Latest Posts by star-spacer - Page 6

I will never get over extremely powerful youkai (or GODS) coming to Natsume's rescue because he was nice to them or formed a genuine friendship with them, while exorcists watch on horrified and confused and very jealous all at once

a request… idea? however you wanna call it. emmet w/ a very very short s/o. im talking like, five feet tall. he teases them abt their height (not maliciously ofc, he’d stop if they asked!), but one day. one day they have enough. they climb onto his shoulders and tell him theyre staying there for the day unless an emergency happens. what does he do.

djfl;asjdl;sfjd This is a cute idea, I love it.

Pairing: Emmet x Reader

Word Count: 559 words!

CW: Fluff!

"I swear, I am going to throw you into the sun."

Emmet of course could only giggle as he leaned against you, his arm against your head to balance himself.

"But yet you haven't."

You sigh, blowing a tuft of hair our from your face.

"Yeah yeah, ha ha. Now move, I need to grab one of the tea boxes from the cabinet-"

Emmet seemed to smile a bit more, and you could already feel his shenanigans were going to get worse.

Normally you didn't mind it, it was just teasing, after all. But he had been doing it a bunch lately, and you didn't sleep much last night due to your late shift at work.

"I don't know, seems a bit of a reach. Sure you don't need a ladder?"

Feeling your eye twitch, it was as if a dam broke.

You weren't mad, but you definitely had enough of his teasing.

"That is it."

Emmet didn't have time to react as you pulled yourself out from under him, and proceeded to climb on his back like a pachirisu.

"Wha- hey!"

Emmet tried to get you to let go, only to freeze when he realized if he tried too hard, you'd be thrown and possibly get hurt.

Especially as you clung to him even tighter with a laugh.

"Let's see how you like it, you menace!"

Emmet laughed at your words, trying to regain his balance. Had he pushed you that far? Perhaps he had misjudged how much he was toeing the line today.

"I do not think this is safe! Verrrry not safe!"

"And yet you do this shit to Ingo all the time, and you are laughing!"

"That's different!"

"Oh, it is not and you know it."

Despite everything he did, you did not let go. You firmly kept yourself attached to his shoulders.

"I'm staying right here for the rest of the day."

Emmet awkwardly craned his neck to look up at you. His smile was ever present on his face, but you could see the look in his eyes wavering at the tone of your voice.

"Ah, you aren't serious, are you?"

The grin that formed on your face nearly mirrored his own, and Emmet felt his stomach drop when he saw the mischief in your eyes.

"Oh, I'm dead serious. Unless there is an emergency, I'm not leaving this spot."

Perhaps Emmet should have dialed it back a notch, but he found himself standing up a bit straighter.

After all, he never backed down from a challenge.

"So be it. I am Emmet, and I will handle this with grace."

He seemed so determined, at least until he froze when looking to the side.

There stood Ingo in the entrance of the kitchen staring at you both exasperated.

"Is the kitchen really the necessary place to be doing such shenanigans?"

You and Emmet shared a glance.

"Sorry. We'll continue this in the living room."

Ingo looked even more done with both of your shit as Emmet proudly walked past with you still on his shoulders. Ingo was in for a long day, he could already feel it.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he shook his head as he heard one of you yell from the living room, followed by a crash.

A long day indeed. At least you both were having fun.

this hit me like a truck

My writing abilities when I have an entire free day: twelve words. Take it or leave it

My writing abilities when I have to be somewhere in fifteen minutes: I got six thousand more in the pocket

Initiation

Part of "The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces" series

The Heart Pirates were overwhelming. So loud and chaotic that you didn’t know how you’d ever fit in with them. But you didn’t have any need to worry.

Takes place near the beginning of reader's journey with the crew.

Though you had joined (more like forced yourself into) the Heart Pirates in a blaze of chaos and explosions (quite literally), that courage didn’t stay in the aftermath of everything. When it was all said and done, and you’d stitched in a place on the Polar Tang as their tentative tailor, all the fight and bravery went down the drain.

Though you couldn’t say that you thrived on talking to others, you boasted fair enough people skills (which was more than could be said for their—your captain). Just enough for you to be known as a cordial and affable person. But with your history, growing up as you did, you had to say that your inclinations leaned more to that of reservedness.

The same could not be said for this new group of people you found yourself with.

They were loud, you already knew that from your initial introduction to them. But now, in close quarters and a confined space, the noise absolutely echoed. The sense of camaraderie was strong with them, inside jokes and banter flowing like water between them all. They would often include you in it too.

“Hey, Newbie!”

You froze as Ikkaku honed in on you, a touch of wildness in her eyes as she sped to you, dragging Clione along with her.

“Oi, don’t involve other people in with this!” the hooded blonde complained, but he still cornered you alongside the tall woman.

“We need you to settle this for us!” Ikkaku declared, crossing her arms. “Clione thinks that white lights are the best interior lights. But obviously, warmer lights are better than cool ones, yeah? You agree, right?”

“No???! Don’t influence the Newbie!”

“Shut up, you’re just angry because I’m right!”

“Uhm,” you began warily. “I think white lights are good if you want to maintain alertness, but warmer-toned lights are good for relaxation. Depending on what you need, one cn be better for your eyes than the other.”

Both stared at you blankly.

“Yeah, but which one is better?” Ikkaku prompted.

“I… They all have their…uses…”

Both members threw their hands up in twin displays of frustration. “That doesn’t help at all!”

They devolved back into their squabble, and you took a step away.

Two heads snapped at you. “Stay here!”

Your shoulders sunk down as you glanced furtively down the hall to see if anybody was coming. It seems like you’ll be stuck with them for a bit.

But not only did they pull you into the most mundane of conversations, but they were also touchy.

Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi were guilty of being particularly forward, the three having no qualms being in everyone’s space. While Bepo’s was well-intentioned—the Mink trying his best not to overstep his boundaries aside from when he’d scoop someone up in a hug—Penguin and Shachi had no qualms about holding back. Crewmates were often the victim of one or both of them leaning on them at once, on either side. The first time they did that, you nearly jumped a foot in the air, if not for their weight on you. 

The bolts of fabrics you were carrying thumped to the ground as you were jostled by twin pairs of arms, pushing you down. “Ah!”

“Whatcha got there, Newbie?” Penguin asked.

“New fabrics for the boiler suits,” you replied, wiggling out of their hold to hurriedly pick up the nearest roll, inspecting them for any stains. You would’ve snapped at the pair for making you drop them, but you were too busy fretting, and did not want to piss off the unofficial-official first mates of the captain. “I–Uh, C-Captain approved of this particular type. It’s more suitable to the conditions of the Tang than your suits now.”

“Oh shit, really?” Shachi crouched down right next to you, his side pressed up against your own as he grabbed the bolt of fabric you were holding while Penguin began gathering the other rolls.

