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allthingswhumpyandangsty · 7 months

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🎃⁀➷ 31 days, 31 spooky prompts for Whumptober *ੈ✩‧₊˚🕷️🍂

1. ❝ don’t look, try not to show any fear as I tell you this, but I think that pumpkin behind you is alive, and it’s looking at us. ❞

2. ❝ please, I’m not crazy. that scarecrow is alive and it’s trying to kill me. you have to believe me. no one in this town is safe! ❞

3. ❝ you remember that body that was admitted to the morgue last night? the one that has human bite marks that looks nasty infected on the arm. yeah, well, this is going to sound insane, but it’s gone. the body’s missing. ❞

4. ❝ babe, you’re dead. this is the afterlife. we’re all ghosts here. ❞

5. ❝ do not come out of your room when it’s nighttime. no matter what you hear, you must stay in your room throughout the night. ❞

6. ❝ the bats, they’re biting and killing people. we have to run. now! ❞

7. ❝ is that a person sitting on the tree branch? why is she smiling like that? what’s wrong with her eyes? oh my god, she’s crawling down. oh my god, she’s crawling towards us! ❞

8. ❝ you haven’t heard of the blood moon curse? you must be new here. ❞

9. ❝ if you hear a voice calling your name from the woods at night, do not answer. ever. ❞

10. ❝ I got bitten, and I need you to kill me before I turn and become like them. please promise me you’ll kill me before I hurt anybody. please don’t let me be like them. ❞

11. ❝ no, don’t make eye contact with it. keep on walking, but do not run. ❞

12. ❝ there will be a ritual tonight and they will use you as a human sacrifice. you have to get out of here. ❞

13. ❝ shhh, she can’t see us, but she can hear us. be quiet. ❞

14. ❝ what do you mean the doll is alive? it’s just a doll. ❞

15. ❝ one of us is possessed. there’s one way to find out who. ❞

16. ❝ we’ve been walking in circle. we’ve walked past this house before. you see that lady in the window staring at us? she was also there the last time we walked past her property, staring at us through the window exactly like this. it’s like she hasn’t moved at all. ❞

17. ❝ you need my blood to stay alive. drink it. drink. or you die. ❞

18. ❝ I think there’s someone living in the walls. I can hear them breathing at night. ❞

19. ❝ this is a mistake. we should never have come here. the myth is real. we’ll never get out alive now. I’m sorry. gosh, I’m so sorry. ❞

20. ❝ if you see the shadow, you only have 3 days left to live. ❞

21. ❝ are those claw marks on the trees? they weren’t here last night when we set up the tent. ❞

22. ❝ I don’t think the blood on his clothes is fake, neither are the human organs in those jars. we have to get out of here. ❞

23. ❝ I’ve seen it all. the devil is real. it’s too late now. all of us are going to die tonight. ❞

24. ❝ they are not a cult. they’re my family. I’m not being brainwashed. let me go. let me go! ❞

25. ❝ what did you just inject me with? what’s in the syringe? what’s in the fcking syringe?!! ❞

26. ❝ those blood, it’s still fresh, meaning whoever — or whatever — killed it is still around. we have to keep moving, and we have to keep quiet. ❞

27. ❝ she doesn’t like her dolls to speak at night. if she hears your voice after 8 o’clock, she will rip your vocal cord out. ❞

28. ❝ there’s something in the mist. if you breathe, you die. ❞

29. ❝ look at me, hey, look at me, these people, they look like your friends and they sound like your friends. but they’re not your friends. your friends are dead. we cannot trust anybody. ❞

30. ❝ don’t get too close to the water. the fairies have very sharp teeth and strong grips. ❞

31. ❝ be careful in the full moon night. just… be very careful, alright? ❞

TAP HERE FOR; 31 DAYS, 31 TROPES FOR WHUMPTOBER

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amysgiantbees · 4 months

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Mizora is TERRIBLE!

She prayed on a seventeen year old, a child.

She isolated him from his family and community.

She manipulated him into taking a bad deal because she knew he'd be too stressed at suddenly having the fate of his city (and maybe the world) on his shoulders to argue over his contract.

Never allows him to keep a copy of said contract which he couldn't possibly memorize. It seems like every time she shows up she pulls another clause out of her arse so this thing sounds long and complicated. Plus, legal documents are famously complicated and dry and would not be easy to remember.

She further isolates him by not allowing him to explain himself and their relationship to others but popping up whenever she wants. So he HAS to be the kindest most goody toe shoes person possible otherwise people will just reject him or worst when she shows up. Like it's great for Wyll that he's incredible at deception but is not a deceptive person otherwise you mightn't trust him when she shows up but there's truly no question that he's not a good person.

She replaced his eye with a sending stone. He literally can't escape her. That would make me feel so paranoid, incapable of feeling truly alone. It's so violating. She replaced part of his body with something of hers. He literally has a part of his abuser imbedded into him. It kind of reminds me of Astarion's scars.

She treats him like a slave. He is her slave essentially. He has to work for her with no real way out. And she hammers home his powerlessness by comparing him to an animal and her pet.

She tries to seduce his friends, driving a wedge between them and making him more isolated.

She owns his soul. He will be her property for all eternity in the Hells in whichever form she chooses, probably a lemur and definitely still a slave. He probably felt a little relived to be illithud because if he turned he wouldn't have a soul she could take.

She tricks him into saving her, the person he most wants dead.

Ransoms Wyll's only family for his soul.

She WILL NOT LEAVE your camp. Can you imagine if Cazador or Shar just hung around Astarion or Shadowheart's tents for WEEKS. It would be insane. They would be traumatized. But Wyll doesn't even get to react to it because of his lack of content due to the rewrites!

The cherry on the cake. The thing that got me thinking about all this in the first place. I'm playing an evil route atm. So I killed Karlach hoping to turn Wyll to a darker path like they promised in this article https://gamerant.com/baldurs-gate-3-wyll-early-access-story-change-karlach-explained/. But Larian would rather fix a million tiny issues than their black main character's story. But the point is Wyll killed Karlach and Mizora comes to reward him for a job well done. And she rewards him with THIS:

The infernal robe. A rare piece of CLOTHING not ARMOUR CLOTHING. Default Wyll can wear light armour so this isn't that useful for him but do you know who works really well if she wears clothing instead of armour? Karlach. Mizora rewards Wyll for killing Karlach with something useless for him but would of been great for her.

#dnd #bg3 #balders gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 wyll #wyll #wyll ravengard #baldurs gate wyll #bg3 spoilers #larian critical #larian pls #larian why #mizora bg3 #baldurs gate mizora #mizora #myanalysis #wyllnation

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queenshelby · 4 months

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Our Little Secret (Part 18)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity

Over the next week, and whilst you stayed with Cillian at his house, he found you a three-bedroom terrace right down the street from his property.

The place was perfect - spacious rooms, high ceilings, and a modern interior design and, whilst you felt uncomfortable knowing that Cillian had spent an absorbent amount of money on this property for you to live in, you knew that it was the best decision for your unborn child.

The thought of having a home of your own was comforting and the fact that the house was already vacant put your mind at ease, meaning that you could move in right away.

Thus, within less than a week, you moved all of your very few belongings to your very own home and Cillian worked tirelessly to assist you with your move, ensuring that your transition to the new house was seamless.

"You're making this way too easy for me," you commented lightly, watching him maneuver a particularly heavy box with ease while your best friend Emma followed suit, rolling your suitcases into the master bedroom.

"Holy shit, that's nice," she said appreciatively when she stumbled into your new bedroom, running her fingers along the plush leather headboard of the king-sized bed. "I would be more than happy to become your live-in nanny," she joked playfully, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"That's tempting," you admitted sheepishly, biting your lower lip. "But I don't want to impose on any of you for much longer, I promise," you insisted earnestly, casting your gaze downward shyly.

"Don't be silly," Emma scolded affectionately, patting your shoulder reassuringly. "You are my best friend and always will be," she smiled warmly, her eyes glistening with love while Cillian brought in yet another box, overhearing the conversation between you, and Emma who could not help but to bring up the most recent confrontation you had with your mother when you attempted to collect some of your clothes from Frank's house.

"Think about it though Y/N, since your mother has officially disowned you now, you could use all the help you can get when Mr Hot Shot here is going on press tour next year. You want to start university in a few weeks. You will have exams and work-prac coming up and an au-pair or something similar might really be an option for you," Emma told you, seeing that you were due to give birth just before next years' award season.

"Her mother might still come around," Cillian interjected optimistically, placing the last box gently on the floor. "And even if she does not, I will be here as much as I can be to support Y/N and our daughter," Cillian told Emma comfortably and whilst Emma appreciated all the effort he was putting into this arrangement, she remained somewhat skeptical.

"I doubt that she will be coming around" you mumbled under your breath, unable to meet either Cillian's or Emma's eyes. You too were skeptical and knew that your mother hated you for what you did to the family. "Despite, she pretty much made it clear to me that she will never consider this baby to be her grandchild, so I really do not want her around my daughter even if she was to offer," you confessed despondently, feeling the sting of rejection surge through you once more.

"She's just angry and hurt Y/N," Cillian consoled you, reaching out to squeeze your arm reassuringly. "Give her some time, maybe she'll see reason," he encouraged tentatively, hoping to restore your faith in your mother's ability to change her mind.

"Whatever Cills," you sighed heavily, a single tear trickling down your cheek. "It won't happen," you told him dejectedly, your voice breaking slightly.

"Well, if it doesn't, then it would be her loss," Cillian reassured you firmly, reaching out to brush a damp strand of hair from your forehead tenderly. "You will be just fine without her," he added, his eyes brimming with love and empathy.

"I know will be..." you trailed off, biting your lower lip nervously. "But still, I wish she could see past her anger towards me long enough to realize that she is going miss out on the opportunity to welcome her own grandchild into the world," you confessed softly, your voice quivering slightly.

"Y/N, I suppose the fact that you are having a child with her husband's brother is a difficult notion for her to grasp though, don't you think?" Emma surmised, her eyes gleaming mischievously. "I mean, how could she possibly come to terms with the reality of your relationship?" she pondered aloud, her tone laced with caution.

