed wrong between the rocks. It's the same cliff the seaglass had been on. 

You gaze out at the watery horizon, hoping to catch sight of any passing ships. A fishing boat, maybe. None would be so close as to be able to see the people aboard, but the implication of their presence would be enough.

At this point, just the notion of other people existing would ease your mind. 

You don't find anything but the empty horizon and the somewhat tumultuous waves and you sigh, lowering your gaze to the bank of water beaten rocks below you.

Sometimes there are seals there. You like to throw fish to them, enticing them to come back and entertain you with their ridiculous little behaviours. You’d like to start naming them, and you would if you could get close enough to tell them apart. 

You think that's something that people on the mainland would call crazy in a quirky way. In an ‘I’m so crazy, I talk to my cats!’ way, a way that indicates they have no understanding of what it actually is to descend into complete and utter madness. 

You can be assured that you know exactly what an actual descent into madness is, because there's no seals on the rocks today. 

There's a merman.

You’d be inclined to think he hasn’t noticed you, or else he’d have disappeared back into the waves to avoid detection, if he weren’t looking right at you. He’s staring, eyes intent and boring right into yours. 

He’s gorgeous, mind you. His skin is tan and his wet brown hair is slicked back by the rain – and presumably the ocean. Though you hadn't been able to make out a face from high up in the lighthouse, he’s almost certainly the head and shoulders you’d seen last night in the water. His tail, huge and strong, lays against the rocks, and as your gaze trails down to his tailfin, you recognise it as the very same one you had thought you’d hallucinated off the dock. His body of his tail is massive, about three times the length of his upper half. The whole thing might even be longer than you. It’s a dark, teal colour– it’s really no wonder you were hardly able to spot it in the waves. His top half looks almost entirely human, the only deviation being the gills that cut along his ribcage.

Slowly, on the edge of the cliff, you crouch, closing the distance between you both by a few meagre feet. It feels too close, and at the same time it feels like miles apart. You move slowly, wary of spooking him and scaring him away. Even as you inch into a crouch, he shifts, looking as though he’s about to make a break for the waves. 

(You’re not certain why he’s so shy if he’s the one that’s been offering you all these gifts for so long. Though, you suppose you’re much the same when it comes to flirting. And generally, you don’t flirt so much with species that have a mythology of hunting and killing your own either.)

You still when you’ve fully crouched above him. He’s close enough to touch now, if both of you were to reach out. You’d like to. To touch him, to know that he’s real. 

(Tactile hallucinations, you remind yourself. It would feel just as real as any visual and auditory hallucination might.)

The two of you stare at one another in silence for a while longer, and you assume that he’s trying to take in the sight of you up close as much as you are to him. You feel a bit jealous, knowing that he must have been watching you so long, getting to enjoy the sight of you when you didn’t even know he was there.

If this had happened maybe six months ago, you’d still have been sane enough to be frightened by this prospect of a silent watcher, leaving you dead fish and most certainly hearing you pleasure yourself loudly at night. Now, the horror you should probably feel doesn’t even occur to you.

“You’re the one who’s been leaving me gifts,” you say, quiet as you can manage in the pattering rain, wanting to be heard but not wanting to startle him. “Right?”

The merman gazes up at you, and there’s only a slight incline of his head in response. You’re not sure how to take it, but it’s not really a question you needed much answer to. More of a conversation starter than anything. Otherwise, he doesn't reply. You wonder if he even speaks your language, if he’s even capable.

You reach into your pocket, movements slow and cautious. You’re petrified of startling him as you take the cowrie shell from your pocket, turning it over in your hands before holding it out to him. He seems to perk up at the sight of it, shifting slightly so he’s propping himself up on his arms. You look down at the shell again, running your thumb over the mythosaur, before stretching your arm out, offering it to him.

His expression shifts minutely, into a frown. His dark eyebrows pull together, and he reaches up a hand. You think he’s going to take it back from you, but when his webbed fingers touch yours – he’s so warm, part of you expected him to be cold blooded – he closes your fingers back around the shell. You meet his eyes, and his intent gaze has never left you. His hand lingers on yours, and for a moment his thumb rubs over the side of your hand. His gaze finally drops, taking in the size of your hand cradled in his. His fingers are tipped off with dark talons that brush over the calloused skin of your hands.

He feels so real. Something so real, so warm and wet and rough and perfect, your brain couldn't make that up. He’s here, in front of you, touching you. It has to be real. 

Then, he murmurs something so quietly that you almost don’t catch it over the soft patter of the rain.

 “Mesh’la.”

Your eyes dart to his mouth, you catch a glint of sharp teeth behind soft lips before they pull into a smile. And his smile… God, unsurprisingly it’s made him even more gorgeous. It may be the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. 

Mesh’la. It’s certainly not any language you know, but it’s a sound you could make. So he is capable of speaking human tongues, maybe he just doesn’t know any of yours. You think briefly that mesh’la might be his name, but the way he said it doesn’t seem that way. It seemed like he was saying it to you, about you. On his tongue, it must mean something. 

“Mesh’la?” you say back to him, unsure of how to convey your confusion without overwhelming him with words he doesn’t know. 

He only offers you a hum in response, still trailing his fingers over your skin, as though he fears the thought of pulling away. 

“What’s your name?” You ask him softly, clearly as you can manage. You place a hand to your chest and slowly recite your own name, hoping he’ll understand. 

(You think, if it turns out he’s perfectly able to understand you, you probably look like a complete idiot. But then, with how long you’re certain he’s been watching you, he’s likely watched you make a fool of yourself several dozen times.)

He seems to catch the hint you’re throwing and after a moment’s hesitation, he speaks again, “Din.”

You breathe the name in a murmured echo, adoring the taste of it on your tongue. You dart your tongue out to wet your lips as though you might catch a lingering taste of the syllable. Part of you had expected something difficult to pronounce, using sounds you’re not even able to make, but Din is simple. It’s beautiful.

You think you hear a soft rumble from his chest, but it’s hard to tell over the rain. He lowers his hand, leaving droplets of water on your skin. Instinctively, you go to follow him, tilting forward a bit and losing your balance. You yelp, and wave your arms around as you desperately try to avoid toppling onto the rocks below. 

You manage to regain your balance and fall onto your backside, but when you look back down Din is backing away, slithering across the rocks and toward the water. You startled him, just as you had so desperately hoped you wouldn't. Foiled by your own centre of balance. You scramble to get back on your feet as he pulls himself away, eyes wide. 

“Wait!”

He glances back at you just once before he disappears into the foamy waves, leaving you alone on the edge of the cliff. Leaving you reeling, and suddenly desperate for his return. Din, the merman.

Part of you is imagining telling Captain Fett what you’ve seen, but a bigger part of you knows that you can never tell a soul, lest they think you a madwoman. 

(Which you most certainly are, but they don't need to think it.)

You stand back up as the waves crash over the rocks, erasing all traces of Din except for the droplets on your hand and the memory of him that you’re sure is reflected in your eyes. You’d love to dwell on it, to wish him back and stare out at the waves forever, but there’s still work to be done. So you have to go about your day as though you haven't just met a merman. 

Din makes no more appearances for a week. He leaves you no gifts, and drops no hints that he’s there at all. It’s devastatingly lonely, even with a phone call to your mother. It only lasts fifteen minutes this time, as you have nothing to update her on and the drama with your aunt has simmered to a cool cold shoulder stage.

(Of course, you could update your mother on the merman, but you would like for her to think you’re only slightly unhinged at most.)

You’ve completely integrated Din into your fantasies, at least, and that's added an impeccable spice to your nights. There was even one night, when you were fighting particularly hard to reach a new record for amount of orgasms, when you included both Din and Captain Fett. You went blind that night with how hard you came. 

Funnily enough, it's the next day when Din finally makes another appearance. You’ve got a spool of rope heaved over your shoulder and you’re trudging up to the shed when you spot his head at the end of the dock. It takes all the dignity and sense you have not to drop the rope and sprint toward him like he’s your long lost lover. No, this time you won't startle him. So instead, you wave to him and calmly make your way down the old dock. 

He seems to hesitate before he waves back, as though he’s unfamiliar with the gesture. You surmise that he’s seen it before and guessed that it's a human greeting, but he’s simply never had the need or opportunity to use it. 

“Din,” you greet as you make it to the end of the dock. Today’s a clear day, the clouds are sparse and the sun is blessing the both of you with its warm shine even in the frigid salty air. 

He murmurs your name, webbed hand resting on the dock. He looks infinitely more stunning in the clear sunlight, his skin somehow sunkissed, despite his dwelling somewhere with so little sunshine. You crouch slowly and set down the rope, smiling at him. 

“You disappeared,” you say, thankful when your sudden proximity doesn't make him retreat. “I’m sorry I scared you last week. I guess I got excited, and… you can't understand me, can you?”

Din smiles at you again, giving you a full view of his sharp and pointed teeth. They’re almost sharklike. He reaches up, taking your hand carefully, like he’s nervous. 

You think he might be– you think that might be the explanation for his strange behaviour. Maybe it isn't just the nature of merfolk, maybe Din is just shy. The thought makes you smile, the idea that this gorgeous, dangerous creature could be shy or nervous. It's more than a bit endearing.

Then he speaks again, and even the rough timbre of his voice can’t ease the shock at the word coming from his soft lips, “Fuck.”

Your brows knit together as you tilt your ear toward him, certain you’ve misheard. “Sorry?”

He says it again, seeming insistent. He gently grabs your ankle, guiding you to sit down on the dock. You’re still reeling from his sudden cursing, too shocked to stop him as he moves you so your legs are dangling off the edge of the dock. 

“Where did you learn that?”

(He probably learned it from you, shouting it late at night while you touch yourself, but you don't really have the brain function to piece that together while you're still reeling from the fact he's learned it at all.)

He says it again, and as he begins to tug your shoes off you begin to think he may know exactly what it means. He sets your boots down on the dock and looks intently at you, resting his hands on your clothed thighs. For a creature you’ve decided is shy, he’s being awfully bold. You stare at him with wide eyes and parted lips, willing him to suddenly know your language so he can confirm your suspicions. 

“Yes?” He prompts, and it's well enough. 

And really, you should probably say no. You don't know him. You don't know where he’s been. You don't know his actual intentions. He could be asking permission to drag you under and eat you. But it's obvious what he’s asking, right?

And god you want it, you want it bad. It's been so long since anyone else touched you, and at this point you’d take it even if it meant drowning. Especially coming from such a gorgeous creature. There are worse ways to go. 

So you nod, hurriedly undoing the clasps on your overalls and shifting away from him so you can take them off, leaving you only in your t-shirt and panties. They’re not exactly sexy, but judging by the lust darkening Din’s eyes, your fishy partner doesn't much mind. 

He trails his wet hands over the expanse of your thighs, taking in every inch of them. It takes you a moment to realise that he's probably never been this close to any legs before. He’s admiring them and amazed by them, and you shiver when he drags his tongue over the skin. 

(Or, he’s seen plenty of legs before from drowning and eating people, and he’s savouring the taste of them before he bites a chunk out of you. He’s got those sharp jaws for a reason. Still, you somehow don't mind if that's your fate.)

His tongue is long and wet, noticeably longer than any human tongue. It would be easy, from this angle, to forget that he has the bottom half of a fish until he opens his mouth. But his tongue laving over your thighs and the slight scrape of his teeth wrenches you back to the reality that you may be about to let this supposedly-mythical beast eat you out.

Or… maybe you’re just letting him lick your thighs. He doesn’t seem to be paying much mind to your pussy at all, actually. You think it’s possible he may be fooled by the concept of underwear. So as he damn near gnaws at your thigh, you shift slightly to tug them aside. Din sees your movement and pulls away from your leg, brown eyes filling with lusting curiosity. 

His eyes are on your fingers as you pull your panties aside and tuck the crotch of them between your pussy and your thigh. Din’s eyes dilate, and you can tell he recognises just what it is. It's just what he was after, to eat in one way or another. 

Before you can do much else Din grabs your legs, talons digging ever so slightly into your thighs but not breaking skin, and tugs. 

You yelp, scrambling for purchase as he yanks you off the edge of the dock– this is it, you think, you’ve just invited this creature to drag you to the depths to your unfortunate wet death. 

As you begin to come to terms with your imminent end, though, he stops, leaving your top half still above the surface. You’re distantly thankful that it's a somewhat warm day so you won't get hypothermia from the water if you end up surviving this. 

With more careful hands, like he heard your frightened yelp, Din turns you around so you can brace your arms comfortably on the surface of the dock. 

Oh, you realise. He wasn't trying to drown you. He was only trying to do this in his domain. If you had the brain for it you might think it were some territorial thing, which it is, but any thoughts in your head are melted away by the sudden drag of his lengthy tongue through your folds. 

A strangled sort of noise leaves your throat, and your eyes pop open at the hot muscle dragging appreciatively along your pussy. Even if he hasn't ever seen a human pussy before, it evidently can't be much different from a mermaid’s from the way he seems to know what to do with it. His arms wrap around your thighs to hold you in place, and you’re left digging your nails into the worn down wood to hold you up. 

Because you’ve forgotten how to be, you’re far from quiet. You cry out when his tongue brushes over your clit, the strange feeling of it being played with underwater like this heightening the feeling. 

(Somehow it's so much more than when you touch yourself in the bath, maybe because the water is cold, or because it's a foreign body, or maybe because the man doing it is used to doing it underwater.)

His tongue is rough, like wet sandpaper (but of a low, worn-down grit), and it laps reverently at your clit. Din’s mouth refuses to leave your pussy, and the delighted shouts of pleasure refuse to stay in your mouth. You think that he can probably hear it beneath the current, because he only begins to suck at it more fervently. 

“Fuck!” You hear yourself scream, before Din finally leaves your clit so just his nose bumps against it. He gives you barely a second of soft licks at your hole before he’s plunging his tongue into it. Your nails drag against the dock as your scream of delight is trapped in your throat. 

How is it that Din’s tongue delves so much deeper than your fingers ever have? It prods deeper than anything that's gone in there in months, fills you more perfectly than several of your fingers ever have. It’s like his tongue was made just to fit in your pussy, to find the spot that drives you insane with such little effort. You can't even begin to wonder about his cock. 

He laps at your hole, his large nose prodding against your clit as your entire body goes tight. Your thighs clamp around his head and you sob his name. 

“Din!” You scream, body trembling. “I’m-”

There’s no sense in warning him when it hits you so suddenly, probably more surprising to you than it is to him. Your vision goes white and you let out a guttural groan, forehead banging down against the wood as you writhe in pleasure, pussy trying to milk Din’s tongue. 

(You won’t have the cognitive function to realise it until hours later, but his tongue has stopped moving for how hard your cunt is clamped down on it.)

When your vision returns in spots and you find the ability to breathe again, Din’s tongue continues. You whine, scrambling against the dock to pull your oversensitive cunt away from his mouth. His arms only clamp down harder on your thighs, holding you in place. 

You gasp, tears blurring your vision as you manage to reach down into the water and tug harshly on his hair. That seems to give him the hint he needs to give your poor pussy a moment to breathe. In a second, his mouth has pulled away and left you dreadfully empty. With gentle hands and strong arms, he lifts your body back onto the dock and rolls you onto your back. 

You stare at the blue sky, panting. His hands trail gently over your thighs again, rubbing them in soothing circles. You lift your head just in time to see him press a kiss to your sensitive pussy, like a kiss to a lover. You can't help but feel a bit charmed by the gesture, until he suddenly clamps his jaw down on your inner thigh. You yelp in an odd mix of pain and offence, but before you can say anything, he’s slithering off the dock and back into the water.

