#also clowns will be blocked on sight

[irondad-defensesquad]

just some thoughts i have on (mcu) toomes.

i saw a video of a channel i really admire pointing out that most mcu antagonists genuinely want to make the world a better place, mostly in terms of oppression like racism and social inequality. but suddenly the villains act completely out of character, usually by killing a lot of people or causing unnecessary destruction and chaos. and all of that is likely done on purpose because you're supposed to side with the characters who defend the system, who defend the status quo, so the antagonists who actually want to change things are seen as evil for it.

i can agree with all of these points. but then the video showed toomes' speech and basically said that he's right. and this isn't the first time i've seen folks agree with toomes, because he criticizes the powerful rich people that exploit the small ones like peter and himself. but since peter is close to tony stark, everyone claims that mcu peter has "betrayed" his own social class.

okay. my thoughts.

toomes is a family man, an ordinary worker, true. but from the very beginning, he's completely on board with selling alien weapons that are incredibly lethal. dare i say, toomes is a lot similar to walter white: two white, middle class family men that resort to the criminal world so they can provide for their wives and children. however, their gigantic ego is what drives them further and further into crime, so they no longer hesitate to commit atrocities such as killing people who get in their way. in the end, walter admits that he did all that for himself, not for his family. i know toomes is not as awful as walter, of course, but they're very alike in terms of backstory and motivations.

to emphasize: toomes does not hesitate to kill people. he killed one of his own crewmates, but even if he claims he thought the weapon wouldn't actually vaporize the guy, toomes doesn't feel one smidge of regret. he just shrugs and moves on (the moment is played for laughs even).

but most importantly, toomes tried to kill a fifteen-year-old teenager. his whole dad speech wasn't actually genuine, toomes was just preparing to drop the entire warehouse on peter. also, do people forget the scene where he talks to peter in the car while holding a fucking gun? he uses the whole family speech here, too. "nothing is more important than family". he lets peter go, but he also threatens to kill him and everyone he loves in case peter tries to stop him.

that's toomes' entire character! at no point in the movie does he act out of character; he's always been an egocentric dick that uses his family as an excuse, even if he does love them. he's not a good guy, he has never been a good guy.

but the issue here is that people take toomes' speech out of context to prove that he's correct and that peter is an idiot or a bootlicker for not siding with him. except peter doesn't fight toomes because of tony, he fights toomes because that's the right thing to do. because toomes is a criminal that is willing to do anything for his own benefit, not caring at all about any lives lost to him and his weapons.

again, i agree that the mcu is a huge police and military propaganda that demonizes activists who fight against them. i agree that most mcu antagonists deserve better. but toomes is not the case here. his speech isn't genuine. he's willing to kill a teenager and everyone else to keep his business up. you guys take out the context to make him look great, and to hate on mcu peter.

you can have your grievances with the mcu, like i do myself. still, toomes is not a guy to look up to, and peter is not a bootlicker. you can stop distorting the whole movie now.

[chaikachi]

She's doing her best, okay?

Loosely inspired by that one scene from Friends.

[essektheylyss]

Ludinus Da'leth is not right about killing the gods. Ludinus Da'leth is the equivalent of a hyperrational atheist science bro™ who thinks religion is exclusively for the weak-minded and the foolish because he's never taken a humanities course and equates "mass media Christianity" with all world religion.

[catboynutsack]

I'm not gonna lie I feel like Tumblr truly has a terrible culture ATM of Do No Wrong Ever rather than. Do anything that's right. And as someone who's slowly distancing himself from that kind of thing for his mental health as he recovers from trauma and moral OCD. A lot of people (not saying who cuz it's most of us without realizing TBH) on here are more interested in being crabs pulling others into buckets rather than bettering their own situations or the situations of others as they claim. And it's genuinely kinda sad. You reblog the posts of mutual aid but don't engage beyond them. You post all damn day but don't lift a finger to enact change and then cry when bad things happen. Why is that? Why does your activism stop when it gets hard? Why do you feel you have the right to complain so much when you refuse to do the bare minimum? Food for thought more than anything, I don't expect any extreme change based on this. I can't save the world and I don't intend to try to; I'm just gonna fix what I can when I can so I can leave this world better than I found it. I'm just frustrated right now.

[constantvariations]

Someone on their personal blog: I love the word queer ^w^

The notes: the Q SLUR - because it is a slur, did you know it's a slur? because it's a slur - KILLED my grandma and ATE my dog so if you want to reclaim it that's FINE but if you use it for me I will KILL YOU

[jmkjournalblog]

"Soulmates" Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing:Wednesday Addams x FemVampire! Reader

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes

Warnings: None

Y/n POV

The flashing lights and clamor of the Harvesting Festival surrounded us, each noise and vivid display feeling almost surreal compared to the shadowed stone walls of Nevermore.

After we left the mirror maze, I found myself walking alongside Enid and Yoko. Enid was practically vibrating with excitement as she flitted between booths, desperately trying to convince us to ride a garish-looking Ferris wheel or taste-test the vendors' multicolored sweets. I played along, amused at the sight of her hopping from stall to stall, though I couldn’t entirely shake the feeling that something was off.

Yoko walked at a more measured pace beside me, her crimson-tinted sunglasses casting a strange glow as the neon lights caught their reflection. She seemed content to keep a casual distance, her attention darting around with an almost predatory interest in the people around us.

“Do you always look this unimpressed?” I teased, bumping her shoulder lightly as we meandered past a ring-toss game.

She tilted her head, lips quirking. “Only when I’m surrounded by chaos. Nevermore’s a circus on good days. This? This is just… another layer.”

Enid popped up between us, holding a pair of steaming caramel apples. “Come on, you two! It’s not all bad. Y/n, you haven’t even smiled once.”

“I’ve smiled plenty,” I shot back, taking the apple from her and pretending to inspect it as if it might bite first. “It’s just hard to tell when I’m surrounded by so many vampires and rainbows.”

“Rude,” Enid huffed, though her playful glare didn’t last. She spotted another attraction—this one involving some kind of spinning ride—and bounded away, already calling out for us to follow. I chuckled under my breath and exchanged a glance with Yoko.

“I’m surprised you tolerate the glitter bomb,” she said, amusement coloring her words.

“It’s a strange dynamic,” I admitted, my tone light. “Maybe I have a weakness for contrasts.”

Before Yoko could respond, my attention was drawn away. Across the expanse of booths, weaving between carnival-goers with a dark, purposeful gait, was Wednesday. I watched her as she moved—silent, alone, eyes fixed on the edges of the forest beyond the fairgrounds. My senses, ever attuned, sharpened.

“Y/n?” Yoko’s voice brought me back, but my eyes remained on the retreating figure of Wednesday. She had nearly reached the shadows of the woods, the darkness swallowing her small frame. Whatever she was doing, it wasn’t good.

“Go on with Enid,” I said quietly, handing Yoko the apple I hadn’t bitten into. She raised an eyebrow, sensing my sudden shift in mood.

“Is this a hero thing, or...?” she asked, a trace of humor lacing her voice.

“It’s a me thing.” I offered her a thin smile and began walking away. “I’ll catch up later.”

Without waiting for a response, I moved toward the path that Wednesday had taken, the noise of the carnival fading behind me with each step.

The darkness of the forest greeted me like an old companion. Trees loomed high, their branches twisting and knotting together to block out much of the festival's light. The carnival sounds became a muffled murmur, as if I'd crossed a boundary into a world that shouldn’t coexist with the one of clowns, rides, and caramel apples.

Wednesday's figure flitted ahead, her black silhouette blending into the night. I kept my distance, careful to match her quiet footfalls. Whatever drew her into the forest had her moving like she was chasing—or being chased. It was unlike her to be so transparent, but it was also clear she was driven by something more than mere intrigue.

She glanced over her shoulder once, and I quickly stepped behind the thick trunk of an oak tree. My heartbeat sped up, adrenaline prickling beneath my skin. If she saw me following, she’d either ignore me or take it as a challenge. Either way, I wasn’t ready to let her out of my sight—not with whatever ominous weight hung over this moment.

Suddenly, a rustle in the underbrush pulled my attention. It was only then that I noticed how still the forest had become. No chirping insects. No night birds. Just silence.

Wednesday picked up her pace, slipping deeper into the woods. I cursed under my breath and quickened my own steps. Branches snagged at my clothes, and the cool air bit at my exposed skin. I focused on her movements, the sharp lines of her shoulders and the determined tilt of her head.

She came to an abrupt stop. In front of her, Rowan stood, eyes wide with a manic edge. I squinted, recognizing the anxious boy from school. His body seemed taut, ready to spring—like prey cornered by a predator. But Wednesday was not the predator here.

The wind shifted, and I caught their words.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Rowan hissed, his voice trembling with both fear and anger. He held a piece of paper clenched in his hand, but even from where I stood, I could see it was no ordinary scrap.

“Prophecies are meant to be broken,” Wednesday countered, her tone as cold as winter’s edge. “I’d think you, of all people, would know that.”

I took a step closer, every sense alert. I couldn’t yet see what drove Rowan’s desperation, but his power crackled in the air, and he was looking at Wednesday like she was his doom.

He raised a hand, and suddenly, she was pinned against a tree by some unseen force. The breath caught in my throat as I watched her struggle, her pale face set in a mask of grim determination.

“This isn’t about you, Wednesday,” Rowan said, sounding almost apologetic, though his eyes betrayed no mercy. “This is about saving us all.”

With that, he raised the crumpled paper high. “My mother saw it. You will destroy us.”

The wind howled around them. I edged closer, my instincts screaming at me to intervene, but before I could make a move, something crashed through the trees behind Rowan—a blur of snarling fury. The beast. It was large, hulking, and covered in coarse fur. I had heard rumors about such creatures, but seeing it was different—a nightmare given form.

In an instant, it was upon Rowan. He screamed, a chilling, guttural sound, as claws tore into him. Blood sprayed across the forest floor. I barely had time to react; Wednesday was freed from her telekinetic restraints and dropped to the ground, rolling away from the carnage.

The beast’s wild eyes locked with mine for a split second. It paused, as if recognizing me, before it bolted into the darkness, leaving only destruction in its wake. Rowan lay motionless, and the air was thick with metallic scent and dread.

I stepped forward, breathless, as Wednesday pushed herself up, her eyes colder than I’d ever seen them. She glanced at Rowan’s body, then at me. Her gaze was unreadable, but beneath it, I sensed a torrent of emotion she would never let surface. Anger, confusion, maybe even fear.

“You followed me,” she said, her voice low but pointed.

“You shouldn’t have gone alone,” I replied, matching her cool tone despite the whirlwind inside me.

She didn’t thank me, of course. That wasn’t Wednesday’s way. Instead, she turned her attention to the torn piece of prophecy clutched in Rowan’s lifeless grip, pulling it free with grim determination.

Third person POV -next day-

Wednesday’s eyes never betray emotion, but this morning they burn with cold determination. Rowan’s reappearance after the brutal encounter in the woods is not just unsettling—it’s infuriating. She stalks the stone halls of Nevermore with unyielding purpose, her boots striking against the floor like war drums. Y/n follows at a calculated distance, her steps silent but presence unmistakable.

“Would it kill you to make less noise?” Y/n drawls when Wednesday pauses by a Gothic archway to scan the students shuffling past. “People will think you’re trying too hard.”

“Like you?” Wednesday’s retort is venomous, but her eyes remain fixed on the hallway leading to Rowan’s dorm.

Y/n smirks, leaning against the cold stone with predatory grace. “You’re wasting your time with this alone act, Addams. You want answers. I can help you find them.”