"Point taken Em, but I always figured that a mother's love is unconditional," Cillian told your friend reluctantly, his gaze fixed on you intently. "But anyway, let's just focus on getting Y/N settled in here, shall we?" he suggested diplomatically before taring open some boxes, which is when you reminded him of his appointment with his lawyer and sister Siobhan.

"Mediation is at 3 o'clock, Cillian," you reminded him kindly, biting your lower lip apprehensively. "I suppose you should leave soon," you added, a hint of concern clouding your expression.

"Yeah, I know," Cillian sighed, his gaze fixated on the piles of boxes strewn across the floor. "I'll be sure to let you know how it goes afterwards and then I will be back to help you unpack," he promised, his voice laced with concern.

"I'm sure everything will be fine," you reassured him softly, reaching out to squeeze his hand affectionately, knowing that, following your testimony three days ago, Max was removed from Danielle's care, simply due to the physical aggression she had shown towards you.

Max was now staying with his grandmother in Cork until an agreement was made between Danielle and Cillian and, with Cillian being diplomatic, he had proposed a shared custody agreement which Danielle was yet to sign.

"She will sign the shared parenting agreement. She will have no choice," you reassured Cillian gently, your voice laced with confidence.

"I hope so, because none of this is fair on Max. He is only a child and does not understand what is going on," Cillian replied, his brow furrowed deeply as he reached for his jacket.

"I promise to call you later," he informed you, kissing your forehead tenderly as he walked out the door, leaving you and Emma alone.

As Cillian drove to the law firm where he had scheduled his mediation session, anxiety pulsed through his veins as he wondered whether his ex-wife would agree to his proposal.

Danielle had been unwilling to negotiate thus far, instead insisting that he should have full custody of Max, but he hoped that his patience and diplomacy would eventually pay off.

He pulled up to the parking lot outside the building where the mediation session was held and parked his car.

As he exited his vehicle, he paused briefly, his thoughts racing with uncertainty. Would today be the day that he finally regained custody of his son? Or would Danielle continue to obstruct his efforts, forcing him to resort to legal procedures? He inhaled deeply, steadying himself before he stepped toward the entrance of the building.

Inside, the lobby was bustling with people, all busy chatting and gesturing animatedly. He spotted Siobhan sitting quietly in a corner, nursing a cup of coffee.

She raised her eyebrows curiously and gave him a small smile. "Ready?" she asked him in a low voice, setting her half-empty mug aside carefully.

"As ready as I can be," Cillian muttered under his breath, offering her a weak smile. He could sense the tension radiating from her body as she rose from her seat gracefully, smoothing out her skirt with a practiced gesture. Siobhan held out her hand to lead him upstairs, where the mediation room awaited them.

Cillian reluctantly followed her, his stomach churning uneasily. His thoughts raced frantically, filled with images of Max and memories of the times they used to spend together, laughing and playing games. The idea of losing his beloved son weighed heavily upon his shoulders, and he clung desperately to the hope that today would mark a turning point in his life.

Once inside the mediation room, they sat across from Danielle, who scrutinized them coolly. Her gaze flicked between Cillian and Siobhan, her expression unreadable. The mediator readied herself, explaining the process in a measured voice.

"Today, we gather to resolve the dispute concerning the custody of Max," she began, her gaze sweeping over the trio. "Since you've both agreed to mediation, I trust that you're willing to reach a peaceful resolution. Let's begin with a brief overview of the situation," she continued, her voice ringing with authority.

Siobhan cleared her throat, her gaze flickering nervously between her brother and Danielle.

"I believe Cillian is asking for joint custody, correct?" she asked, her voice quivering slightly.

"Correct," Siobhan confirmed, her gaze sweeping over to her brother.

"Danielle, is that acceptable to you?" the mediator then posed her question, addressing Danielle directly.

Danielle hesitated, her gaze piercing like daggers as she studied Cillian. "I suppose so," she relented, her words dripping with resentment. "But I don't want this whore of a woman he cheated with on me anywhere near my son," she spat, glaring at Cillian who had cheated on her with you.

"Please ma'am, watch your language," the mediator cautioned sternly, observing the hostility simmering in the air. "Let's focus on finding a solution here without insulting one another," she added, her tone firm and unwavering before seeking some clarification on the circumstances surrounding Danielle's comment and reading the court transcript from three days ago, which ultimately led the judge to refer this matter to mediation.

"Preventing Y.N to be around Max will be impossible," Siobhan then reasoned calmly after the mediator got a grasp of the facts and surrounding circumstances.

"And may I ask why?" Danielle ought to question Siobhan angrily before the mediator reiterated the question.

"Miss Murphy, please explain to us why preventing Y/N from being around your client's son would be impossible. By what I understand, Y/N does not live with your client nor is he currently romantically involved with her," the mediator stated, her gaze resting on Siobhan expectantly.

"That is correct. However, Y/N is currently pregnant with my client's child," Siobhan answered cautiously, her gaze flickering between her brother and Danielle. "So, it would be quite difficult to completely shield Max from Y/N, who, I believe, will also co-parent her daughter with my client once she is born," she added, her voice trailing off uncertainly.

Danielle shot to her feet, her face contorting into a mask of outrage.

"Oh my god," she gasped, her voice cracking with disbelief. "This is just disgusting," she seethed, pointing an accusing finger at Cillian. "I can't believe you would stoop so low as to knock her up," she raged, her words slicing through the air like knives.

Cillian's gaze met hers, his expression grim and resolute. "Well, clearly, it wasn't intentional," he murmured hoarsely, his voice barely audible.

"God, I would hope so. How old is she again?" Danielle sneered spitefully, directing her question at Siobhan. She didn't bother looking at Cillian; her gaze remained cold and distant.

Siobhan hesitated, but Cillian did not. "She is old enough to act more mature than you do," he retorted sharply, his gaze unwavering as he handed Danielle the pen.

"Now, would you please sign the agreement so that we can finally move on from this. Max does not deserve to suffer from this unnecessary drama anymore," Cillian spoke firmly, passing the paper over to Danielle.

Their eyes locked for a moment, filled with silent accusation and pain.

"Fine," Danielle gritted through gritted teeth, signing the document hastily before thrusting it back at Cillian. "Just remember," she warned darkly, her gaze narrowing dangerously. "I will ensure that you regret ever crossing paths with this little slut," she snarled, her voice dripping with venom. "Max will know what you did, breaking his family apart like this," she finally said and Cillian gripped the table tightly, his knuckles whitening as he struggled to contain his rage.

"Please," he pleaded, his voice shaking with suppressed anger. "Can we just put our differences aside for the sake of Max?" he implored, glancing pleadingly at the mediator, who watched the unfolding drama warily.

"He is a child, for fuck sake. He does not need to be dragged into this," Cillian argued vehemently, his grip tightening on the table.

"I think you are just afraid that he will reject you once he learns exactly what kind of man you truly are," Danielle went on to say, her gaze fixing on Cillian accusingly.

Cillian's hands balled into fists, his knuckles white with rage. He opened his mouth to respond, but his words caught in his throat as he struggled to suppress his mounting anger.

"Enough," he finally managed, his voice strained and tight. "I won't allow you to drag our son into this mess," he growled, his gaze boring into her. "We both know that he deserves better," he added, his voice thick with emotion.

Danielle stared at him, her anger and resentment simmering beneath the surface. But despite her desire to retaliate, she knew that she had pushed things far enough. With a huff, she crossed her arms defiantly.

"I think we are done here," Siobhan interjected, her gaze darting between her brother and Danielle warily. "You two need to sort out your bitter feelings towards one another. This isn't healthy for Max," she reasoned reasonably, rising from her chair deliberately.

"Cillian will pick Max up from Cork tomorrow. He will stay with him for the first four days before spending the next three days with Danielle pursuant to the parenting agreement," Siobhan explained, her gaze darting between her brother and Danielle.

"Thanks, sis," Cillian murmured gratefully, squeezing her hand reassuringly, his eyes reflecting relief that the custody battle was finally over. "At least there is some peace," he added, a hint of bitterness lingering in his voice.

"Yes," Siobhan echoed, her gaze flickering between Cillian and Danielle warily. "Now that we have finally reached an agreement, let's try to make the best of this situation and focus on Max's wellbeing," she implored, her voice trembling slightly.

Cillian nodded, his gaze locking onto Danielle's icy stare before she stood up and walked out of the room without saying a word.

He released a shaky breath, his grip loosening on the table as he felt the weight of the tension lifting from his shoulders. Siobhan squeezed his hand sympathetically, her understanding gaze speaking volumes of the turmoil he had endured during the custody battle.

"Come on," she murmured kindly, leading him outside the building. "We can celebrate the end of this hellish nightmare with a drink," she added, her voice trembling slightly.

Cillian's heart swelled with gratitude. "Thank you, Siobhan," he whispered, grasping her hand tightly.

"I honestly don't know what I would have done without you," he admitted, his voice cracking slightly.

Siobhan shook her head, her gaze filled with compassion. "No big deal, brother dear," she replied gently, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. "After all, I am your sister," she added, smiling softly. "But seriously, Cillian," she began, her voice taking on a serious tone. "What happened between you and Y/N is really fucked up," she asserted, her gaze meeting his squarely. "How could you sleep with Frank's stepdaughter?" she questioned him pointedly, her words cutting through the silence like a knife.

"I honestly don't know Siobhan. I was in a bad place at the time. My marriage was at breaking point and the thrill of the taboo and forbidden excited me," Cillian explained before trying to further justify his actions. "I know I shouldn't have done it and I don't know what lead me to pursuing her. Curiosity? Lust? Boredom? All of those, probably. I wanted to feel alive again – and she certainly helped me achieve that. The problem now? The consequences. She's carrying my child and my marriage ended, so yes. I fucked up," Cillian confessed painfully, his voice shaking slightly. "But I cannot deny that, regardless of the circumstances, I do care for Y/N," he admitted, his gaze locking onto Siobhan's sympathetic eyes. "It might not be love, but there is definitely something there," he admitted, his voice wavering slightly.

Siobhan's gaze softened, her eyes reflecting understanding. "Look, Cillian," she sighed, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on his elbow.