The taller man tried to pick up all up, but let out a curse as their weight bore down on him. “Holy crap—”

You wobbled as his heat burned into your side, a hand reaching out to steady him as you took a few off to lighten the load.

“How the hell were you carrying so many with your stature?!?” Penguin ask incredulously, tugging his hat back in place.

“I’m used to it,” you said simply, reaching for the rest in his hold. However, a hand fisted the back of your current suit’s collar and hauled you up. “Ack–!”

“No need!” Shachi announced, wrapping his arm back around your shoulders. “Big Bro Peng and I will help you carry them!”

“Are you sure this is not you two trying to worm out of the Captain’s duties again…?” You asked.

“No way!”

“That’s silly!”

(They were, in fact, trying to dodge responsibilities.)

Though, despite their welcoming air, you couldn’t help but linger at the edges of everything. Too afraid to integrate yourself into their folds. Yes, you may have been brought on as their tailor—a position sorely needed as the most experienced person before you were the poor cook who at most knew how to do basic stitching—but you were still Newbie, first and foremost. Still clumsy when taking up the shared duties and occasionally getting lost in the halls. Your position here was strenuous at best, and you feared that there would be whatever reason that made them drop you off at the next island they docked at.

You peeked your head into the mess hall, wondering what was important enough that you were summoned there after your watch duties 

Shousai was the first to see you, the large, bald man waving a gloved hand at you. “Oi, Newbie, there you are!”

That sent an excited titter over the crew.

“Newbie’s here!”

“About time!”

“What took you so long?”

You took a tentative step into the room, but remained near the doors, wringing your hands. They had called you over the intercoms in the middle of you reworking he boiler suits, so it made you anxious to resume working.  “What’s… happening…?”

“Since, you’ve been doing a stellar job aboard the Polar Tang,” Bepo announced. “It’s about time that you get initiated into the group pose!”

“Group pose?”

The Mink nodded, completely serious. “Yes! We Heart Pirates take pride in our crew, so it’s imperative that we are ready to show that pride whenever Captain introduces us!”

Slowly shuffling backward, you asked, “Do I have to do it?”

“Yeah!” Clione yelled. “We all have to do it! You’re part of the crew, now. You can’t get out of this, Newbie!”

Hands grabbed your shoulders, and you looked back, expression full of betrayal as you found Uni to be the one pushing you to the group. The stoic man’s expression gave nothing away, except for the slightest pinch in the corners of his eyes that indicated amusement.

More hands grabbed at your arms when you were in range, Uni leaving to assume his position once he ensured that Shachi’s hold on you rendered escape impossible. You were shuffled from person to person, but for once, their touches didn’t make you tense nor freeze the way touches used to. They had, without you realizing, wormed their way through your guards as much as you’ve settled into their rank. In their endearingly Heart Pirates way.

Weak. Would have been what he called them. Called you. But those were just the whispers of the dead.

Shosai muttered your name as you were slotted right next to him. “You have to convince Risso to make something other than broiled rice cakes and peas and fish for dinner.”

“He says we have to try and conserve our supplies,” you protested quietly as Omura’s elbow dug into your shoulder.

“Yes, but we all know there are much better combinations than fish and peas.”

Scanning the group for the yellow newsboy hat and braids of the cook, you asked, “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“He likes you more!”

Bepo turned to give the both of you a chastising look as Shachi shushed you two. The Mink waited until the redhead ran through the positioning of your arms and legs. “Okay, Newbie! We’re going to do it now. Do you have the pose memorized?”

“Yes,” you said sulkily, resigned to your fate.

“Okay, Heart Pirates! Three, two, one!”

The crew burst into a clamoring of noise and limbs, you following suit with a heaping dose of embarrassment.

Your face burned  even hotter as, right after, the captain walked into the room. Law didn’t even blink as he saw the group of you in the mess hall, mug of coffee in his hands as he sipped on it. The crew held that pose, as if waiting for his approval.

He looked at you all with a sharp eye, amusement shining through as he cocked his head. “I think you should move Newbie-ya more to the left.”

“COME ON, CAPTAIN!”

Your face quivered as you fought a smile. Surrounded on all sides by lively figures, you undeniably felt warm.

Eventually, the nickname fell away, to be replaced with your own name or “Tailor”. Years later, as you and your nakama—a little bruised, and battered, but now twenty strong—assembled into that ridiculous group pose to greet Straw Hat, Shosai lifting you up onto his shoulders so you could throw your arms up and out into a victorious ‘V’, Jean Bart’s steady presence behind you, you couldn’t feel a greater sense of belonging.

Don't mind them just a mama bear and her cub

Tyrant of the Laundry Room

Part of the Heart Pirates X reader series: Sanctity of Sacred Space

Laundry duty was your favorite. Though your nakama couldn’t agree.

To say you quite liked laundry duty was an understatement.

Always the first to sign up, taking the worst shifts or the day with the heaviest load, never a complaint coming from you except for the crew to take care of their clothes more.

As often as you could, you’d swap laundry duty with anyone willing on the crew. It had gotten bad enough at a certain point until Law had banned anybody from swapping laundry duty with you for a month until the redness on your hands died down. After that, he had imposed a strict limitation of how many times a certain chore could be done until the rota refreshed.

The rest of the crew never quite understood your fervor for this particular chore, as to many, this was down at the bottom of the list on how much they wanted to do it, alongside dish duty. Shachi had—the third time you asked to swap with him—grabbed you by the shoulders and peered deep into your eyes through his shades to ask if you were okay. He couldn’t believe that you simply just wanted to.

But the reason was simple.

Your passion as a tailor did not just simply end at making and fixing clothes. It extended into their care and upkeep. You knew the best way to cut linen, the specific direction it needed to reduce shrinkage in the long run. You knew how to remove all manner of stains, and you meant it. Not even the discolorations on Shachi’s hat stood a chance when you got your hands on it. 

It was the first thing you chose to learn after he died, the world opening up at your fingertips without the pressure of what you had to do. Your experience with a gun meant blood often found itself at home on your things and he didn’t care enough about appearances to bother keeping things stain-free. So as an act of rebellion, the first thing you did was to learn about clothes. The seamstresses and launderers at your old village were thrilled to have a fresh face so interested in their trade, and wasted no time in teaching you everything they knew. What that man forced you to be, and what those ladies taught you, were the only relic you had of your childhood.

And laundry duty was the one chance where you got to stretch out this knowledge and allow yourself a chance to shine.

Though, that passion tended to be a bit overbearing for those who worked with you. 

“Shachi, you don’t crank the heat all the way up for those!”

Crossing the space, you shoved yourself into the redhead’s space as you fiddled with the controls on the machines.

“You’re lucky that I caught this in time, you idiot!”