“No.” Wednesday turns to face Y/n fully, her expression as cutting as a blade. “You want an excuse to meddle. There’s a difference.”

Y/n tilts her head, amusement playing in her dark eyes. “Touché.” She takes a step closer, her voice dropping to a low, provocative whisper. “But I’ll meddle whether you want me to or not. I find it thrilling to keep you… on edge.”

Before Wednesday can respond, the sound of muffled voices draws her attention. They slip into the shadows near Rowan’s dormitory, where Xavier’s unmistakable voice can be heard. The boy is arguing with Bianca in the hallway, their tones heated.

Wednesday’s hand darts out, signaling Y/n to stay quiet. Y/n raises an eyebrow but obeys, watching intently as Wednesday edges closer. When the door opens, Wednesday moves like a shadow, slipping inside while Y/n remains as a lookout. Wednesday’s gaze flits across the cluttered space until it settles on a notebook with an unmistakable emblem—a purple book symbol, just like the page Rowan had shown her.

A creak behind her makes her whip around, daggers practically shooting from her eyes. Y/n stands in the doorway now, her expression serious for once. “You have seconds, Addams. Move.”

Wednesday’s jaw tightens, but she slips the notebook into her satchel. Y/n steps back just in time. Xavier and Bianca’s footsteps echo in the hallway. The girls forced to hide under Rowan’s bed, their bodies forced close together. There’s barely an inch between them.

“If they find us,” Y/n murmurs, her breath hot against Wednesday’s ear, “I’ll say you dragged me in here. You do have a thing for secluded spaces.”

Wednesday’s pulse quickens, but she refuses to look away. “I’ve killed for less.”

“Make me believe it,” Y/n dares, eyes darkening.

The door creaked open, silencing their exchange. Heavy footsteps and the sound of voices filled the room as Xavier and Bianca entered mid-argument.

“Your little stunt at the Poe Cup doesn’t impress me, Bianca,” Xavier said, his tone edged with frustration.

Bianca scoffed, her voice laced with condescension. “Of course it doesn’t. You’re too busy sulking to appreciate greatness.”

“This isn’t greatness; it’s cheating,” Xavier snapped. “Every year, you sabotage the course so no one else can even finish. You think that’s something to be proud of?”

Beneath the bed, Wednesday stiffened. Her mind churned with the implications of Xavier’s words. She turned her head slightly toward Y/n, who raised an eyebrow, intrigued but silent.

“Sabotage?” Bianca’s laugh was a dagger, cold and deliberate. “I prefer to call it… ensuring my rightful place. If the others can’t keep up, that’s their problem, not mine.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Xavier said, the disgust in his voice palpable.

“No, Xavier, I’m practical,” Bianca replied sharply. “Unlike you, I don’t rely on pity points or half-baked efforts. If you want to win, you do whatever it takes. That’s survival. That’s power.”

Y/n’s lips quirked into a faint smirk as she glanced at Wednesday, her voice barely audible. “Sounds like your kind of girl.”

Wednesday shot her a murderous glare, silently willing her to remain quiet.

Xavier let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re impossible, Bianca. This whole school is just a game to you, isn’t it?”

“Correction,” Bianca said, her tone as sharp as a blade. “It’s a game I always win. And this year will be no different.”

The tension in the room hung heavy as Xavier let out another sigh and turned toward the door.

As the door shut behind them, the silence in the room was deafening.

Y/n shifted slightly, her lips brushing against Wednesday’s ear again. “Cheating to stay on top. She’s more interesting than I thought.”

“Enough,” Wednesday hissed, crawling out from under the bed. She stood and brushed herself off, her mind already calculating the next move.

Y/n followed leisurely, a grin tugging at her lips. “You’re thinking of a way to humiliate her, aren’t you?”

[p0rk-guts]

Velvette if she served cunt

Design breakdown below 👇🏾(BEWARE IT'S VERY LONG)

Alright going into detail about my gripes and edits. Like Velvette but her design is just. Not good to me. None of her (main) outfit details look like they fit to me— pinstripe pants + long fur coat paired with black crop top and scene sleeves? Skull earrings? TINKERBELL HEELS????? Tell me how any of that meshes well or even makes SENSE for the social media influencer persona she's supposed to have going on. Now that I think about it I'm pretty sure she's supposed to be clown themed... But I'm just gonna toss that idea out bc being a revered social media influencer and a clown at the same time just seems a bit oxymoronic to me, and the "clown" details aren't adding shit for me.

And don't think I forgot about her features. Pale ash grey skin and wavy hair at best. If she was supposed to be some type of creature where a nonhuman skin tone would make sense then maybe I could let it go?? But as far as I can tell she doesn't have an object or creature or animal theme like the other V's and if she does I shouldn't need to do detective work to figure it out. There is no reason for *any* of these poc characters to have grey skin, especially since they don't have any other poc features at all.

Sorry that shit gets me heated anyways. Onto my redesign. Gave her a more obviously black skin tone and textured hair bc I love a 30 inch buss down as much as the next girl but considering how there are no significant poc cast members with visibly textured hair I think she deserves to flaunt some coils if no one else will.

Ngl I'm not. A fashion girlie. Idk what's trendy idk what screams "influencer" so a lot of this was just throwing shit at the wall that I've seen around recently but it looks cute enough to me. And there was a bit of inspiration taken from Aliyahcore and ghetto fabulous fashion ❤️

If you can't tell this is shamefully inspired by lovesart23's Velvette reimagining because imo they had some outstanding ideas for Vel. I low-key stole their idea for those floating eyes in her hair that follow her around and help her keep tabs on shit it was just a superb idea for a social media overlord to me. I also took some inspo from @furbtasticworksofart 's redesign because vampire influencer sucking up the souls of her followers in exchange for content??? Too good (also the eyes were supposed to have bat/vamp wings I just forgot 😭) So yeah she's a vampire demon now. Without the features she was looking too human anyhow. Maybe she also feeds off of the energy of her followers through tech like after Vox mind controls them or whatever... Idk idk is that anything

Speaking of Vox, the screen glasses are meant to connect her to him w/ their color and shape while serving the purpose of being like a second phone she can post and check the web with. Like lovesart said in their reimagining vid, Vel doesn't really do more than pose for selfies and scroll on her phone when it comes to social media so in my head she's constantly flipping her shades on and off, using them to scroll and stay active, and they can show when she's not paying attention or respect to something/someone bc scrolling is more worth her time in the moment.

The hearts everywhere are also supposed to kinda represent social media likes + connect her back to Val w/ his heart patterns. That might've been what the hearts in her og design were for but. I just didn't like their placement bc I'm a nitpicker and a hater❕

I have so much more I could say about possible ideas for Velvette because I love evil black girls and I only want them to succeed in my media and I could treat her so much BETTER but I'll refrain bc this is way too long anyway.

Alright for reading/scrolling through all that rambling I offer you the sketches + some alt hair ideas I had

P.S. I'm very open to constructive criticism but if I see anyone just dick riding in my replies or rb's I'm just blocking you on sight ✌🏾

[wyervan]

@r0tting-rat & @amarynthian-fortress I hope you don’t mind each other’s company in this ask.

I also hope u don’t mind that I tried writing for this ask. Also it’s halfway through November 😆 hope your not too sick of Halloween. I know I never am 😝

It’s been a reeeeally long time since I’ve written much of anything 😳 but I wanted to try it out again and both you guys are such amazing writers and i would be totally open to your feedback and suggestions 🥺🥺

DCA Slasher AU

content warnings: general spookiness i guess lol? oh but also characters describing acts of graphic violence :D

🌞🔪🤡🪓🌜🩸 💫 👾 🌞🔪🤡🪓🌜🩸 💫 👾

The October air is refreshingly cool as you step out from your car. Looking up into the fading pale sky, you see pink cirrus clouds lining a glowing sunset. You stand there for a moment and inhale deeply, briefly in awe of the color of the light. A sudden whistling breeze rattles the branches of a balding tree, sending a flurry of yellow leaves skittering across the parking lot.

Remembering that you have somewhere to be, you turn on your heel, slamming the car door a bit too hard and startling both yourself and a crow that was sitting on a nearby fencepost. It chides you sternly for your disruption with a caw.

Ignoring the jeer, you start down the sidewalk toward downtown, joining a half a dozen others leaving the lot, all of them dressed in varying degrees of costume.

Apparently for Halloween this year, the town had sectioned off a whole six block radius of shops, restaurants, and other commercial establishments to encourage business and tourism for the holiday. Blockades prevented cars from entering the area for the evening while vendor booths and pedestrians filled the streets. Local businesses handed out goodies to the trick or treaters, usually working in some advertisement of their wares and services.

You found yourself actually excited for this Halloween in a way that you hadn’t felt since you were a child. You even dressed up! Ahh—kinda. You just pulled something from your closet and did your hair in a way that made you look like that one character from that show that you watched two seasons of three years ago.

But you had promised Sun you’d wear a costume tonight. You had left work much earlier than usual, vowing to return to the arcade now and stay late to assist with the festivities. Your outfit was quick enough to put on that you had managed to sneak in a nap before heading back out.

You pass kids in costumes. They walk and chitter to each other excitedly, yelping happily and playfully pushing each other around. A smile spreads widely across your face at the sight of their joy. Parents or scowling teen siblings follow closely behind. Now inside the blockades, booths displaying all manner of seasonally-themed crafts, foodstuffs, and trinkets line both sides of the street, people flitting from vendor to vendor. Candy bowls sit ripe for pillaging at the edge of every station.

Enjoying the sights and sounds, but not wanting to get caught up with the fair, you stick to the sidewalk. You round the last corner and across the street you see a small crowd of strange creatures gathered in front of the arcade—a cat, a wizard, two pirates, Shrek, and multiple Disney princesses.

Their attention, you see as you cross the street and finally step on to the curb in front of the arcade, is entirely focused the clown crouched in front of them. You stop behind the group of kids and the clown’s eyes raise meet yours, flick down your form, and then refocus on the little girl in front of him, all in half a second.

“Mr. Sun, we know magic isn’t real. My cousin showed me that trick and then he showed me an entire book about fake magic! It’s all slide a hand or whatever…”

The clown, dressed in pale bright yellow and burgundy stripes, shakes his mane and brandishes a card with bear and the number 4 on it to the girl (one of the pirates). His already wide grin stretches further.

“Little Captain Shelley, if magic wasn’t real, then how did I know that this is the card you actually wanted, hmm?” he says.

Shelley the Pirate opens her mouth to retort, but before she can say anything, the clown suddenly flicks his pinkie and flips the card once, twice, thrice… and then there’s a bar of chocolate grasped between his gloved fingers instead of the bear card.

The other kids give small gasps of delight. Shelley is quiet and wide-eyed for a moment before a shy smile breaks over her face and she snatches up the chocolate bar, dashing away giggling to her parents standing a few paces away. They scold her lightly for not saying “thank you” to the clown, who is now passing out candies to the remaining trick or treaters.

You look around, taking in the decor that you and your bosses sweated over just this morning. You had watched as Sun hung string lights from the eaves at painstakingly even lengths. The goofy-looking giant spider that you had wrestled with earlier sat fat and content in a gauzy net of cobweb pinned over a window. A fog machine situated in the entrance between the two sets of doors into the arcade spilt thick mist out onto the pavement.

You spy the other clown fifteen or so feet away, slumped in a fold-out lawn chair next to the arcade’s doors. His deep blue hat and pants, accented with yellow stars, stand out starkly against the ruddy red of his seat. He’s already watching you—head propped up in one hand braced against the chair arm, the other idly fishing through the bucket of sweets he has resting in his lap.