"I understand that you're feeling overwhelmed right now, but you need to think about what you're doing. This girl is half your age, and she shouldn't be having that child," Siobhan urged, her voice filled with concern. "The entire family is falling apart because of this," she lamented, her eyes reflecting sadness.

"Siobhan, I honestly don't know what to tell you," Cillian responded, his grip tightening on the table. "All I know is that I want her to have this child. I want to raise my daughter with her," Cillian declared passionately, his voice echoing with determination. "And whatever obstacles stand in our way, I am sure we will overcome them," he vowed vehemently, his gaze fixated on Siobhan.

Siobhan shook her head, her eyes filled with worry. "Cillian, I don't mean to sound harsh, but you're making a huge mistake," she sighed, her voice trembling slightly. "This girl is young, naive, and vulnerable. What happens when she realizes she's made a terrible mistake?" Siobhan pressed, her voice laced with concern. "You can't deny that this whole situation is complicated beyond belief," she insisted, her gaze holding steady on Cillian.

"Look, Siobhan," Cillian murmured evenly, his voice betraying a hint of impatience. "I fully appreciate your concerns, but we slept together and we made this decision together, it's our choice," he asserted firmly, his gaze holding steady on Siobhan.

"Okay, well, being your sister, I will support your decision, even if I think it is wrong.

But know that you are walking on thin ice and I can warn you that things will get worse before they get better," Siobhan cautioned, her gaze darting between Cillian and the exit. "For now, let's go and grab a drink, shall we?" she suggested, her voice taking on a lighter tone.

Cillian nodded, his gaze shifting to the horizon thoughtfully. "Yeah, I could use a drink," he murmured, his voice filled with resignation and, with that, they made their way to a bar nearby.

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you

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pixydustworld · 1 year

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The war began on a Thursday, but if you asked Hermione Granger, the war had begun their first year. Eleven years old, knobby knees shaking as they faced Voldemort in the school dungeons.

A lifetime of fighting.

Everything after that blurred together, the gore of it all. Broken limbs and bleeding bodies — the screams of the dying, the weariness of the realization that the war was their new reality. That nothing would ever change. That the life they had before, was lost forever.

Child soldiers, fighting a war that wasn’t even their own, not really. Even Harry was part of a big picture, his role decided for him long before he was born. Defending a world that didn’t want her; the fighting was monotonous.

And then one morning, Hermione found Draco Malfoy’s broken body just beyond their property line, and that, in itself, was something new.

Something different.

She stood over him for a long time, watching as his chest struggled to breathe shallow breaths. In her mind, he hadn’t changed. She remembered him untouched by the war, a boy sneering in the school hallways.

That wasn’t the man who stared back at her.

He was frozen under her stare. Maybe he was shocked to see how she looked, too. Remembered her differently, didn’t remember her at all. Couldn’t believe that out of everyone, he’d had the terrible luck to be found by her.

Now, he’d never be free of her.

“Why are you here?” Unflinching. It was war, after all. And he was the enemy. She'd seen him on the other side of the battlefield too many times to convince herself of his innocence.

“Luna.” He gritted out. “She told me to come here if I ever changed my mind.” The snow beneath his body was stained with his blood, ruining the pristine surface. Dirtying it.

“Change your mind?”

“This is never going to end.” Malfoy said softly, “Not the with the way your people are fighting. I can help.”

“Help?” She felt like a broken children’s toy, repeating all of his words.

“Yes.” He said flatly. “Are you going to repeat that, too?”

“No.” Hermione snapped. “Why would Luna tell you to come here?”

He shrugged, looking perfect, even as he bled out in the snow. “Family has to stick together.”

Cousins, so similar, yet different. Same upturned nose, same white hair and pale skin, same glittering eyes — same blood, running through their veins. Hermione wondered if Malfoy had her smile, wondered if they both took their tea with 4 sugars.

Wondered if, maybe, they had been friends, once. Eager to see the other during the holidays, hours spent together, giggling over nothing and everything. Wondered, if perhaps, Luna Lovegood had unintentionally turned the tide in the war, granting them safe passage through the storm.

“This won’t be easy for you.” Hermione said, not to be cruel, but just to be honest, “Trust is earned, not given.”

As it turned out, it was easy for him.

Harry partnered with him on missions, their skills together in battle annoyingly good — Ron, who Hermione had once considered an impenetrable fortress of hatred against Malfoy, relented like an eager puppy (desperate for belly pats) and played Wizard Chess with him every evening.

He helped Neville in the garden, he laughed with Ginny while they made potions, he listened intently to Cho’s strategy meetings, asking the questions that were already on the tip of Hermione’s tongue.

Once, Hermione had overheard a conversation in the medical tent that made her head spin. “Malfoy, you’re such a good healer,” Padma had said,“I’m so glad you defected. I’m not sure what we would’ve done without you.”

“I think Granger was taking care of the lot of you, just fine on her own.” Had been his terrifying reply.

“Oh, yes!” Padma had rushed to say, “No, Hermione is brilliant.”

“She is.” Malfoy had said, not sounding afraid to admit it.

She wasn’t sure how to categorize her feelings for him, they were overpowering and heavy; she wanted to hold him close, she wanted to set him on fire. Hermione wanted, desperately wanted, a reason to not trust him — to prove to everyone that he hadn’t changed.

But, because the world was cruel, and Hermione was supremely unlucky, these opportunities never seemed arise.

Instead, Malfoy seemed to only further prove himself as a trusted member of the order, and Hermione was beginning to miserably feel as if she was the only person in the world who saw him for who he had been once, not who he was now.

“Maybe you should give him a break.” Ron said one evening, “He’s changed a lot.”

Ron, Ron was telling her to be nice to Malfoy — to find peace, to let everything go. Ron, who once had fashioned a dartboard with Malfoy’s face as the bullseye. Ron, who on more occasions than Hermione could count, had talked in great length and detail about what hexes he’d like to use on Malfoy, if given the opportunity.

“He hasn’t changed at all.” Hermione had replied.

It sounded like a lie, even to her own forgiving ears.

But the worst part was seeing him with Luna.

It seemed as if everything melted away in her presence, stripped down to the bones; Luna made him human, thawing the ice that had grown for years across his skin. Hermione often found them together, whispering over the fire — making up for wasted time, perhaps. Falling back in to their easy routine from their childhood.

He did have her smile, but he also had her laugh; a loud noise, cracking through the air.

He should laugh more often, Hermione found herself thinking. And then: Or he should never laugh at all.

She hoped his influence on everyone would fade, a temporary effect, but it only seemed to grow, evolving into something more as time passed. A part of them that she had to learn to accept.

In her worst moments, Hermione reminded herself of all the terrifying things she’d already done in her life: fought in a war, flown a dragon, lived in a tent with two teenage boys — facing Malfoy should be easy, in comparison.

Her breaking point came when he was chosen to lead a mission.

“You’re leaving me behind?”

He didn't look up from the map. “You’re too important for a simple raiding mission.”

“You don’t get to decide what I’m too important for.” Didn’t he understand? This was the only thing she was good at, fighting was the only thing she knew how to do anymore. If he took that away, Hermione would have nothing — and then, everyone would see that. See her for what she really was.

A smile, barely there. “I do.” He said, “As the leader. Deciding things is in the job description.”

“Fuck you,” Hermione spit. “You’re just doing this to control me.” He still wouldn’t look at her, which was infuriating. Malfoy was always looking at her, watching her every move — but now, in this moment, when she was so desperate for it, he refused to meet her eyes.

“I don’t think anyone could control you,” Malfoy sighed, looking tired. Perhaps his leadership role was taking time away from his beauty sleep, “Least of all me.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“I understand that you hate me.” Malfoy continued, finally looking at her, “I get that. It’s a miracle that you even stand to breathe the same air as me. I was never good, not like you. But I’m trying.”

“Try harder.” Hermione said.

He rewarded her with a smile, then, wide and all encompassing. “You see everything so clearly, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Hm.” He said, “Perhaps you should take a step back. You are the brightest thing I’ve ever seen, more powerful than any god I can think of, and you’re upset that I’m not bringing you on a pointless mission? Why would I force you to be near me? To trust me? To put your life in my hands?”

“That is not the point — ” She wanted to scream that she wanted to be near him, wanted to be by his side, wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Hermione survived because she understood, and it was terrifying, the way she didn’t understand him.

“That is the point I’m making, actually. You should see yourself the way others do. The way I do.” His eyes were glassy. “Golden. You’re untouchable.”

Hermione didn't feel that way, dirtied by the terribleness of the war, gaping wounds of loneliness littered across her skin; she felt like a poor imitation of herself, like someone had tried to draw her from memory. But here was Draco Malfoy of all people, seeing her clearly.

As if it was easy for him, simple, like breathing.

Maybe, there was truth in his words. She hated the nickname, felt like it was a cruel joke; but perhaps, it was given to her for a reason. See yourself the way others see you, the wind seemed to sigh. See yourself the way he sees you.

“I might not get a happy ending,” he was saying, “No one will build a statue in my honor. And that’s perfectly fine. My reward is here, in this moment. In the light in your eyes. In the realization that you’re brighter than all of us.”

She thought of how he’d changed, whether she liked to admit it or not; how she felt warm whenever he was near. A feeling she often confused with anger, but perhaps, it was something else, something new.

Something different.

And then, everything made sense, all at once.

A horrifying realization, but at least, it seemed, she wasn’t alone in this. Whatever rolling feeling she felt for him, he felt for her, too.

“Do you know why I came here?” Malfoy asked, voice soft, like she was a wounded animal that needed soothing. Maybe she was.

“For Luna.” Hermione said, that sharp edge she’d grown so familiar with lacking from her voice. “You told me when I found you.”

Malfoy grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I thought I had died. I’d been wondering the woods for hours when you found me. Luna, she told me where to find the camp, but not how to get in. I’ve never been lucky.” He said, “It seemed a fitting fate for me, to die an inch away from salvation — but then, you found me. And I thought to myself: How lucky am I, to get a glimpse of happiness, before my suffering begins?”

The strange look on his face, how he’d looked so lost — frozen on the ground. Hermione had found him in the snow and everything had been set in motion.

“But then, you let me in,” he continued, “You hated me, but you let me in.”