“But doesn’t turning it up make them dry faster??”

“NOT LIKE THIS!” Your screech echoed through the room. “We have fragile polyester-based stuff in there! You’re going to melt them!”

“It can’t be that bad, right?!?”

“HOW ABOUT I MELT YOUR SHADES FOR YOU TO FIND OUT?!?”

The screaming echoed through even the halls, those lucky enough to escape laundry duty with you chuckling at Shachi’s misfortune. You ran laundry day with a militant fist, hunting down those who forgot their clothes with a dogged focus. It was terrifying to get in your way, and even more terrifying to be stuck working the shift with you. No matter how much you begged, Law refused to let you shoulder the burden of washing everything by yourself. It was a well-known fact by now that your standards were hellish to meet, and you did not go gentle on those who failed (save Bepo and Law).

But at the end of the day, when the Heart Pirates received their laundry back, delightfully warm and cleaner than they’ve ever been before you arrived, they were glad that their beloved tailor cared so much.

STOP DOING THIS IN INJURY FICS!!

Bleeding:

Blood is warm. if blood is cold, you’re really fucking feverish or the person is dead. it’s only sticky after it coagulates.

It smells! like iron, obv, but very metallic. heavy blood loss has a really potent smell, someone will notice.

Unless in a state of shock or fight-flight mode, a character will know they’re bleeding. stop with the ‘i didn’t even feel it’ yeah you did. drowsiness, confusion, pale complexion, nausea, clumsiness, and memory loss are symptoms to include.

blood flow ebbs. sometimes it’s really gushin’, other times it’s a trickle. could be the same wound at different points.

it’s slow. use this to your advantage! more sad writer times hehehe.

Stab wounds:

I have been mildly impaled with rebar on an occasion, so let me explain from experience. being stabbed is bizarre af. your body is soft. you can squish it, feel it jiggle when you move. whatever just stabbed you? not jiggly. it feels stiff and numb after the pain fades. often, stab wounds lead to nerve damage. hands, arms, feet, neck, all have more motor nerve clusters than the torso. fingers may go numb or useless if a tendon is nicked.

also, bleeding takes FOREVER to stop, as mentioned above.

if the wound has an exit wound, like a bullet clean through or a spear through the whole limb, DONT REMOVE THE OBJECT. character will die. leave it, bandage around it. could be a good opportunity for some touchy touchy :)

whump writers - good opportunity for caretaker angst and fluff w/ trying to manhandle whumpee into a good position to access both sites

Concussion:

despite the amnesia and confusion, people ain’t that articulate. even if they’re mumbling about how much they love (person) - if that’s ur trope - or a secret, it’s gonna make no sense. garbled nonsense, no full sentences, just a coupla words here and there.

if the concussion is mild, they’re gonna feel fine. until….bam! out like a light. kinda funny to witness, but also a good time for some caretaking fluff.

Fever:

you die at 110F. no 'oh no his fever is 120F!! ahhh!“ no his fever is 0F because he’s fucking dead. you lose consciousness around 103, sometimes less if it’s a child. brain damage occurs at over 104.

ACTUAL SYMPTOMS:

sluggishness

seizures (severe)

inability to speak clearly

feeling chilly/shivering

nausea

pain

delirium

symptoms increase as fever rises. slow build that secret sickness! feverish people can be irritable, maybe a bit of sass followed by some hurt/comfort. never hurt anybody.

ALSO about fevers - they absolutely can cause hallucinations. Sometimes these alter memory and future memory processing. they're scary shit guys.

fevers are a big deal! bad shit can happen! milk that till its dry (chill out) and get some good hurt/comfort whumpee shit.

keep writing u sadistic nerds xox love you

ALSO I FORGOT LEMME ADD ON:

YOU DIE AT 85F

sorry I forgot. at that point for a sustained period of time you're too cold to survive.

pt 2

The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces

Life as part of the Heart Pirates and being their beloved tailor (and sometimes sharpshooter).

A Heart Pirates reader insert collection

Ao3 link

Peace and All Else

Tyrant of the Laundry Room

Initiation

Japes and Jubilation (Part 1) | (Part 2) | (Part 3) | (Part 4)

Shortest

Peace and All Else

Part of my Heart Pirates x Reader series: The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces

With a life as chaotic as yours, you preferred quietness where you could find it.

You were someone who valued your peace. Not just as a personal preference, but for your job as well, as any interruption could result in an errant stitch, ruining the clothing, or a needle through the finger.

This need for quietness was ironic, considering you were on a crew of pirates, whose lives were marked by nothing but unending chaos. 

Paradoxical. Peculiar. But when you were a pirate crew who had a doctor at the helm, it didn’t seem that strange. You were simply one oddball amongst a crew full of them. Which lent to many, many escapades that echoed throughout the Tang. It was never silent, whether it be the noise of her machines humming away, or the sound of the galley’s mealtime preparations, there was always life in her halls. 

You wouldn’t trade it for any other thing, but sometimes everyone’s antics were a little overwhelming, and you had to slip away to seek out a moment of peace. Innevitably, you’d always end up in a few places. Namely: your storage-room-turned-workshop. 

After your welcoming into the folds of the Heart Pirates, they were kind enough to clear out an empty broom closet and convert it into a mini workspace for you. You had initially protested that it was too much, but Shachi had quickly shushed you by saying you’d pay it back by repairing everyone’s stuff and fixing up the infirmary’s linens. 

Eventually, those bolted shelves were filled until with rolls and rolls of fabrics, projects finished and not set in marked piles on your desk. Your walls filled with papers, ideas and sketches (both yours and not) displayed proudly. An almost-too-big-couch crammed right into the last unoccupied corner of the room, with a lopsided mannequin that Ikkaku fixed up for you standing proudly right next to it.

A home away from home.

Well, just a home now. You didn’t have any other place except with the Heart Pirates.

And in this peace, you could relax, and unwind. Pick up a thread and needle and weave your love into every fold and stitch of the fabric in your hands. Love that you hoped your nakama could feel.

Your hands jolted as the door to your workshop slammed open with a cry of your name. You grabbed the nearest object, a spare pincushion, and lobbed it with deadly accuracy at the intruder. Penguin yelped as the item beaned him right on the forehead, the brim of his hat barely protected him against your wrath. “What was that for?!?!”

“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO KNOCK BEFORE YOU ENTER?! AND TO NOT SLAM MY DOOR?!”

“Sorry, sorry! But can I hide in here for a bit?”

You squinted at him, anger giving way to suspicion. “Why…?”

“Please!” The man clasped his hands in front of him, stepping into the room. “I’ll do anything!!”

An idea sparked in your head. “If you take my dish duty tonight… You can stay for as long as you want and I won’t rat you out if anybody comes asking.”