“Star light, star bright, won’t you grant me candy tonight?”

You pull your attention back down to the red and yellow clown to see that the trick or treaters have ran off to raze other pastures, leaving him alone with you. He’s looking up at you now, cheeky grin cradled in his palms... then suddenly springs from his haunches to his full height—easily six and a half feet. The bells on his wrists chime abruptly with the motion. He weaves his fingers together, palms out, and brings his arms out and over his head, spine arching with the force of a full-body stretch.

He drops his long arms and takes one stride to close the distance between you. He leans a bit to the side, hand going absently to rub at his left knee, and gives a dramatically contented sigh. “Ahh. Little monsters and princesses may come and go, but the Star always returns to the evening sky,” waxes the clown—who is your boss of course, because that’s the kind of life you lead now.

Ah. And he’s in character. More so than usual.

“Starlight, what kind of treats did you bring us?” he asks, bright blue eyes wide, chin tucked to gaze steadily down at you.

“Oh shit. I forg-“

He leans further in toward you, face suddenly less than a foot from yours, and you jump a bit. He raises a single slender finger as if giving an instruction, or about to shush you.

“Language, Star, especially when there are children in the vicinity. Anyway, it’s fine, fine, fine. We have more inside” Sun steps back and gives a dismissive wave. “Moony, could you get the two other five pound candy bags from the breakroom, pleeease?”

Moon’s head rolls lazily to give Sun a dead look, long strands of black hair spilling across the stark light side of his face.

“You can have all the licorice, red and black.” Sun states.

Apparently satisfied with this, Moon’s head lolls back to a neutral position. He sets his candy bucket on the sidewalk, gets up with a low grunt, and trudges through the fog and into the arcade. You turn, opening your mouth to ask Sun what he’d like you to do now that your here, but he’s already prancing back to his post—just in time to excitedly meet a Mario and Luigi pair.

You walk over and take up Moon’s nearly empty bucket of candy. Hmm… you wondered if Moon had been eating most of this himself, judging by the numerous empty wrappers mixed in with few yet untouched pieces of chocolate you see at the bottom of the bucket.

“Trick or treat!” Two pairs of children’s sneakers enter your vision.

You look up to see a couple of familiar faces—Gregory and Cassie, both wearing blocky helmets and body pieces made of tinfoil-covered cardboard and covered in glued-on switches, buttons, and dials. They have their arms and legs stuck through wide flexible tubing and are holding lumpy pillowcases filled with their spoils.

“Oh, hey guys. Robots—nice. How’s the haul been tonight?” you ask.

The styrofoam balls that top the antennae attached to their helms bounce in the air when they look at each other and nod their square heads.

“Pretty good. Wickson’s down the street was giving out caramel apples. Think you can top that?” Cassie says.

You glance down at the meager dregs of what was left in the candy bucket. But before you can offer up the scant pickings and apologize, Moon’s voices rasps from behind you.

“Kid, don’t you know treats aren’t for brats?” Moon’s arm brushes your shoulder as he remerges from the arcade, two bags of assorted candies clutched in one fist. He looks down on Gregory, lips pulled into a slight sneer. Gregory faces him fully and juts up his chin at a defiant angle.

“Sounds like a sore loser talking.”

“Kid, I already beat your score again this morning. Ain’t got nothing to be sore about.” The sneer turns into a smug lopsided smile, displaying a sharp canine. You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. Moon had forgone his usual nap on the break room couch, choosing instead to stand hunched over an arcade cabinet for the entire morning upon seeing GREG in mocking neon green at the top of the high scores. His desperation was evident by eleven when he snapped at you for vacuuming too close to the power cable.

“Yeah? Well, I’ll be back in this weekend.” Gregory promises, narrowing his eyes and attempting to awkwardly cross his tube arms in front of his blocky shell. “Your scores aren’t safe.”

Moon rolls his eyes and brings the hand holding the candy bags up, releasing one into the bucket you’re holding. Unprepared for the sudden weight, you almost drop it. He grips the top of the other in both hands and splits the plastic seam. Then he offers it stiffly to Gregory and Cassie.

“Here. Before I change my mind. Pick what you want then scram. No licorice though.” The kids don’t hesitate, hands diving into the bag to fish out a Banana Laffy Taffy and an Almond Joy. Both of them crinkle their noses at the choice the other made. Cassie smiles sweetly and thanks Moon, starting back toward the vendor booths. Gregory also turns to leave but then gives Moon another narrow-eyed look. He brings two fingers up to his own eyes and then turns his hand so that his fingers jut toward Moon—the classic gesture for I’m watching you—then he waddles away, tube legs impeding his movement slightly.

You set the candy bucket down in Moon’s chair and turn to face him, hands coming to your hips.

“Kind of lazy, don’t you think, to just be wearing your work costume for Halloween?” you tease and flick the bell of his hat resting at his shoulder. Moon just shrugs and gives you a bored look. His thick dark eyebrows flick up.

“Yeah, and what are you suppose to be? Some sort of nerd businessman?”

“No! What? You don’t know? I’m that one guy from that show with all the other people who all do the thing together.”

The street light above you two suddenly flickers on. You look up at the sky. In the half hour or so since you had left your rental, it had already darkened to a bruising indigo. You look back to Moon and in the stark orangey light, you spot a dark reddish mark on the white half of his shirt that you didn’t see before. You peer closer and raise a finger to point out the stain just below the blue ruffle collar he wore around his neck. “Hey, you got something right there. Jeez, is that blood?”

You scan him over again, looking for any sign of injury but find nothing concerning on what two-toned skin you could see… but looking at him carefully revealed an even larger stain on the dark-side of his costume, deepening the charcoal color of the fabric to almost black.

Glancing back up, you see a strangely stiff expression frozen on his mouth. But Moon’s eyes are intense, slightly wide, trained carefully on you. A spark of something jumps in your stomach under his gaze. You look away and try to break the weird sudden energy with a joke. “You know you should really be more careful while you laze about on—“

“Last time I wore this, I killed someone.”

This statement, spoken flatly, makes you forget your awkwardness and look back at him again sharply, mouth slightly agape. A moment passes while you stare at him blankly… then two… then a small impish smile settles on your face.

“Yeah? Did you suffocate him with a balloon animal?”

“I hit him in the back of the skull with a heavy statue from his mantle,” Moon says in the same matter-of-fact tone. You’re slightly taken aback again, but then he continues steadily “And when he woke up, I smashed his knees with a bat so he couldn’t run away.”

“Ah, the ol’ Tonya Harding. Classic,” you deadpan.

Moon’s face suddenly dips down closer to yours. His eyes have widened further in somewhat alarming glee and a slow smile was beginning to stretch his lips. You jerk slightly at the sudden closeness but stand your ground, not wanting to be the first to give into this odd game.

“And I took a knife and peeled strips off him until he begged for me to kill him… then I stuck it in his throat… and watched him choke to death on his own blood.”

“Moony, my old friend—my partner in clown, brother of bells—“ You break away from Moon’s gaze to see Sun approaching, his hands gesturing in a whirling motion in the air. “I’m SURE what you’re blathering to them about is very important—BUT, I need to pull our shining Star away so that they may attend to the prize counter. Some children inside will certainly be wanting to exchange their hard-won tickets for treasures very soon—mhm!” He finishes with a hearty confident nod.

“Sun was there. It was his knife.” Moon breathes, close to your ear, then he leans back from his hunched position over you and you find you can finally take a full breath.

Sun’s jester shoes stop-short mid-step with a violent jingle and a harsh scrap. His gesturing halts and his expression freezes in a wide but strained smile. He hums a nervous, sort of giggly noise of confusion.

“I beg your pardon?” Sun asks through his teeth, head tilting at a sharp angle.

“Moon was just telling me about what you guys do in your free time. You didn’t tell me you guys were suppose to be dressed as the Killer Klowns from Down the Street. I don’t even see any blood on your costume, Sun.” This actually earns you a low devious chuckle from Moon, which makes you feel an embarrassing bloom of pride. Sun doesn’t seem to find it so funny.

His eyes flick to Moon, to you, to Moon, and then back to you, and then Moon again… and then again back to you. His smile doesn’t drop.

“Ah yes… well, you know how hard even fake blood can be to get out of clothes.” Sun says in a constrained, somewhat aloof tone. He’s staring at Moon again with a strangely pointed look in his eye. “Wouldn’t want to scare anybody with stains like that after the holiday, now would we? They’d think we were a couple of lunatics.”

“You guys are kind of nuts though, you know.” You state. This draws both their gazes to fix on you again. “You bought this place didn’t you? With its history and everything.” You stick a thumb back in the direction of the arcade. “Pretty crazy. But you turned it into a cool place.” A smile lights your face at a feeling of genuine appreciation for your current situation in life. Sure, your showers were mostly cold water and your car was probably gonna fall apart on the drive home, but you had a pretty cool job with two people whom you now considered to be more your friends than bosses.

“Aight, I’m gonna head inside now.” You pivot with a wave and turn away from Sun and Moon, feeling the heavy weight of their twin gazes on the back of your neck. The sky is now nearly black, cold, distant stars glinting. A gust of wind picks up and sends fog swirling around your legs as you enter the arcade. The air, pleasantly cool only an hour ago, now bites chillily at your exposed face and throat.

🌞🔪🤡🪓🌜🩸 💫 👾 🌞🔪🤡🪓🌜🩸 💫 👾

Okay that’s all folks :D This was what I was working on most of the week. I started the first paragraph and was like “this is really hard!” then skipped to halfway through to some dialogue I knew I wanted. It’s hard to find the most efficient words to describe the scene and characters.

I’m happy with it! but I feel like it might read a bit stiff? Maybe you can tell I’ve read and watched too much historical fiction. Worry sometimes I come across a bit stuffy or old fashion-sounding.

Idk idk like I said at the beginning, it’s been a very long time since I’ve written any prose. Hope you liked it~ most probably definitely will do more, it just takes a lot of time and thought.

Please leave me your thoughts~~

[lesbianralzarek]

tumblr in reddit terms

blogs: personal subreddits where the theme/topic is 99% of the time just “me and whatever the hell i feel like at the moment”. for reference, the most common other theme rn is “wizard roleplay that never breaks character”

reblogs: crossposts. these are crucial to maintaining tumblr’s ecosystem. due to blogs generally having fewer followers than subreddits have subscribers, this is the way that posts get seen and passed around. the vast majority of posts on a person’s blog tend to be reblogs, so if the people you follow dont reblog a whole lot, your dashboard is gonna be a ghost town. post limit (combined total of reblogs and original posts per day) is 250, so feel free to go hog wild

tags: this one is complicated. theyre a combination of flairs and Comments But Low-key. you can use them for organization and to avoid seeing content you dont want to (go to your blog, settings, account settings, content you see, and then add tags you want tumblr to warn you about before seeing it). if op tags the post #reddit (in the tags, not the body of the post), itll show up in the #reddit tag when anyone searches that tag. tags are also used for comments that dont really add anything to the post. you know how a jpeg gets kinda gross when its been through a million screenshots and has ifunny watermarks and shit? thats what adding “lmao same” as a comment does to a post. comments stay on reblogs, while tags show up in 4 places: op’s notifications, the notifs of whoever you reblogged it from, when someone clicks on the “notes” button of a post and actively looks for the tags left on it, and when people view your specific reblog of the post (like a follower would on their dashboard)

likes: upvotes but weaker. almost everyone turns off all the algorithms (settings, account settings, dashboard preferences, toggle off the first 3 options. also, make sure your dashboard is on "following" and not "for you". this is highly recommended), so leaving a like doesnt boost the post in any way. they still matter to some people. you can also use them to bookmark a post and go back to your likes later

enthusiastic and/or hyperbolic tags: reddit gold. you wanna let op know you like their art? leave something like ”#printing this out and stapling it to my forehead #op you wanna get married?” in the tags

pornbots: both reddit and tumblr have an issue with them. we block and report them on sight. they usually have hot women as their icons, no posts or reblogs, and a description like “22, brazil, nurse <3″. try to not look like that if you dont wanna get blocked by everyone you follow

blocking: you have this as well, but it seems like a bigger deal on reddit. the reason we are not twitter is because we block bitches who annoy us and move on with our day. do not feed the trolls

things we dont have:

karma: clout-chasing is The Most embarrassing thing you can possibly do on this site. we are all in this circus together and the clown who gets the most laughs is still a clown. popular users will literally deactivate sometimes because clout is a burden. no one here makes money

[eternalmoonlight18]

Please Please Please (Don't Prove 'Em Right) Chapter 6

Trafaglar Law x afab Female!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter warnings: slight mentions of doing the nasty. MDNI!