You want to scramble after him, but your limbs feel like lead– which is quite the accomplishment considering you’ve built up the stamina for several orgasms in one go. So, instead of fruitlessly trying to draw him back to the surface to tell him off, you flop onto your back and close your eyes, too pleased to really process that you just came on a merman’s tongue.

#to the person who said they'd love a slow burn sorry but we r eating pussy!! #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin/reader #merman!din djarin #din djarin #my work #the mandalorian #the mandalorian/reader #smut #din

[daze4all]

HSR: Baby Dragon Reader! Chap 3 Deciding Daddy, Naming baby dragon dusk & What do dragons eat?

Star Rail Trailblazer Found Family Crack

Synopsis: Renfeng Baby Dragon Dusk delivered by a Cycrane to the trailblazer as a gift from the loufu for defeating phantaylia aka Dan Feng/heng you forgot your kid on the ship

"So like the Wizard of Oz, Baby!Reader helps March the scarecrow gain brains, Dan Heng the cowardly lion gives him some courage,  and Stelle the tin man get a  heart” Welt suggested tentatively

Featuring:

+Body of an Adult mind of Child! Just Born Yesterday! Trash raccoon! Jelly! MC Stelle

+March: Optimistic! Low IQ but High EQ but Means well but clumsy & cute! March

+ Cold Dragon Yong ! Teen Dad vibes ! In Denial! Dan Heng bodyguard and babysister now baby dad

+ Himeko & Welt as the burn out only parental figures trying to keep down the chaos and common sense.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------https://archiveofourown.org/works/50945278/chapters/129674725

Extra: Old Man Welt & Daddy Dan Heng

“Anyways….I think you are going to have to be the dad or the baby might die in their caring hands.” Commented Himeko.

What about welt ,didn’t he have a Kid? Dan Heng said decisively with derision.

“Ow..my old Back” ; o ; Welt cries cracking said back gets up with aid form his cane staff clearly not for decoration.

“Ah yes…Key word ‘had’ he’s currently stuck in death hole of what might wrong with the kid at this moment to care for her.” Matter of factly Himeko stated as she prepared tea and coffee to calm everyone nerves ignoring her own shaking hands hyped up from bit too much cafe she had drunk.

Drabble: Naming Dusk the baby Dragon What should we name her?

“Well considering we got her at dusk? Dusk?” Considered Welt

“That’s lazy” complained March

“Dan Heng, what would you name her” Himeko asked as he was sorta the dad.

“Errr Red eyes?” Dan Heng said saying the first chilling characteristic coming to mind as the baby stared her blood red eyes back at him.

“Mara “ March added on for more detail as she studied the blue red and gold ambrosial arbor markings on the baby’s arms.

“Dawn?” Himeko considered the opposite option of dusk.

“Oh like Little Dan Feng? But more fun so Dan Fun!” Contemplated March thinking the new name was clever

“Pet” put in Stelle saying as she saw it.

“…Let’s stick with Dusk. “ agreed Himeko with Welt as the rest nodded their head in agreement at their sucky naming skills. —————————————————————————————

What Do Baby Dragons Eat?

Surreptiusly Stelle starts sneaking the baby dragon food from her special trash stash.

“Seriously who roots through garbage, she better not feed that to the baby….STELLE NO.” Welt grabbed stelle arm to stop her from spooning some trash fried rice into the baby dragons open maw.

“She’s hungry” protested Stelle trying to tug the spoon full of trash fried rice toward the baby dragon who mewed for food.

“That will hurt her!” protested Welt pulling away Stelle spoon held hand much to baby dragon’s dismay.

“But she’ll be stronger for it like my stomach!” puffed up in pride and Stelle said with a manic twinkle in her eye as she strained against Welt’s arm to feed the baby birdlike dragon baby.

“More likely the kid will die of food poisoning before that” muttered Dan Heng who picked up the bowl of trash fried rice and threw it out. He still was not at terms with reality but had enough common sense enough to protect the kid from an early grave.

“It’s so she can get stronger” refuted Stelle defending her point and pot of garbage fried rice. She pouted at the waste of food.

“She won’t be fighting anything at this age. It is more important she remains healthy” Himeko explained as she hid the trash fried rice from sight form the sda baby dragon eyes.

“I don’t think they can even chew rice at this age” reasoned Welt recovering himself from his tug of war session with Stelle the feral raccoon lady. Having finally relieved her of the spoon now empty as she opted to eat the spoonful of trash fried rice herself that give it up.

“How old is she anyways? Bailu was 100 but she looked like 8” March brought up.

“Just hatched recently I’d guess” Dan Heng, the reliable residential Vidhydra expert informed them as he eyed the chibi for of Dusk.

“Are you sure, because she does have some sharp fangs…” Himeko said as she peered at the baby dragons open mouth. Open and closing like a baby bird as the baby began to whine for food.

“What do baby Vidahydra even eat?” Welt mused as everyone turned to Dan Heng who shrugged “Liquids I guess.”

“Maybe she can suck blood?” Himeko wondered out loud.

“Since Dan Heng, is closely related, I think it should be you she feeds from you, since you must have the same type blood type” said March offering him up as sacrifice

“Those are milk teeth, she can’t suck blood, she is not a vampire, march” Dan Heng explained.

“Do you suck blood? because I swear you have fangs in your dragon form” Stelle Skeptically eye Dan Heng .

“I could but why would I do you want me to right now?” asked Dan Heng hotly as he caged her off on the couch. So Stelle wouldn’t do something stupid like feed baby dragon more trash from her pockets.

Nah that dirty, I’d catch some weird diesae probably” Stelle brushed him off and uncaged herself easily to stare some more at baby dragon with everyone watching her warily.

“ Hmmm Milk teeth, Do they bretasfeed? but if the parent were boys…then….” March murmured deep in thought and confusion deciding for once to use her brains.

“For the last time I’m not her dad” irritated Dan Heng said instead.

“Mom then? Your imbibiter lunae form looks pretty girl-ish” March said side eyeing Dan Heng leaning over the couch remembering window boobs, long hair and open front and back panels from a long tunic top almost like a dress. It would explain so much as she doubted blade was the woman in relationship.

“Please don’t go where I think you’re going” cut off Dan Heng his hand blocking the wandering eyes of March as she started sizing him up.

“Did you lay the egg?” Hazarded March risking her life with the question

“NO” said Dan Heng stopping further thoughts with a glare

Stelle in effort to stop the fighting, offered another solution from the trash can. She pulled from her pocket a lizard and let it hang from the tips of her finger between the three.

“……maybe this lizard, I picked up from a Belabog trash can be her dad. It’s a reptile-like dragon so related right?” Blank-faced Stelle happily offered the trash treasure from her coat pocket honesty thinking this would help.

“NO! why would you think that?!” Exclaimed Welt, March, Himeko and Dan Heng with more common sense than Stelle. (Which wasn’t saying much seeing as she had been born from stelleron for less than a year.)

“Who else will teach her to climb walls and catch flies ?” Put in a proud Stelle. Proud to have remembered a rigorous study session on species she had taken from Dan Heng.

Ones she had learned differ types species and how different world’s ecosystems worked after having been awakened from the space station.

Usually by hand on exploration of different worlds. Via hanging out in rainforest trees, swimming in deserts, and sinking into mud pits to hide and collect secret souvenir. Usually when March and Dan Heng weren’t looking aka babysitting her trash collecting hobbies.

“…what the hell how did you even sneak this on board? “ questioned Welt as all present wondered the same exact thing.

“It was cold in belabog and it wanted warmth. I wanted a pet and since Pom Pom said I couldn’t keep a raccoon because they shed. I put this lizard in my pocket and forgot about it until now” Stelle as she swung said reptile by it’s tail for emphasis.

Seeking it’s survival the lizard sacrificed it’s tail to Stelle’s hands. The lizard dropped to the ground and made a mad dash for freedom and for the nearest sign of furry warmth aka Pom Pom. Hypnotized but he swinging lizard Baby dragons dusk eyes remind striae don’t he lizard in fascination.

In shock Stelle dropped the lizards lone tail that twisted ominously on the ground beside the scurrying lizard. “WHoops maybe not?”

“Eeekk! “ Squealed March as it headed straight for Pom Pom who eeped cowered forgetting he was larger than lizard and could probably stomp said lizard too death.

Baby dragon pounced on the lizard her protective instinct triggered having sensed the family in danger. Red eyes flashing the dragon baby opened her fanged mouth over the lizard NOM GULP

“Did she just eat the lizard?” Himeko asked hand over her mouth her lips resolving to forget the incident.

“I think she swallowed it whole like sake.” Dan Heng explained. His keen eyes having unfortunately noticed the bump it made going down.

“Is that cannibalism?” whispered March in shock eyes wide after what she witnessed

“At least we know what she eats?” Weakly put in Welt

“Aww I never even named him…I was thinking Sampo 2.0 cuz of his shitty luck. Hey Dan Heng do you eat them too?” Said Stelle who had recovered way too fast her eye slide to Dan Heng . Everyone present stared boring holes at Dan Heng

“ I swear I never ate that as a kid in any of my rebirths” Dan Heng said crossing his heart and arms in decisive no stance.

After much trial and hardly any error they found that the baby dragon would eat almost anything.

“You sure she isn’t the aeon of eating ? She consumes anything kind of like K*rby.” March whisper hissed as the dragon baby fell asleep after a content food coma.

‘Let’s just stick to liquids for our sanity…” muttered Dan Heng as everyone agreed.

#dan heng #imbibitor lunae #honkai star rail #renheng fic #honkai star rail mc #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail baby reader #honkai star rail imagines #vidyadhara #honkai star rail crack #hsr fanfic #dusk arknights

[dramaticallycryingblood]

Outing myself as an eternal bartylus shipper.

I read a lot of different ships but I’m always grasping at bartylus crumbs, I’m legit more excited when they make eye contact than when the main pairing (usually jegulus) who has been slowburning for the past 20 chapters finally kiss. I’m just genuinely obsessed with them. I love all the other ships but bartylus just hits different.

It’s like jegulus is folklore and bartylus is reputation. I looooove folklore, it’s so pretty and poetic and tragic, but reputation has me giggling and kicking my feet, it gets me hyped up, it makes me feel badass, it makes me want to dance, I literally started loving Taylor Swift BECAUSE of reputation so at the end of the day I’ll always come back to reputation.

Jegulus is reading and bartylus is listening to music. I adore reading, every time someone asks me what I do for fun I tell them I read, but let’s all be honest I would not survive a single day without music.

Jegulus are my converse shoes and bartylus are my doc martens. I wear my converse almost every day, but I’m sooooo happy every time I wear my docs.

They’re so spideypool coded.

They’re so Batman x Joker coded.

They’re so lover x reputation coded.

They’re so Billy x Stu (from Scream) coded.

They’re so Kat x Patrick (from 10 Things I Hate About You) coded.

They’re so Violet x Finch (from All the Bright Places) coded.

They’re so Lazlo x Nadja (from What We Do in The Shadows) coded.

They’re so black cat x orange cat coded.

They’re so Florence + The Machines coded.

They’re so FOR YOUR LOVE by Måneskin coded.

They’re so Fast Car by Tracy Chapman coded.

I’ve been shipping them since before jegulus was ever anything more than a crack ship, before we started liking Evan so before Rosekiller was even a thing, and I’m not even remotely close to moving on. They live in my bones, in my veins, in my arteries, in my lungs, in my heart, in my brain, in my whole nervous system. They carved themselves in my skin and they run around in my head rent free. And I love every single version of them. Like give it to me toxic, sweet, angsty, desperate, tragically canon, unrequited, in a polycule, in a qpr, just give it to me in any way you want and I will eat. it. up. every. single. time.

#speaking my truth #i just love them your honor #maybe I’m a tiny bit too obsessed but oh well who cares #bartylus #marauders #marauders era #barty crouch jr #regulus black #jegulus #rosekiller

[gffa]

hi! i’m not really sure how to phrase my question, but it’s meant in good faith because i’m genuinely curious; what is it about obikin that you like so much? a fellow star wars fan i’ve been chatting with (who i. probably won’t be anymore after the conversation that prompted this because it was uhhh Intense) kinda jumped down my throat when it was brought up? in a “how could you not like this” way, even though all i said was that my opinion on the ship itself is neutral leaning towards uncomfortable. and when i asked them what they like about the ship, they didn’t really give a concrete answer? just that it’s the best star wars ship. but it got me wondering why other people like obikin, and you’re one of the people i feel more comfortable asking. so here i am. thanks in advance, and thank you for the lovely blog you run!

—🌻

Hi! I'm sorry that you're going through that, friends have to be able to accept that they're not always going to share everything and be able to respect each others' boundaries, that you may never like it and that's okay, that they do like it and that's okay, and if it comes down to it, that you both just find other things to talk about if you don't see eye to eye. As for what I like about Obikin, there's always just going to be a degree of, "Well, because I just do." to it, like why do some people like pizza? Why do some people like cheeseburgers?  They just do, something in there lights their brain up and they love it.  I say this ahead of time because it’s okay that sometimes we just don’t like a thing, no matter how well or poorly it’s done, like I will just never really be into westerns, doesn’t matter how good they are or bad they are, how much someone articulates what they find fascinating, they just don’t light my brain up. That said, what I like about Obikin is the complicated history they have and the push-and-pull of their different worldviews and how they each tug the other towards the center. For Anakin, he wants to love people with everything he has, he wants to possess them, he wants his feelings to consume him and the one he loves.  For Obi-Wan, he wants to find inner balance and peace, he wants to have his thoughts be clear because that helps him not fall prey to his feelings, and as a psychic space wizard who could really hurt people if his feelings overtook him (because their connection to the Force is their emotions), that’s one of the most important things in his life. But they love each other.  Whatever form that love takes, they each pull each other towards the middle between them.  Obi-Wan can help guide and structure Anakin, he can turn Anakin towards not letting his feelings eat him alive.  Anakin pulls Obi-Wan towards letting his feelings overtake common sense, and that may not always be a good thing, that if push came to shove, Obi-Wan might not be able to stop Anakin from killing a thousand people if it meant killing Anakin, too.  But it sure is a tasty as hell dynamic to play with, as a writer and reader! My love of Obikin is wrapped up in how I see the characters--that Obi-Wan is a patient and kind man who cares deeply about Anakin, who seeks him out in the source material to offer to talk to him, but doesn’t push because he respects Anakin’s boundaries, while Anakin is someone who wants those boundaries pushed, he tries so desperately to be in control and the rock others lean on, but he’s so bad at it and he’s constantly looking for someone to follow.  Look at the way he keeps offering the galaxy to others--he offers it to Luke in ESB, he offers it to Padme in ROTS, he follows Sidious for decades until he can find someone else to follow, that guy wants a benevolent hand on the back of his neck so bad.  He wants someone to soothe him and his upset feelings so bad.  He wants someone to make his troubles go away so bad.  And if Obi-Wan would realize just how badly cracked Anakin’s foundation is and how badly he wants that hand on the back of his neck, then I can see him stepping up into that role for Anakin’s sake, even enjoying that role for his own sake as well. And part of that is just that it’s really hot, I love a good mild-to-mid-range d/s dynamic that they both get something out of, I love when it’s paired with Obi-Wan’s dedication to helping teach Anakin, that everything he does in that relationship is to better help Anakin to a good place. I further love Obikin because I love their banter, they bicker back and forth, pulling each other up out of a funk, like at the beginning of Attack of the Clones, Anakin is a hot and sweaty mess, so Obi-Wan starts teasing him and a few minutes later, they’re laughing together.  Or on Vanqor when they’re stuck in the cave with the rancor, bickering with each other, that is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.  Or when they’re trolling Dooku together on Felucia, that was also hilarious. Or the beginning of Revenge of the Sith, where they’re bickering the entire time and it is such a great Old Married Couple dynamic, the kind where you’re so ridiculously fond of this person even as you’re crabbing to their face or laughing in their direction, they’re the person you wouldn’t leave behind, they’re the person you can’t bring yourself to kill because you love them too much, because they’re the person that’s shaped your life just as much as you’ve shaped theirs. Or they can be a Battle Couple dynamic, look at how they fight side by side, moving together in sync, like they’re two halves of the same whole.  The opening scene of ROTS was literally designed to show their ships swooping together as an extension of how close they were, how perfectly they moved together, how well they got alone.  Or look at them fighting Ventress together, they’re inseparable.  Or fighting Dooku on Obi-Diah, that spinning move they do or the way Obi-Wan is like, “I’ll give you a push!” to send Anakin flying was flawless, those two practically shared a single mind! It’s a combination of a lot of things--Anakin being a subby brat who tried to pretend he wasn’t but very much wanted that, the depth of their relationship and how much they’ve been through together, the way neither of them could ever really let the other go even when the entire weight of the galaxy and the weight of every child Anakin killed was between them, their banter was very “couple who has been married for 50 years”, they intimately understood each other and moved together like they were two halves fitting together, that they can either be terrible together or amazing together, there’s an epicness to them that lights my brain up, etc. It’s a dozen different reasons all wrapped up together that lends itself to soft moments, hard moments, complicated moments, sexy moments, funny moments, their relationship is complex enough and thorny enough that I can either wrap myself up in it like a soothing blanket or I can dissect it like it’s got a hundred layers deep “what the fuck is wrong with these two, it’s fascinating” dynamic. But, for me, I love how much they’ve been through together, I love the banter, and I love that Anakin Skywalker’s brain is full of too many thoughts and feelings and the person best suited to fuck the noise out of his head is Obi-Wan Kenobi, who is a teacher down to his very bones, who is someone who is relentless at caring about what’s best for others, who has his own complicated emotions and reactions, but will always care so much about Anakin that he’ll find a way to help him, if Anakin will accept it.  And I tend to think the best way to do that is to rail the noisy, ugly thoughts out of Anakin Skywalker’s head, until he’s too stuffed full of other things to have room for anything else. I feel like I’ve only scratched the surface here, so I’ll throw it out to anyone else who wants to answer, too!  I’d love to have more examples and just to read them for myself!  It’s totally okay that some aren’t going to ever be convinced, maybe all of the things I listed above just do nothing for you or you don’t see their dynamic that way, and that’s okay! Why do you guys ship Obikin?