Not that you particularly hated doing the dishes, you knew the importance of equal distributions of chores (Law drilled that into every members’ head on the daily), but just this once, you had something pressing you’ve been wanting to do, so the extra time gained from Penguin taking on your duty was exactly what you needed.

Penguin didn’t even flinch. “I’ll take it!”

You grinned and let out a little ‘yos’. “You can hide behind the couch, There’s space there, and the floor’s padded.”

He was full of thanks as he dove behind the furniture, shuffling coming from it as he settled there. To complete the look, you walked over, grabbing the blanket on there, and draping it over the back of the couch, making it look natural.

Just as you were patting out the last of the wrinkles, slow, steady footsteps approached your workshop. A knock announced Uni’s presence before he stuck his head in through the open door.

“Hello, Uni. Can I help you with anything?”

A drone of your name. “Have you seen Penguin anywhere?”

You had to resist a smile. “No. Are you looking for him?”

A nod. Slow eyes tracked across your workshop but ultimately landed back on you again, standing next to the couch. “He used my gloves and didn’t clean off the grease.”

Wincing at that, you wondered why the hatted man thought that was smart in the first place. Uni’s gloves were far bigger than Penguin’s, but they were also slimmer, so shoving his mitts into those could’ve popped a few stitches. “If you want, you can bring them here, and I’ll fix and clean them up for you,” you offered.

Uni shook his head. “No need. I have spares. But I’m going to find Penguin to make him clean off the ones he used.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thank you. Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re fine, Uni. See you around.”

You waited until his footsteps were out of earshot before cracking a smile. Penguin shot you a grateful thumbs up and a grin when you peeked your head over to look at him. “It’s pretty comfy down here,” he said, wiggling his shoulders a bit. “Mind if I sleep here a bit?”

“Be my guest,” you drawled, wandering back to your desk and picking up your pencil. “I’m sure the dust bunnies appreciate the company.”

I appreciate your company, was left unsaid, but you hoped Penguin understood.

Peace returned to the room, only interrupted by the sound of your pencil and paper as you sketched your way through clothing patterns. Then, the quiet whistles of Penguin’s snores began to fill the air. You paused your work, before shaking your head with a fond smile.

You didn’t know how long you worked before there was a small flash of blue and Penguin’s snores being cut off for something to hit the floor where he was. Knowing that it could only be Law’s fruit, you got up to investigate what was Shambled into your room to swap with Penguin. 

A note, attached to one of your missing pincushions by a pin.

“That bastard,” you muttered, reaching down to grab everything from the floor.

‘Stop hiding people in your workshop’ the messy scrawl of his handwriting read. 

You snickered, sitting back down at your work desk and depositing the pincushion in its rightful place on your table. Your lamp flickered on, and you moved it so it shone over the drawing on your table, a revised boiler suit for Bepo that had more ventilation, so the poor Mink wouldn’t feel the heat as much when things inevitably got hot in the Polar Tang.

Yes, you valued your peace. But your workshop was a sanctuary, too. Not just for you, but every single one of your nakama that wanted to wander through your doors, in search of help, repairs, or just plain comfort. Peace came in many forms, and your nakama’s peace was yours.

Buddy Daddies + Text Posts [Part 14/ ??]

Know It Like the Back of Your Hand

Adashino x reader x Ginko

Their hands. You've memorized every facet of it.

For someone like you, tactile touches came easily, hugs, and grazes of skin against skin like second nature to you. Whether it be because of the loving environment you’d grown up in so, so long ago, or a desperate burning need to recreate it, you’d never know. But what you knew was that you relied on it like a drug, stealing touches from Adashino and Ginko like a drug.

It wasn’t uncommon for the villagers to see you hanging off of either one’s shoulders or arms, each time received with chuckles and knowing looks, any sense of impropriety long gone with how closely you all stuck to the other. Times where you jumped out to wrap around them were attributed to the spirit half of your heritage.

But more than the actions disguised as joking hugs and your mischievous Yokai nature, was the handholding.

Something you cherished viciously, a dragon hoarding its treasure. It was almost second nature, for yours to seek out theirs whenever the moment arose. For such a simple, nondescript act, it satiated that hungry, hollowed-out part of you. And it was like the men knew, offering their own hands for you to latch on, gorging and gorging yourself on the delicacy that was their love. You knew you were being greedy, but neither of them ever pulled away from your monstrous hands, even when your claws pricked and scratched at them.

Adashino’s hands held the smoothness that stemmed from a value of those limbs. Fingers long and nails well-trimmed, with a writing callous from the records he kept on his patients’ health. He was more prone to getting cold, and you always liked reaching for him on hot summer days.

Ginko’s hands were more calloused, though both bearing almost similar, parallel trades—doctor of the mundane, doctor of the arcane—he was out in far more fields in far more environments, so he gained callouses almost as fast as he did experience. The work-roughened palms made you feel soothed by your own not-quite-genteel hands, made you happy to be close to someone so intimately intertwined in another world like you were.

Sometimes, when Adashino’s work would get the best of him, you would take an ink or herb-stained hand into yours, cold and stiff from overworking, and worked away the aches and pains you knew would be there.

Sometimes, after a particularly harsh case, a minutely trembling hand would seek yours out, fingers entangling with yours in lieu of a cigarette that Ginko so badly wanted to smoke. During particularly bad cases where he sought you out, you would hold his hands, and squeeze, silently offering him your support.

Sometimes, when nightmares kept you half-ensnared in their grips, refusing to let you fully wake, hands slipped into yours from the men sleeping on either side of you. One calloused and broad, the other warm and soothing.

And when blinded and deafened, hands were the only things you could identify, touches from them were usually the first thing that hit.

It was those very same hands now, that tipped your head back, fingers beneath your chin. You struggled a bit, shaking your head and dislodging them from your face as you hissed and swiped blindly at the assailant. Your eyes were clenched shut, unable to be used due to the explosive that burned at your retinas and for fear of the blood from your head wound trickling in.

A groan vibrated out from someone and after a moment, you realized it was coming from you, everything sounding like they were underwater. Buzzes of voices echoed in your ears, but you couldn’t tell who exactly surrounded you. Animal instincts flared up, sharp and hot terror as you bared your teeth blindly, hands and feet scrambling to push yourself back on the dirt, too weak from the explosive light trap to stand up.

A faint call, something like your name. You brought a shaking up, claws extended, only to find it seized by warmer, broader hands. Ready to jolt away, it wasn’t until your fingers grazed across a rougher patch of skin by the meat of the thumb that you froze. It was Ginko’s hand, that callous you knew from him using a chipped pestle that he refused to replace to grind his remedies.

“Ginko?” The vibrations of your own voice followed by its familiar sound was barely heard beneath the ringing of your ears, and you hoped your voice didn’t garble up his name. 

The hands squeezed, responding to your words, and you knew it was him.