Summary:

You are the Heart Pirates' beloved cook and sniper. However, you were also an insufferable troublemaker who always seemed to get on Law's nerves. He swears he's going to get rid of you one day, but as much as he hates it, why does he find you fascinating? Was it because you reminded him of someone he was greatly fond of?

As your relationship with Law grows, he only hopes you don't fucking embarrass him. After all, he has an image to uphold as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

This story starts off as short stories between (Y/N), Law and the Heart Pirates, then picks up into the One Piece canon timeline, starting from Punk Hazard. This is a slow-burn Law x Female Reader story!

Updates every Monday!

Cross-posted in Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57651295/chapters/146705491

Chapter 6: Chicken Feet

Chapter summary: You and Law leave the crew behind to journey to Punk Hazard. You meet Monet, but seeing Law and Monet together makes you uneasy. Chaos ensues when your jealousy reaches to new heights each time you catch them together.

A/N: HELLO! Thank you so much for your patience friends! Writer's block is gone and it's time to get rolling! This story is canon-compliant, but it's not going to follow the actual story 100%. This isn't proofread so yeah sorry lol

Also CW/TW: slight mentions of the nasty if you squint, use your imagination folks.

I also created a taglist. Let me know if you want to be a part of it!

wc: 4k

You were instantly hit with regret when you and Law stepped foot at Punk Hazard. It was a month since you and the captain dropped off the crew at Zou to assist him in his mission to stop Doflamingo, but you desperately wanted to turn around and return for them. But it was too late, and Law seemed amused with the sight of you shivering in the vast cold land of the half of Punk Hazard. 

"Wow, it's not that cold here," Law said sarcastically as he walked towards a large door by a mountainside. While keeping his head forward, you saw him look at you with a smirk on his lips. Annoyed by your captain's sarcastic remark, you stooped to the ground to grab a handful of snow and chucked it at the back of Law's black coat. The man chuckled, clearly unbothered by your tantrum.

"Shut up! If you told me that we would travel to the fucking Arctic, I would've dressed better!" you comically spat at him. 

"I told you (Y/n)-ya, you should've worn that boiler suit." the man tutted back at you.

There was no arguing that. You fought tooth and nail against your captain on wearing anything else but those damned boiler suits, and now you're paying the price for it. So you opted for a cute black fur coat that went down to your knees and black leggings, but it was not enough to keep you warm in the insane cold environment of Punk Hazard 

"I'd rather die than wear those ugly boiler suits! We're not with the crew anyway!" you argued back.

You and Law now stood in front of a giant steel door. With his slender finger, Law knocked on the door. A few seconds passed before the door scrapped open, revealing a pale white man with spiked black hair. He stood very tall, but he didn't have any legs as it was replaced with gas. His yellow eyes bore into you and Law before his lips turned into a sinister smile.

"Well well well! What do we have here? Shuorororo!" the man creepily giggled. "A warlord at my doorstep? I'm honoured!" Then he took a look at you who was behind Law, and his eery smile widened even more. "And you brought along a sweet treat!"

"Caesar Clown. I came here for some business with you." Law said with a calm demeanour. Although he spoke professionally, there was a slight tone of aggressiveness. "I've heard about your production in SMILE fruits and SAD and I'm greatly intrigued. So, I'm offering that we can be business partners, to help you with production and distribution."

"And why should I engage in a partnership with you?" Caesar questioned.

The tattooed doctor hummed before he gave his answer. "You can use my Warlord status as protection."

The pale man smirked, "I already work for a Warlord. I won't disclose his name, but the JOKER already compensates me well."

"What about extra protection from another Warlord?" you piped up behind your captain.

The two men looked at you. Law stared at you with amusement while Caesar held a bewildered expression.

"That doesn't seem to be a bad idea. Good thinking (Y/n)-ya." your captain said with praise. He then turned his head back at the gaslike man. "The JOKER may be a good employer, but he will backstab you Caesar-ya. But with me, I can be that backup plan just in case things go wrong with your little business, hm?"

"Little?! For your information, my work is greatly sought after! I am the second-best scientist in the world and my work and weaponry directly supply an Emperor of the Seas!" Caesar scoffed.

You stepped up and took your place beside Law. "More of a reason to partner with my captain! If all goes to shit with the production of SAD, who do you think is first to blame?" you piqued up.

That seemed to get the mad scientist thinking. "Well well. You're not just a pretty face after all. Shurorororo!" 

Even though you cringed at the compliment, you couldn't help but swell with pride, seeing that Law gave you a tiny smile of appreciation your way. 

"The two of you come inside! I'm warming up to this idea of being business partners with another Warlord..."Caesar started to ramble as he ushered the two of you inside the facility.

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

You really wanted to go back to the Polar Tang now.

The facility wasn't bad at all. Everything was provided: space, a place to rest, and food. But you felt that something suspicious was going on and you couldn't figure out what it was. Law refused to tell you why he wanted to stay on Punk Hazard, but you understood it was all to avoid compromising the mission. He even exchanged his heart with Monet, another person staying in Punk Hazard, so that no one could betray one another.

Speaking of Monet, you hated the woman. Something about here didn't sit right with you, but you couldn't figure out why.

As you walked the laboratory corridors, you spotted that a research room had its door slightly cracked open. Curiosity got to you, prompting you to peek inside. Standing at the door, you touched your chest and muttered 'Calm'. With the newfound Devil Fruit powers you gained a month ago, you could take away sound from yourself and your environment. And it proved very useful now that you were peeking in this room.

There, Monet was sitting on a chair, writing notes on a desk. To her left, was Law, sitting on a couch to her right and Caesar was standing in front of him. They were engaged in a conversation, and you couldn't help but listen in.

"So, you're Trafalgar Law. Also known as the Surgeon of Death. You hail from the North Blue. You ate the Op-Op Fruit." she spoke as she was writing away.

Law glanced at her as she continued to speak. "You also brought your subordinate, (Y/n). A formidable sniper and a cook at the Heart Pirates. She hails from the East Blue. You said she ate a Devil Fruit recently but no information about its type."

Monet turned from her chair to face the two men to her right. "There are former prisoners that are on this island who were affected by a poison gas. Can you heal them?" she asked. 

Your captain continued to stare at her. Meanwhile, Caesar continued the conversion. "I'll let you and your subordinate stay here, so long as you assist me and don't tell anyone else about this lab. Are we clear Trafalgar?" 

"So be it. Also, you are not to tell anyone that (Y/n)-ya and I are here. That includes Joker alright?" Law said firmly.

A light giggle passed Monet's lips. "Caesar, I say that it's fine that he stays here. Besides, he's cute," she said as she threw a wink in Law's direction, much to his dismay. 

An unpleasant shiver went down your spine as your chest started to tighten. 

Now you really didn't like her. That was strike one. 

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

 A week slowly went by as you and Law stayed at the Laboratory. You found out that there were children and giant children, who were staying at the lab because Caesar said he was finding a cure for them. Of course, you didn't believe him, and you took it upon yourself to find out that the kids were actually guinea pigs for Caesar and his messed up experiments. But with your given circumstance, you knew that Law had a plan to take down Caesar and the SAD factory, so it was a matter of being patient with him. So the most you could do right now was feed the kids and keep them safe. 

Tonight, you made the kids spaghetti and meatballs, and when you presented it to them in the Biscuit Room, which was where they were staying, they all cheered joyfully.

A small smile graced your lips as you watched the kids eat the dinner they made you.

"This is amazing (Y/n)!" a giant girl named Mocha exclaimed. She wolfed down her portions and reached out her bowl to you. "Seconds please!"

"Good thing I made two buckets full of spaghetti, you kids got big appetites!" you giggled as you gave the girl another portion. 

"I'm so glad you came here! The food you make is awesome!" A blond boy named Sind cheered.

The rest of the kids shouted with joy as they continued to eat. As you were serving the kids their second portions, you didn't realize that Law walked into the room and made his way beside you.

"Oh, hello Mr. Snow Leopard!" A giant kid named Konbu called out.

You turned your head to see your captain with a sour face. He was not fond of the nickname the kids had given him.

"Hey, Captain Snow Leopard. Fancy you seeing here." you teased.

"Don't be copying these brats too (Y/n)-ya, address me properly." he scowled. 

A cackle left your lips while you prepared a plate for him. "Oh, don't be mean. You know these kids are going through a hard time by being here, and we're the only ones decent enough to take care of them."

"You're forgetting that Monet takes care of them as well," he answered back as he reached out to take the plate of spaghetti from your hands.

The smile on your face fell as Monet's name was mentioned. Your grip on the plate tightened as Law tried to take it.

"I see that you're getting comfortable with Monet, are you captain?" you said in a high-pitched voice, laced with discontent. A smile appeared on your face again, but it was clear that you were irritated.

"I would like a plate of spaghetti please." your captain said as he tried to pull the plate away from your iron grip. 

"Hm, I don't feel like giving it to you now." you singsonged. You pulled the plate away from his tattooed hand and gave it to Mocha instead.

"Are you mad at me?" Law gritted, clearly irritated by your actions.

"I don't know Cap, did you do something to piss me off?" you shot back at him.

The doctor grabbed the collar of your black jacket and brought your face close to his. "Don't start this again (Y/n)-ya. If you have an issue then spit it out." he lowly said. 

You raised your right hand which was holding a pair of tongs, and smacked Law's head with it. The tattooed captain let go of his grip on you and proceeded to clutch his head as he stumbled back in surprise.

"You're a smart man, figure it out yourself!" you shouted at him. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Law shouted back.

The two of you grabbed each other's collars and started to hurl more insults at each other.

The children watched the quarrel between you and Law with amusement. They started to whisper amongst themselves.

"They're funny!"

"They remind me of my mom and dad. Now I miss them..."

"Wow, I've never seen (Y/n) this mad before, it's funny!"

You and the tattooed captain were butting heads until Monet made her way into the Biscuit Room.

"Time for your candy!" she called out. The kids dropped their plates and proceeded to run toward the green haired woman. 

Pulling away from your captain's collar, you started to clean up the plates and utensils littered on the floor. "There's your woman," you muttered while cleaning up.

"Hm?" Law said, "What did you say?"

"Hi, Monet! Did you want some spaghetti? I made some for dinner!" you called out while ignoring Law.

Monet made her way to you. "Oh, I would love some!" Then she looked at Law and smiled. "If you haven't eaten yet, would you like to join me for dinner Trafalgar?" 