Hermione was silent, watching as he ripped apart her memory, rearranging it to his version of events — she’d been prepared for a fight, but nothing could have prepared her for whatever this was.

“Luna told me to come when I was ready, but I didn’t come for her.”

“Who?” Hermione’s voice was stronger than she expected, unwavering. “Say it.”

“I came for you.” He said. “To be near you, that would be enough.”

“You never talked to me — ” Hermione’s head was spinning. The lengths that he’d gone to avoid her, to give her space to snarl at him, to hate him, were incomprehensible. He felt so deeply, yet seemed content to sit in his misery. To live through the pain.

Pain, that Hermione was beginning to recognize, as something familiar. Something she felt, too. Without even noticing it.

“I’m not a fool,” Malfoy said, eyes colder than a moment before, “I know how you feel about me. I wouldn’t subject you to my feelings, knowing you don’t reciprocate them.” He took a deep breath. “Being near you,” he repeated, “is enough.”

“What if it isn’t enough for me?”

The question left her chest without permission, bursting from its cage, hanging in the air between them. In the background, Hermione heard people moving about — heard Ron’s laugh, heard Harry’s voice in the cacophony; but in the tent, time seemed to slow.

Malfoy was very still. Watching her with sharp eyes, flickering across her face, looking for cracks to slip between.

Hadn’t she once been brave? A few minutes ago, even. When she’d stormed into his tent, ready for a fight? Where was that version of herself now?

“Your feelings aren’t completely unreciprocated.” Was the only thing that came out of Hermione’s mouth. She could feel the blush overtaking her face, splotching down her neck, could feel the way his eyes tracked over it.

Malfoy nodded. “I see.” He said quietly. And then, he was touching her. A gentle brush of fingers across her arm, warmth tracing after his touch. So soft, a juxtaposition to his dark uniform, the sharp knife strapped to his leg, wand holster on his arm.

His fingers trailed upwards, until they danced across her throat, pausing at her trembling pulse. “I will take whatever you give me.” He breathed, “I’ll never ask for more. I’ll be grateful for what I’m given, and I’ll know I’m not worthy enough for more.”

It sounded like a speech he’d rehearsed in the mirror — and perhaps it was. A mantra he repeated to himself, over and over. Remnant of his old life; one he’d effortlessly left behind.

For her, she realized. For the chance to be near her, to exist in the same place.

In the end, Hermione’s hand made the choice for her — reaching up to his, fingers sliding easily along his flesh. Feeling his pulse jumping on the inside of his wrist, a pattern she would soon know by heart.

“You can have everything.”

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soon-palestine · 15 days

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The Nakba of Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood

About the Palestinian families that the occupation has displaced from the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood in Jerusalem since 2008

And the videos, from the movie “Umm Kamel’s Tent” (produced in 2010), which tells the story of the neighborhood and documents the first attempts to displace the people of Neighborhood 1

In November 2008, the occupation seized the home of Hajja Umm Kamel’s family, erecting a tent that then became a shrine for solidarity activists, despite it being demolished several times. The launch of the popular campaign for Jerusalem as the capital of Arab culture in 2009 was scheduled to be announced from the tent, but the occupation raided the place and arrested a number of solidarity activists.

On April 17, 2009, Al-Maqdisi Maher Hanoun handcuffed himself, defying the occupation’s decision to confiscate his home and displace him and his family..

On August 2, 2009, settlers forcefully and under the protection of occupation soldiers seized the homes of 55 Palestinians from the Al-Ghawi and Hanoun families..

Abbas must wake up to this truth...Jerusalem is going away With these words, Jamalat Al-Ghawi screamed after she and her family were displaced from the neighborhood.

This is how the members of the Al-Ghawi and Hanoun families from the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood in Jerusalem spent their night, after they were displaced from their homes.. And a picture of UNRWA spokesman Chris Janis holding a picture of the property of the Ghawi and Hanoun families after the occupation threw the furniture in the street.

Settlers forcefully and under the protection of occupation soldiers seized part of the house of Hajja Umm Nabil al-Kurd in August 2009...

In September 2017, the occupation soldiers expelled the members of the Shamasneh family from their home in the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood, assaulted the family members, and arrested a number of them.

Hajja Fahima Shamasna after being displaced from the house she lived in with her husband, their children, and their grandchildren..

On January 19, 2021, the occupation forces demolished the house in which the Salhiya family lived in the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood, after they were displaced from Ain Karem in West Jerusalem in 1948.

Nor does it mention that the occupation began its attempts to seize the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood and displace its residents in 1950, when Haganah gangs expelled 3 Palestinian families from their homes after these families rejected the ruling of the Joint Armistice Committee to evacuate the homes in favor of the settlers. Source: Al-Sarih newspaper, July 15, 1950

#palestine #gaza #free palestine #the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood #the palestinan archive #west bank #jerusalem

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symphonic-scream · 1 month

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Okay hear me out

Persona 5 Stardew Valley au

So we've got the animal seller, Haru, who's parents divorced when she was young. She spent her teen years in the city with her father, but once an adult she decided to live with her mom, and has fallen in love with country life

Makoto has lived in town her whole life. Her older sister left to have a fancy city job, and thinks Makoto is wasting her talents and smarts by staying to keep up the family tradition. Makoto knows someone has to protect the town, and gladly draws her sword to do so. She trains by cutting down trees for the local artist and for town projects

Ryuji is a former golden child. He was going to be a star athlete, but an accident took it from him. He's not really doing anything at the moment, just working on loving life again. His Ma is the bus driver

Shiho moved to town after a similar incident to Ryuji, only she puts all she is into work, to have a place so when they're adults, her girlfriend can leave her family behind so they can be together. She only recently took over the carpentry business from her mentor, and her girlfriend Ann helped expand the business to include furniture and house decor, with design input

The pub in town in Leblanc. While the owner, Sojiro, specializes in coffee, he'll accept local foods to make dishes by request of the townspeople. His daughter Futaba is a recovering shut in, and his wife Wakaba runs the town clinic, with her med student Tae

Yusuke appeared one day, having sold all he had to find a font of inspiration. He fell for the valley, and at first lived in a tent near the mountain. Makoto, who nearly mistook him for a monster, invited him to stay on her family's property. He mostly paints, but does sculptures for order from the nearby city to pay his share of living costs

The town blacksmith is named Munehisa Iwai. He's the broody type, but cares for his son a whole lot. He's just, not good at showing it. He often requests things his kid would like

The town store used to belong to an older man, but he passed it on to a wayward boy and his younger brother, both whom he met by chance. The boys, then in foster care, lived with him until he became too old and ill go run the store. Akira and young Morgana still keep the Velvet Room running, even if old man Igor is living in Hospice

And, the mayor, Lavenza. She's very new to the position, which used to be Igor's. She's hoping to improve the town a lot, and is caring for her younger twin sisters

A strange man lives on the beach, with a strange talent for fishing. Goro doesn't talk about who he was before he moved there. It's behind him.

The library is run by Hifumi, who wants to reopen the museum portion after her parents sold the artifacts to keep it from closing. Hifumi thinks a museum would inspire tourists to donate,

And, finally, our farmer.

Sumire feels lost. Her sister died, her parents can't speak to her without crying, and she feels, trapped, so she impulsively quits her profession. She finds a letter from her grandfather, with the deed to a farm. Needing a reset, she leaves the city and life behind to live in a small town in the valley, where no one knows her, or her sister.

To clear things up, Makoto and Ryuji both grew up in town, have been friends the whole time. Futaba has been in town since she was 6, Hifumi was born there, and Akira and Morgana have been there since they were 14 and 6, now about 21 and 13. Shiho and Ann were in Ryuji's class at school, since they had to travel to a nearby city for school. Haru moved there when she was 18, Yusuke and Goro appeared around 19-20.

Anyways. Talk to me about this

(I'm open to any ships for it pretty much, but I will say I have Okujima in it.)

#persona 5 stardew valley au #makoto niijima #haru okumura #okujima #yusuke kitagawa #ryuji sakamoto #ann takamaki #goro akechi #futaba sakura #akira kurusu #morgana p5 #hifumi togo #sumire yoshizawa

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otaku-girl-ao3 · 1 month

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Bitter Choices and Unsweetened Dreams - Complete

“Now wait just a minute. I think there has been a mistake.”

“I really don’t think it’s any of your business how I speak with my property.”

“I thought she was your sister?”

“What’s it to you?”

You take a small, tentative step back, as the two begin to circle each other. You daren’t move anymore, as three sets of eyes pin you in place.

“It’s a great deal to me.” Mister Top Hat says, voice even and calm. “Family is family. But property…” His eyes flick down the length of you once more, as though weighing up his words, before saying, “well, property can change hands.”

Dark!Wonka/Reader - mature - complete

#ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #archive of our own #fanfiction #willy wonka #wonka 2023 #wonka movie #Willy wonka x reader #Dark!Wonka

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amaretigris · 2 months

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The Sea Witch's Curse

Taglist: @luna2034 @notagreekgal28 @hopeisrising @mylittlemermaid221 @justagirlthatlovedtoread

A/n: The part WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR 🙏✨

⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅

Ch. 6 | 2.2k words | Fluff & smut | WARNING: EXPLICIT

After you had both calmed from the stressful ordeal, Eric set about cleaning the cut on your neck. He left his quarters for supplies, returning with a bowl of ocean water, and a wash cloth.

"The saltwater has healing properties," he answered your curious look.

Nodding, you bunched your hair up at your nape, and held it off to the side to allow Eric free access to your neck. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, as he wiped blood away from your wound.

"Why did that ship attack us, Eric?"

You broke the silence.

Eric's hand stilled for a moment, before continuing it's ministrations.

"Because we robbed them," Eric spoke in a low voice.

"You robbed them?" Your eyes met his.

Eric dropped his hand to his lap.

"Yes. I haven't been much of a prince in the last five years, (Y/N). I've had to do what I could to ensure this crew's survival. I've done things that no man who still holds my title should," his brow furrowed as he looked at the bloody rag in his lap.

You felt guilt tug at your heart.

"It's okay. You've done what you've had to to get these men home," you placed your hand over his, urging him to look at you.