#obikin #meta

[wolfoftheblackflames]

Hello again my misfits. I feel like I've been neglectin' the other ships as of late. So here's one just for you ^^

The Inventor and the Explosive Expert:

It had been a week since Sir Pentious was brought into the hotel. The snake man smiled at his minions as the idiots worked on cleaning his room. "Oh, once you're done with that, I'd like to go into the city for an errand." He stated as Frank saluted.

"Yess sir boss!" The egg replied as he scurried away.

Sir Pentious usually took his blimp, but the thing has been having engine problems. He casually strolled into town since it did feel good to go for a walk every so often. He hummed casually, his head swaying a bit. "Huh?" He blinked hearing an explosion.

"Ha eat shit cock sucker!" A voice boomed as Sir Pentious started to fluff up his frills slightly. He knew the owner of that wonderful Australian accent. Cherri Bomb was seen shoving another bomb into a gunman's mouth and jumping off as it exploded the fool.

The snake demon watched the cyclops in awe. He always loved her brilliant explosive contraptions. He, however, noticed someone trying to ambush her from behind. "Missss Cherri Bomb, look out!" Sir Pentious shouted, alerting the cyclops bombshell.

"Oh, thanks for the heads up, old man!" Cherri grinned as she punched the ambusher. Soon the skirmish ended with the losers running or dead as Cherri laughed dusting herself off.

"Hey Angie did ya get those other fuckers?!" She smirked seeing Angel Dust having a blast with his guns.

"Yep, but looks like there's some more headin' our way!"

"Ah shit, we'd better split up to get those fucks disoriented. I'll meet cha back at your hotel, alright!' Cherri smirked as Angel gave a thumbs up. "C'mon old man!" She grabbed the snake demon to drag him out of the battle zone. But before she could, Sir Pentious dropped a disk like object on the ground.

"What, hey!" He blinked but followed.

"Follow the boss!" Frank ordered as the eggs scurried after the two.

Once out of danger Cherri sighed in relief. "I hate runnin' but those assholes wouldn't quit." She muttered annoyed.

"I left them something fun to deal with for you." Sir Pentious smiled as an explosion was heard. "It's a ssimple contraption but effective when ussed during chaosss." He grinned doing a playful bow.

"Not bad old fart.." Cherri chuckled but hissed softly. The cyclops growled, seeing one of those bullets had grazed her arm. "Fuck.."

Sir Pentious blinked but searched his coat and grumbled. He then smirked, stealing some cloth from an overhang. "Can I wrap your injury, Missy?" He asked as Cherri gave him a 'dafuck' look. "I know you can probably jussst heal with eassse, but I can't sstand by while a young lady iss hurt."

Cherri gave him a skeptical look. "What ever floats your boat edgelord." She shrugged but let him wrap her left arm.

The egg bois yelped as one of them was cracked. "Finally caught up to you fucking bitch!" A bull looking sinner with a shotgun growled with steam coming out of his nose.

"How dare you crusssh one of my minionsss you boob!" Sir Pentious hissed, flaring up his yellow cobra like frills. "Now take thisss!" All his eyes soon emitted a hypnotic trance, forcing the bull to stumble and groan. The snake demon soon slithered over with speed and bit the bull in the neck, injecting the sinner with venom.

"Huh.." Cherri looked amused as the bull sinner started to uncontrollably vomit with Sir Pentious stealing the shot gun.

"A simpleton like you doesn't deserve mercy." The snake demon growled and shot the bull demon sending the sinner flying.

Cherri couldn't help but whistle. "Fuckin' hell mate, didn't know you could handle a gun?" She smirked as Sir Pentious shyly rubbed his neck.

"W-well I wanted to help you... Plus he destroyed one of my many minionsss!" The snake replied being awkward.

"C'mon shit for brains, let's meet up with Angie, eh?" Cherri motioned for him to follow.

The two ran through the back alleyways as soon they didn't have to look far to spy the pink spider demon. "Oh no, Angel Dusst is cornered."

Cherri smirked evilly as five sinners started to close in on Angel. "Got another one of 'em disks?" She asked as Sir Pentious nodded handing her one. "Good cause this is gonna be fun."

With his back against a wall, Angel smirked a bit with his tommy guns out of ammo. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say this is the start of a bad porno." He cheekily sneered.

He kept his eyes on the goons so as not to alert them to the duo on the buildings behind them. "Hehe a free fuck with the famous porn star? Sounds fun." One sinner who was an ugly slug moved forward.

"You limp dicks couldn't afford my sexy ass." Angel soon brought out his extra two arms and shot the group back with his fresh guns.

"Eat shrapnel cock suckers!" Cherri laughed maniacally tossing in her bombs with one of them attached to the disk. A row of explosions wiped out the first two while the disk one caused a bigger one to pretty much turn the other three into mince meat.

Sir Pentious watched in awe seeing her using his work. "Impresssive Misss Bomb." He grinned watching Cherri jump down. "O-oh uh... I'll usse the sstairsss.."

The snake demon came down to Cherri, clapping Angel Dust on the back with a grin. "Well fuck, it seems like that hotel hasn't made ya soft yet."

"Hey I'm still down for blasting holes into some fucks head sugar tits." The spider replied retracting his third set of arms. "C'mon bet little miss princess and Vagina are getting their panties in a twist right now." He laughed amused.

Sir Pentious slithered over as his Eggs followed. "Mind if I join you?" He asked giving a friendly toothy smile.

"Eh sure." Cherri shrugged looking at Angel.

"Why the fuck not." The spider also shrugged as the unlikely trio made their way back to the Hotel.

And yes, Vaggie was incredibly pissed about it since it was on the news, and Charlie was just a cute sobbing mess to see they're ok.

(Hope you guys liked this one, it got stuck in my head plus I figured I'd give Cherrisnake a go.)

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #angel dust #sir pentious #cherrisnake #cherri bomb #lots of swearing #the big booms

[fanaticsnail]

Snail, my love! I am swamped with uni lol so not as much asks I'm afraid but I read Bonnie Lass pt 2 and YOUR BRAIN!!!!! YOUR GENIUS!!!!

“-Garp, lass. It’s Garp, please,” his breathy voice gasped through the speaker, “I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I should’ve been down by the docks waiting - up to my knees in sea water to reign your ship in with my bare hands.” - SNAIIIIILLLLLLL, you know I love me a man groveling on his hands and knees (where he belongs who said that?)

Several cracking objects bent and broke, echoing throughout the den-den-mushi transponder; something akin to wood snapping and nails tearing through mahogany. - eheheheheheheheheh. One of the many things I love about your writing is how shamelessly in love everyone is. Speaking of “All mine,” ????? AAAAAAAA

I loved taking the lead to kiss Garp, something about this old man who's so confident over the phone but so smitten that he gets all in his head about being right for the one he's besotted with. And then something about the assistant (who I love by the way - hilarious, competent, sassy) being so smitten that they take charge because they are wholly in-for-a-penny-in-for-a-Garp READY.

As your knees knocked with a hard benchtop behind you, you ushered the larger man to turn, forcing his body down to sit himself down on the bench. You opened your mouth, your tongue raking against his bottom lip. - walk him like a dog

The assistant playing Garp like a fiddle for their own amusement, teasing him until he's staggering over himself to grovel. I love it.

“L-Lass, I didnae mean t-," - what if I ate him. What then.

“P-Please, lass. I’m sorry. I am a cruel, cruel man,” he confessed, claiming your left hand within his right and peppering the flesh with a flurry of kisses, “What can I do t’make it up to ‘ye, ‘me bonnie lass. Tell me,” he trailed his kisses up higher, halting at the inner flesh of your elbow, “Order me, dictate me,” he continued spreading kisses up to your shoulder, soothing over your scorching flesh, “I beg ‘ye to reconsider your withdrawal. I am ‘ye humble servant, wee bonnie.” - poetry in motion. I love strong boisterous men crumbling. I love the Marine Captain becoming the servant - willingly.

Garp giving a strip tease!!!!!

Beautiful. Brilliant. Stunning. No words.

SNAILLL I MISSED YOUUUUUU!!! I hope you're having a wonderful time at Uni! I remember those days well, and I hope you have time to have joy amongst the havoc.

I looooove reading your analysis', it always warms my heart to see you in my ask box. I also love writing for love, it's a favourite of mine - which you've noticed.

The "Walk him like a dog" comment had me screeching. It had no right being that funny, Snail.

"What if I ate him? What then?" - r o l l i n g. d y i n g. h e a v i n g.

Garp's strip tease has been eating at my brain since writing it.

If you're interested in the hazing Garp endured while becoming a Marine, this is exactly how I see it going down:

#one piece #x reader #opla #opla fic #garp x reader #bonnie lass part 2 #ask snail #snail answers

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Chemical Imbalance | Reader x Bucky Barnes

I think this is the longest thing I've ever written (aside from my series). It's 9.2k words lol

Disclaimer: I am, shockingly, not a doctor! or a neuroscientist! so when / if you discover a scientific inaccuracy, look the other way.

Warnings: Violence against reader / reader injury, PTSD, medical things, Bucky being very sad

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

With his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, Bucky slumped against the wall of the hangar. Fatigue seeped into his every cell, and he could’ve sworn that his newest stab wound was bleeding yet again. Sam, Steve, and Nat joined him, discussing the sticky situation they’d faced while taking down yet another ruthless Hydra holdout. But Bucky tuned them out. He wasn’t interested in rehashing the violence and gore he’d face just hours earlier; he was finally home, and didn’t want to focus on anything but you. 

His body was battered and bruised, his muscles throbbing with each breath- but he didn’t care. The deep aches and sharp pains that accompanied each and every mission couldn’t compare to the agony of being away from you. He was utterly empty without you, missing you more and more as the days crept by. Life just wasn’t the same without you around. For Bucky, returning home to you was like being rescued from a sinking ship; he no longer had to fear the dark, cold water when he had you as his life preserver. 

FRIDAY’s voice caught you off guard, startling you as she alerted you to Bucky’s long-awaited return. Spending days upon days without Bucky was a cruel and unusual form of torture. When he was away on a mission, everything felt wrong- the bed wasn’t as cozy, your hot showers not nearly as comforting. And the anxiety threatened to eat you alive; it was almost as if you couldn’t breathe until you saw him return in one piece. Being sent on missions without each other always resulted in unchecked anxiety and catastrophic thinking. And since you’d been the one forced to stay home, the dread and worry was all yours.

Without hesitation, you dropped the laundry you’d been folding and hightailed it in the direction of the elevator, not wanting to waste a second. The excitement of seeing Bucky again sent an electric current buzzing through your body, almost as though you’d been touched by a live wire. When you finally arrived downstairs, you spotted Bucky near the end of the hall- and finally exhaled. His shoulders were slumped, and the back of his hair matted with blood, but he was alive- and that’s all that mattered. Without thinking, you broke into a sprint in his direction, desperate to wrap your arms around him as soon as humanly possible. 

Just as you reached for Bucky, something knocked the air from your chest. In an instant, your face was pressed against the cold, hard surface of the wall with so much force that you feared your cheekbone might crack. Something cold and metallic pressed firmly against your neck while the tip of a knife danced dangerously over your jugular. With each frantic beat of your heart, the blade grew that much closer to piercing your skin. The edges of your vision grew hazy as Bucky increased the force on your neck, preventing adequate oxygen from getting to your brain. 

“B-Bucky,” you rasped, “I can’t- it’s me…” 

A rush of warmth spread across your skin as the knife finally dug a few millimeters into your flesh. It carved its way down your neck, dragging through your tissue with startling ease. A trail of scarlet trickled down the blade of the knife, staining Bucky’s skin and dripping onto the stone floor. Fear flashed through you for only an instant- something you’d never felt around Bucky before.

“Please…s-stop”, you struggled against the hold Bucky had on you, but your years of training couldn’t save you from a super soldier. Bucky watched as your eyes began to slowly roll back in your head, and you prepared for this to be the last moment you’d ever see him- but he didn’t look like the Bucky you knew. His eyes were different somehow- darker, void of their familiar warmth. 

Before you could succumb to the encroaching darkness, Bucky collapsed. His body turned to dead weight as he crumbled to the floor, his knife skidding across the ground and leaving a bloody trail in its wake. Oxygen rushed into your lungs, but it wasn’t enough to keep you upright. Your knees buckled, leaving you limp and lifeless like an abandoned ragdoll. 

Just in the nick of time, Nat swooped in, saving you from crashing to the ground. “Okay- hey, look at me”, she lowered you slowly to the floor and quickly assessed your condition, forcing you to focus regardless your impossibly heavy eyelids. The world around you was hazy and unstable. Voices swirled around you, faces blurred- but one thing kept you focused. 

Bucky.

Between greedy inhales, you managed to finally ask, “Did Bucky- is…is he okay?” You let your eyes fall upon Bucky’s still form, “what happened to him?” 