Law 'tched' in response. In the corner of Monet's eye, she saw your face deepen into a scowl. The sight of you being mad made her smile

That fucking woman was pushing you buttons and she was enjoying it. The handle of the pot started to crack as your hand gripped as tight as ever in anger. However, you managed to shove down your emotions and flashed a fake smile towards her and Law. The doctor raised his eye in skepticism as he saw you set down the pot and prepare two plates of spaghetti.

"Oh, how nice would that be? Here you go! You two enjoy dinner!" you said with fake cheerfulness. Shoving the plates into their hands, you quickly scrambled to set the plates and pots into the rolling cart and sped out of the Biscuit Room. 

"Thank you (Y/n)! Your cooking is always delicious!" Monet thanked you.

The tattooed captain just stared at your back as you were leaving the room. He knew something was up with you. Sighing in exhaustion, he brushed your behaviour aside as he started to think about the mission he was currently in. 

Unbeknownst to Monet and Law, you were unbelievably angry and veins started to pop on your forehead as you made your way back into the kitchen. Heavy stomps echoed throughout the hallway as you angrily pushed the food trolley. With your hands tightly gripping onto the trolley bar, you took a deep breath and sighed. 

That was strike two. One more strike and you were going to beat both of their asses to the snowy grounds of Punk Hazard. 

------------- 

You heard that Law agreed to give Caesar's henchmen limbs. It was one of the conditions that Caesar implemented for you and the captain to stay at Punk Hazard, aside from exchanging the literal hearts of Law and Monet to prevent backstabbing.

So when you were walking across the halls of the laboratory and heard the deathly screams of grown men echo throughout, you weren't surprised. 

"Looks like the captain is performing surgery today." you giggled as you skipped along the hallway. Deciding that you wanted to see the disembodiment in action, you quickly followed the sounds of agony. But as you were nearing the door, the screaming suddenly halted. As you slowed down your pace, you quietly made your way to the door and heard light shuffling and Monet's voice, You leaned up against the door with your right ear to listen.

"Alright, I'm ready Trafalgar," Monet said. "Are you sure this won't hurt?"

More shuffling was heard until Law spoke up. "First time? Don't worry, I'll stick it in slowly."

Your entire body froze as your mouth dropped in horror. "What the hell are they doing in there?!" you hissed to yourself. 

You heard a light grunt and a sharp inhale. More shuffling.

"Oh my, that's kind of big now that I look at it," Monet commented. "It feels weird too."

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," You heard Law reply. "Now, hold still, I'm going to shove it in."

Oh that was it. That was strike three. And you know what they say. Three strikes and you’re out. And by out you meant that you were going to kill your captain and that green-haired witch.

Your mind short-circuited as you assumed that your captain and that damned woman were up to no good. With your mind and heartbeat going 100 miles per hour, you grabbed the handle and swung the door wide open, screaming; "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THERE?!"

And as soon as you laid your eyes upon Law and Monet, your heart stopped and your feet were stuck in place.

There they were, with Law's back facing you and the green-haired woman lying on her back on the couch. The doctor's left tattooed hand was holding onto her right leg which was up in the air. Your captain's face was turned to you with his face widening in horror, and Monet tilted her head to the left to look at you. 

What set you off was when Monet glanced at you, her long green hair was dishevelled.

Steam started to blow through your ears as you glared hole into Law and Monet. Your entire body started to shake uncontrollably as your chest heaved up and down aggressively.

Realizing that he was caught in a position that already caused a great misunderstanding, Law quickly let go of the leg he was holding onto and scrambled to make your way towards you. What you failed to see was that Monet's left leg was now replaced with a giant talon.

"(Y/n)-ya, you can't just barge into here while-" he started but you cut him off.

"CAPTAIN TRAFALGAR LAW! WHAT IN NEPTUNES GREAT BEARD ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT BITCH?!" you bellowed. 

Unable to think straight, you stomped past your captain headed towards the large bird talon on the desk in front of the couch. As you picked it up with your right hand, you whipped your head to glare at the insufferable woman lying on the couch.

"You've got some nerve seducing my captain like that!" you shrieked as you swung the limb towards Monet. She promptly dodged your attack and screamed, running away from the couch and onto the other side of the room.

"(Y/n)! It's not what you think! He just-" she started to explain before you swung at her again.

"I don't want to fucking hear it!" you screeched as you chased the poor limping woman around the room.

"Shambles!" Law grunted. And as soon as he said it, you swung the talon once more towards Monet, only to knock down a bookshelf onto the floor.

You whipped your head to face the captain once more. Law shuddered as he saw your eyes glimmer with hate. It was screaming bloody murder, and he was on the receiving end of it.

"YOU! Oh, you've got some nerve! You men disgust me!" you screeched as you stomped towards the doctor. With your left foot planted in front, your right arm swung up, reading to assault the man with the bird limb.

"(Y/n)-ya wait! Whatever you're thinking, we didn't do it!" he yelped as he jumped to the side to avoid your attack. However, he didn't know that you were quick enough to see through his actions and the back of the talon hit him on the side of his head, which successfully smacked him to the ground.

Your left hand reached out to the pistol that was hoisted on your hip. You drew it out and pointed it to the man on the floor, "Falling for a woman like that? How despicable! I-!" you started to lecture, but your voice drowned out as you realized that your outburst of anger took all the energy out of you.

"I-" you started to speak but your voice failed you. As your hand fell back to your side, you started to wonder why you acted like that. Even if they had something between them, it wasn't your place to care, unless you were...

"...Jealous? Are you jealous (Y/n)-ya?" Law called out as you returned to your senses. The discomfort that once reflected in his eyes was replaced with amusement as his mouth raised in a smirk.

Your eyes widened at the revelation as your heart started to pound. A bright red flush appeared on your cheeks.

"There's no way," you muttered. The limb that once was on your hand dropped to the ground as you stumbled back in shock. Glancing at Law, who now stood up with his arms crossed, you shot a nasty glare as the smirk on his face widened even more. 

"Why would I be jealous?! I was just protecting your dignity!" you sputtered. The captain made a stride towards you as he chuckled.

"What a stupid reason. You expect me to believe that?" he teased. 

He was now looming in front of you as you backed up to a wall. Your head was bowed down in embarrassment as you refused to look into his steel grey eyes. 

"I wasn't jealous..." you lowly muttered.

"Somehow that's not believable," Law answered back. He dipped his head to your eye level so that he could make eye contact with you, but you whipped your head to the side, still refusing to meet his eyes.

Amused by your sudden 180-degree change in mood, your captain stood straight up, placed his hand on the back of your head, and kissed your forehead.

The once freezing temperature of the laboratory now skyrocketed into a burning hot sensation as Law made an out-of-character advance toward you. Whipping your head up to face Law, your face was now burning hot with more embarrassment.

"Captain! What was that for?" you yelped in surprise.

Law simply chuckled. "Sometimes, I wonder what goes on on that interesting head of yours. One minute you're beating me with a bird limb and then the next I find out it's because you're jealous."

You shoved away the man in front of you and pouted. "I am NOT jealous! I just had to straighten you up and remind you that we're on a mission here!"

"Oh please, if anything, you were the one who forgot that we had a mission (Y/n)-ya." he retorted. 

"Whatever, now help me clean up this mess," you sneered as you proceeded to pick up the fallen books that you knocked down from your rampage. The tattooed captain chuckled and proceeded to assist you in a comfortable silence for a while before he spoke up again.

"(Y/n)-ya?" he said as he hoisted up the fallen bookshelf.

"Yeah what is it cap," you said with disinterest as you continued to collect the fallen items. 

"You know you'll always have me right?" he announced.

Your heart picked up slightly at the confession. Then A smile graced your lips as you turned your head to face Law. "Shut up and put that bookshelf up, Cap," you finally said as you tried to dismiss your feelings. 

The captain sighed as he shook his head. A rumble of laughter started to escape his chest, and you followed suit. Amidst the chaos that happened in one of the laboratory rooms, you and Law couldn't help but share one of the many moments you had with one another, even though the two of you were far away from home.

----------

Bonus Scene:

In the Polar Tang, the Heart Pirates were nowhere to be seen. That was because all of them were inside the captain's quarters, staring at a small book at the captain's desk. The cover of the book read 'Journal'.

"So, should we open it?" Penguin asked, with his hand hovering over the notebook. 

"Yeah man, let's do it!" Shachi affirmed.

"Guys, what if the captain finds out?" Bepo chittered.

"You idiot, there's no way he'd find out if he's not here!" Ikkaku chided the Mink.

"Sorry..." Bepo muttered.

 Penguin picked up the book and slowly opened it. "Alright you guys, here we go..."

Everyone leaned in and peered over Penguin's shoulders as the notebook opened. As soon as the first page was opened, a bunch of folded envelopes fell out and scattered on the ground. The entire crew crouched down and picked them up.

"It's addressed to (Y/n)," Hakugan announced.

"This one too." Jean Bart said.

"This one as well!" Uni called out.

"Wait a minute, are these all love letters for (Y/n)? And he never gave them to her?" Shachi said bewilderedly.

"Guys, captain's journal is just filled with yearning for (Y/n)!" Penguin cackled as he skimmed through Law's journal.

The whole crew burst into laughter as they crowded around Penguin once more to read what the captain had to say about you.

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TAGLIST:

@hopelesslover06 @shakysif @eyes-ofhell @letmereadchristonabike @bi-narystars @valval08 @urbisexualfriend @emmaiscool22 @deathsmajestysworld @sp1ng @kitsunechan707 @orange-milky

[naomijoestar]

HELLO 😍I absolutely love the clown stand post! Can you do the same for Bucciarati gang as well?

Masterlist here <3

I’M SO GLAD YOU LOVED IT! Thank you @stretch-time for the idea <3 Also I sincerely apologize for the extremely late reply, I have been so busy! Requests are currently turned off until I complete the other asks I have in my inbox <3

(Stand side notes: it’s small in size but not as small as the sex pistols, stand abilities: cartoon physics type of stuff, you’ll understand what I mean when you read)

Bucci gang with a goth reader who has a cute clown stand

(La Squadra version here)

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno’s calm, serious demeanor doesn’t waver when he sees your clown stand for the first time. He’s trained himself not to judge a stand by appearances, but even he is taken aback by the sight of a bright, cheerful clown at your side. Giorno quickly assesses the potential of your stand, wondering what abilities could possibly match such a strange look.

He tests it by sending Golden Experience to strike. However, your clown pulls out a massive mirror, reflecting the punch back toward Golden Experience. Giorno’s eyes widen, and he steps back, reassessing his approach. The clown smirks, pulls out an oversized bucket, and dumps a seemingly endless stream of banana peels onto the ground, causing Golden Experience to slip and stumble.

Every time Giorno tries to counter, the clown anticipates it, pulling out ridiculous objects that disrupt his strategy: an anvil to block his punches, a giant mallet to deflect attacks, and even a cartoon bomb that sends Golden Experience flying back when it goes off. Giorno begins to respect your stand’s unique power, realizing that while it looks innocent, it’s a master of psychological warfare—each item it pulls out makes him question what absurd attack might come next. With a small, impressed smile, he finally says, “I underestimated you.”

Bruno Bucciarati

Bucciarati remains polite, even respectful, when he meets you. But his brows raise when he sees your cheerful, colorful clown stand. It doesn’t align at all with your goth aesthetic, which only makes him more curious. “Interesting choice,” he says, in a tone that’s equal parts admiration and confusion.

During your sparring session, Bucciarati sends Sticky Fingers in with a zipper punch, expecting a quick victory. However, your clown smirks, pulling out a giant hand mirror, which Sticky Fingers punches instead, causing the zipper to close around Bruno’s own fist. He watches, surprised, as your clown quickly sets up an obstacle course of oversized props: a giant spinning top that Sticky Fingers has to dodge, a pie that ends up splatting on Bucciarati’s face, and even a door that leads him in circles.