Then that meant the other hands…

Your head swung around, the less blood-covered eye peeking open to try and catch sight of the good doctor. Only for you to slam it shut again as bright light pierced it painfully.

Once more, cool, smooth fingers tipped your face up. Only this time, you didn’t resist, lips pulling up into an unrepentant grin in an effort to stave off the scolding you knew you’d face soon.

Slowly, as Adashino and Ginko worked on your injuries, the fear turned into sedation, your body, and senses going lax as you put your trust into their hands, content to allow them to take stock while your senses were scrambled.

You flinched when the hand abruptly left, a noise of fear bubbling up in your throat. But there wasn’t a need to worry as two warm presences sat on either side of you. Their weight pressed into either side of you, and you relaxed, a sigh escaping your nose.

Eyes were the windows to the soul, and furthermore, hands were their vessels, tasked with putting the will to the world, the way in which their identity formed and in which the world knew them. For you, it was the marker in which you’d identify friend or foe, it was your connection to the world.

And, despite both Adashino’s and Ginko’s lesser proclivities to physical touch, you were infinitely grateful that they never denied you when you slipped your hands into theirs.

DEAR FANFICTION WRITERS

Thanks for existing

Forever love the phenomenon of people seeing the intense burning hatred Madoka fans have for Kyuubey and asking “What did the poor little bunny kitty do to deserve this?” Then experiencing the show and proceeding to want him eviscerated.

Okay but the way Jotaro pushed reader off and “that’s enough” is SO in character for him that’s hilarious LMAOOO

And his final line??? “Make sure to cry enough for me, too”???? DAMN that hits like a truck man i love the way you wrote him and their bonds

Life After an Adventure (Platonic Jotaro x Reader)

You didn’t really know what to say to him. I mean, what could you say to him? You just so happened to be in the nurse’s office that day, and just so happened to have a Stand like him. It just so happened that your Stand was helpful against Hierophant Green, and you just so happened to feel the call to adventure when Jotaro asked if you wanted to join him and his group. Now, fifty days later, you gained physical and mental scars, formed a bond with that group unlike any other, and felt the pain of losing some of those bonds. And now you had to assimilate into high school again.

It seemed like your friends had taken notice of your frequent glances over to Jotaro at lunch. One of them bumped you and said, “He’s the hardest one to get, you know.”

“Yeah!” another said. “I thought you hated him!”

The last one gave you a smile. “You both disappeared and reappeared at school at the same time. Could it be that you two… spent some time together?” They wiggled their eyebrows.

“Oh, come on, it’s not like that!” You gave the one nearest to you a little shove. “We did travel together, but he was still annoying. It’s just that I don’t even know what to say to him after all we went through.”

“How about this:” one of them flung her arm around your shoulder. “Hey, Jojo! Man, that was crazy, huh? That thing I haven’t told my friends about? Anyway, you should join us for lunch!”

You gave your friend a deadpan. “You just want to get closer to him yourself, don’t you?”

She gave you a sheepish smile.

“Wait, wait, he’s coming!” Another friend said. He pointed to Jotaro, who had stood up and started walking to you while you weren’t looking. Your friends hid behind you as you looked Jotaro in the eyes.

“Yo,” you said. Jotaro gave you a nod. Once you finished that exchange, silence fell upon you again, with only the distant chatter of others to fill your ears. Your friends slowly peeked out from behind you, hesitantly going back to their seats.

“Wanna sit?” you asked.

Without answering, Jotaro moved to the seat next to you, getting out his lunch. You shrugged and sat down.

The only sounds you and your friends made were from chewing your food. To your left was Jotaro, eyes hidden behind his hat, and to your right were your other friends, each looking straight down at their lunches. You didn’t know what to do, either. Do you talk to your friends and hope Jotaro joins in? Do you talk to Jotaro and hope your friends join in? Do you just have two different conversations at once? The awkwardness was agonizing.

“So…” you finally said, “Jotaro, do you want to help me tell my friends about what we did while we were away from school?”

Your friends’ eyes lit up.

Jotaro shrugged. “Do they know what Stands are?”

“They know I have special powers.” You turned to your friends. “So, I’ve told you how my power has a visible form, right? It’s called a Stand, and I’m not the only one with powers like these. There was a really bad guy with a Stand, and we fought to take him down.”

“He was a vampire who haunted my family for generations,” Jotaro added.

“A vampire?” One friend leaned forward in his seat to look at Jotaro, who only nodded in reply.

“He was all the way in Egypt, so we took an international road trip to go fight him,” you added.

As the conversation kept going, you found yourself enjoying the story you were telling. Going on and on about each and every fight, each person you met, and all of the times you had, good and bad. You hardly even noticed that the bell rang to go back to class.

“You guys totally have to finish the story sometime!” a friend said. “I need to know what happened to that baby that Kakyoin was tormenting!”

“We will!” you said, smiling as you waved your friends goodbye and went to class. Jotaro and you had the same class, so you walked back together.

A few moments had passed, and your once fluttering heart suddenly felt crushed. You could feel your smile disappearing and tears forming in your eyes. Your nose was suddenly stuffed up, and you couldn’t help but sniffle to try to clear it.

Jotaro looked over at you. “What happened to you that made your mood change so quickly?”

You looked up, surely with puffy eyes. You started to laugh at Jotaro’s unchanging expression. Of course he wouldn’t understand.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said with an unconvincing smile. “I know you don’t like when people cry around you. It’s just… it’s finally settling in that what happened to us was real. It almost felt like a dream when I first came back home.”

Jotaro nodded. “Especially after coming back to school and carrying on as usual.”

“But… it wasn’t a dream,” you continued. “You spoke with me on the events that happened. We both experienced it. And that means… that means Kakyoin did too. And Avdol, and even Iggy! It means they were real, and… and they really died.” Before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face. You were gasping for air in each breath, and your legs felt ready to collapse at any moment. “They didn’t deserve that! They were good people! Why did they have to die?”

As you were sobbing, you heard Jotaro sigh. You looked back up at him, noticing his arms were wide open and he was facing you. You didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around him, crying into his shirt. “I miss them,” you said quietly. He slowly returned the hug, just barely squeezing you.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Jotaro suddenly pushed you off of him, exposing your tears to the harsh world again. The shock of it stopped them immediately, though, as you processed what had just happened. Then, you began to laugh again.

“Man, you’re an asshole, you know that?” Your voice still wavered like you were crying, and your eyelashes were still stuck together, but your smile had returned. “You may not be a complete asshole, but you’re still an asshole.”

“Well, if you’re done crying, then let’s get to class,” he said. “Teach might not like it if we're late after being gone for so long.”

You sniffled again, and nodded. “I'm surprised you’re the one wanting to get to class on time.”