It surprised no one that, even though you lay on the floor covered in blood, your only concern was for Bucky. Even after he’d attacked you, held a knife to your throat, and almost suffocated you, you still thought of him first. Nat pressed a piece of clean gauze to your neck, hoping to stem the bleeding. “He’s okay. I shot him up with the sedative from my med bag-” she pulled back the gauze and gave your bloody gash another look, “you should be worried about yourself…” Her gentle hand held pressure to your overflowing knife wound as you stared at Bucky’s unconscious body. 

“What the fuck was that about?” Sam shot a look at Steve, but found no explanation. He couldn’t wrap his brain around what he’d just witnessed. The two of them stared down at their friend Bucky, the same man who’d gone on and on about you the entire time they were gone. He spoke about you endlessly, telling the team just how miserable he was without you and how he couldn’t wait to hold you again. Sam and Steve knew how much he loved you, how he put your safety above all else- including his own life. He’d rather die than hurt you- or so they’d thought.

“I’m sure it’s just…” Against Nat’s wishes, you sat up, “It’s probably just, um, excess adrenaline from the mission. I shouldn’t have come up behind him like that- I know better. I probably scared him…he acted on instinct. It’s not his fault.” A cloud of darkness dragged you into a dizzy spell, but you couldn’t let it drag you under- not before you cleared Bucky’s name. “It’s just- it’s okay. Not a big deal.”

But neither Sam, Steve, nor Nat could be convinced of your theory. They communicated without words, exchanging apprehensive looks with one another. 

“Alright, um…get her upstairs, Nat. We’re gonna take care of Buck…” Steve motioned for Sam to help him scoop Bucky’s lifeless form from the floor. Together, they shuffled down the hall with the love of your life slung between them, his head lolling as they dragged him along. In your eyes, they didn’t need to take him away somewhere- you wanted Bucky by your side. He was physically and mentally exhausted, relying on his killer instinct to protect him in such a state of fatigue. And when he woke up, you wanted him to see you first. He’d need you to hold his hand and reassure him that it was okay, that you weren’t afraid of him. 

Bucky woke with a start, much like he did every night- but he wasn’t in bed next to you. He, instead, found himself slumped in a chair in the briefing room, fighting his way through a sedative-induced fog. Sam and Steve stood just a few feet away, eyeing him with suspicious glances.

“Um…hey, guys,” Bucky blinked a few times, banishing the stupor, “what’s um, what’s going on? Did I fall asleep during a briefing?” He surveyed the empty room, the long table completely void of case files. Something wasn’t right. “What’s the deal? Why are-” a splash of red caught Bucky’s eye, halting his words in his throat. A smattering of dried blood stained his nails and smudged his palm, sending a pang of anxiety ripping through him, “Did I- whose blood is this?”

Sam simply hung his head, declining to speak.

“What do you remember?” Steve tested the waters, hoping he wouldn’t have to spell out what Bucky had done to you. But Bucky remembered almost nothing. 

“I remember…coming back from the mission, getting off the jet-” Bucky wracked his brain for anything else, a morsel of a memory- but came up empty “…that’s it”. 

Steve joined Sam in hanging his head. He didn’t want to tell his best friend how he’d attacked you, how he’d thrown you against a wall and threatened your life. But as the silent seconds passed, Bucky’s anxiety only multiplied. With each moment that dragged by, millions of increasingly horrible scenarios bred in his brain until he thought he might scream.

“Just tell me what happened,” Bucky begged, “I need to know. Just-”

“You attacked her”, Steve’s voice was cold and hollow. Bucky simply stared at his friend, waiting for context. But anguish overtook him completely as the need for context vanished. Memories violently flooded his psyche, showing him just what he’d done: 

The sound of your body crashing into the wall. His metal arm holding bruising pressure against your neck. His knife pressed to your throat- the tip of the blade digging into your skin. Your blood oozing from the wound and dripping down his hand. The breathless way you begged him for mercy. The light leaving your eyes as they disappeared into your skull.

Tears immediately pooled along Bucky’s lash line, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was too distraught, too utterly horrified by what he’d done- what he’d done to you. He’d promised that he’d never hurt you, that he’d never put you in harm’s way. And he’d broken that promise. 

He fought, struggled endlessly to get the words out, but couldn’t seem to make himself speak. Steve held up a hand, pausing Bucky’s efforts. “She’s okay- she’s gonna be fine. There’s a knife wound on her neck, and a cut on her cheek from where she hit the wall- but she’s alright.” The vice grip holding Bucky’s words hostage slowly relaxed as Steve assured him that you’d make a full recovery. You were alive, you were going to be absolutely fine- but Bucky couldn’t get past the images that played in his head on an endless loop.

“I don’t- why did I do this?” The sheer panic forced Bucky to his feet, forbidding him to sit any longer. He paced the length of the room, putting both Steve and Sam on edge. They each stiffened their shoulders and prepared for a fight, just in case Bucky’s switch flipped once again. 

“We don’t know…” Steve took a cautious step in Bucky’s direction, “we’re hoping it was just excess adrenaline- she thinks she startled you by grabbing you from behind. But we can’t be sure yet.”

“Yeah, Tony wanted you in a holding cell-” Sam chimed in, “he left with Pepper and Morgan, said he didn’t want ‘history repeating itself’…but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. As far as he’s concerned, you’re locked up”.

Bucky raked a hand violently through his hair, “wait, why am I- why didn’t you put me in a cell? I shouldn’t be around people, I-”

“She didn’t want you locked away…” Steve took a few more steps toward Bucky, closing the gap between them. He trusted Bucky, even after everything. With a gentle hand, he stopped his friend’s anxious pacing, “I went and checked on her, told her what Tony said- but she said she’d kick my ass and Sam’s if we put you in a cell. And I didn’t wanna upset her even more, so…”

An involuntary smile made Bucky’s lips twitch upward ever so slightly. Of course you hadn’t wanted him locked up. Even after what he’d done, you still cared about him, still loved him- even though he knew he didn’t deserve it. 

“Can I…am I allowed to see her?” Bucky knew the answer to his question, but still needed to ask. The desperation rising in his chest threatened to boil over and drive him crazy if he didn’t at least check on you. He needed to see with his own two eyes that you were, in fact, okay. 

Sam and Steve exchanged a long glance. They knew it wasn’t a good idea to allow Bucky to see you after what he’d done, but what if you were right? What if this entire nightmare was simply the unfortunate combination of leftover adrenaline and a surprise hug? And if that were the case, keeping Bucky away from you would do nothing but make both of you completely and utterly miserable.

“Please, guys-” Bucky’s voice shook with need, “I’m so- I need to see her- to see that she’s okay. I need to tell her I’m sorry…I need to tell her I love her. Please. Just let me-”

“Okay, um…” Steve threw a shrug Sam’s way, “what do you think?”

Sam shrugged right back, “I don’t know man… this isn’t really our area of expertise.”

Steve turned back to Bucky and eyed him for a long, quiet moment. He could see the worry, the desperation pooling in his best friend’s eyes. He knew Bucky would never hurt you on purpose.

“You can see her- but we’re coming with you. Sam and I gonna stand right outside the door, deal?” 

Bucky agreed in an instant, favoring a supervised visit over no visit at all. 

Together, Bucky, Sam, and Steve piled into the elevator. Bucky’s heart pounded in his ears and anxiety twisted his stomach into harsh, uncomfortable knots. He held an internal argument with himself over his decision to visit you. When it came to your safety, Bucky never wanted to take even the smallest risk. He knew logically that being near you was most likely the wrong choice, but his heart strongly contested his head. He never allowed himself to be selfish. He never let himself have anything- he’d barely allowed himself to accept your love. And maybe seeing you after he’d just held a knife to your throat was the selfish option, but just this once, Bucky caved to his needs.

His heart stopped when a streak of red caught his eye. With frantic hands, he swiped at your dried blood that lay lodged in every crevasse of his nails. He picked and picked at his skin until he was sure his own blood would soon pour out, but he didn’t care- he couldn’t visit you with bloody reminders of his attack splattered across his skin. The evidence of what he’d done to you finally flaked away completely just as the elevator doors opened onto the floor you shared with Bucky.

“We’re gonna be right out here. Sam has sedatives in case…” Steve gave Bucky a small nod, “you can go in”. It struck Bucky as odd that he needed to be given permission to enter his own bedroom. He couldn’t believe how messy things had gotten, how severely he’d fucked up. And as he gently knocked on the bedroom door, he swore that he’d make things up to you if you’d let him.

Part of him feared that you wouldn’t want to see him- and if that were the case, he’d understand. It made perfect sense that you’d be scared of Bucky, that you’d want to keep him at a safe distance. But the moment his metal fist made contact with the door, you practically begged him to come in.

Your body slammed into Bucky’s the instant he made it past the threshold. If it weren’t for his quick reflexes, your eagerness to see him would’ve sent you both crashing to the floor. Holding Bucky was like a balm for the soul. Since the moment Nat rushed you upstairs, you’d been aching to see him. You needed to know he was alright, that he wasn’t spiraling into a dark rabbit hole of guilt and self-hatred. You needed him to know that you didn’t blame him- that he was forgiven. You didn’t care that he had a little slip up, that his leftover adrenaline had forced him into defense mode. He was still your Bucky, and you loved him all the same. 

Bucky almost couldn’t let himself hug you. To him, you were fragile, you were glass. But as you wriggled your way into his arms, he couldn’t resist. He needed to feel you, to hold you close. He needed to know that you were okay. His heart dropped as he stole glances at the gauze taped to your neck and the matching bandage that adorned your cheek. He hated himself for causing you pain, for scaring you, for making you bleed. All he ever wanted was to make you feel safe. His shaky voice whispered apology after apology against your neck, promising you that he’d never hurt you again.

He was wrong. 

Without warning, something sinister crept up his spine. It’s as if he were possessed, his body taken over by the ghost of his past. His eyes darkened as his grip around you grew tighter, tighter, tighter. The strong arms that provided you safety and warmth each night wound around you, restricting your ability to breathe. Your lungs burned, ached for oxygen that you couldn’t grant them. 

“H-hey, Buck…I-” you gasped, hoping his emotion had simply gotten the best of him. But it wasn’t his love for you that held you in a vice grip. 

A sharp snap suddenly rang out as one of your ribs lost its battle against Bucky’s strength.

Pain eclipsed your every thought as yet another rib snapped. You prayed for release, for oxygen. A small ray of hope broke through the agonizing fog as Bucky’s bruising grip left your body. But only one breath made its way into your chest before his cold vibranium hand wound around your neck. His suffocating hold grew tighter, more vicious, as he shoved you into the nearest wall. Framed photos of the two of you crashed to the floor, sending glass shattering at your feet and embedding itself into your skin. 

It was happening again. 

And as a fuzzy black border colored the edges of your vision, you gave Bucky one last look. This wasn’t your Bucky. This person was cold. He stood before you with a rigid intensity, his gaze hollow and unflinching. This wasn’t excess adrenaline or self-defense; this was a choice. 

As you once again slipped into unconsciousness at the hands of your boyfriend, the bedroom door crashed open. The sound of a struggle accompanied your violent collapse to the ground, Bucky’s hand finally leaving your throat. A ragged, sharp inhale forced itself into your aching chest as the darkness consumed you for the second time that day. 

It wasn’t clear why, but Bucky wanted you dead.

A familiar fog left Bucky disoriented. It seemed as if his head had been filled with cotton, muffling the world around him. Everything felt fuzzy, but it only took a moment for the violent flashbacks to snake their way into his consciousness. He remembered visiting you in the bedroom you shared, holding you gently and whispering tender apologies. But the serene moment didn’t last. 

He felt the creaking of your bones under his strength. Your ragged breathing. The way your chest struggled to expand beneath his grasp. Your pulse pounding under his fingertips as he crushed your windpipe. 

Goosebumps broke out over the surface of his skin as he tried to shake the memories loose. It took everything in him to drag his hand up to his face in an attempt to rub the haze from his eyes- but a sharp metallic clanging sound stopped his arm in its tracks. A vibranium cuff encircled his right wrist, securing him to the concrete wall. He was a prisoner. 

Visions of your wide, horrified eyes plagued Bucky. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t silence the voice in his head that called him a monster. An all-encompassing panic set in as he wondered if you were okay, if you were even alive. He struggled to breath, to think. 

It was then that he noticed that his cell was too quiet- something was missing. He couldn’t quite put a finger on why the air around him felt so empty, so eerily silent. And then it hit him. The constant whirring of his arm no longer vibrated through the air; the tiny sound that filled his every waking second was gone- as was his arm. 

“It’s just a precaution…” Steve stood in the doorway, watching his friend come to terms with the situation. “It wasn’t my idea to take it from you…or to put you in here. It- it’s messed up, I know. I’m sorry.”

It didn’t seem fair to Steve, forcing Bucky into a cold, lonely cell for something he had no control over. But if you ended up dead, he knew Bucky would never forgive himself. And so he’d dragged his friend’s limp body to the holding cell and cuffed him to the wall, apologizing even though he knew Bucky couldn’t hear him. Taking the arm was the hardest part. It was dehumanizing, cruel, undoubtedly wrong to remove the prosthesis Bucky had worked so hard to grow comfortable with.

Steve’s apology, while kind, was unnecessary. Bucky knew it wasn’t Steve who’d put these “precautions” in place- it was Tony.

“I did it again, didn’t I?” A despondent emptiness rendered Bucky’s words nearly inaudible. Part of him hoped that the memory of his vibranium hand crushing your throat was simply a nightmare, an ugly image concocted by his psyche. But Steve’s subtle nod crushed that hope. 

“Oh my god, is she-” 

“She’s okay. They have her in the med bay now. She’s got two broken ribs, and a lot of bruising around her throat…she’s gonna be alright, though”. Steve took a few more steps into Bucky’s small cell, prompting Bucky to scramble as far away as his cuffs would allow. He met the wall after only two steps, his shoulder pressing into the cold concrete with a bruising intensity.

“Don’t. It’s not safe- I can’t control it”.

But Bucky’s warning did nothing to stop Steve, and he took a seat right next to his friend without fear. No murderous rage eclipsed Bucky’s consciousness, no unbridled violence took control of his body. He was just Bucky. There was no bloodlust, no fury, no homicidal tendencies. Bucky braced himself for a switch to flip, waiting for the telltale cold creeping up his spine - but it never came. He remained cognizant, coherent, in control. Relief eased the tension in Bucky’s shoulders as he realized he wasn’t going to try and kill his best friend. But the respite was short lived. 

“I don’t understand what’s going on…” Bucky’s voice came out a hollow whisper, “Why would I hurt her?” He remained slumped against the wall, his head falling against the concrete with a solid thud. You were the one he felt safest with, the person who brought him the most comfort. He was utterly at peace with you around. And yet, the very sight of you had thrown him into a violent, bloody rampage- twice in one day. 

“I wish I had better news, but…we have no idea”, Steve sighed. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the wall, his skull making an identical thud. For the hundredth time that day, he thought back over the course of the mission. He wondered what he’d missed, what went wrong in order to trigger the conditional reemergence of the Winter Soldier. And yet again, he found himself at a loss.  

“We’re gonna figure it out, though,”, Steve righted his posture and looked Bucky dead in the eye, “I promise you, Buck. We’ve already got everyone working on it. Bruce, Shuri, Dr. Cho- they’re all making calls and working together to find a solution. You’re gonna be okay”.