When he did, you held his gaze.

"I'm sorry that you had to use your gun on that man because of me," you apologized.

Eric shook his head and settled his other hand atop yours.

"No, you don't have to apologize for that, (Y/N). I shot him to protect you. Your safety is worth it. That's probably the most noble thing I've done in years," he swallowed, shaking his head again.

"No, the things I'm referring to are not noble. We started out fighting off pirates on the sea, but now we've become pirates ourselves," he admitted, squeezing your hand.

It was like he was scared you would run at his confession.

"It's okay," you repeated, searching his eyes.

How could you convey to him that you understood?

Eric's gaze faltered.

"We only rob other ships. We never pillage islands or villages, where there are families," he continued, like he needed to explain himself.

How badly your heart ached for the man. Looping your arm around the back of his neck, you pulled him to your chest in an embrace. You didn't want him to feel guilty anymore.

"You're a good leader, Eric," you whispered by his ear.

You felt Eric's arms tentatively come to wrap around your torso, before squeezing you closer to him. How long had he gone without another's embrace?

The thought made you even more sad. This man has lost his only family and home at the hands of Ursula. You had to help him break his curse, whatever it took.

Stepping out of his quarters, you held Eric's hand in yours. You turned to him, nodding your head. Eric took a deep breath, and got the attention of his men.

"Oi! Listen here, men!"

All crew on deck immediately stopped what they were doing, turning to face their respected captain.

"(Y/N) is about to sing a song for us. Do not be alarmed. She is here to help us," his eyes darted around to every crew member.

"I thought ye said she couldn't speak," one man piped up.

Eric nodded.

"Aye, I did say that. I didn't want to cause a panic," he admitted.

"The lass be a mermaid?"

Another man hollered the question.

Eric nodded again.

"Ye said she'd washed up from a shipwreck," the first man added.

Eric held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Yes, men. I thought she had. I found out more information later. I didn't want to cause a stir," he paused.

"(Y/N) is a mermaid, and she can speak. But you all saw her blood today. She does not have the green blood of the sea witch. She, herself, was cursed by the witch. Just like us," he placated.

There was silence for a moment.

"Sing a siren song, she be?"

Eric locked eyes with the man who asked the question.

"Yes, Sebastian," he nodded, "but do not be alarmed. I have heard her siren song already. She will not use it to harm us," he looked to you.

You nodded your head at this.

"The sea witch, Ursula, has also taken my home and my freedom from me. I can only imagine what you've been through. We have to work together to end our curses. We will find a way," you spoke, realizing that you weren't exactly sure that Eric wanted you to speak to his crew.

Your eyes cut to his face nervously, but you only found a smile.

Grimsby spoke next.

"Aye men. I can vouch for her, too. She's here to help," he added.

The men in the crowd nodded.

Smiling, you descended the stairs. Eric followed on your heels. Walking to the side railing of the ship, you looked out into the open ocean. You opened your mouth and began singing your melody. Harmony filled the air. You coasted on the tune, feeling it coursing through you. Bringing the melody to a close with a hum, you watched the waves intently.

You weren't sure that this would work, but it was worth a shot. When you saw no movement on the water, you frowned. You almost turned away before you saw the tip of a mermaid tail briefly breach the surface. Gripping the railing with excitement, you watched as the shadow moved closer to the ship. A flash of red hair came up, but quickly dove back down. You grimaced and turned to find the whole crew peering over your shoulder at the water.

"It's my sister, Ariel. She won't surface with all of you watching," you explained.

Eric nodded.

"Let's stand down," he turned and ushered his crew back to the center of the deck.

You turned back to the water, and Ariel's head popped up.

"(Y/N), you're safe. I'm so relieved. We've been searching all of the seven seas for you. I'd recognize your siren song anywhere. What happened? Have these men taken you hostage?"

You shook your head.

"No, no. I'm sorry to worry you. It was Ursula. She turned me into a human. These sailors have provided me with safety and aid since I washed up."

Ariel shook her head.

"Really? But Father said-".

"I know what Father says, Ariel. I know he has his reasons for distrusting humans, but they're not all like that. Does Father know where Ursula is?"

Ariel shook her head.

"No, but he's been combing the waters for her. He figured she had something to do with your disappearance."

"Yes. Please tell him that she cursed me. These men are also cursed. We have to find a way to stop it."

"He will help you, (Y/N)," her eyes shifted behind you. "I cannot guarantee that he will help them."

You squeezed the railing and nodded.

"I know, but I will. Thank you Ariel. I love you," you waved.

Ariel lifted her hand above the surface.

"I love you."

And then she was gone.

You sighed and turned from the railing. Eric was a step behind you with wide eyes.

"Are you okay, (Y/N)?"

You wrapped your arms around yourself and squeezed.

"Yes, I'm okay," you smiled.

A quarter of a mile away from the ship, hidden by a sharp row of rocks, tentacles slithered just beneath the water. The sea witch's eyes watched you retreat from the ship's railing. With a cackle, her suckers detached themselves from the rock's surface, and allowed her to plunge back to the deep. It seems that you didn't think about who all your siren song might attract. Foolish girl.

Eric ushered you into his quarters, locking the door behind you. He seemed to be in a hurry to get you alone after you saw your sister. Turning to him, you were met with hungry eyes. There it was, that expression again. You hadn't known what to make of it earlier. Now, you recognized it plainly. It was desire.

Eric closed the space between you. Wrapping his arm around your torso and placing his hand on your cheek, he studied your eyes.

"(Y/N), you were so brave. I admire you for that. More than you know," his eyes tracked down your features to your lips.

Eric licked his lips before he eased them to your neck. Cautiously, he pressed a small kiss to the side of your throat. You gasped and snapped your eyes shut. Seemingly pleased with your reaction, Eric kissed down, and then back up your neck. Small and tender at first, then growing in intensity. By the time he brought his eyes to meet yours again, you were panting. You opened your eyes to see a flame in his that you'd never seen before. In him, or in anyone else. Ghosting his lips over yours, Eric stilled.

"Eric, please," you brought your hands to his chest. "I-I don't want your love just because you're under a spell," your eyes flicked back to his.

He scrunched his brow curiously.

"This is because I sang my siren song again, isn't it?"

You bit your lip.

Eric smiled and shook his head.

"No, (Y/N). I've felt this desire since I met you," he confessed.

"You have?"

Eric's eyes settled on yours again. He brought both his palms to your cheeks.

"Yes. You're brave, compassionate, strong, and more resilient than I could ever imagine. The only magic influencing me now is my own heart's," he pressed his forehead to yours, and closed his eyes.

You stood still, observing him for a moment.

"Okay," you nodded.

Eric opened his eyes again.

"Okay?" He repeated.

"Okay," you confirmed.

Eric reached up and removed a hand from his chest. He slowly lowered it to his hardened length under his pants.

All of your breath left you. Your eyes widened.

"We will only do this if you want to, (Y/N). But I can show you how humans truly connect with one another," he whispered.

You felt a foreign feeling settle heavy in your stomach - like you were missing something. You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding again. Whatever this was, you wanted it with Eric.

Eric's lips were suddenly on yours. He used his thumbs to ease your mouth open. Gasping into the kiss, you let him explore. You did your best to keep up, but his pace was urgent. You were sure that his tongue had been in every crevice of your mouth when Eric broke from the kiss. Grabbing your hand, but holding your gaze, he led you to the bed.

When the back of your thighs hit the mattress, Eric's hands reached down to the hem of your dress. He connected eyes with you again, and you lifted your arms for Eric to ease the material up and off your body. Once your bare form was exposed for him, you felt your nipples perk in the cool air. Eric examined your body for a moment before reaching to pull his shirt over his head as well. He then untied the waistband of his pants, easing them down his legs, and kicking them off.

Your mouth fell open at the sight before you. Eric's muscles were so defined, and his member resembled a sharp rod. You had no idea what this would feel like, but you knew it must be good. Eric's arms came up to yours, easing you back onto the mattress. You went willingly, watching him climb over you. Feeling his weight on top of yours was comforting. Eric framed your face with his hands, and combed his fingers through your hair.

"This is my first time, too, (Y/N). We'll learn together. If I hurt you, you have to tell me," he waited for you to nod.

Your breathing was fast now, like you couldn't take in enough air. You looked down to watch Eric lining up his member at your entrance. You watched as the tip of it disappeared inside you, and you arched your back, and gripped Eric's shoulders at the penetration. Eric stilled, letting you adjust. He peppered kisses on your cheeks, still combing fingers through your hair.

When you opened your eyes again and gave him another nod, Eric pulled back a fraction, and pushed himself back inside. You moaned, squeezing Eric's shoulders. He repeated this motion several times, and each one felt better than the last. By the third repetition of this movement, you were experiencing euphoria. Bringing your hands to Eric's lower back, you urged him to go deeper.

"Please, Eric, that feels so so good," you whined.

Eric's head dipped with a groan, and his brow was creased. His strokes were getting harder, deeper. You loved it. Your sounds urged him on. When the squelching of your combined juices reached your ears, you felt your arousal heighten. You instinctively clamped your muscles in your lower stomach, and Eric let out a low moan.

"Fuck, (Y/N)," he cursed.

You felt yourself climbing higher towards something. You put your hands on either side of Eric's torso.

"Please," you ground out.

Suddenly, a wave of unimaginable pleasure splashed over you. You rode out your high, never wanting it to end. When you finally came down from your peak, you found Eric coming to his. His hips stuttered, and you felt something hot and sticky inside you. Humming in relaxation, you ran your fingers though Eric's hair when he settled his head on your chest.

"I wouldn't mind doing that again," you giggled.

Eric whipped his head to look at you with a mischievous glint, and his lips were back on yours instantly.

#the little mermaid 2023 #jonah hauer king #prince eric #prince eric smut #prince eric fanfiction #prince eric imagine #prince eric x reader #prince eric x y/n #prince eric x you #prince eric x fem!reader #my stuff

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vague-humanoid · 2 months

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Palestinian territory- The Israeli army’s repeated killings of Palestinian civilians by deliberately running them over alive with military vehicles was vehemently denounced by Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor on Sunday, as was the widespread destruction of civilian property. These crimes are part of Israel’s genocide against Palestinians in the Gaza Strip, the rights group said, ongoing since 7 October 2023.