Despite this, Bruno begins to chuckle, realizing your stand’s playful nature is a surprisingly effective strategy. At one point, he zips through the air to get the upper hand, but your clown pulls out a huge net like a cartoon hunter, snaring him mid-zip and dropping him to the ground. Bucciarati finally laughs, wiping pie from his face. “You know, I expected a serious fight, but this is a refreshing change.”

Narancia Ghirga

Narancia takes one look at your clown stand and bursts out laughing, doubling over as he tries to catch his breath. “What is that? It’s adorable!” he snickers, clearly underestimating the threat. But his laughter quickly turns to surprise when your clown pulls out a toy slingshot and launches a rubber chicken at his face. The slap from the chicken’s beak leaves him blinking in shock as he wipes his nose, muttering, “Did that thing just hit me?”

Enraged, he summons Aerosmith, sending it diving toward the clown. But your stand pulls out an enormous balloon, which Aerosmith crashes into, its tiny propeller spinning uselessly against the inflated surface. Narancia’s jaw drops as the clown cheerfully waves at him before producing an enormous spray bottle labeled “Bug Repellent” and dousing Aerosmith with it, sending the miniature plane spiraling out of control.

Frustrated, Narancia shouts, “Alright, now you’ve done it!” But every move he makes is thwarted by the clown, who starts producing absurd obstacles for Aerosmith to dodge: fake trees, tunnels, even cartoonishly large bubbles that trap his stand inside for a few seconds. By the end, Narancia is out of breath and flustered, but even he has to admit, “Okay, that was kinda cool…but you better not tell anyone I said that!”

Leone Abbacchio

Abbacchio’s first reaction to your clown stand is a deadpan stare. He’s entirely unimpressed. “You’re kidding me, right?” he mutters, crossing his arms as he sizes up both you and your stand. He half-heartedly summons Moody Blues, not expecting much from a cutesy clown stand.

But the clown immediately bounces into action, producing a giant pair of glasses and plopping them onto Moody Blues’s face, temporarily blocking its vision. Abbacchio tries to remove them, but the clown has already pulled out an enormous pair of handcuffs and snapped them onto Moody Blues’s wrists, binding it in place. His eyes narrow, annoyed that his stand has been bested by something so ridiculous.

Growing more irritated, Abbacchio commands Moody Blues to break free, but the clown whips out a bucket of quick-drying cement, dumping it over the cuffs. Abbacchio watches, slack-jawed, as Moody Blues struggles, the cement hardening around its wrists, temporarily immobilizing it. When he finally frees his stand, he mutters a string of curses under his breath, annoyed but impressed by your clown’s effectiveness. “I’m not saying I respect it, but…fine. You win this round.”

Guido Mista

Mista laughs heartily the moment he sees your clown stand, nudging his Sex Pistols to join in. “A clown? That’s hilarious!” he says, grinning. But as soon as he gives the order to attack, the clown whips out a toy gun, pointing it at Mista with a mischievous glint in its eye. The Sex Pistols cheer, thinking it’s a joke, until the clown fires rubber bullets at them, each one sending a Pistol ricocheting off in surprise.

Annoyed, Mista sends more bullets your way, only for the clown to deflect each one with oversized comedy props: an umbrella that spins bullets back, a massive rubber glove that bats them away, and even a mirror that sends them flying back toward Mista. “Hey! That’s cheating!” he shouts, but the clown merely shrugs, honking its nose in response.

Frustrated, Mista tries to outsmart the clown, but each time he tries a new strategy, your stand counters with something even more absurd. Finally, the clown pulls out a comically large magnet, attracting all of Mista’s bullets and forcing him to back down. He’s left scratching his head, baffled. “Alright, I admit it. You got me. But that thing is still creepy in a weird way…”

Pannacotta Fugo

Fugo’s analytical mind is immediately confused by your clown stand. “A clown? Is this some kind of joke?” he sneers, his impatience clear as he activates Purple Haze. He expects the battle to be quick, underestimating your stand entirely. But before Purple Haze can make its move, your clown snaps its fingers and produces an oversized gas mask, strapping it onto its face with a smug grin.

Purple Haze’s virus-filled fists swing toward the clown, only to be deflected by an enormous rubber mallet that sends it staggering back. Enraged, Fugo watches as the clown starts hurling ridiculous items at Purple Haze: pies filled with an anti-viral cream, a giant magnifying glass that shrinks Purple Haze’s hand momentarily, and even a huge eraser that somehow removes patches of Purple Haze’s virus fog temporarily.

Fugo’s patience wears thin as he tries to keep up with your clown’s unpredictable tactics. Each time he thinks he’s cornered it, the clown produces another cartoonish item to counter his moves. By the end, Fugo is seething, his face red with frustration. “I don’t understand how that thing works!” he snaps. You simply smirk, watching him struggle to make sense of your clown’s absurd yet effective abilities.

There it is! I hope the long wait was worth it, if you’d like anything specific added or anything changed you can always message me and I’ll fix it!

If you have anything specific you’d like me to write for any jjba character/squad parts 1-7 you can request it if my requests are open!

[suethesocks]

Gwenny!!

In case youre not on twitter (astaghfurallah) a few days ago some rando made a tweet joking /neg about how if they make a ben 10 movie theyd make gwen black, and that got a bunch of people clown on him and i joined in which included making this fun drawing

It also got a few people who agree that it would be bad to "blackwash"(fucking hate that term) a character in my replies which sure was tiring. Im too immature to block on sight and move on so i try to argue with them but it usually just wastes my time, so i guess PSA if anyone unironically complains about blackwashing or raceswapping white characters or "gingercide" just hit them with hammers and block them

[ryuichirou]

Replies

I’ll start with some news.

I am currently locked out of my twitter account. We did everything we could to try to get it back, but no matter what happens, it will most likely take some time.

I don’t like bringing attention to this kind of stuff because we have tons of other things to talk about which are more important than some toddlers trying to obliterate us for 1000th time (frankly I would rather talk about the colour of Leona’s butthole), but this time it’s kind of serious and important. We don’t know what’s going to happen next, but for now I wanted to say that if we won’t get the account back in time or will lose it indefinitely, we will have to ask for your help. I am sorry for that in advance.

Also, if you were discussing/working on commissions with me via DMs there, please email me or contact me via any other platform as soon as possible. Just in case.

Mass-reporting is wild, eh?

I am rambling a bit, and I didn’t really want to complain, because I know for a fact it would give satisfaction to some people, but you know? I am going to complain: it sucks ass. It happened at the worst time possible and it happened over nothing (literally, the art that got it was a Todd/Wallace non-sexual piece that got too many likes for children’s liking). I don’t care if people don’t like us, I don’t care if they gossip with their girlies about us, all I want is for them to leave us the fuck alone and let us do our thing in peace. Imagine being so unbelievably boring and so incredibly unlikeable and unable to make meaningful connections not only with other people but also with any kind of media that you just have to go out of your way to ruin things for others because this is the only thing that makes your immature brain produce something that even remotely resembles joy. Because your own pathetic self is so deeply insecure and constantly frustrated at yourself that you just have to create an illusion of control over someone else to feel important. I can’t even call it a troll behavior – at least trolls are funny sometimes. This is just someone who hit a midlife crisis at the age of 16 and made it my problem for some reason.  

And yet, it’s okay. Even if we end up losing our account, it’ll be a huge disappointment and it will hurt us tremendously, it already did. And it’s scary to think about this scenario, and it’s difficult to talk about how, if it happens, that it’s going to be okay. But eventually we’ll get over it and build ourselves up again, just like we did before several times. And these clowns will still be boring, unlikeable, lonely and very likely shit at drawing.

So yeah. Take care of yourself and block everyone who seems suspicious on sight. It’s not a panacea, but certainly is helpful.

Alright, time to talk about Leona’s butthole (not really, but we will talk about SebeMal, and it’s even better) 💪

Anonymous asked:

Seeing Vanitas made me curious about something: did you ever read Pandora Hearts? I think for a lot of people that series went hand in hand with Black Butler as the main "victorian aesthetic mangas" from the late '00/early '10. Gothic lolitas really had it all back then..

Ohh you’re so right Anon, it was the ultimate late ‘00/early ’10 aesthetic! Boys in vests with bows/ties, crosses and rosaries and traumatic and problematic backstories lol I really miss it sometimes. What an era.

I personally haven’t read/watched Pandora Hearts, but Katsu did! But it was even before we met… So my only association with this title is that Katsu’s old username was “ozbezariusnya” 🥰 Oh, and that Gilbert (?) looks very cute, but let’s be honest, of course I would think he is cute.

nebula-ryuu asked:

Regarding my question, I mean if the Malleus and Sebek ship has a dynamic or a context 😅😅 a background or a story. I have a certain feeling about what it is like but I don't want to affirm anything hehe

I don't know if I made what I said better understood, in any case I can explain it again, no problem 🙏

Oh! Thank you for clarifying!

As for our background for shipping them, we just really really love loyal characters that are a bit unhinged about their loyalty and love/obsession. So we didn’t even have a choice, they stole our hearts… and Malleus is very interesting in his interactions with Sebek too; he is annoyed by him sometimes, but he tolerates a lot and teases him.

As for the ship itself, we tend to think that in addition to Sebek being loyal and obsessive with Malleus, he is also deeply in love with him ever since he was a child. He is conflicted because he really wants to be his lover, but also thinks that he isn’t worthy. Malleus is amused by Sebek and allows him to do much more than he probably should. Actually, I think I talked about their dynamic in this post!

I hope I understood you correctly. Thank you for your question! And if you have any more questions, please let me know.

Anonymous asked:

would Lilia and Azul ever fight over who gets to have Idia?

Replied here! Thank you for your question, Anon.

[izzabela]

In the Mafia's Eyes - Lin Kuei Siblings x GN!reader

in which the deadliest mafia group's leader and two brothers have you in their sight

a/n: i was scrolling through and i laid my eyes on the most beautiful fanart EVER, so i asked permission to use it (as you can see, i got permission) BIG UPS TO @moonbay1cn for letting me use their art (i cropped it to fit my blog formats, if you don't mind)

ships: tomas, bi han, kuai liang x GN!reader

warning[s]: mentions of blood, suggested violence, suggestive, you're delusional

p.s. mafia au! the Lin Kuei are based in the U.S. instead of Arctika/China

You should have realized who the men you served were. Every single clue and hint was there, pointing you in the right direction, yet you ignored the obvious flags that waved in your brain.

New York City is insidious: places to be, things to do, dreams to achieve. There's a reason why it's called "the city that doesn't sleep." People are up at all hours of the day and night to do things, and the night was a tad more active than the day. For you, however, the days seemed to blur together. Working at a 24/7 shop isn't rare. What made it rare was that it was a 24/7 tea house/café/eatery.

In the middle of Manhattan.

Upper east side, Manhattan.

In a rundown building that was browner than poop stains and long-deceased rat corpses.

That should have been your first hint.

The building was old, needing constant repairs here and there, yet it was untouched by the most powerful real estate agents, landlords, and other money-grubbing losers that would love to tear the building down to replace it with a painfully sleek and sterile one.

You were grateful for Madame Bo's persistence against this modern era of sad, beige modernness, but were also confused. How did she make so much money to keep them away? And if she had such money, why wouldn't she do the renovations herself? She could easily update the internals and externals of the building if she wanted to.

"Oh dear," she had said, "The charm is in the age of the building."