But Bucky wasn’t worried about being okay. He didn’t care about the uncomfortable cot or the cuffs or even his missing arm- he just wanted to be with you. He wanted to be there for you. He wanted to hold you and take care of you as you healed from the injuries he’d caused. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even be in the same room as you without wanting to end your life.  He knew how hard it was for you to get a good night’s sleep without him in bed next to you, how worried you’d be about him. It seemed like a cruel joke that, somehow, being around Bucky was both better and worse for you, all at the same time.

And as Steve stalked out of the room, hell bent on finding a solution to this hellish problem, Bucky wondered when and if he’d ever get to see you again.

Every passing day left Bucky emptier than the last. He needed you. He’d never gone this long without talking to you, and would rather endure torture at the hands of Hydra than be without you any longer. But it wasn’t up to him. Doctors filtered in and out on the daily, carrying out tests and assessments that concluded with absolutely zero progress. 

Visits from the team acted like a band-aid on a bullet wound. Even though he knew it was impossible, he always secretly hoped that it would be you walking through the door- but those hopes were dashed every time. He appreciated the time Steve, Sam, Nat, and Wanda spent sitting with him, bringing him food, and giving him new books- but all he ever wanted was news about you.  Steve tried his best to keep things optimistic, telling Bucky that you were a “trooper” and “hanging in there”, but Nat was far more honest.

“She’s miserable. Complete and utter agony,” Nat stole a fry from Bucky’s dinner and dunked it in his ketchup, “All she ever does is ask about you- that is, when she’s not begging me to bring her down here for a secret visit.”

A pang of anxiety ripped through Bucky, “Nat, you can’t. I might-”

“I know.”

Bucky’s shoulders slumped forward and he rested his head in his hands, “would you tell her I love her?”

“I always do, Barnes”, Nat stood from her spot on Bucky’s small cot and made her way toward the door, only stopping when Bucky called out to her.

“And tell her I’m sorry…” 

Shuri’s arrival set the building abuzz with a renewed sense of hope; she’d debugged Bucky’s brain once, and she could do it again. Bucky told himself not to expect anything, not to get his hopes up. But managing his optimism grew difficult the moment he saw Shuri. She’d saved him when no one else could, deprogrammed decades of Hydra brainwashing- surely she could get to the bottom of his latest predicament. But a frown dragged her features downward as she analyzed his latest test results. 

“So…not looking good, huh?” Bucky manufactured a small smile; even in his time of need, he didn’t want to make Shuri feel bad. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way here just for this, but I really appreciate it. If you can’t-”

“Oh, I can”, Shuri flicked her eyes up to meet Bucky’s, “It’s just going to take a bit of time to figure out what’s going on- I need you to be patient. Can you do that?”

“I’ll do whatever you say. I just…I need to see my girl. As soon as possible”.

“Who knew he was such a romantic?” Shuri leaned in for a one-armed hug from Bucky, much like she did during his days in Wakanda. They’d grown close, almost as though she were his much, much younger, brilliant sister. She knew him well enough to be able to recognize the fear in his eyes. He was scared and confused, and she wanted to fix it. She hated that he was experiencing something so unexpected, something so unsettling- and that he was dealing with it alone. Bucky had actually found someone he loved, someone who loved him back. Shuri knew in her heart that Bucky didn’t deserve yet another dose of suffering, he deserved to be happy. 

“I will take care of this, Barnes. I promise”. 

A solemn quiet filled the room. The last time Shuri had seen Bucky, he was a newly freed man. Her tireless work had proven successful, and he left Wakanda with a thousand thank you’s and a renewed sense of hope. But the man sitting in front of Shuri now wasn’t the same Bucky who left Wakanda with a smile on his face and a levity in his heart. This Bucky resembled the one who’d come to her for help when he couldn’t trust his own mind. He was a shell of himself, and it broke her heart. 

“So, they took your arm from you…” Shuri’s eyes flicked toward Bucky’s left side, “that’s rude. Don’t they know I made that arm? It was a gift- an expensive gift!” She nudged her shoulder against Bucky’s, and he let a tiny smile crack through his downtrodden demeanor. Maybe Shuri couldn’t fix Bucky’s brain right then and there, but at least she could make him laugh.

Days turned into weeks with what felt like no progress, and Bucky swore he was being turned into a lab rat. MRIs, CT scans, vials upon vials of blood, spit tests, urine samples, PET scans, and EEGs left Bucky overwhelmed and afraid. During his time spent in captivity at Hydra, he’d endured decades of non-consensual medical experimentation that saddled him with a healthy distrust of medical personnel. And the myriad of testing just reignited his trauma. His anxiety spiked any time someone in a pair of scrubs or a white coat needed to poke him with a needle or take imaging of his brain.

And he knew that if this were happening to him under any other circumstances, you’d be by his side- you’d hold his hand and help him through. But he was alone. And every night, he suffered by himself. Brutal nightmares reared their ugly heads, forcing him to relive every horrifying instance of medical abuse he’d ever experienced. His screams resounded through the holding cell, bouncing off the cold concrete walls and launching themselves back at Bucky as though he were living in a haunted house. The phenomenon was bone-chilling, and even though he experienced it ever night without fail, he simply couldn’t get used to it.

His new surroundings felt eerily similar to his holding cell under Hydra: cold, claustrophobic, no touched of comfort. Simply waking up in such an environment threw him into a panic attack almost every night. From the moment he opened his eyes, he swore that he was somehow in their clutches once again, being held against his will and punished for escaping.

He missed your gentle hands that comforted him after every nightmare, your soothing voice that promised him he was safe. He desperately needed to wrap his body around yours and rest his head on your chest while you played with his hair. He needed you. 

“I feel like an animal in a zoo,” Bucky told Sam one day as he dove into the piece of cake Sam brought him. His eyes flicked to the small mirror on the far side of the room, “don’t they know I can hear them?” Sam had a split second decision to make: gaslight Bucky into believing it was just a normal mirror, or own up to the fact that it was actually two-way glass. He chose the latter.

“I don’t wanna lie, man, so I’ll just be straight with you: they use it to check up on you”. Sam gave the fake mirror a sly glance before turning his attention back to Bucky, “it’s just Shuri, Bruce, and some doctors- well, sometimes Steve goes in there, too. But they’re not trying to spy on you. It’s just for observation”.

“Eh, feels like spying,” Bucky threw his friend a shrug, “if they would’ve told me about it, I’d call it observation. But they’re doing it secretly, so that makes it spying.”

“So it’s only spying if they don’t tell you-”

“Yeah, that’s like the definition of spying,” Bucky laughed, “that’s how it works”.

“Is it still spying if I’m the one who told you? What’s the ruling on that?”

Bucky shook his head as another small laugh bubbled up to the surface. He appreciated Sam’s company. Not being able to spend time with the team left him feeling more isolated than he had when he first joined. He knew that, if this whole ordeal ever ended, he’d be out of the loop yet again. He’d be a stranger. He was being forced into alienation, and had no one to blame but himself.

He took another bite of the cake Sam brought, “Well, clearly none of the geniuses in that room remembered that I’m a super soldier- that I have enhanced senses”. He swiped a smudge of frosting from his lip and sucked it off his finger, “I can hear everything they say”. Sam rolled his eyes. Some of the brightest minds in the world populated the Avengers compound, and somehow none of them took Bucky’s abilities into consideration. He thought they might never solve his problem if they couldn’t remember that Bucky was a super soldier. 

Sam was wrong, however. Only two days later, Shuri made a discovery. She cross referenced Bucky’s blood work and his brain scans, and after doing some digging into his last mission, she finally arrived at a diagnosis- and a possible solution.

“What we’re dealing with is an incredibly specific- and unheard of- neurotransmitter disorder brought on by blunt force trauma”, Shuri pulled up imaging of Bucky’s brain, “According to Captain Rogers, you took a nasty blow to the head during your last mission”. 

Bucky nodded.

“It seems as though, somehow, your wires got crossed. See, when the brain perceives danger, or enters ‘fight’ mode, the amygdala produces catecholamines.” Shuri stared at Bucky, waiting for him to indicate that he was following. He offered her a small shrug. 

“Catecholamines are neurotransmitters- chemicals- like dopamine, epinephrine, and norepinephrine. And even though Hydra had full control of your mind during your Winter Soldier days, these chemical responses to perceived danger were still occurring- they’re innate.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Shuri as the gears in his brain struggled to turn, “Okay, right. Yeah.” He was following Shuri’s explanation so far- mostly. It took him a moment and a few quiet repetitions of Shuri’s words until the concepts were cemented in his brain, but Shuri didn’t mind. And when the dots finally connected, Bucky was ready to move on.

“Okay, so…why am I-”

“I’m getting there,” Shuri held up a hand, assuring Bucky that there was a solution to come. “When someone is in love, their hypothalamus usually produces a chemical called oxytocin. I say ‘usually’, because right now, yours isn’t.” Shuri zoomed in on Bucky’s CT scan and pointed to a vague shape that meant absolutely nothing to Bucky. 

“Your amygdala is working double shifts. Not only is it producing those ‘fight’ chemicals when you’re on a dangerous mission, it’s also making them when you see your girlfriend. It’s completely taking over the hypothalamus’s job.” 

Shuri clocked Bucky’s furrowed brow, and the lost expression he wore. She searched for the right words for a moment before rephrasing, “Your amygdala has fired your hypothalamus. So now, instead of getting a rush of oxytocin, AKA ‘the love drug’, when you see your girlfriend, your amygdala gives you a dose of your ‘fight’ chemicals.” 

Bucky’s head fell into his hands. He always feared that the Winter Soldier would return one way or another, and it seemed as though his fear was now his reality. A hopeless abyss ripped open in his brain, and left him wondering if he’d ever see you again, if the last time he hurt you would be the last interaction the two of you would ever have. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. He was supposed to spend the rest of his life by your side, loving you until his heart stopped beating. His hands balled into tight fists that he pressed up against his eyes as the soul-crushing despair pulled him deeper and deeper. 

“The Winter Soldier programming is no longer in place,” Shuri took a seat next to Bucky and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her heart broke for him, the white wolf she’d come to know so well. “The training, however, is still there- and your combative reactions are linked to those ‘fight’ chemicals. So, when your amygdala sends them into your bloodstream, you go after whatever perceived threat is present- and right now, that ‘threat’ is your girl.” 

A long moment passed as Bucky processed the information.  He didn’t care about the names of his neurotransmitters or the functions of the structures in his brain, he just wanted to see you. 

“I can fix this. It’s going to mean more bloodwork, more scans, and probably something I’ve been working on back home. But it is possible. I promise.”

“Do whatever you have to do”. 

Bucky sounded empty and emotionally drained, but Shuri could’ve sworn she heard something resembling hope in his voice. With Bucky’s blessing, she left for the lab with a sworn promise to return Bucky back to normal as soon as she possibly could. Bucky knew he was in good hands, knew that Shuri was a certified genius with access to better tech than anyone on the planet- but anxiety still gnawed at the edges of his soul. 

He endured more needle punctures and brain scans, all the while worrying about you. He wondered if you were doing alright, if you were sleeping or eating enough. He knew how you tended to hole up in bed when you were upset, and could almost see you watching the Twilight movies on an endless loop. He knew Wanda and Nat were checking in on you, but it wasn’t right. It should’ve been him sitting there with you, watching Edward trying to sacrifice himself to the Volturi. And with every hellish appointment Shuri put him through, the only thing keeping him going was the promise that he’d see you once again.

“It’s not going to hurt-” Shuri paused for a moment, reconsidering her words, “it’s not going to be comfortable, though.” She aligned the last few sensors to the base of Bucky’s skull before taking a step back and appraising her work. “It’s going to feel strange, like someone’s putting their hand inside your skull and poking around-” She clocked Bucky’s horrified expression, “I should really find a better way to describe the sensation…anyway, think of this as brain surgery without the scalpel. It’s going to take a good amount of sessions before the damage is reversed and your neurotransmitters are firing properly again, but I promise it’s going to work.”

“Uh-huh, and when exactly did you come up with this gizmo?”

Shuri rolled her eyes, “relax, Barnes. You’re not the first test subject…” Her hand hovered above a blinking blue button, “I tried it on a baby goat first and it fixed his paralysis- I’ve got a one hundred percent success rate!” With that, Shuri initiated the system. 

A deep groan resonated through Bucky’s chest as a strange pressure filled his head. He could’ve sworn that his skull had been cracked open and his brain sliced clean in half. He was sure that a neurosurgeon was elbow deep inside his cranium, pulling and poking at the various structures of his brian. It was, as Shuri had vastly understated, ‘strange’. He wished more than anything to have you there by his side to hold his hand, to keep him calm as his anxiety tried to drown him. But Bucky would’ve undergone this procedure countless times for even the chance to see you again. 

A sharp shaking left your hands unsteady as you waited for Shuri. She was late- why was she late? A crushing dread gripped you by the throat. The worst possible scenarios forced their way into your consciousness, and a nagging feeling that something had gone wrong cute you to the core. This was a new treatment- some form of tech that Shuri had whipped up in her lab back home. It was entirely possible that Bucky wasn’t responding well, and if that were the case, his violent outbursts against you would never subside. 

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Nat assured you, “she’s only six minutes late. Breathe. You know how long medical shit takes.”

You did your best to manufacture a smile, and threw a nod Nat’s way- but it was less than convincing. You knew better than anyone how scared Bucky must’ve been, how much he hated being poked and prodded by doctors. Just imagining him going through all of this alone was enough to make you sick. But he was strong, and you forced yourself to be strong for him.

The door flew open without warning. Updates on Bucky’s condition fell from Shuri’s lips as soon she swept through the door; she didn’t sit down, didn’t even say hello before the excitement got the better of her. 

“It went well! We did more bloodwork and another scan- the procedure works,” Shuri almost shouted. “Like I said, it will take several rounds to completely fix the damage, but I think we-” Before she could finish her sentence, you had her wrapped in a bear hug. Your tears dampened her shirt and an almost overwhelming flood of gratitude threatened to knock the two of you to the floor.

“When can I see him? When do we test this out?” 

Shuri broke the tearful embrace and placed her hands firmly on your shoulders, “we don’t. We’ll do everyround of the procedure, the scans, the bloodwork– all before we even consider letting him see you again.”

“But what if he doesn’t need every round? What if he’s fine now? What if-”

Nat gave you an almost harsh look, “you know she’s right. It’s too dangerous. He could hurt you again-”

“But what if he doesn’t!” Anguish and anxiety grew into a hard lump in your throat, and it suddenly seemed as though everyone wanted to pretend that you didn’t engage in dangerous behavior as part of your every day job. “I know you’re trying to protect me, but I don’t want this to last any longer than it has to! If we don’t at least try, how will we know if it works?” 

“We’ll know. The scans, the bloodwork- they’ll tell us.” Shuri remained calm and collected, even as you fell to pieces in front of her.

“But you said it could take fifteen sessions- what if he’s healed at 8? Or 6? What if he’s back to normal before his brain is completely ‘fixed’?”

“You’ll have to be patient. We’ll do the fifteen sessions like I planned and go from there. I know it’s not ideal, but I need you to trust me”. Shuri gave Nat a quick nod and excused herself as a hurricane of emotion dragged you to the floor. No one seemed to grasp your desperation, your soul-crushing need to be with Bucky. It was almost as if ship after ship passed you by, watching you drown without offering a life preserver. Shuri’s work and dedication was more than appreciated, but she viewed things from a logical, scientific perspective. And you were feeling less than logical.

And after another week of treatments, scans, and bloodwork, an unrelenting agony threatened to force you out of your skin. You were done with the shitty hand you and Bucky had been dealt. And as 2am rolled around, you found yourself digging in Nat’s jacket pocket for her card key to Bucky’s cell. She slept soundly in Bucky’s spot in your bed, having dozed off while the two of you watched an entire season of Ted Lasso. She didn’t even stir as you hastily slipped out the door, fueled by your overwhelming need to see Bucky. 