Euro-Med Monitor documented the Israeli army’s killing of a Palestinian man who was deliberately run over in Gaza City’s Al-Zaytoun neighbourhood on 29 February after he was arrested. The man was subjected to harsh interrogation by members of the Israeli army, who bound his hands with plastic zip-tie handcuffs before running him over with a military vehicle from the bottom to the top of his body.

The incident occurred on the main Salah al-Din Street in the Zaytoun neighbourhood, according to eyewitnesses who spoke to the Euro-Med Monitor team. Israeli soldiers restrained the victim’s hands before they crushed him, and tramped on his body from the legs up, confirming that he was alive during the incident. To guarantee thorough and complete crushing, the victim was placed on asphalt rather than in an adjacent sandy area.

The victim’s mutilated body and the surrounding area bear obvious signs that a military bulldozer or tank was present. It appears that the victim was purposefully stripped of his clothes, as he was seen wearing only his underpants at the time of his death.

The ramming operation occurred before the Israeli army withdrew to the outskirts of the Zaytoun neighbourhood two days ago, as evidenced by the condition of the entrails and other body parts, which had not yet decomposed when the case was documented.

Another documented incident took place on 23 January, when an Israeli tank ran over members of the Ghannam family while they were sleeping in a shelter caravan in the Taiba Towers area of Khan Younis. As a result, a man and his eldest daughter were killed, and his remaining three children and wife were injured. Amina, his 13-year-old daughter, confirmed that her father and older sister were killed when an Israeli tank unexpectedly and repeatedly ran over the caravan, where the family had been sleeping. While her mother and two other siblings survived the attack, Amina experienced extreme pressure in her eyes, nearly losing her sight.

Euro-Med Monitor also documented Israeli tanks and bulldozers running over and crushing displaced people inside their tents in Beit Lahia’s Kamal Adwan Hospital courtyard on 16 December 2023. Several people were killed during the incident, including individuals who were initially injured and did not ultimately survive. The corpses of those who had been previously buried in the courtyard were also crushed in the 16 December incident, stated the rights group.

More recently, a Palestinian family survived a 20 February running attack after Israeli tracks ran over their tent on the shore of the Khan Yunis Sea. A female civilian said that she was shocked by the tank suddenly running over her tent.

In addition, Euro-Med Monitor has documented numerous incidents of Israeli army tanks destroying civilian property, particularly cars, during Israel’s ground incursions into different parts of the Gaza Strip. Most of these tank attacks have targeted vehicles parked in the streets without any military affiliation, indicating the Israeli army’s deliberate and systematic destruction of Palestinian property.

Euro-Med Monitor affirmed that all of these violations are part of a larger Israeli effort to dehumanise every Palestinian in the Gaza Strip, in order to justifiy and normalise the crimes being committed against them. Crushing civilians with tanks is just one of the many cruel ways the Israeli army murders Palestinians in the Gaza Strip, disregarding their humanity, suffering, and dignity. These practices reflect the desire of Israel’s government and military to collectively punish the Palestinian people, with the aim of eliminating, intimidating, and/or harming them physically and psychologically. These crimes come alongside a public incitement campaign by Israeli officials, media figures, and settlers calling for the annihilation of Palestinians in Gaza, and are also a result of the total impunity enjoyed by the perpetrators—evident by the absence of any meaningful action being taken to hold them accountable by any party or at any level.

#gore tw #Palestine genocide #zionism #murder #war crimes #death tw #blood cw

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katy-l-wood · 1 year

Text

You know, I talk about my family Cabin on here a lot, but I don't think I've ever actually explained what the Cabin IS. So. Story time. We haven't had a story time in awhile.

This story starts sometime in the early 1900s with my great grandfather losing half his right hand in some sort of logging/mill/mining accident. The stories vary depending who in the family you ask. (He also ran mule trains over the mountains at some point.) But however he lost it, he ended up in the local hotel (which was a facade building, I believe, so just a glorified tent) because there was no hospital. There was also no doctor. Somehow somebody tracked down a nurse somewhere and brought her to the hotel.

BUT!

It was improper for this young woman to be alone with a man, even if she was trying to make him not be dead. The scandal!!!

So that nurse became my great-grandmother. No idea what their actual wedding was like, but I imagine it was rather interesting given they'd only known one another two days and he was still half delirious because of major injury.

Now we'll skip forward a bit. They decide to buy a few acres over in Middle Park/Grand County, and they're gonna start a little ranch up there. They pay some dude for the land and pack up the wagon (yes, wagon, the Colorado mountains didn't get the message that the century had changed until about 30-40 years after it happened). But then they arrived and, on no, they've been lied to! No land is waiting! They managed to get themselves a few acres anyway and went about starting their ranch and having 10+ children, all but one of whom lived to adulthood which was damn impressive. (Also worthwhile to note here that, until sometime in the 1950s, there was only one doctor in the whole county and she was a grumpy old lady who didn't believe in pain meds.)

Their youngest daughter died at 4, I believe from whooping cough, and less than a week later my great-grandfather came in from the fields, said he wasn't feeling well, laid down, and died. So now here's my great-grandmother in the middle of the Rockies in the 1920s with 10+ kids, some of them still under 10. And let me tell you, she kicked ass.

But what does all of this have to do with the Cabin you say? Well, see, those 10+ kids spread out all over the county, buying their own lands and marrying into the other families up there. Then along came the state saying "hey, we want to build a reservoir where your house is, get out." To which my great-grandmother said "fuck you." She said fuck you enough times that the family eventually ended up with 1000+ acres in exchange for moving off their little plot. They literally just picked up the house and moved it about 1/4 mile up the hill, and that original house is still there today.

Now, ever since then the family has sold off some of the land, but we still have a lot of it. The family cattle ranch is still operational as well, now run by one of my second cousins. A couple of my great-uncles also built houses on various parts of the property over the years, which is how we get to the Cabin.

My grandfather, the youngest living child of his parents, eventually moved down to Denver. But he still loved his home in the mountains, and wanted his 10 kids to experience that as well. One of the houses on the family property had fallen into disuse, to the point cows were living in it and having a grand old time. My grandfather decided to fix it up so that he and his kids could have a place to go up there. This was the first Cabin, referred to as Camp Grub. Until his sister-in-law, who technically owned the house with his brother, realized he'd fixed the house and went "oh, how nice of you! Get out, it's mine now."

Thus, the second Cabin came into being. Not wanting to give up on having a place up there, my grandfather found another cabin a few miles away and rented that. It was called the White House because it was. Well. White. This is where my dad and his 9 siblings grew up going all the time. Lots of fond memories of hunting, fishing, and general shenanigans. But then, early in the 90s, the owner of the property didn't renew my grandparent's lease.

This time, my grandparents wanted to get something they OWNED and couldn't be taken from them. They settled on the Cabin, which was again several miles away in a different spot. This third Cabin is the one we still have today, the little A-frame. It was named Moose Camp.

None of his children wanted him to buy an A-frame. Because A-frames are terrible. It could only sleep six people and, at this point, there were a good 20+ family members that wanted to use it. But my grandfather did not care. So we ended up with an A-frame that sits on 60ish acres and, at the time, was on the only tiny little flat spot of the entire 60ish acres.

My dad and his siblings, mostly in their 20s and early 30s at the time, took one look at this and decided nope. Must fix. So they promptly set about hand-digging a basement to add four more bedrooms, and they dug out a huge chunk of the hillside to create a flat spot for the garage and parking. Half the garage is a garage, the other half (separated by a wall) is an outdoor livingroom/dining area. There has been some other odds and ends projects done over the years such as cutting a couple RV parking spots out of the woods, but nothing else major.

Now, this is the Cabin I grew up in and the one we still have. I have spent nearly 30 years of my life going up there almost every weekend. After my parents divorced they started moving at least once a year each so from a very young age I never had a stable home except for the Cabin.

The whole family used it, and you never knew who was coming. It could be just a few people, or twenty. Sometimes people brought friends. Sometimes distant cousins showed up. My cousins and I had the run of the place, and the whole 60 acres. It was a grand old time, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. We all learned to shoot, to hunt, to be safe in the woods. We heard all the family stories, and visited the family that still lived up there. There were always at least two fridges full of food and it was just sort of a free for all of who ate what, didn't really matter who brought it. There were campfires out behind the garage. There were lazy days in the gazebo my dad and his siblings built for their mother from scrap wood.

After my grandparents died, the Cabin was put into a trust so that now all of their kids have an equal share in it. (Except for one, who we do not speak of, because she is not welcome in the family anymore, and another who has died.) Over the years, most of the family has used it less and less. My dad and I are now the ones who use it the most, and do most of the upkeep. I've got an uncle and an aunt (my dad's brother and sister) who come up a fair amount as well, but the uncle is getting a bit too old to really help out with the heavy projects and the aunt...well...she tries.

Other family does still come up, though. Some a handful of times every year, others only once a year or so. They usually find something to complain about (specifically one aunt who is a very my-way-or-the-highway person) or some project they think needs done, and they'll moan about it not getting taken care of, but never do anything about it. They leave and my dad and I continue to tinker with the plumbing, cut firewood for everyone else to use, clean out the fridges, restain the siding, fix the basement when it floods in the spring, plow the road, and everything else that needs done, never really bringing up the fact that we're the only real caretakers left of the place. If the rest of the family does manage to decide to do some sort of project my dad and I usually end up putting it back in order once they're gone, and they never notice.

We still visit the surrounding family, we still hunt, we still explore. But it's quieter now. It'll always be home, though. The only real home I've ever had. According to the rules of the trust, the property has to stay in the Wood family unless every member of the trust agrees to sell, which they'll never do. So it'll be there, in some form, for quite awhile.

(Putting the words Long Post in here so the tumblr filters can hide it even if other people don't tag it as such.)

#The Cabin #The Wood Family #Storytime #Long Post #Story time

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starringjazz · 11 days

Text

Finding out Yuki’s secret

Warning: animal, naked ahem men

It was a Monday morning, and there was a special breeze in the air while you walked to your tent. You big sister, Tohru, was at her job and took a day off from school. You had forgotten your wallet in the tent, so you went to pick it up. While you were on your way, you saw a familiar boy with luscious white hair walking on the hill next to you. You continued to walk as you watched the beautiful boy with feminine features.