“Yeah, well, my mom’s gonna cook tonight and if I have to stay late for detention, I’ll be late.”

“Mama’s boy.”

Jotaro huffed, but he stayed silent after that. The two of you kept walking silently to class, until Jotaro spoke again, very quietly.

“Make sure to cry enough for me, too.”

You smiled. “Anything for a friend, Jojo.”

Anyways here r the drawings that started it all

What am i doing here i dont even work at this mcdonalds

:D

What am i doing here i dont even work at this mcdonalds

esoteric form of roleplay where instead of actually roleplaying you just make up characters together and discuss in abstract how they'd interact and how their story would go

mushishi

Ive been on a killer kick lately and just to let you know once i found this fick I absolutely DEVOURED everything. They are so adorable and a pair of beloved idiots

Childhood Crush

Prologue: Mo Laochain

Killer x gn!reader

word count: 1.3k next

synopsis: you're captain kid's older sibling that pretty much raised him. then one day he comes home with a new friend that you can't stop thinking about.

a/n: happy new year, y'all! might as well kick it with a new fic. this isn't going to be nearly as long as my law fic, but it's still pretty long. also, i definitely just googled scottish terms of endearment since that's their nationality. i read mo laochain means "my little hero" so yeah, there's that.

ALSO: big trigger warning. obviously language and violence, but the first couple chapters talk about drugs and parental neglect so yeah.

“Can you tell the one piece stowy again?”

“Again? But we did that story last night.”

“‘S my favorwite!” 

A small chuckle escaped from your face and you nodded. You told your little brother, Eustass, about the Gol D. Rodger story some time ago as a bedtime story and now it was his favorite one for you to tell before he went to bed - he requested it just about every night. 

“Okay, okay. Settle down and I’ll get started.” 

Then you did. You told him about the King of Pirates and the grand adventures he went on. You made up these adventures since no one really knew exactly what all they did - the newspapers only said so much. You told him about his execution and the mention of the one piece. 

As usual, by the time you reached the end, your little brother was passed out cold. 

With a small smile on your face, you kissed his head and headed into the livingroom to work at your desk. However, before you could get started, there was a knock at the door.

You glanced at the clock before looking at the door. Who could be knocking at this hour? Did your parents forget their keys again? Probably. Groaning, you headed towards the door opening it. “You guys really need to re-” You immediately froze when you were not met with your parents but a set of two large men.

“Hello, little one.” You looked up at them, your eyes wide. One of them had a top knot and the other had a scar on his face. “We’re friends of your parents, are they around?” Your eyes were wide as you tried to find your words, opening and closing your mouth several times almost akin to a fish.

They looked at each other before looking at you. “I understand this can be scary, but I promise you we won’t hurt you. Like I said, we’re friends of your parents!” He offered a smile that made your skin crawl. 

Finally, you found your voice, your grip tightening on the door. “My parents don’t have friends, they have dealers.” You clenched your jaw. The two men blinked and the man with the scar spoke once more, he seemed to be the vocal one of the two. “Now where did a kid like you learn a word like that? You’re what, eight?” 

You knew this was bound to happen. Unfortunately, you knew of your parents’ terrible habit of borrowing money to fuel their addictions. This wasn’t the first time someone came looking for them, but they were definitely the most scary looking of the bunch. Your parents really got themselves into some trouble it seems. 

“My age is none of your concern. Now, please leave. My parents aren’t here.” You tried to close the door, but the man with the scar stopped it, standing up once more. You felt panic rise in your chest. 

“Well, looks like we’ll just have to take you as collateral.” Your eyes widened and you tried to run when the one with the topknot grabbed you by the hair, causing you to cry out. You felt tears stinging your eyes and you clapped a hand over your mouth, looking at the hallway. You hoped to the stars that your brother didn’t hear you and he wouldn’t wake up.

Then you heard the footsteps of your five year old brother. Oh no.

“Bigs!” 

“Eustass, run!” You yelled, trying to pull away from the man that had a hold on you. However, being only five, he was also frozen in his tracks with fear, giving the man with a face scar plenty of time to pick him up by the scruff of his collar.

“No!” You shouted, feeling the tears begin to fall. 

“Bigs!” Your brother cried.

“Two of you? This definitely should cover what they owe.” You had to think of something quickly.

“Ow! Fucker!” You looked up, seeing your brother’s teeth clamped down on the man’s side only to then see the man toss your brother to the floor. “No!” You cried again, once more trying to free yourself from the grasp of the topknot man. Ugh, you needed to calm down and think of a plan!

You watched as the man approached your brother and you shouted in protest. Then his foot connected with his stomach and the world went still. Your brother started coughing and crying before he looked up at you. “Bigs…”

Everything went red. You were absolutely livid and you wanted to see their blood spill. No one was going to lay hands on your brother and get away with it. You stopped struggling, solidifying your stance and took in your surroundings.

“Finally coming to your senses? I knew you were smart,” the man with the face scar said as he picked up your brother again.

Your eyes saw the glint of a knife on the topknot’s belt. You were suddenly glad he was the one that was holding you down. You snatched the knife from his belt, reaching up and cutting your hair from his grip in one motion. Before the man had a chance to react, you ran over to where the man with the face scar was, driving the knife into his stomach. 

“What the fuck!” Topknot shouted.

“Fucking fucker!” Face scar shouted.

He dropped your brother who scrambled away. You ran over by the door, grabbing the pipe you kept by the door in case of emergencies. You never thought you’d have to use it though. Face scar ran at you and you dodged out of the way. Being small was coming in handy right now. You swung for the man’s knees, taking him out immediately. He cried out as he crashed to the ground.

The other one ran at you and you jabbed the pipe right into his babymaker, sending him down too. He was already suffering from the stab wound, so it didn’t take much to send him crashing down. You found the knife you had used earlier, grabbing it off the floor. Casting a look at your brother, you turned around to him while the other two men grovelled.

You knelt in front of your brother and smiled. “Close your eyes, mo laochain, okay?” He blinked and nodded, burying his face in his knees as he curled into a ball. “Don’t open them until I say.”

You turned back around, seeing Topknot standing up. You knew you had to act now. You ran forward, brandishing your knife.

You’re not exactly sure what happened as the rage finally consumed you. But, the job was done. The two men laid on the floor, more dead than doorknobs. You knew people were going to come looking for them, so you needed to take your brother and get out of here. People knew your parents lived here, but not many people knew the two of you lived here. Or that your parents had children. Hell, you weren’t even sure if they were aware most of the time.

“Bigs?” Your brother’s small voice brought you back to the present. “Can I open my eyes?” 

You didn’t want him to see this, but you couldn’t ask him to keep his eyes closed. You walked over to him, crouching in front of him so that you were all he saw. “Yes, you can open your eyes now.” 