The elevator ride seemed to take almost five times as long as you remembered- or maybe you were just frantic and impatient. It was startling how much you missed him, how deeply he’d become engrained in your life. You never knew you could love someone so deeply or need them as much as you needed Bucky. Even after his attempts on your life, you still wanted to wake up next to him every morning and fall asleep by his side each night. And if he tried to kill you yet again, you wouldn’t fault him. You were choosing to put yourself in harm’s way, to tempt fate. But you weren’t scared. You could never be scared of Bucky.

Nat’s key card gained you entrance to the restricted floor that housed the holding cells. It was empty and quiet, almost eerie. You hated knowing that Bucky was locked up behind one of the large, heavy doors that dotted the off-putting hallway. He deserved better. He deserved warmth and comfort and light. He deserved to be in his own bed. He deserved to be home- with you.

Resting in a hanging organizer was a large file with Steve’s messy handwriting scrawled on the front: ‘J. B. Barnes’. A sharp uptick in the beating of your heart sent a flash of heat flooding your body. After what felt like an eternity, you were only feet away from the love of your life. You reached outward with the access key in your hand before a sharp recoil made you pause. 

Suddenly, this felt wrong- almost like an invasion of privacy. What if Bucky didn’t want to see you? What if your presence only added to his stress? Riptides of guilt took hold of you and threatened to drag you under, but you refused to succumb to their weight. 

Almost on autopilot, you dragged the key card through the slot and pushed Bucky’s door open. 

Under any other circumstances, a visitor at two in the morning would’ve given Bucky a good startle, but he was used to it by now. Doctors and nurses came to check on him seemingly every hour, even in the middle of the night. Just like everything else in his life, he’d lost any and all privacy. He didn’t even bother to look up when his door swung open, and instead kept his eyes on the book Sam had brought him a few days earlier. If they needed to take his blood, they could do so while he read.

But the book fell from his hand when he heard your voice.

“Buck?” you took a few steps into his cell, letting the door fall closed behind you.

Tears instantly welled in your eyes as you got your first glimpse at Bucky in over a month. His beard was a bit scruffy, and you were certain he was dying for a haircut by now as his shaggy locks fell in his eyes. In all the time you’d known him, you’d never seen the circles under his eyes so dark- or maybe he was just extra pale from the lack of sunlight, you weren’t sure. But he looked exhausted. 

And even with his unkempt beard and tired eyes, he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

“Baby-”

Bucky’s heart almost exploded. His first instinct threw him to his feet and sent him flying in your direction, but his second forced him to a screeching halt. He backpedaled until his shoulder crashed into the wall farthest from you, “stop”. Tears glided down Bucky’s cheeks as he watched your expression fall. “I’m sorry, doll, I’m sosorry- you have to go. You can’t be here”, he hated himself for saying the words, for hurting you yet again. He ached to hold you, but he couldn’t let himself be selfish. He couldn’t put you in danger again. 

“I- I needed to…to see you”, you struggled to get the words out, “I miss you, Buck”.

Bucky only nodded, unable to fight through the emotion that had him in a chokehold. He wanted to tell you how miserable he’d been, how soul-crushing it was to spend time without you. But he couldn’t speak- he could barely breathe.

But as you took a few more steps in his direction, he panicked. His shoulders protested against the harsh pressure as he pushed himself harder and harder into the concrete wall. He needed to get away from you. He needed to keep his distance. 

“Baby, don’t. Please. You can’t. I might-”

A small gasp filled your lungs, “Buck, where’s your arm?” 

Bucky let his eyes drift down to his left shoulder for only a second, fearing that a break in his focus would flip his switch. “They um, they took it from me,” he muttered through gritted teeth. As much as he hated the fact that he’d been robbed of his prosthesis all those weeks ago, he was grateful for it now. At least he wouldn’t be able to use it against you, at least you’d maybe have a fighting chance. “That doesn’t matter right now- you have to leave, doll”.

“But, Buck, I just-”

Bucky thought he’d never feel a deeper, more agonizing sadness than he had over the last month. But as he told you to leave time and time again after not seeing you for weeks, he knew he’d been wrong. All he wanted was to be with you again, to hold you and tell you how much he missed you. But he couldn’t.

“I don’t want you to go. But I’m- this isn’t safe. I love you…I don’t want to hurt you again”. 

It had been over a month since the last time you heard Bucky say ‘I love you’. And as the words left his lips, all seemed right in the world once again. It felt like you’d been fixed, like whatever hollow, empty void had opened in your chest was finally healed. You knew he was right, that he still posed a considerable risk to your safety. But you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“You won’t hurt me-”

“I already have. And it could happen again.” He forced his eyes closed, willing himself to stay focused on his breathing. If you weren’t going to listen to his pleas for you to leave, all he could do was try and remain in control.

“I don’t care. I’m not scared-”

“But you should be.”

Bucky’s breathing picked up in pace, and a deep pit formed in his stomach. He knew it didn’t matter if he focused on his breathing or whether or not he stayed present- he couldn’t outrun his own mind. 

“I’ll never be scared of you, Buck. I trust you. I love you…” You took a few steps in his direction, “I’ll always love you.”

A tardy doctor swiped his key through the slot to Bucky’s observation room, hating that he’d been given the late-night rotation. Watching Bucky read a book at two in the morning simply didn’t seem that important. So what if he was a few minutes late? All he had to do was make a note that Bucky was still alive and well, and he’d be free to go. But his plans changed when he saw you in Bucky’s cell. His hands shook as he reached for his phone and frantically called Steve and Sam, hoping to any deity who’d listen that they’d arrive before Bucky could strangle you.

Sam and Steve burst through the door of the observation room only minutes later, both still clad in their pajamas. They threw a flurry of questions at the doctor who’d called and woken them with the unfortunate news, but he had no answers to offer. 

“We gotta get in there, man. Let’s-” Sam tugged on Steve’s arm and made a move for the door, but Steve remained rooted in place.

Steve’s eyes never left the window, his stare never faltering from you and Bucky. “Hang on…” he held a hand up to Sam, “just wait a second”.

“We can’t wait a second- she could be dead in a second!” 

But Steve refused to move. All he could do was watch as Bucky ventured in your direction. A small flicker of hope glowed inside him, telling him that maybe Bucky wouldn’t hurt you this time. Maybe everything was going to be okay.

Bucky couldn’t stop himself. He moved slowly in your direction, his heavy footsteps stalking toward you and echoing against the concrete walls. He’d been so strong, so careful since the moment you walked through the door, but his resolve faltered. He couldn’t resist having you so close. 

Bucky moved toward you with a slow intensity you’d never seen, and sudden flashbacks of National Geographic documentaries about lions hunting gazelles filled your brain. But you weren’t scared. Your hands remained steady and your breathing calm, and even when Bucky extended a hand toward your face, you refused to flinch.

“We have to get her out- now!” Sam screamed at Steve, “what are you doing?”

“Just wait!”

Bucky’s hand found your cheek, and you couldn’t stop the sigh of relief brought on by his touch. Regardless of the circumstances, his touch brough you a peace you hadn’t felt in weeks. Even if these were to be your last moments, you didn’t regret spending them with Bucky. Part of you expected him to throw you to the ground and snap your neck, but it was Bucky who ended up on the floor.

His knees buckled beneath him, hitting the concrete with a painful intensity. Fierce sobs wracked his body and forced his shoulders forward as he struggled to breath. 

“Buck, hey-” you sunk to the floor immediately, and took his face gently in your hands, “What’s going on, baby? What’s wrong?”

But he couldn’t respond. He leaned into you, resting his body against yours for the first time in over a month. He needed to be as close to you as possible. His hand stroked your cheek as gently as he could manage before his fingers ran slowly through your hair. He stared at you, refusing to blink for fear of waking up from such a wonderful dream. He’d never seen anyone or anything so perfect, so heartbreakingly beautiful. And while sobs still rattled his chest, he forced himself to speak. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t hurt you. I didn’t lose control…” He wound his arm slowly around you, gently pulling your chest flush to his. A deep inhale filled his lungs, forcing fresh tears to the surface. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed your scent, or how much you smelled like home. His voice was low and soft in your ear, “I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you again. I thought-” 

“I wasn’t gonna let that happen”, you pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek and tightened your grip around him, “no matter how many people told me to stay away from you”. 

Bucky broke the embrace and took your chin gently between his fingers, “You put yourself in danger, sweetheart. This wasn’t a good idea.”

“I think it was a great idea”.

Bucky hated that you almost willfully met your death, but couldn’t stay mad at you. He’d told you time and time again that he’d risk his life for you, and swore he’d keep that promise someday. But you’d risked your life for him. You’d walked headfirst into danger without even batting an eye- just to be with him. And he could never thank you enough.

————————————

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[cloudyswritings]

Story/worldbuilding ideas n prompts

Just a sorta dump of ideas I’ve got rattling around in my brain. I may or may not get around to using these so feel free to play around with them.

Sci-fi:

Climate pirates: Basically just the future of our world where global warming has resulted in far more ocean to sail and a lack of resources has seen a second golden age of piracy. This would look kinda like a hybrid between Onepiece and Cyperpunk as a setting, maybe a woman who unexpectedly becomes captain and fights capitalism?

Spectral: Through science a man discovers a way to enter and exit the afterlife, he basically uses this to pull a bunch of heists from various afterlives and ends up being chased down from both the real world and by the dead. I imagine this could either be a story from his pov or someone who is trying to piece together his life story after the fact.

Slime based economy: Self explanatory, the economy of the US has transitioned to a form of slime. There’s probably a darker secret behind it all.

First contact but with octopi: They rapidly advance technologically once a scientist accidentally makes them longer lived, this leads to tension between our species. This would probably look like some sort of political story(I’ve been watching west wing).

Beam me up: A person finds a downed UFO and saves the beings within from the clutches of the government. This turns into a silly buddy cop story between a non-binary sweetheart and a grouchy gray alien as the go on a world tour to track down the pieces of his ship and reassemble it.

Fantasy:

Necomancer Whales: Basically a revenge story where a whalefall rises from the grave to hunt down the whaling ship who killed them. A sort of found family story with the creatures who were eating the whalefall? Idk I just like the idea.

Glass: A world where different wavelengths of light carry different magical affinities. Prisms and glass orbs could be used as focuses for channeling magic, staining glass might chance what types of spells can be cast. Glass opacity and quality impacts spell power. Some warlocks and sorcerers will replace body parts with glass and crystal prosthetics to boost their innate spell casting potential. I’m almost certainly doing more with this. A person can also develop their own light/wavelength from exposure to magic, this would cause them to glow and have inborn powers others don’t. The longest lived sorcerers are near blinding to look at.

Dreaming deeply: The barrier between dreams and reality has cracked, and in places shattered. Legends walk the earth once more. In Greece the skies rumble with thunder, in America the souls of cities shake off their slumber, and in the darkness beyond the earth something hungry has turned its gaze towards humanity.

Horror:

Succulent: A man becomes obsessed with succulents, covering his entire apartment with them. As his friends become increasingly concerned and his viewpoint becomes more and more distorted violence blooms with scarlet petals. The plants need fertilizer to grow…(this one is in progress)

#writing prompts #writing inspiration #my ideas #sci fi and fantasy #scifi #stories #horror #horror prompts #let me know what you think #Whales #aliens #necromancer

[charmac]

Okay so, I got high for the first time in awhile and I'm thinking about Sunny just, It's weird that I always do, near obsessively, have since October of 2022. It's just like, my favourite thing to love and to think about, but I have been watching for a lot longer than that. I'm just gonna delve on my pipeline from casual fan of this show to stan, cos I think it's interesting and I'm high so nothing is stopping me:

For over three years I've been watching this show on repeat, whenever I didn't have a scheduled show to watch, I'd pop it on. But I just watched it casually, normally, like haha funny bad people show kind of way (I am sorry). All I did was watch it over and over, sometimes see a funny viral Sunny Tweet and like it, and then the Podcast came out.

And it weirdly made me more into the show, more introspective about the characters. So I would interact on r/IASIP but they just, didn't really get it properly.

And then S15 aired and Reddit really didn't get it and Charlie Kelly was just this massive presence in my mind, and I wrote a silly little kidfic about him because I was just thinking and thinking. And Reddit didn't get it.

So I I tried to come onto Tumblr, but everyone shipped Macdennis and I. Did Not. like Dennis. I saw him how your average r/IASIP commenter sees him. (So sorry.) I thought shipping Macdennis was fun in a, like, asking Mac to get completely used and fucked over kinda way (again, so sorry). Imagine my shock walking into Sunnyblr with that idea. Tumblr liked Dennis.

So I just kinda did the Episodes on repeat/Podcast/Subreddit kinda vibe for awhile. And then I met Meg and talked to her, and I stood two feet away from Rob and I know it's cringey, lmfao, but something shifted further. I was talking obsessively to my bestie @macdennissurvivor and Twitter started showing me Dennis edits. And then I made a silly little Macdennis edit of my own.

Then I went to the live show in Philly. And the audience was miserable and oh my god none of them get it. But there's so much to get . And Glenn, wow, weird, interesting guy. (And he weirdly kinda clarified that Dennis wasn't straight.) The show was fine but the audience was miserable because none of them get it. They throw out lines and references and it's all a joke. But it's not all a joke, there's so much to get. They're not getting it. Please someone else get it.

And so I dipped my toe back on Sunnyblr. And I got more involved with Sunny Twitter and Nat (legal last name Paddysroyco) Tumblr user @boysareouttonight's Dennis edits were like the final nail in the coffin of being a stan.

I think something shifts when you are able to look past Dennis' facade and actually see the person inside, the character they won't let you see unless you really get it.

And the obsession begins, and continues, and is good to me, keeps me happy and everything here just tickles my brain and makes me engage and talk. And like there's real, actually insanely intelligent discussion on here and meta and analysis and theories and then there's the most cracked out post you've ever seen and then there's something that's somehow both and it's just something else.

I'm at an all-you-can-eat buffet after reaching into the depths of my cupboards for a month straight. And we're getting more, and a lot, and whatever it is is more content. Every frame, every title, every crumb we find, there's other people here who get it all and make it fun, in a way that's not tiring or eye-rolling or completely off the mark, in a way that keeps me full-steam rolling ahead and coming back.

This devolved a little, as thoughts do, but I am happy to be here, I guess. I'm looking forward to this fucking season and whatever lies ahead: whether it's dry for Macdennis or overwhelmingly wet, whether we get solid character development or some weird backsliding, a mix of both, if there's strange retcons or really fucking-good ones, any unexplained moments or looks or props, or expressions, I'm experiencing it all with people who get it. Maybe in a completely unhinged way, maybe in a crazy smart way, or a reasonably sober way, but always from a place of getting it.

We're getting Season 16, it's real, more to the story, more to piece together and layout and pick and prod and compare and re-tell (and re-write if you really want). In, like, 18 days. Fuck me up.

#iasip #long post #sunnyblr #high thoughts #dennis reynolds #personal #oc

[filzmonster]

If I may, this brainrot has been eating away at me, I just need to hear someone else's opinion! ✨️

At what point did you start shipping Gil and Break? What made you go, "yes, that's it!"?

What do you like most about them? I beg, share as much as you can about your thoughts on them! I need to hear it all! 😭🙏

fuck yes of course you may! Thank you so much for asking! *cracks knuckles* I've been waiting my whole life for an opportunity like this, so let's dive right into it!!