Of course, you tripped on a stupid little rock and tumbled down the slope that was in front of you tent. As if it wasn't already embarrasing, the by looked at you way and saw that you tripped. You dusted your skirt and looked his way to see if he saw you fall dramatically hard onto the rocky floor. He did in fact see you but also laughed. As you rolled your eyes and go tour wallet, you walked out and there he was. The familar boy was the exact boy who caught your attention in your first day of school. Yuki Sohma, or shall i say President Yuki Sohma. The Sohmas were known as a successful family. "Hello, Miss y/n" he looked at the tent with a confusing expression on his face. "Are you sleeping here?" he asks.

"Hello president.. and yes I am.." you blush as this was your first real conversation with your beloved crush. All of your other interaction were dropping paper and him picking it up, asking for a pencil, and even him opening the door for you. But, your favorite memory of him was when a little boy was lost and he helped guide the lost child to his mother. Any other guy would just walk past..but not President Sohma. "I hope that you know..this land is Sohma property. I'm afraid that I will have to ask you to leave."

He looks at you a bit heartbroken as he has to drive you out of a home knowing you have no where to go. "I'm so sorry, but um can I wait until tonight to leave? My sister will be at work until 7" He looks shocked. Not at the fact that your sister was working, but at the fact that that meant you lived with her. The tent was only about enough space for two. "She works so late" He says. "Speaking of late, we might be if we don't start walking" You gasp while you look at the time on your flip phone. "You're right!" You start to run like your life depended on it. Your education means the world..it's the only way to get into a real home. Yuki catches up to you and yells

"WAIT!" You turn around suddenly and bump into him, crating a fog. " AHHHHHHH" you yell as the former Yuki is now A MOUSE?! You couldn't wrap your head around it. "Oh My Goodness?!!!!" He deadpans and has a visible sweat on him. "Miss y/n please don't freak out" Luckily you two are alone and no one sees you. You cup him in your hands and he blushes. You fangirl a bit. "YOURE SO CUTE!!!!" Stars replace your eyes as you saw the adorable creature! Fog poofs back and your crush..is..."GASSSSSSSSSP! Y-YOURE" You look down and see his WHOLE CO member.. You smack yourself and turn around. "You're naked..." He looks at you while he dresses.

"So you're whole family has it?" He nods. It is the end of school and he walks you "home". You gather your things and wave at Tohru in the distance. "Hi y/n, whatcha doing.." she says looking at you with your belongings. "I have a lot to tell you

#yuki sohma #fruits basket #fruits basket x reader #yuki sohma x reader

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withahappyrefrain · 2 months

Note

Alright Abby you needed the thoughts/thots and I'm here to deliver (lol).

Bob is so connected to the land it's not even funny. Mans will be out at all hours of the day in spring, summer and fall, looking at the plants, the soil and all that. He even keeps a little journal full of the plants and flowers, all of it drawn and written in his own hand. He'll even be rattling off facts about all the plants to you while you're looking through it.

He loves taking you out in the field in spring and summer to get all the brush and debris cleared away from the year before. He's especially tentative about his Meemaw's rosebushes that she gave you and Bob for your wedding. All kinds of wildflowers grow in and around your property, Bob's favorite being the bright red indian paintbrush because of the colors and because of how soft and fuzzy they are.

You guys are never wanting for vegetables because come spring, Bob knows how to make that garden burst to life (literally if you take a dead fish or some kinda fish based fertilizer and mix it into the soil, the plants go nuts). He loves when you join him in the corn field to pick the corn for the neighbors and the farmers' markets and the two of you even made little corn husk dolls for his nieces. The fruit orchards are always fun to go through, full of apples, peaches, berries and anything else that can be easily grown.

Abby there's so much more I could add to this but the spring fever has hit and I'm itching to get outside (lol).

YES HE HAS SUCH A GREEN THUMB

Idk what the Navy regulations are, but I swear when he's deployed he has at least three plants in his dorm!! If something is wrong with your plant he's able to immediately identify the issue!

God I want to go to the farmer's market so badly! He knows all the farmers!! He asks how their family is doing!

#ask #i need him!

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thefreelanceangel · 3 months

Note

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

For any :)

[REDACTED] sold four of the Kyho children to the Empire, shortly after C'kyho assumed his position as nunh. It took very little time for the family to a) realize the children were missing, b) notice who else was missing, c) get a posse together, and d) head out after their kits.

After losing one of the kits and two fighters in the struggle to get the children back, C'kyho packed up the tribe and moved them out of season to a different site. He then sent his eldest son after [REDACTED].

None of the Kyho tribe saw C'ilo for two years, as [REDACTED] recognized him on sight and betrayed him into an Imperial prison. C'ilo managed to escape, and for fifteen years, C'kyho paid time, effort, and gil to various merchants and mercenaries to hunt [REDACTED] down. He wouldn't send any of his family after them, not after nearly losing his eldest son.

Three years ago, C'allie brought a heavy jar to her father and opened it, pulling a head out of the preservative wine and oil filling the jar. He identified it as [REDACTED] and thanked his daughter with a tent fit for a princess. The name C'kyho struck from the family registry, the head burned, and the scorched skull now rests in a chest at the foot of C'kyho's bed.

It'd never occur to Summer to describe herself as monstrous, nor would she understand why someone called her that. After all, she's so much like the rest of her family! They're all so high-spirited and whimsical, ready to drop everything on a moment's notice just to play! They love to laugh, to be merry, to eat sweets and discover something new!

How could anyone ever describe her pixie relatives as monstrous? Or her? Every leafman in Il Mheg is so meticulously cared for! They know the names and stories of each one!

And if they let the fuath have the occasional ill-mannered visitor, what of it? The fuath need their fun, too. It isn't as if they don't contribute to Il Mheg, they're just as vital to the safety of the Dream as the nu mou or the pixies.

Only someone afraid of joy would call Summer and her family monstrous. Or someone with something to hide... Perhaps someone... with ill intent, hmm?

{Summer absolutely doesn't consider herself monstrous, but she has the same callous disregard for personal autonomy, property, space, and ... life that her pixie family does. She really can't be trusted.}

#The Kyhos #Kyho Tribe #C'kyho Nunh #FFXIV #Prompts #Summer Bellmayne #Changeling Child

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xxkitty13 · 3 months

Text

Circus Freaks

LA Buggy x Fem Reader

Dark themes, Mention of suicide (not towards reader)

Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 8

Previously: With the delivery of an invitation, Y/n's presence is needed at the Abask mansion. Dinner with the Abask men goes smoothly before a surprising proposal for marriage is announced. As it turns out, the Ti’s debt is one of the factors for the proposition. Now, Y/n must decide on her answer.

A/n: Information in this chapter refers back to Part 4

Part 9: Arising Tensions

Ruckus fills the ring of the circus tent. Props fly left and right as Buggy goes on a rampage. He throws everything in sight, the empty chests are thrown onto the bleachers, breaking at the force.

“Buggy! Calm down!”

“How do you expect me to stay calm when another man wants you?”

“Buggy please, just listen!”

He stops and snaps his head at her. “Will you except?”

Y/n stays quiet.

“I said, will you except?” his tone stern.

“I-I don’t want to, but. . .”

The pirate approaches her and harshly yanks her towards him. “But what?”

“It’s complicated Buggy. Trust me, I don’t want to marry Yasi.”

“Okay, whatever it is. . . we can just kill them and be done with this.”

“No! Buggy, we can’t kill them. Murder isn’t the answer.”

The pirate rolls his eyes. Everything would be solved if they could get rid of them.

“I need to speak to my sister and her parents.”

“Why’s that?”

“Yasi’s father is threatening their home with the marriage.”

“Damn bastard.”

Y/n goes to sit on the empty bleachers and Buggy follows after her. Her elbows press against her thighs, resting her face on her hands. “I don’t know what to do. The land they have has been passed down through generations. I wished they would have mentioned the debt to me. Even so, I’m pretty sure he’s been scheming this for a while.”

"I heard he gives out loans to the townspeople and makes it impossible to pay it back."

"Yeah, it's what he does. He also owns a lot of the farming land here; my adoptive parents are one of the few families that own property besides the Abasks." She pauses and takes a deep breath. "Yasi mentioned something to me earlier and it has been bothering me ever since."

Buggy raises his eyebrow at the statement. "What was it?"

"I think he's genuinely terrified of his father. He said someone will get hurt if we don't go along with Kija's plans."

"What?!" Buggy yells out. He begins to manically laugh before wheezing out loud. Cabaji, who silently stood at the whole scene, began to creep away. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Who, me?"

"Yes, dumbass. Who else? Geez." Buggy facepalms. “Well, that bastard has no idea who he’s dealing with.”

Y/n tilts her head in confusion. “Are you saying that you can go against the Abasks?”

“Darling, we are pirates. The sea is much tougher than that old prune.”

Cabaji cracks up at his captain’s words. “Y/n, do you really think we’re afraid of that man?” Buggy scoffs, a moment ago Cabaji was sneaking away.

“Well, it never occurred to me that they’re people who can stand up against him. He’s basically a tyrant on this island.”

"He won't be for long."

"Oh,"— Cabaji cuts—" Y/n, I have to show you this. "

Y/n's ears perk up. "What is it?"

The acrobat hesitantly takes out a folder from his stash bag. "Y/n. . . I didn't want to add more to your stress, but you have to know."

"What do you mean?" She walks to the pirate, her full attention set on the closed file. Carefully, she opens it, going through the numerous pages. One document in particular catches her eye.

“He killed my father. . ..”

Buggy’s ears perk at the word. “Who?”

She gulps in the silence that fills the ring.

"It was the mayor. . ."

Y/n's face scrunched in confusion. All this time, she was right. "I knew it!" she gleams in joy. Buggy and Cabaji tilt their heads, shocked to see her happy. "I knew he would never kill my mother!"

"Uh, what do you mean?"

Overrun by excitement, she trembles, barely managing her emotions. "It was said that my dad fatally shot my mom and then killed himself. This shows that it was all a lie," she shouts, waving the paper in the air.