Eustass lifted his head, looking up at you with wide, teary eyes. “You were so brave, mo laochain,” you said. He threw his arms around you, crying. You held him, collapsing to the ground with him. You were so tired, but you weren’t done yet. You still had to get him to safety but…right now, you were just going to hold him. You were just glad he was okay.

holding hands headcanons for Spike and Jet pls 🥹💖

Hand Holding HCs (Spike Spiegel, Jet Black)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗯𝗼𝗼𝗺! 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗯 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: @dogsandrocketsocks @pittbull-enthusiast @asuperconfusedgirl @rendartgrimson @abellaheart-blog @skylardarling

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

Spike Spiegel

He’s not the biggest fan in the world of hand-holding and likely prefers things like putting his arm around you

However, he has absolutely no problems with hand-holding itself- again, he just has a preference for something slightly different

So most of the time, it is gonna be you reaching for his hand

Though if he’s leading you somewhere (especially somewhere dangerous), he has no probably grabbing your hand first

And unless you’re keeping him from doing something important, he’s not gonna be the one to drop your hands first

Like at most, he’ll have you switch to another one of his hands or change his grip because he finds it comforting when you seek him out like this haha

And ever since meeting you, holding your hand has become such a constant in his life that he probably does a lot of subconscious things like rub the back of your hand with his thumb or squeeze out little messages or the beats of a song

But one thing he is intentional about? Kissing the back of your hand

Absolutely loves doing in public as a subtle way of giving your assurance (and making it known that you’re taken LMAO)

But he also probably just sees it as a quick and easy way of giving you affection when he can’t put all of his attention on you

Jet Black

Jet Black? You mean the sappiest lover boy, right LOL

Like seriously, you make this guy really really soft <3

(Like so soft that he doesn’t even care about defending his reputation infront of Spike or Faye LMAO)

Though like Spike, hand-holding isn’t his most favorite form of contact

Most likely this guy like linking arms the best or just holding you LMAO, but Jet is not a picky guy

He’ll take anything as long as it’s you

So you probably reach for his hand more often, but he definitely initiates hand-holding quite a bit too because he knows how much you like it

And he loves to do and make a show of doing cute things like kissing the back of your hand or spinning you around because he just wants to see smile and giggle at him

He definitely prefers holding your hand with his right hand because he can actually feel with that one lol

But he really adores watching you play around with his left hand because you’re curious about his prosthetic arm and like feeling the smoothness of his material

-Paper Confessions-

- Kurt Wagner/nightcrawler x Shy!Reader

- After Kurt receives two anonymous confession letters, written in slowly improving German. He comes face to face with their quiet author. -

- CW: fluff, bad German, references to insecurities, Gn!reader

The first time it happened, Kurt didn't know what to think. Messy handwriting, horrible grammar, and other blatant mistakes led him to believe the note must have been some kind of elaborate prank.

It seemed honestly quite rude, that someone he knew would go through the trouble of translating an entire fake secret admirer note into German, just to mock the idea that someone could honestly have feelings for him.

Compliments like, 'Der netteste Mann, den ich kenne' or 'der schönste Mann, den ich je gesehen habe' read as cruel insults instead of words of appreciation.

Needless to say, the following day, Kurt was visibly disheartened. You however, were quite proud of yourself. The days before, you had spent countless hours reading and practicing German, in an earnest effort to learn it.

Ever since you had developed feelings for Kurt, you had been painfully unable to communicate how you felt towards him, any attempt to have a genuine conversation resulted in stammers and awkward silences, so you opted to appreciate him from the sidelines. Spending quiet hours in each other's company.

Yet, it had been months since then, and the need to express to him how you felt was becoming too great, so you crafted an idea. You would write him a note, something truly meaningful, to get the stress of hiding your emotions off your chest, even deciding to write it in German, in order to show Kurt just how much you cared.

Your efforts were seemingly in vain however, as the first attempt went incredibly poorly, so poorly you trashed it, where without your knowledge, it managed to find itself into the hands of the very person it was written for.

Kurt had been in the library when he found the crumpled paper with his name on it. He thought it was odd of course, but figured its author wished him to receive it. He regretted that decision after reading it. A cruel insult to all the effort he had put into seemingly as kind and approachable as possible, not wishing to be seen as a monster.

You were of course, confused, when Kurt was inexplicably downtrodden the next day. Everyone could tell, yet any attempt to comfort him was brushed off. When approached, he just claimed to be tired or unfocused.

Observing this, you poured yourself into your books again. Writing, practicing, translating, anything you could do to perfect your skills. Finally, nearly three days later, you had finished your note. Imperfect, but unlike your first failed attempt, you felt confident in your progress. You slipped it under his doorway of course, anonymity was your saving grace.

Despite your original plan, you couldn't bring yourself to admit the confession, leaving it unsigned. You hoped that at least getting your feelings off your chest would help you relax.

Kurt however, was only further confused. This second note, properly addressed to him, left for him to find, was much less demeaning. Still imperfect, in fact it was painfully clumsy in his eyes, but a vast improvement. If he had read this note first, he would have been over the moon with joy. Yet, the cruel doubt etched in him from the original note, clouded his mind from the possibility of sincerity.

He thought through his suspects, Logan, Storm and Jean, seemed like obvious no's, Remy, Scott, or even Rogue seemed more likely, yet he had a hard time believing any of his teammates would do this.

Then you crossed his mind. Painfully shy, but confident in a fight, you seemed far from anyone who would do this. Yet part of him hoped it was you. That he had gotten this whole thing wrong, and that you had been secretly reciprocating his affections.

Kurt had liked you for months, after you patched him up after a seriously bad mission, he felt comfortable around you. When you first arrived, Kurt assumed you were scared of him, you always seemed to avoid him, and never seemed to want to keep a conversation with him. Yet, when he asked if you found him monstrous, you were honest. Saying that you found him quite kind, but that you simply struggled to make friends, and had been intimidated by his forwardness.

So, Kurt took his time. He let you approach first, he was constantly welcoming, and you two had found yourself in a pattern of spending quiet afternoons in each other's company. Not talking, or even really hanging out, just being in each other's presence.

That's when he developed feelings, the quiet moments you shared, seemed like the most relaxed Kurt ever got to be. You were beautiful of course, but being near you reminded Kurt of a warm blanket or a cold towel on a hot day. gentle, and refreshing.

So, that's what Kurt hoped for. That his assumption was wrong, and that you had been writing these for him. It seemed unlikely, and part of him truly believed he was wrong, but it made him feel giddy to think you could feel the same.

You, on the other hand, and only dig yourself a deeper hole. Your work was pointless, you still felt overwhelmed by your wish to confess to Kurt, and the fact that you had put so much time into trying to escape it, weighed you down like bricks on your shoulders.

"You've got to tell him properly. Right now he's probably thinking he's about to get swept off his feet by the girl of his dreams, and you're too scared to admit it's you." Jean teased.