So to answer your first question - how I came to shipping them - let me start by saying that it took me a while. Tbh at first I didn't really pay a lot of attention to Break and all the cryptic things he was spewing (I have no excuse for this except that at the time I was obsessed with another manga that had a similar clown-ish character, so Break, at first, felt a little bit too much like a copy of that character for me to really be intrigued by Break).

Also, I was very much blown away by the platonic ... whatever that thing is ... between Gilbert and Oz, so I didn't really put on the shipping glasses for a very long time.

I watched the entire anime without developing any ships.

Then I started the manga and by then I was already so very, very, very deeply invested in everything, so this time around when I got to the specific moment that made my brain go oh, there was nothing stopping it from going oh.

It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this? a look ...

... and solidified itself with

1.) Break caring about the fact that Gilbert supposedly forced himself to act like he was still his friend after his past got revealed

and

2.) Gilbert caring about the fact that apparently the last ten years, in which he saw Break as someone he wanted to be trusted by, meant less to Break than they meant to himself.

(I could write an entire seperate post about what it means that Gilbert wants Break to trust him and the parallels to his entire "I want to be needed" issues because Gilbert is always more focused on being the person that "is needed/trusted/wanted/etc." by the people in his life, rather than being the one needing/trusting/wanting/etc. the other person - if that makes any sense. ANYWAY --)

There was no stopping myself after that.

My brain just went oh, this is very angsty from a platonic "my friend doesn't trust me as much as I trust him" perspective - let's make it EVEN MORE angsty by changing it to "my lover doesn't trust me" and the rest is history.

After that, I went back and looked at their other recent and significant interaction:

What was, up until then, a very significant scene for Gilbert (and for me - I was shook, and still am by this scene everytime I read it tbh) in relation to his issues regarding Oz and being left behind/no longer needed, re-wrote itself in my head into something Break said to Gilbert, a piece of very important advice, something said to Gilbert by someone who understood and even shared his desire to serve a Master, someone who already went through the exact thing Gilbert was scared of going through - losing his Master - and tried to help him, tried to push him in the right direction.

Break was the first person who looked at Gilbert and said "I want to fix him".

He saw what Oz couldn't see, which as how desperate and messed up Gilbert had become with the appearance of Alice in Oz' life, and understood.

This kind of understanding is what, in my eyes, is at the core of this entire ship.

Then the gang went to the ruins of Sablier and honestly, I ate that shit up:

This showed that, even though they understood each other, there was still some kind of power imbalance between them.

At this point in the story, Gilbert was still very much Not Aware of how messed up he truly was. Break, on the contrary, figured out that there's some other, far shadier stuff going on.

Break was admittedly smarter than Gilbert and tried to guide and help him. I love that he shows he cares like that, by slowly but not at all gently pushing Gilbert towards confronting his issues. He is definitely being a teensy-tiny bit manipulative about it, but who doesn't like a little bit of toxicity with their fictional ship??

Uuuuhhhhh after Sablier, the Isla Yura/Headhunter arc happened and while at that shitshow of a party, they had a lot of very nice interactions between them - alas, listing all of them in detail would make this already escalating post waaaaaaay too long, so here's the shortlist:

They confront Elliot together, and Gilbert manages to land a hit on Break

Gilbert realizes that Break is blind, all while Vincent is trying to lure him away so that he doesn't go to help Break

Gilbert's little flashback to probably the first advice Break ever gave him: get your priorities straight

Break sort of gives up the fight against Fang and Lilly

Gilbert shows up and kicks him in the back, going all "I'm his left eye" while also saying: you're my priority, too, you idiot.

Gilberts fixes up Break's wounds and then scolds him for not asking for help even though there are people he can and should ask for help - and isn't that a fantastic parallel to the very first scene I brought up in this post? How this entire thing, for me, started with Gilbert asking, desperately "Why don't you trust me?" and now we're here, with Gilbert, again, asking "Why don't you trust me?" Only this time Break doesn't meet him with the silent air of someone who sees himself as superior, more experienced, but answers his question with a request, finally accepting him as an equal: "please help me."

And then .... AND THEN ... it gets even better:

Listen. LISTEN.

Mere moments ago in the manga it was established that Break is utterly unable to fall in line with someone, unable to work in a team, unable to be a partner. He even repeats it himself: Sharon calls me Mr. One-Man-Show.

But here's Gilbert and he says: I don't care. Do whatever you want, I'll meet you halfway. I'll keep up with you. Let me show you, let me prove myself to you. I'll have your back. Trust me to have your back.

And Break does.

And then a lot of shit went down and it's all very, very tragic.

And then this happens:

And I realize that this is not The Most Important Thing in that chapter and that what happens right after is way more important than this little panel, but I want to talk about the perspective used here for a moment.

This is shown from a frontal perspective. We see Gilbert standing in front of Oz from an outsider's POV, someone who looks at them, someone who sees Gilbert stepping in front of Oz.

This is an important scene and an important perspective in more ways than one, so bear with me for a second, please, as I go off on a little tanget.

See, this scene is very reminiscent of a later scene:

A later scene that is shown from Oz' perspective. Because this time it is important that Oz sees Gilbert stepping in front of him, protecting him despite everything. This scene is for Oz.

The scene prior to that wasn't for Oz.

It was a little bit for us, as readers, foreshadowing that Gilbert, finally fully aware of all his memories, still choses Oz. It is the promise to us that Gilbert will pick Oz' side and ultimately safe him.

It was, truly, for Break.

Break, whose first priority was to get himself between Gilbert and Oz the moment he realized the truth about Gilbert.

Break, who wanted to protect Oz from Gilbert, who wanted to protect Gilbert from Gilbert himself.

Break, who saw, and realized and had faith without even knowing the whole truth.

Now look at all of that and tell me how I was supposed to NOT ship them.

Also, feel free to tell me why YOU ship them :)

Alright, now that I've spent ... an atrocious amount of length on this post to tell you when & why I started to ship them, let's move on to your second question: what do I like most about them?

Weeeeeelllllllll ... a lot of that is already answered between the lines of the "how this ship came to be" elaboration, so I'll start with a short little summary:

there are a lot of parallels between Break's past and Gilbert's present that allow them to understand each other in this very specific way no one else probably can

they push each other to grow/be better (with Break pushing Gilbert to confront his issues and Gilbert calling Break out when he's being a stubborn idiot and refusing help)

they support each other through their lowest points, again and again.

the fact that Gilbert accepted Break, truly, for who he is. That he looked at Break and went "this guy's weird and creepy, but I'm still going to work with him, I'm still learning how to cook for him, I'm still going to try to listen to his advice even though I don't really understand it yet, I'm still going to be his left eye and stand by his side and build a relationship with him that is built on trust, and I'm still going to look at him as a priority"

the fact that Break looked at Gilbert and went "I see you, I'll help you. I'll use you, sure, but even after you've lost your usefulness to me, I'll still help you figure yourself out. I accept you as my equal, please help me. I'll act like I don't care about you, but I do, oh lord, I do. And I'm so relieved that you chose well. I always knew you could do it."

Also, the thing is - I'm a Gilbert girly, so obviously I care about him and his relationships the most.

And for the most part of the manga, the most important relationship, after his relationship to Oz, is his relationship to Break.

Sure, there are Alice and Vincent and Elliot, and even Sharon and Reim and Oscar.

But the one who keeps showing up in all his most important scenes, the ones that deal with his issues, his struggles, his choices - is Break.

And not just that, they keep showing up in each other's important scenes that don't focus on them at first.

E.g., Gilbert is there when Break asks Oz "Where are you?", a question that will haunt Oz for a long time.

Gilbert is there after Lutwidge academy, when Oz and Break have another moment together, and vice versa Break witnesses another key moment between Oz and Gilbert.

Break is there when Gilbert chases after Zai Vessalius in the ruins of Sablier. Gilbert is there when Break wakes up blind.

Break is there when Gilbert regains his memories, and he's there when Gilbert choses a side; and he's there, always there, when Gilbert is confronted with his relationship with Oz. He's even indirectly there when Gilbert gets inspired by Sharon who wants to become stronger so that she can stay by Break's side.

They play a big role in each other's lives even when they aren't directly part of a main event.

Almost like they keep thinking of each other

They grow from "let's use each other for our own benefits" to "I'll risk everything for you". They inspire each other to be better.

They understand each other. Break gets a side of Gilbert that Oz, Gilbert's most important relationship, and even though he grew and learned to understand Gilbert better in the end, will never really get.

Likewise, Gilbert manages to cement himself in Break's life as someone he can trust and rely on, something that comes very hard to Mr. One-Man-Show. I'd even argue that not even Oz managed to become an equal for Break in the end, since Break's last thoughts towards Oz are still "I have to support and guide him", and Oz can't offer him any real solace - that position, ultimately, falls to Reim and Sharon. We're totally ignoring that Break and Gilbert do not really share a last, significant scene, just go along with me please

Anyway.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that their understanding of each other is the most important thing for me. That they are able to have this relationship outside of their other important relationships (Oz & Alice and Sharon & Reim respectively). That they help each other to grow and even teach each other how to better their other relationships.

They have such a big, positive, meaningful influence on each other without ever really trying. It's like they see no other choice but to be there for each other when one of them needs the other.

I love them, your honor.

Alrightttttt, with all of that said .... I think I'm done for now?

Feel free to add your own thoughts and tell me

a) How you came to ship them and why

and

b) What you like most about them and why

Again, thank you very much for asking!! This deep dive really did a lot for my general well being and showed me that while apparently I still know a lot about Pandora Hearts by heart, it may still be time for another re-read soon :)

Also, it's been sooooo long since I've had an opportunity to talk about Break/Gilbert and it was a lot of fun!!! I'm really grateful for that and I can't wait to hear your thoughts on them! <3

#lana7779 #asks #pandora hearts #gilbert nightray #xerxes break #breakbert #random rambling #gilbert baskerville #whups this definitely escalated #sorry not sorry #thank you for asking #this was so much fun!!!! #also it is waaaaaaaay past my bedtime and i really should go to sleep #please share your thoughts too i'm really looking forward to discussing them with you!!!

[mintmatcha]

“Hey, boss.”

Tendou barely looks up from his work, the silken batter finally starting to aerate. His employee waits in the doorway, hands on his hips and foot impatiently tapping. When he doesn’t respond, Peter repeats it, “Hey, boss-”

 “Can it wait a sec’?” Tendou hums, “Papa’s kind of busy.”

“Please, stop calling yourself that.”

“What? It’s not sexual- I’m your business father. Your paycheck pop!” he hits the P’s hard, letting them pop.

Peter groans, “I’m trying to tell you that your girlfriend dropped off lunch for you, but since you’re being like that-”

That makes Tendou stop. In fact, he stops so abruptly he almost drops the bowl; part of the dark batter paints the front of his chef whites. “What?”

“Yeah, she just left.” Peter holds up a tiny, metal box- a bento. Tendou hasn’t seen one since he left Japan, “Said to make sure you take a lunch break.”

Tendou places the bowl on the counter and heads straight for his employee, mostly in confused shock. Really, he should have seen this coming.

‘I don’t think I’ve had lunch since I moved to France,’ he had mentioned casually one night, ‘My mom used to make me these bentos with little hotdogs cut like octopus and plum hearts- it doesn’t taste as good when I make them.’

“Are you messing with me?”Tendou takes it from him with both hands, studying the box suspiciously. It’s familiar. Strangely, perfectly familiar.

“Why would I lie about a lunch from your girlfriend?”

As soon as the metal is in his hands, Tendou knows Peter couldn’t fake this; the dented side, the scratched up cap, the gnawed on chopsticks: this isn’t just a bento box. It’s his-- the same one he used in high school. He imagines you must have called his mom, begged her to ship it all the way here.

The most damning evidence is a handwritten note, taped down furiously with packing tape. Eat your vegetables! >:( is written in soft, bubbly kanji. It takes a second for his brain to register exactly why it makes him so unusually emotional, why his eyes suddenly burn with longing and love-

It’s just been so long since he’s seen his mom’s handwriting.

Tendou cracks the top. You’ve cut a plum -a fresh one, not pickled, a folly he can’t help but laugh at- so the half looks like a heart and tucked it between the bits of breaded pork and vegetables.  The rice is undercooked, he can see the inner kernel is still pearly white, but it smells like vinegar, black sesame, and childhood.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks, more confused than concerned, “You look like you’re going to cry.”

“Papa’s fine!” Tendou sniffles, “Just realized that I’ve been homesick for a while. Do-”

He jerks a thumb to his concoction on the stove, “Do you mind finishing this while I take a break?”

“Whatever,” Peter shrugs, “Anything you want, dad.”

[00belle00lovely00]

Hear me out on this..... Picky x Bubba x Bobby... (can I get some headcanons of them pls)

OH- POLY RELATIONSHIP HEADCANON. AKUYFGBSOUFGSOUGOWQUIGBEB- OKAY YEY!!!

*cracks knuckles*

I GOTCHU, BESTIE. I GOTCHU!

🍎📘❤️🍎📘❤️🍎📘❤️🍎📘❤️🍎📘❤️🍎📘❤️🍎📘❤️🍎

is it just me or I'd picture Picky and Bobby being outskirts/country people while Bubba would be a city boy.

These three are the epitome of if one needs something, the other two deliver. For example:

If Pickypiggy is hungry, Bobby would cook while Bubba helps out with reading the recipes' instructions.

If Bobby is feeling rather lonely (due to my latest headcanon saying she has attachment issues), Picky would inquire a picnic date with the three of them while Bubba is going to rambles about the new subject he has been investigating about.

If Bubba is having a hard time trying to solve a math problem, these two dumdums would try to join all their brain cells in trying to help. Which, at the end of the day, didn't help a lot. BUT. It surely owned a very laughs for the elephant.

corny/romance lover x bookworm lover x food lover.

They better have a club talk about their favourite things.

OH. THIS IS A GOOD HEADCANON HEAR ME OUT. Bobby is obviously a sucker for chocolate. It represents valentine, the matter of sweetness, and it's enjoyable to taste. But since Picky is the one in charge of the nutrition and Bubba is the smartass of the entire group, they both gotta be scolding her for her bad habits. She never grows out of it, so it becomes an ongoing shenanigans between the three of them.

Kickin is SHOCKED beyond thought to see Bubba pulling up two girls at the same time before he ever could LMAO.

What their date would be like? The movie theater obviously! There's food, there's corny romance and there's science fiction. THEY ARE GOING THERE IF THEY GET THE CHANCE!

I usually think Picky would be rather dismissive of the thought that she is considered pretty. Not like she is insecure about herself, but rather she has never really thought of herself highly like that. So whenever anyone like Bobby or Bubba compliments her, she usually says "Eeeh, I mean, I guess? But not really." Which THAT. OH THAT. THAT GETS THEIR ATTENTION INSTANTLY. I swear, they'd be taking care of Picky the MINUTE she says that.

Kickin: "NO, SERIOUSLY! What do you see on Wikipedia wanna be?!"

*Bobby and Picky paused, looked at each other and said at the same time*

Bobby: "He knows how to read romantic novels!"

Pickypiggy: "He knows how to cook"

I got a feeling the three of them love fantasy novels. Especially Little Red Riding Hood.

they fr are like: "Sure!" + "meh" + "well theoretically speaking..."