The second clue to the enigma of the tea house café were the customers.

When you were first hired by Madame Bo, you didn't really notice the patterns of people coming in and out, nor the lackeys that would round the block. Despite how old this building was, it was a popular stop for both the middle class and the privileged snobs residing in the upper east side. Over time, you knew who were regulars and who weren't.

When you worked the day shifts, you made note of four men who would be walking outside the building. On other shifts, they switched it up on you and they were paired with women, posing as couples. However, you knew better than that. Sure, to the untrained eye they would have just been randoms working out, but your gut told you otherwise. They were tall, slightly beefed with muscle, and walked faster than a normal New Yorker- yeah, definitely not normal.

What also peeved you out was the fact you always felt... something on you. You couldn't figure out if it was safety or protection, but what you definitely felt were eyes on you.

It didn't stop there, though.

On the very rare, and desperate, occasions you had a night shift, you kept a mental tab that two people would enter the empty eatery. They would sit on opposite sides of the room, laptops open and untouched. While you didn't judge the work ethics of others, you certainly judged people who had questionable habits of work. Even so, Madame Bo made drinks for them- free of charge!

"My dear," she said to you one fateful night shift, "They do a lot more for us than we know."

The last hint was as obvious as a clown in disguise. Scratch that, it's not even a hint anymore- it's a big red "x marks the spot" on a treasure map. And the "treasure" came in a pack of three hot guys.

Every month since you began working with Madame Bo, three men in luxurious suits and tuxes came to visit the shabby tea house. One of them with gray-colored hair, while the other two matched in black colored hair. You also noted their style of face covering, two of them opting for a face mask while the other remained bare-faced.

Every month without fail, these three men came to visit and sit down for some tea. There were times where they just sat in comfortable silence together, other times they were discussing the mundane in their lives. Most of the time, though, they simply sat together and spoke with Madame Bo, laughing and engaging in hearty conversation.

Every time they spoke with her, you couldn't help but stare at them. Madame Bo and the three mystery men were more different than the poles in a magnetic field, yet they spoke to her with such respect and joy. You thought it was just a rare case of rich people being kind. During a day shift when they visited, you asked Madame Bo for the origins of the three men.

"Oh them? I used to watch them when they were little," she explained to you, Raiden, and Kung Lao, "All three of them are brothers, with Tomas being adopted."

You remembered that you zoned out during the explanation of her ties with them, the only thing you got were their names: Tomas for the ash colored hair, Bi Han to the navy suit, and Kuai Liang in his amber-rust colored suit. As you zoned out, your eyes wandered over to the three.

They were engaged in their own conversation, chuckling quietly as they spoke about their business. While the air within them was pleasant, you felt a bit of fear and excitement. Something about them made you want to straighten up, look presentable, and be on your best behavior. You wanted to give them the best customer service in their lives- actually, maybe more than just "service".

You remembered catching the eyes of Kuai Liang, who briefly looked away from his siblings to catch you staring at them. His gold-black mask covered the bottom half of his face, but the way his eyes wrinkled a bit signaled some sort of smile that lied underneath.

You blushed and turned away, trying to zone back into the conversation with Madame Bo and the other boys you worked with.

"Woah! So like, are they super rich, Madame Bo?" Kung Lao asked innocently.

Madame Bo nodded, stating something about how they own a couple of stores in the upper east side thanks to a family business. You, however, still did not get the memo about who they were until later that day.

This was the answer to your dilemma on who these ferocious and fine men were.

After a night with some of your close friends, you were walking home alone following a sketchy back-path. It was supposed to be a shortcut, provided by the maps app on your phone. However, it died after you forgot to charge it, leaving you wandering the unruly city during its worst. As you walked, you fell into trouble with some sleazy idiots.

You remembered how close they were to you, their alcohol-stained breath and sleazy style of walk. The way they slithered over your shoulder to try and get you to come home with them. Not only were you sober, but willing to fight. You had punched one of them in the nuts to escape, but the grasp of one of the disgusting men was too strong for you.

You remembered four of them surrounding you, and you really thought you'd meet your end in the alley that night. You closed your eyes, but heard gun shots and the sounds of bodies hitting the damp concrete. What once was creepy and dangerous men surrounding you, you found them lying in their own blood, clean shots through the head.

You fell to your knees, threatening to cry, but you saw a familiar color on a suit. Okay, a few familiar colors: gray, navy, and rusty amber. You saw a gloved hand reach out to yours, leading to Bi Han's broad figure. You took it, and he effortlessly brought you to your feet. You noticed his other gloved hand was getting replaced, Kuai Liang replacing the soiled mitten.

Tomas snuck behind you (you didn't even feel him get there) to offer his coat. He gently placed it on your shoulders, his eyes peeking down at your round, doe, startled ones. Despite what happened in front of you, and despite you finally learning who they really were, you weren't afraid.

Each man held something in their eyes that promised you safety, security, and protection. Like a guardian angel, these men made a promise with their eyes to you. A promise saying that no matter where you are, what you're doing, that you'd always be safe.

As the saying goes, "It's in the eyes, chico," and boy they aren't wrong.

=================

It's been a couple of months since that incident, and the games you've played with them and your mind have been infectious. The brother's visits to the café have begun to happen more frequently, they even visit you alone sometimes, which didn't help your brain's delusions.

Every time one of them came to the cafè, you were afraid they would see right through you and into your horny thoughts. Whenever they visited and watched you work, you felt their eyes not leaving you once. It got so bad that you would bring Raiden or Kung Lao to distract you while doing stuff, or simply have Madame Bo make them leave.

Even so, it didn't stop your mind at all.

On the day's Kuai Liang came to the café, his gaze on you was steady and still, like a constant fire during a winter storm. The way he looked at you was full of wanting, desire, and desperation- like he needed you more than oxygen. Your brain imagined that his body was warmer than most, and that he would keep you in a dizzying trance.

Your mind played scenarios in which Kuai Liang would explore every part of you, with no intent of letting you go either. His hands leaving hand-shaped slap marks and bruises, marking every part of you to let the world know that you were his alone to worship. His loyalty to you and your body would leave you overwhelmed, melting under his constant affection and love.

Your mind concluded he'd be a gentleman and a rough lover, and you had to shake the thoughts out before he knew.

When Bi Han came to visit, you didn't have to know it was him at all. While Kuai Liang's presence was warm and welcoming, Bi Han's aura was chill to the bone. Whenever you were working, Bi Han's eyes never left your body. You figured his stares felt more...cold: persistent, chilly, and never-ending. Like a blizzard in the cold tundra of the arctic.

With Bi Han, your mind played vignettes of how he'd take you to bed. He would be rough, not like Kuai Liang. He'd pull your hair, smack your perky behind, and tell you how much of a degenerate you really were- all for him of course. He'd leave hickeys everywhere on your body, a mosaic of pink, purple and red on you to remind you who belonged to who.

Your mind also thinks he'd be great with aftercare. All that rough-housing and such, you needed to calm down and collect yourself. Your brain fills your mind with him putting you in a bath, rubbing your back, shampooing your hair too. He'd whisper "I love you's" in your delusions, peppering each hickey with kisses.

For him, your mind finalized he'd be the roughest of the three, while also caring for your wellbeing post-sex.

Your brain was working in serious overdrive.

Finally, when Tomas came to visit, you always felt sweet with him around. Not only would he stare at you with such love in his eyes, but he'd engage with others around him.

Like a butterfly, he'd go around and spread joy; however, he loved floating around you the most. You found that talking to him was easier than talking to his brothers, so you talked to him about the basics of who you were. When you tried to bring up that night, he told you that it would stay between you four- a private business transaction.

He'd also ask why you spoke to him more, and not his brothers. He assured you that they wouldn't bite, but you simply said it was out of respect.

And to keep your thoughts at bay.

Despite all of this, you weren't fooled by him at all. The way he looked at you, when people weren't present, was filled with a primal hunger, a desire to have you. He was the predator, and you knew damn well that you were his prey- not able to get away from his trapping gaze. His stares were sharp and clear, like a hunter ready for the kill.

And by the elder gods your mind was ready to be hunted.

You imagined his grip on you being tight, like you'd disappear and he'd never find you again. He would be intentional with tour body, exploring every part of you in more depth and detail than his brothers. His touch would make you feel sensitive, flinching at how feathery and flighty his fingers were as he took every part of you for himself.

He'd kiss you like he'd leave forever- full of longing, desperation, and wanting. Your brain thinks he'd need you more than oxygen, that he would love nothing more than to breath your natural scent in like the necessary element.

If Kuai Liang made you dizzy with heat, and Bi Han made you shiver with his chill, then Tomas would have you writhing under him like a poor animal in heat.

You prayed to the elder gods silently, hoping the men wouldn't see your perverse thoughts as they came by the shop.

Unfortunately, your pleas were ignored.

During their monthly visitation, you saw to the brothers yourself and sat them down, took their order, and made their drinks. Tomas took an Earl Gray with a pastry, Kuai Liang with some matcha, and Bi Han with Oolong tea.

You quickly gave their drinks to them, paired with an even quicker "thanks for waiting" and retreated behind the counter.

You watched them only for a bit, your brain playing new scenarios, but you distracted yourself with chores. Deep into them, you didn't even feel them leave until Raiden and Kung Lao tapped your shoulder, money in the latter's and a note in the former's.

"Looks like our prettiest barista got some tip money," Kung Lao teased, "A crisp twenty dolla bill too!"

You gasped, but who could have gifted you with such a generous tip? Raiden hands you a slip of paper, which answers your question and fills your head with more of them.

"Uhh..." he fidgeted nervously, "I am not sure what this means, but it definitely makes me wonder..." he handed the note to you and you flush the deepest shade of red ever.

It's in the eyes, little barista

=====================

once again, big ups to @moonbay1cn for letting me use their beautiful piece of media for this post!

see yall in the next fic ;)

[sadhornyygirl]

Kinktober

Day 18: Hate-fucking (billy loomis)

- Fear? — Eric repeats the same question in a provocative tone.

She turns her face in the macabre, dimly lit environment, letting me see her irritated expression.

— It’s going to take half an hour, damn it — He says between his teeth.

Jack barks and tries to go after a doll that walks by us singing a little children's song that isn't peaceful.

Eric laughs, but stops when a bloodcurdling scream rings through the room we're in. More people who entered with us begin to scream and scatter throughout the house, disappearing from our sight.

— You talk about me so much, but you're also peeing your pants — Briana teases Eric.

— Oh, shut up and walk — He orders, pushing us forward.

When I go to stow my small bag on my shoulder, my eyes lock on the person with a mask and black hoodie staring at me through the countless pieces of glass. My heart accelerates and I look back, seeing him disappear through a door.

— I don't think we should have come to this shit — I say, still staring at the door where the clown disappeared.

—Are you scared? — Briana laughs, but seems nervous.

— I have a bad feeling... — I say, looking around.

I feel something strange and the masked man intrigued me, even if he was just another attraction.

— Have you seen the place you are in? — Eric is sarcastic, but I see his throat swallow hard.

We move to another room and I scream softly when someone runs their hand through my hair, and when I look back, there's no one there.

— Someone also touched my arm! — Eric says, looking around.

Jack barks and growls, position ready to attack.

— Relax, they're just fantasy people... — She stops talking when a faceless, all-black figure advances towards her. Briana does the most unexpected thing in the world. She punches him.

The figure, which appears to be a guy, staggered back a few steps with his hand on his non-existent nose. Jack barks, but at least he doesn't seem aggressive.

- Cum! — Briana curses, grabbing the hand she used to punch the man.