"You're right...I know....I just can't even bring myself to look him in the eyes." You signed, running your hands through your hair in frustration.

"Then don't, hell if you don't want your work to go to waste, just actually put your name down this time." Jean rolled her eyes in response.

"Are you sure that's a good idea though? I mean I can hardly talk to him now, what if after he finds out he doesn't even want to be around me?" Jean patted your back and you rubbed circles into your temples.

"He won't. You two just need to communicate for once."

So, you wrote again. One last letter, rambling painfully about how much you cared for him. Detailing every way he made you smile. Reading it back made you want to almost vomit with cringe, but you didn't know how else to say what you felt.

So, as you had done days prior, you snuck to his room, slipping it under the door frame. However, this time, as you turned to flee, you were treated by a familiar *bamf*

"Mein freund... This was... You?" Before you know it, you're face to face with the fuzzy blue boy of your dreams.

"I... Uhm..yeah." you nod, staring down at your feet, a bright red blush stinging your cheeks.

Without another word, Kurt begins to read your most recent note. You shift uncomfortably, debating whether to run, or to freeze in place.

"You've improved quite a bit Schatz... I am glad." He looks down at you, a wide smile, and indigo blush gracing his features.

You chuckle awkwardly, unable to formulate a genuine response.

"Ich liebe dich auch." He rests a hand on your shoulders, calming your fidgeting, and freezing you in place.

"y-you.... Really?" You stare at him, wide eyed in disbelief.

"of course, meine Liebe. I have for quite some time. In all honesty, I had been wishing it was you."

Without thinking, or saying a word, you pull him into a hug. Burying your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around him.

"good."

- end. -

“i don’t know if my blorbo could ever love me-” HE IS UNABLE TO SLEEP AT NIGHT FROM HOW LOVESICK HE IS BECAUSE OF YOU, THE EYE BAGS ARE HORRENDOUS AND HE LOOKS LIKE A DRIED UP BEANSTALK

HELP HIM

I just thought of something cute.

Also, friendly reminder that although this is a sfw drabble, my blog is 18+, Minors and Ageless blogs dni

.・。.・゜✭・🦷・✫・゜・。.

Y'know how Ghost pulls out some jokes here and there and is generally good at quips?

Imagine that the boys are out, just having a little get together at a bar after a successful mission and Simon pulls out one of his shit jokes.

You happen to sit nearby, your friend in the bathroom so you have nothing to do other than drink and listen to the environment around you.

"What's the difference between an oysterman and a prostitute with diarrhea?"

...

What?

Slowly, you set down your drink and listen carefully as a deeper, gruff voice behind you starts off a bit.

The Scotsman of the group groans audibly, "Steaming Jesus... What?"

"One shucks between fits, and the other fucks between shits."

Immediately, your forehead hits the counter as a fit of giggles bubble up and spill from your lips, uncontrollable, especially with how the joke, so fucking stupid, keeps replaying in your head. Your laughter is highly contagious as it seems, as the group of men behind you begin chuckling along.

"LT, ah think they liked yer joke."

Through little giggles, calming down from that little fit of yours, you throw a peek over your shoulder, catching onto the darkest yet equally shining pair of eyes, crinkling with a small grin as the large blond regards you with amusement and intrigue.

.・。.・゜✭・🦷・✫・゜・。.

Reblogs are highly appreciated :)

Actually, Logan was made to peel apples for Laura and help her reach for Remy’s cookies, strike embarrassing poses when Kitty needs a model for her art class, chase after Bobby when the little asshole steals his motorcycle, hold Daken’s hand when they cross the street even though he’s 21 and his claws pierce through him, and play video games with Jubilee with his grandpa glasses. He’s made to be a dad. And kill people. Hope this helps!

Friends don’t do what we do

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Authors note: this is my first time ever doing something like this, I’m not a writer by conventional means but I could not leave you all hanging after blowing up my blurb

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“That’s a nice jacket.” Your greedy gaze takes in the leather comfortably draping his body.

He eyes you carefully, “Thanks.”

“You got candy in there?” You grin up at him.

“Sweetheart, ask for what you really want.” You hate the way he’s able to coax you into yourself, grounding you with the idea that he’s not like eveyone else. He doesn’t flinch at your forwardness.

“Can I…explore your pockets a bit..?”

You aren’t snoopy by nature (yes you are) , but the desire to more about him drew you into asking this absurd question.

He leans closer to you on the couch, offering his pocket. He carefully takes in the details of your face. You’d wilt under anyone else’s scrutiny, but his attention lacks judgment.

Tentatively you reach in.

He feels your hand digging around. This is the only way he can stomach letting you touch him, between a layer of thick fabric…it feels nice.

“Massive pockets. You carry your bike in here?”

Your heart leaps at the way his laugh softens his voice, “Yeah sweets sometimes I put ‘er in there.”

Your hand wraps around cool metal, heavy in your palm as you lift it into the light of the room.

A pocket knife.

“Oh.” Your eyes gleam dangerously, “You stab someone with this before?” You pop open the blade, checking for blood, before he gently confiscates it, clicking it closed.

“A stab from this’d be a paper cut.” He lifts it away from your reaching hands.

“Then what do you have it for?” He gives you a wry smile, “Has no one taught you anything about—” he pulls his hand away as you reach for it, “—survival?”

“Mmm…not really, no.” You quip. Whether or not it’s sarcasm, he mentally adds to the list of things he needs to teach you.

You reach in again, pulling out a folded piece of paper, you carefully un-crumple it, glancing up at him briefly, waiting to see if he stops you. He only holds your gaze. “Nothing juicy huh?” Your eyes scan a grocery list.

Oh Ho Ho. “Pomegranates?”

“They’re in season…” he murmurs as you read on.

“You put C4 on your grocery list?”

His brows scrunch confusedly, your gasp interrupts his rebuttal, “Chloroform?!” He rips the paper out of your hands, and double checks the list. Bread, chips, peanut butter, mozzarella, eggs, etc.

He sighs, “You don’t buy chloroform at the grocery store, you make it.”

“How?” He gives you a disapproving look, you return it with a grin of your own as you reach in again.

“Shiny…” The three bullets are weighty, all smooth, and cold in your palm.

You let him confiscate those, reveling in his gentleness, and the contrast of his warm, rough fingers. His nearly somber expression catches you off guard, like a cold breeze through a sweater meant to keep you warm. The bullets are a heavier weight, in his hand.

“You’re worse than a crow.” He mutters.

You reach in again, “…my hair tie.”

“Mh.” His noncommittal answer soothes your poorly concealed nerves. What needn’t be said, or brought to the light; whatever this was between you.

He confiscates yet another item from your palm, pulling it on his wrist. “This is mine too.”