You know what would be funny? If Bobby one day decides to give some Valentine cards to both Bubba and Picky, but the thing is that it's in a poem. So then you got Bubba trying to figure out through re-reading Shakespeare to comprehend whatever the hell this letter is about. And while Picky? Oh, that girl only read the first part, accidentally read something along the lines of "you're so sweet" and came to the conclusion that it was edible paper. So yup. She ate it. The whole thing.

this isn't a headcanon of this ship. But talking about Picky eating stuff, I'm wondering if all the Smiling Critters are bound to be vegan. And if not, oh boy, who are we gonna tell Picky about bacon...

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #poppy playtime 3 #smiling critters #headcanon #headcannons #my headcanons #Picky x Bubba x Bobby #Bobby x Bubba x Picky #Bubba x Bobby x Picky #Bubba x Picky x Bobby #Picky x Bobby x Bubba #Bobby x Picky x Bubba #Pickypiggy x Bubba bubbaphant #Pickypiggy x Bobby Bearhug #Bobby bearhug x Bubba bubbaphant #Bobby bearhug x Pickypiggy #Bubba bubbaphant x Pickypiggy #bubba bubbaphant x bobby bearhug #STOP UNDERRATED SHIPS #i love em

[rorywritesjunk]

pt 1 + pt 2 + pt 3 + pt 4 + pt 5 + pt 6 + end

She paid for a meal and drink for him. Sunny was impressed by how much he could eat and she ordered him a second helping before Buggy finished his first. She ate her own meal, watching him curiously, she was slow to eat and he inhaled the second meal. He was eyeing her plate, half finished, so she pushed it to him.

"Here, I'm not that hungry." She insisted when he tried to push it back. "Please, Buggy, I'm not going to finish it."

He just shrugged and pulled the plate over. He barely said a word to her, still trying to process the entire day: the execution, losing both Shanks and his sister, the reality of loneliness hitting him. It wasn't until she offered buying him a meal that he realized he hadn't eaten all day.

"Do you have a place to stay out of the rain?" Sunny asked, hands around her cup of tea as she lifted it for a drink. "My boss got me my own room, you can sleep there and I can share with her."

Buggy slowed down eating, watching her cautiously as he lowered his fork. "Do you think I'm some sort of charity case?! I don't need anything from you!"

"I don't think you are." She said with a smile. "I just... Think you need a friend."

"I don't need anyone!" He snapped at her, slamming his fists on the table. She jumped a bit at that and he looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. "Who needs anyone when people leave you in the end?! What's the point!"

"Oh, um... Do you want a friend?" Sunny asked. Buggy's eyes widened slightly and he looked back at her. "I could be your friend if you want."

He didn't know what to make of this girl. She's being nice, buying him meals, offering a place to stay, and to be his friend. Who would do that for a stranger without asking for anything in return? There had to be something she wanted. He narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion. Could he trust her? He wondered if she was rich or something, spending berry like this on him. Maybe her boss was too. If Buggy could just get to their rooms and get their berry...

He decided to cool it, anger vanished as a grin crossed his face. If he could steal their berry he could hire a ship to take him somewhere else.

"That room still available, babe?"

~

She left her purse in the room which was a mistake. Sunny left him in there for a few minutes to talk to her boss. He sat down on the edge of the bed, looking around, listening for her footsteps, before grabbing her purse and rummaging through it for any spare berry.

He didn't find much but he pocketed what he could. There wasn't anything worth much left in there so he put her purse back before getting up to check the pockets of her coat. He found a few spare bills, stuffing them in his pocket before he started opening up the dresser drawers next.

He looked in the top drawer for just a moment before slamming it shut. No, no, he didn't need to look in there but... He was a little curious so he cracked it open again to touch the soft material. If the fabric was silk, maybe he could sell it?

The door was opening and he slammed the drawer shut, catching his fingers in it and snapping them off. Swearing, Buggy jerked the drawer back open, tearing it off its runners and spilling the contents and his fingers all over the floor in front of Sunny. She just stood there, staring at him blankly for a moment as her undergarments scattered to the floor.

"There... There was a spider." Buggy lied, brain trying to think of an excuse as he stood there, holding the drawer by the knob as one of her silk undergarments draped over one of his feet. "I didn't... Want you to get scared if it surprised you."

The look on her face said she didn't buy that excuse for a moment, but she closed the door behind herself before walking over to pick the discarded garments, ignoring his fingers. Buggy hesitated, not wanting to get in her way, but he needed his fingers back. He knelt down to grab them; one was under a pair and he didn't want to pick the garment up but he had no choice.

She didn't say anything, looking away as he reattached his fingers before he put the drawer back on the runners. The silence was starting to get to him but... Why should he care? He took what little berry she had. After she left the room for the night he would never have to see her face again, never know her kindness, see her smile, or the touch of her hand and he was fine, just fine, knowing that.

"I told my boss about you." Sunny told him as she reached into her pocket. "Said to give you some berry."

Buggy's head snapped to look at her. "I-I told you I don't need your help, okay?!"

"I know, but... I want to make sure you're okay."

"You don't even know me, why do you care if I'm okay?!" Buggy snapped. "I'm a pirate, Sunny! I could be the most dangerous pirate out there but you're treating me like I'm your friend! We aren't friends! You don't know me and you never will so stop being nice to me! I don't deserve it!"

"Not all pirates are dangerous." Sunny chuckled as she took his hand in hers and put the berry in his palm, smiling up at him. "And everyone deserves kindness, even dangerous pirates like yourself."

Buggy wondered if she was making fun of him now. He hated that kind smile of hers right then, how there wasn't even an ounce of sarcasm or mockery behind it. It was genuine, warm, caring, and he hated it. He wanted her to stop being so damn nice to him. He stole from her, had been rude to her, yet she didn't back down. She just kept smiling at him.

Buggy looked away, tightening his fist around the money as his face began to burn. He didn't know what to do. Should he give her back her own money, or keep it like he planned? It didn't seem like she had anything worth stealing in the end.

"I'm just going to grab my sleep clothes and I'll leave you for the night, Buggy." Sunny told him as she let go of his hand. "If you need me I'll be just one room over, okay?"

He could only nod but he grabbed her hand back, refusing to look at her still as he gripped her hand. She stopped and looked up at him as he gritted his teeth and muttered, "Thanks."

"Oh, you're welcome." She smiled. "Get some rest. You can have breakfast with me in the morning if you want."

She gave his hand a squeeze back before finally pulling away to the dresser, grabbing something out of it before heading to the door. She looked back at him once more, smiling still, before she left him alone.

He suddenly hated being left alone.

#buggy the clown #mini fic #sunny x buggy #listen this was something i had been thinking of #and thrn i saw the bts photo of young buggy #i may end up doing another part #idk the thiught of young buggy and sunny meeting as teenavers intrigues me now #and theres no one to stop me #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc

[108garys]

Medicine

So for the first of the randomized smg crossover ships(If you don't count smoke as the retroactive first) I've written something involving Ellis van Huytan/Jefferson Bragg(there's a little Ellis/Bradshaw in there too)

I suppose it sort of sets the tone that not all these name spinner results are gonna be cute and fluffy and given that this is set in blackwoods sanatorium I'd say it's as far from that as it can be

Also there were parts that I took some in-game stuff from hoa and mashed it in there so I hope that works(I once again finished this off on little sleep because apparently that's when my brain figures stuff out so there's probably mistakes I didn't catch that I'll fix up when I'm more awake)

@kassiekolchek22 @delurkr @ivycross @lonnitamongus @devilinlittlehope @eddie-brii @oblivious-troll @ctrvpani @blubary @myscprin @tatjana-fantasy @ultrabananapudding

(Iraq 1948)

The sun shone so brightly that it momentarily blinded him, the painful rays alien after so long in the dark. Ellis couldn't believe he'd been underground for over a year! As his eyes adjusted he was met with the lovely sight of lady Bradshaw; she was understandably disheveled after the close scrape they'd just survived escaping the temple but as always she had a confidence that made her beautiful regardless of her physical condition.

"We did it Agnes!" he drew her into a hug, "I can't wait to share these secrets with the world!" She looks up at him with her pale blue eyes smiling sweetly before grabbing his face and pulling him down for a kiss. She was a little old for him, Ellis knew that but still… He felt there was something between them. He bent down, lost in the moment as her lips pressed against his. As they parted she moved to whisper in his ear and his whole body turned to ice…

"I don't care about the world, Ellis." he felt a sudden sharp pain in his neck, stepping back, heart beating frantically. "A-Agnes…?" she grinned ear to ear. Literally. Her face warping, twisting into something inhuman. He stumbled back as she grew taller than him, wings blocking out the sun. The ground cracks and crumbles beneath his feet. His screams are cut off as he goes tumbling back to hell…

He lands with a wet thud, surrounded by blood he tries to sit up but something grabs him. Panic sets in as the rest of the expedition crawls out of the blood calling him a traitor, their corpses ripping and biting his flesh. He begs them to stop as his intestines are torn from him, for forgiveness as he's pulled limb from limb and for an end as his heart is ripped from his chest-

--

(Canada 1952)

Ellis wakes in his room with a start, clutching his chest bolt upright. drenched in sweat, he looks around as he begins to calm… His room is the same as its always been, small, two beds, two tables, bars on the window and a door that only locks from the outside. He gets out of bed stretching as right on time Abe drops in with his breakfast.

"Hey hey champ, dreams bothering you again?" the orderly sets the tray down and looks up at him, Ellis has at least a foot of height on him… Maybe more? He sits down, to eat. He was vaguely aware that better food existed but he had no recollection of ever tasting something not brought to him on one of the sanatorium's trays. Abe takes a seat next to him looking expectantly for an answer…

"I was somewhere sunny…" Ellis looks out the window at the snow covered mountains. "We could all use a little bit of that," Abe adjusts his glasses as Ellis tries to remember… "There was a woman…" he really did try, "She was beautiful and she-"

"Woah, hold your horses," Abe put his hands out, a joking look on his face, "You remember our talk about private dreams?" Ellis took another bite of his sandwich, thinking about it… "That it's between me and Mr Bragg." he nodded happy that he remembered, Abe laughed lightly smacking his shoulder… "Well what about bat dreams? You we're screaming bloody murder." He smiled like he was discussing the weather.

"The woman turned into a bat… I think?"

Ellis reluctantly took his medicine after he finished his breakfast, Abe wouldn't leave him be until he did. "Bragg will want to hear all about it I'm sure," Ellis couldn't help smiling hearing that. Mr Bragg is so kind to him… He didn't know where he would be if the man hadn't taken him in, his memories of before were… Fuzzy. Abe left him alone and he lay down again, he always felt so exhausted after his morning medicine… The ceiling was floating away from him, his eyes felt heavy. He turned to look at the other bed… Didn't he have a roommate?

He rolled over- wait? …Wasn't he already facing the other bed? He rubbed his face as he sat up. he jumped at the sight of Mr Bragg sitting on his bed… When did he come in!? Ellis's head hurt trying to make sense of it. The old man looked at him, gentle blue eyes staring through him behind his round glasses… Something tugged at the back of his mind that told him he was in danger… But that didn't make sense, Mr Bragg had been nothing but good to him…

"How are you feeling today, Ellis?" He smiled, clipboard in hand. "Good." Ellis responded, he wanted Mr Bragg to see he was getting better… "I'm happy to hear that," Ellis fidgeted with his hands in his lap, looking back as Mr Bragg continued. "You were troubled by night terrors again?"

"A woman turned into a giant bat and then I was drowning in blood…" he felt uncomfortable trying to remember. "The dead tore at me like wild animals and… I feel like I knew them but I can't remember what they looked like or who they were…" He had forgotten a lot but not being able to identify the vengeful dead was the most disconcerting. He couldn't even tell if they were real people or something his mind made up to torment him.

"Your time as a soldier still weighs heavily on you." The older man said sympathetically as his pen scratched away at his clipboard. That's one of the few things Ellis knew for certain about his past, he'd fought in the war and his experiences had infected his brain like a disease, his illness locked away his memories. He looked down at his hands, it took him a moment to recall why his knuckles were bruised. "Is Joe mad at me?" He asked after his roommate, he couldn't really follow the order of events but he knew it started with a bat flying past the window and ended with both in the infirmary. "I'll have to ask when he's awake." Mr Bragg brushes off the severity of the man's condition moving things along. Ellis awkwardly asks the question that's been in burning in the back of his mind since he woke up. "Why bats?" he knew the man didn't have an answer, he'd asked before and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't remember anything significant from before that had involved bats. He looked at Mr Bragg desperately hoping for a different answer this time.

"I don't know but I'm sure we can unlock those answers together." he responds optimistically, getting up and leading Ellis out of the room. Ellis walked behind the older man through a hallway with bright lights that flicker just enough to give him a headache, that strange feeling tugged at the back of his mind again as they made their way through the sanatorium, he pushed back on the sense of unease, getting better was bound to come with a level of discomfort…

Despite his best efforts he was on edge as he sat down in the chair. A nurse strapped him in, gently reassuring him that it's for his own good. He flexed his fingers, looking at his bruised hands before turning to look as Mr Bragg touched his shoulder, his hand slid down Ellis's arm as he walked around him. Holding his hand as he took a seat in front of him, he looked into Ellis's eyes reassuringly. "I'm with you every step of the way."

Ellis's body tensed as a clicking sounded from the equipment the nurse was setting up, his grip on the old man's hand tightened as he felt a familiar sharp sensation. A black substance moved steadily through his blood stream. His vision becoming hazy, Mr Bragg remained in focus as the dim room melted away, his words not making any sense as he too faded away…

"…Monitor the subject's heart rate carefully, Victoria, we can't afford anymore mistakes…"

-- (???)

[The bones of this temple are drenched in blood]

Ellis fights for breath as his pulse races, the dead hold him down as he struggles to free himself!

Blood fills his lungs as he's submerged in the darkness…

[We have set foot on an uncharted shore and roused something ancient and wicked]

He walks numbly through the halls, a light flickers above his hands drip red onto the tiled floor…

[A blasphemy that comes in indescribable shapes and forms]

He hears a familiar voice, a man speaks to him as he writes, harsh lights obscure his features

"…some have reported odd visual effects…we have attempted to secure additional samples of the black saliva present on the maw of the creature… I and others who smelt the substance have experienced heart palpitations and a heightened sense of fear…analysis of blood sample shows high density of adrenaline… Does the organism feed on fear?"

[For eons we've lived as children in this world]

An unholy shriek tore through the air-

He tried to be quiet, to be hidden. "are you feeling alright?" The man crouched down to look at him, his eyes filled with concern, didn't he understand they had to be quiet!?

…Why couldn't he just-

[Unaware of the horrors that slumber beneath our feet]

…Forgive me… I have sabotaged my colleagues… Lady Bradshaw was right to bring me here… There are secrets here that could allow humanity to reach across the stars. Perhaps even achieve immortality itself… Please…. do not think badly of me for what I have done. I only serve the future…

[Now we have blindly thrown open the gates to madness]

"I don't care about the world, Ellis."

-- (Canada 1950s?)

Ellis caught his breath as he came back to himself, his heart rate slowing down. He felt like he didn't fit himself, just a centimetre out of frame… His mind was blank as he looked around the brightly lit room for any sense of familiarity, feeling relief at the sight of an old man in round glasses. His mind put together that he's in the infirmary, Mr Bragg was monitoring his condition, scratching away at his clipboard. He was so kind to Ellis, he cared about him and wanted him to get better and Ellis was grateful…

#Midcentury supermassive #the dark pictures anthology #house of ashes #the inpatient #Until dawn #<sort of #oneshot #crossover fic #Ellis van Huytan #jefferson bragg #Agnes Bradshaw #Lady Bradshaw #joe roberts #<hint that another one of these will involve MoM's Joe in this location