"So, is he 15? The one from the other letters?" Buggy asks.

"I don't know, the letter is written to Kija and it is signed by the mayor. He just gives him a notice about the death, no other information is provided."

Buggy pondered on that. It seems too good to be true. "Cabaji, where did you find it?"

"It was in a safe from his office. I may have broken it, but that's not the problem at the moment."

"Great, very suspicious." He rolled his eyes. “And where exactly was it located at?”

“Behind a large painting.”

That is a very common hiding spot, maybe the old hag is dumb. Still, Buggy thought the letter was too convenient, but he didn’t want to ruin Y/n's joy.

“What do you plan to do?” he asks.

Her smile fades. What is she going to do? “I. . . don’t know. . .”

Buggy couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young woman, so naive. Luckily for her, he already has a diabolical plan in mind.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh?”

He rests his arm on her shoulder, giving her a smug look. “This whole situation is pissing me off. The marriage, Yasi, and now this.” He takes the paper from her hands and gives it to Cabaji.

“Leave it all to me. You no longer have to deal with the matter.”

“Are you talking about the marriage or. . ?”

“Like I said, leave it to me.” Buggy pecks her on the cheek and shoos her away. “Don’t you have to talk to your sister?”

She hesitantly walks away. “Uh yes, but-“

“Come on go. I have work to do.”

In defeat, she sighs. “Okay, just don’t kill anyone.”

Buggy crosses his fingers behind his back. “Mhm.” No promises. She squints her eyes at him before turning away and leaving the tent.

“So captain, what are you planning?” Cabaji asks.

“Get Mohji, looks like we have to speak to mayor once again. I guess our little talk didn’t work last time,” he chuckles darkly.

.°˖✧.°˖✧

“Wakey wakey sleeping beauty.”

Cold water splashes over the mayor’s face. Awakening in such a freight, he is incoherent, frantically looking around the darkness that fills his bedroom. He violently coughs out the water than he breathed in.

The lamp on his bedside table turns on, illuminating his view.

“Boo.”

He jumps back at the appearance of the deranged clown.

“What the hell?! What are you doing here?!”

The clown draws back, circling around his bed. The mayor grips his bedsheets, his eyes never leaving the man. He’s not alone either, two of his subordinates are with him. He remembers them well. Maniacs.

“W-what do you want? I thought we settled this on our last ordeal.”

Buggy moves his pointer finger in disapproval. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. . . that was then and this is now,”— he stops— “something else has popped up.”

“Whatever it is, you know I didn’t snitch to Kija,” he quickly states.

Buggy walks to the opposite side of the bed, sitting down on the nice cushion. “No, it’s nothing of that matter.” His hand reaches out to inside of his coat and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “Do you know what this is Mr. Dun? Or should I say 15?”

Mr. Dun eyes widen at the code name. He snatches the paper out of his hand. “Where did you get this?”

“That is none of your concern. What’s important is whether you’re 15 or not.”

“15? I don’t know what’s the meaning of this. Why do you care about Zimik anyway?”

Irritated by this, he grabs the mayor by the collar of his neck and pulls out a knife, pressing it against his skin. “I’m the one asking questions here. Did you or did you not kill Zimik?”

“No. I would never kill Zimik, he was a good friend of mine.”

Buggy lets go of his collar, annoyed by his response. “Tsk, you better not be lying to me. You know what will happen if you are,” he smirks, waving the blade over his face.

“N-no, please. . . you can’t release that information to the public.”

“So then answer my question.”

“I told you I’m not involved in Zimik’s death.”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure the town would be shocked to hear that you’re Kija’s little bitch.”

The mayor grits. “I’m telling you the truth. There is no evidence to pinpoint this at me.”

Buggy rolls his eyes. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Let’s go.” he waves for Mohji and Cabaji to exit the room. Leaving Mr. Dun in a petrified state.

“Shit.” He waits for time to pass before dialing his snail transponder. It rings for a while until someone picks up the line. “I’m sorry for calling this late, but this is urgent.”

“It better be important for waking me up this late.”

“It’s Buggy. He’s accusing me of Zimik’s death.”

“. . .”

The person doesn’t say word.

“Hello? This isn’t funny.”

“Where the hell did that clown get that information?”

“I don’t know, but he's threatening me again. I have a feeling it won't be long before he finds out I've been communicating with you.”

"Well then, I will have to put a stop to that clown. I found something very interesting about him, I am sure it will drive him away," the voice chuckles.

"What is it?"

"You'll find out soon enough." With that, the call ends. Mr. Dun angrily throws the snail transponder across the room. A cold sweat runs down his forehead, he feels cornered between two beasts. What will he do now?

.°˖✧.°˖✧

"Lyla! Are you home?"

The door swings open. "Y/n? What's with the urgency?"

Y/n enters inside of her sister’s home without saying a word. Lyla looks at her confused. “Hey what’s gotten into you? You don't barge into someone’s home you know.”

“I’m sorry. . . it’s just there’s a lot going on.”

“What do you mean? Come on take a seat,” she says pointing at her sofa, where the two take a seat.

“I just wanted to ask you something.”

“What is it?

“Did you know that we’re in debt?”

“Debt? What are you talking about?”

“Your parents. . . they owe a lot of money to Kija.”

Lyla’s eyes widen as she got up from her seat. “They owe who money?!” She tugs on her hair, pacing back and forth from her spot. “You’re lying. They wouldn’t be, right?”

Y/n sighs, “The man told me himself.”

“What?! When?!”

“It’s a long story. . .”

“Well, I want to hear every single detail, you better not hide anything from me.” Her voice stern.

Y/n looks around the room, avoiding eye contact with her sister. She wasn’t sure if she should tell her everything, but there’s no backing out. She takes a deep breath. “Yasi’s father wants me to marry his son,” she manages to spit out.

Lyla mouth drops wide open. “Oh my god. . . that’s ridiculous. What does that have to with anything?”

“You see, he’s using the marriage as a way to pay for their debt. . . I would be a method of payment.”

“What the fuck y/n?! You’re not money, you’re a human being. You can’t accept, we have to find another way.”

“Look, we need to speak to your parent’s first, but who knows when they’re coming back. I have a feeling Kija sent them away for this reason.”

Lyla slumps on the couch, running her hands through her hair. She sighs, “Do you know the amount of money they need? Maybe I can my husband for help.”

“I’m working on a plan as well.”

“What is it?”

“Uhh. . .”— Y/n fidgets her fingers— “It’s. . . rather complicated. . .”

“Come on, tell me. You know we don’t keep secrets from each other,” she says holding her hand. “We can’t let that bastard win.”

“Just promise to keep it secret.” Lyla nods, squeezing the palm of her hand. “I’m with the clown. . . he’s finding a way to solve our problem.”

“You’re with that clown?! That pirate?!” she yells in shock. “Girl, how long have you been with him?! Why haven’t you told me?”

Y/n covered her ears from her sister’s loud voice. She is angry and rightfully so. They never kept secretes from each other. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know what you’d say if I told you I’m dating a pirate.”

“Y/n a pirate? I know he’s a clown, but do you know the reputation they carry? They are not good people.”

“Y-you don’t know him. . .” her voice cracked.

“But do you know him? He’s only been here for a short time.”

This time Y/n froze. It is true. . . she knows nothing of him, but his circus act. Who is he truly? Her hands behind to shake and were immediately ceased by another pair of hands.

Lyla eyes softened as she sighed. “It’s okay, as long as he treats you right. It’s just. . . I never saw it coming.”

“Neither did I.” Y/n felt confused, she’s known about her partaking in the circus, what’s so different this time? Either way, she rather not argue with her.

“Well, I’m sure a pirate has their ways to bribe people. I think he’s just the guy to go against the Abasks. Still, I will talk to Walo about the situation; after all, he works for them.”

“I just hope everything works out. I’m not sure how long we have before they lose it all.”

Lyla goes to embrace Y/n, holding her tight in her arms. “Don’t worry, we won’t let him win.” She let’s go and grabs her shoulders, adding a bit pressure to them. “Just be careful. . . pirates are dangerous, I don’t want you getting hurt. I can’t tell you what to do, you’re an adult. You know what you’re doing, remember that.”

And all Y/n did was nod in agreement.

.°˖✧.°˖✧

Dusk hit the island as Y/n returned to the circus grounds. Buggy’s hoarse voice became louder at each step. She opened the tent and found herself in the middle of a commotion at the ring.

“What do you mean they saw you?!”

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were home.”

“Shit, can you fuckers do anything right?”

He tightened his fist around his throat and squeezed tightly. “Don’t fuck up again, we can’t let our act fall apart.” With one final squeeze her lets go. The man gasps out for air.

Y/n watched in horror. Has he’s always been this way?

“Buggy you almost killed him!”

“So?”— the pirate turns to face the voice— “Oh- darling, you’re back.”

“Um. . .”

He looks at her and back down at his subordinate.“Don’t worry about it. He’s fine. Besides, he was careless. We don’t want the attention on us while Kija is planning to have a wedding.”

Y/n only stared at Buggy.

Buggy huffed. “Baby, forget about it. Come on, it’s getting late, you should get some sleep.”

“Yeah. . .” she replied, walking away from the scene.

Dangerous. Should she be worried? No. . . Buggy wouldn’t hurt her. Well, he did tie her up that one time and destroyed her doll, but he’s changed. . . or so she thought. He’s a captain, he has to put his crew in order. That’s all it was, discipline.

She looks back at Buggy who dismissed the man. The large purple bruise marks cover his throat. She felt herself wince at the sight as she grabbed her own. The pirate has incredible strength, she’s felt it first-hand. Lyla is right, maybe she should be careful around these people. She takes one last look, as Buggy pulled out three blades from his coat and began his target practice. What is this plan he’s talking about? Whatever it is, she hopes no one loses their life.

.°˖✧.°˖✧

A/N: Okay, this took forever to write and it's kinda boring. I was really stuck on writing this for a while, but I think it should be easy from here on out.

#one piece #buggy one piece #buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x fem reader #buggy x y/n #buggy x you #opla buggy #captain buggy #op buggy

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