— Shit, Briana! — Eric says, but he seems to want to laugh — The guy is just working — He walks up to the guy.

Briana rests her hand on her heart looking at her victim with an awkward smile, but I can say for sure that the blood has disappeared from her well-defined face.

Eric laughs, but it stops when zombies start coming through the door Briana is heading towards. She stops in place and starts walking backwards, pulling Jack with her.

— I... I'm afraid of zombies... — Eric whispers next to me, his eyes wide.

When I least expect it, he runs through the other door and Briana follows suit, tugging at the skirt of my dress so I can follow them. Jack tries to stop in place when I see that I haven't even left mine and barks, as if calling me.

My breath catches when I see a spider crawling up the face of one of the zombies, specifically in its eye. Or what's left of it. I scream and run in the direction my friends went.

I see Eric running in another direction and when Briana goes to follow him, a woman dressed in white blocks her path, making her go in the opposite direction. As if her neck was broken, she slowly turns it towards me, fixing her eyes on me.

She walks towards me and I look at the door next to me, seeing the zombies coming. Unable to follow my friends, I run in another direction. I clutch my bag against my stomach, fearing it will fall in the process. A man with a knife comes up to me and I widen my eyes, entering the first room I find.

I slam the door, locking it and move away from it a little. Someone turns the doorknob trying to get in, but fails miserably. I sigh, relieved that at this moment I have at least a little peace in the chaotic environment.

That's what I thought, but chills rise throughout my body and I swallow hard, looking back. Standing just a few meters away from me is the same masked guy who stared at me in the mirror. He takes a step forward and I take another step back.

I turned my back and walked towards the door, grabbing the handle. Just as I'm about to turn it, a hand slams against the old wood, making me jump in fright. My heart is in my mouth, refusing to beat properly again.

He's after me, and has me right where he's wanted me this whole time. Alone.

I take my pocket knife out of my bag and slowly turn towards him, raising my eyes to him.

- Who are you? — I ask with a trembling voice, gripping my knife tightly.

The stalker is leaning on the door by his elbows, his arms on either side of my head, trapping me in his cage. And I don't know if I'll be able to get out of it.

- What you want? — I insist, ready to kill him if necessary.

The stalker tilts his head to the side, seeming to study me.

— I won't ask again — I say through gritted teeth — Who. Cum. AND. You? — I ask for the last time.

He takes one of his hands away from the door and carefully, I see his hand go up my neck, his fingers sliding over my skin in a gesture that I almost don't feel. He grabs my neck, pressing me against the door.

The gesture is so familiar that my heart missed a beat when I recognized it.

146

— Billy… — His name leaves my lips in a whisper.

For proof of something I feel deep in my bones, I reach for the back of his head, and rip off the mask in a quick motion.

A gasp escapes me as I stare at the messy strands falling into the cruelest icy eyes I've ever seen. And they're staring at me with unparalleled amusement and mischief.

—Are you calmer, love? — He asks in a hoarse voice, looking into my eyes.

I swallow hard, trying by some miracle to get through the door with the strength of my mind. He's too close for my own good.

— Are you silent now? he asks, stroking my chin with his thumb.

His eyes scan my entire face with a kind of adoration, but there's also anger in them.

— I told you to leave me alone, you psychopath — I find my voice, moving his hand away from my neck.

Even though my skin misses your touch, I ignore it.

— And I said you only had a few hours to calm down — He says, resting his arms on either side of my head — Tick tock, time up, little monster... — I smiled.

I take a deep breath, clenching the blade.

— I don't want you anymore, can you understand that in that sick mind of yours? — I touch my own temple — We're done here, whatever shit we had — I lift my chin.

Billy laughs softly, shaking his head. I just feel the anger slowly grow in my chest, radiating throughout my body.

— Own, I love your naivety — He leans towards me until our noses almost touch — You'll have to kill me if you want this to end — He slides his nose along my cheek.

— As you wish — I reply, raising the knife towards his neck.

I don't know if it was anger or an impulsive desire, but I really intend to kill Billy. But he notices it too quickly, managing to dodge in time. But not enough to stop me from cutting your left cheek.

Billy lets go of me, taking a few steps back. He touches his cheek, staring at his blood-stained fingers. Then he lifts his head, letting me see the small cut, about two centimeters long.

I slightly widen my eyes when I see his darken darkly. I move my gaze down when a bulge in Billy's pants catches my eye. He's hard?

In response, I clench my thighs as I feel my core throb.

- Congratulations love. You just need to be more accurate — Billy says through his teeth in a dark voice, approaching me with blood running down his cheek.

He makes to grab me, but in one quick movement, I manage to hit his groin with my knee. Billy lets out a grunt, falling to his knees in front of me. I don't think as I turn to the door and open it.

Before I can pass it, a huge hand grabs my ankle and I turn to Billy. I kick his face with my other foot, making him fall on his side and consequently letting me go.

— If you wanted to play tag, you just said so, love! — I hear Billy scream, and it seems so, so close.

Desperate, I quicken my steps, feeling my heart want to come out of my mouth. It's like a horror movie and Billy is the ghostface trying to kill me. Following me. He comes without rushing because he knows that at the end of this, he will eat me alive.

I go into a room where there is no one and lock the door.

— Little monster... — Billy knocks on the door — Let me in, okay? You don't want me to blow and knock it over... — He says between his teeth, then laughing.

— Fuck you, you sicko! — I growl, running towards the other door that will lead me out.

— I bet you're wet right now... — Billy says, making me stop with my hand on the doorknob — Are you turned on by all this chasing? Is your pussy dripping for me, love? — He asks in a hoarse voice.

I rub my thighs together, denying myself. Refusing to believe that I'm enjoying this. No, I abhor what he's doing now. Because admitting that his pursuit turns me on is also admitting that I'm just as sick as he is. I ignore how affected I am and open the door, running into the other room. I need to get out of here, I need to find my friends and get out of this damn house.

I walk past her when they grab my hair from behind and pull me back inside, making me scream. I try to hit Billy again, but he grabs my arm and pins it behind my back, turning me to face him.

- Let me go! — I command, trying to pull my arm from his grip.

Billy looks up at me and my breath catches in my throat when I see the cut I made on his cheek and the thin, short trickle of blood escaping his nose. Consequence of my kick.

— Every time you use that knife on me, I get harder — He says, licking his lips while staring at mine.

Yes, I can feel the bulge poking my belly.

— It's because you're crazy — I say with disdain, raising my chin in affront.

— Yes, for every detail of yours — He says between his teeth, grabbing my hair with one of his hands again — But damn, I want to kill you now — He growls, squeezing my throat.

I stand on my tiptoes as his grip becomes almost unbearable and I feel my pussy throb. Traitor.

— She calls me sick but she's rubbing her thighs like a masochistic little bitch just because she's being hanged — She tilts her head to the side, looking at me.

— I knew you were sick, but not to the point of delirium — I tease with a smile, my voice muffled by his hand on my neck.

— I love your debauchery, but I'm very angry with you, love... — He says — You hurt my dick, but I'm sure it wasn't because you wanted to, right? — He asks with an affectionate intonation.

— I'm sorry, next time I'll make sure your heirs aren't born — I smile disdainfully.

I try to free myself once more, but it seems impossible.

— Next time, they'll be growing in your belly — Billy smirks, letting go of my hair and running his thumb along the wrist of my neck.

— Kneel — he orders, making me throb.

— I'm going to hate you at the end of all this, Billy — I whisper.

He nibbles my lip.

— Lie with your mouth on my dick — Send it.

He squeezes my scalp and I moan, falling to my knees in front of his body. Looking from below, it gets even bigger. It's like a giant that can crush me at any moment.

He lets go of my hair and takes his own hands to the zipper of his pants, pulling it down and undoing the button. He reaches into his underwear and pulls out his dick. It stands before my lips and I sigh, seeing it harder than ever.

The head is so red and the veins stand out around it. The pre-cum leaks out, sliding through him.

"Him," Billy ordered.

Looking at him in defiance, I place the thick head of his cock in my lips, sucking it. The salty taste of cum explodes on my palate and I go down even further, putting almost half of it in my mouth.

I see Billy throw his head back and groan, but still looking down at me. I narrow my eyes at him the moment I bite down on his dick. He curses, gripping my strands hard enough for me to let go and walk away.

— If you only knew how much this turns me on... — I smiled, sliding the head of his cock past my lips.

The gag reflex kicks in but controls it in time, at the exact second that Billy drags himself out and comes back with a vengeance. Tears well up in my eyes from the lack of air, but I find myself relaxing my jaw and moaning around his cock. My thighs tighten and I try to keep up with his rhythm.

He doesn't let me reason when, with his hand in my hair, he pulls me up. Billy turns me onto my back and presses my cheek to the cold wall, and I feel his cock between my thighs. He lifts my dress and then I feel a tug and the sound of tearing fabric. My panties.

- What are you doing…? — I ask even though I know the answer.

Billy doesn't answer me, he just shoves himself inside me and in a quick gesture my eyes widen at the sudden intrusion, my head kicking back and a scream escaping my numb lips.

— Fucking beg — He orders, his hand grabbing my neck.

I smirk slightly, pulling the knife away from his neck and grabbing the back of his head as I lean towards him. My lips brush his as I wrap one of my arms around his shoulders, hugging him.

— Please fuck me. Take me…” I whimper, pulling his lip towards me.

I scream loudly when in one quick movement, Billy thrusts himself inside me without an ounce of gentleness at the same time he bites one of my nipples hard. I should be disgusted by all this violence towards me, but I look more and more ready to explode.

I hate that. I love that.

I scream as the orgasm explodes, taking over my entire body and clouding all my senses. I hear nothing but a thin buzzing sound and see nothing other than the stars twinkling in my field of vision.

I whimpered as my orgasm-sensitive pussy contracted around him. Around your dick that seems to want to tear me in half. He fucks me so hard that I choke and I don't know where he starts or where I end.

— S-Stop... I can't take it anymore — I moan, scared by the desire that grew again in my stomach.

Billy's laugh makes my pussy throb and suck him in, like it's hungry and only he can finish it.

My body is turned sideways and one of Billy's hands is on the side of my head, while the other is holding me by the thigh, pulling me against his body. This position allows me to feel his cock from a different angle.

It feels deeper.

— I...I'm going to cum again — I cry. I'm so sensitive it hurts.

His hips don't stop and my breathing quickens.

— I-I'm going to... I'm going to pass out — I whisper with a broken voice as my legs shake.

But Billy ignores me, his hips speeding up and his thrusts becoming more animalistic. I cry, shaking my head as I flatten my hand on his broad chest through his sweatshirt.

— Even if you deny it, your body is mine, as is your heart. And no one else can have them, love.

Just when I think he's going to continue, his whole body goes rigid and he stops abruptly, spilling himself inside me. Hot jets fill me and it's impossible not to moan and whimper at the sensation.

— You have until tomorrow at 11:59 pm to stop acting like a spoiled brat and start believing in me again. — Speak, giving me a peck.

[luidilovins]

I was just informed that the word "womborn" is actually problematic in the clone community as it has recently been used more heavily in certain Neosphere neurowave spaces. Aparently, it's a huge bioprimary dogwhistle used to argue that the only legally recognized humans are those who come from wombs. Actual members of the clone community prefer the term "viviparous" when it comes to non-clone individuals. What clones refer to themselves as is identity based on a person to person basis, and it's not my place to decide how they define their creation experience even if they all came from the same 6 global factories. I'm sorry for my mistake and I will do better as an ally in the future so please forgive my ignorance because I'm growing.

Also if there's any bioprime scum clowning on this post I will be blocking on sight. I'm not playing around.