#and not bc of frankie this time

[frnkiebby]

his stupid pretty smile~🎃

[newttxt]

slowly elongating this every time luffy befamilys a crewmate

[somehowmags]

ive discovered that there aren't a lot of one piece themed blinkies and whatnot on here so ive decided to be the change i want to see in the world.

credits for sprites:

the one piece grand battle swan collosseum and one piece gigant battle sprites were ripped by grim on spritedatabase

the gba one piece sprites were ripped by croix and harsh29 on spritedatabase

[cdlikesstories]

For Spy x Family characters' platonic relationships:

As far as we know, Anya has Frankie as best uncle,

and Handler as the nice auntie, who may or may not be Anya's bio mom(a theory for another day);

but we're not talking enough about mr. Henderson as an honorary grandpa enough, he's probably some of the only ones outside of WISE and few others who cares for the Forger family this much (even if it was mostly just him being a decent educator, and righting what he felt he had done wrong to someone he respects)

✨props to this elegant mister✨

[workingforitallthetime]

I am BEGGING you to say more about Will and Mack in silence on the other side!! on my KNEES!

conveniently, i have 3.5K of will/mack that i could not resist expelling from my brain at the end of the google doc. grab a marshmallow stick and let me tell you a campfire story.

(this is very much an epilogue and is not going to make sense unless you've read silence on the other side. if you want the reward of mack/will you have to suffer through the mortifying ordeal of will/gabe/leno.)

Will could wait for Gabe to ask, but she’s done letting things happen to her. She packs a suitcase. She sits on the couch and waits. When she hears the sound of Gabe’s key in the door, she slips off her ring and clenches her fingers around it. The diamond digs into her palm as she rehearses the words in her head. I can’t get married. I’m sorry.

She texts her sister on the way to the airport, after the angry red dent fades. The pale strip around her ring finger is going to take longer, just like the mark on her neck. Can I stay with you for a couple of days?

Of course. Grace answers quick. Are you in Boston? Is everything ok?

Will’s not going to cry in the back of an Uber. Flight gets in at 10:30. And no. 

As the plane pulls away from the gate, she texts Ryan. I’m moving back to Boston. She should switch into airplane mode. Instead, she waits as they taxi.

The reply comes as the plane rounds the turn onto the runway, bright rows of lights blazing the path ahead. Didn’t know you were from Boston.

Will’s swiping her thumb over the text thread to delete it when one last message pops up. Thought it was West Philadelphia. She snorts in spite of herself, and lowers her thumb onto the red trash can before she can second-guess it. She’s not going to cry on a plane, either.

The night air when she emerges from the sliding doors at arrivals is still late-summer muggy. Grace picks her up at the airport, and Will gives her the briefest version. I told Gabe we’re not getting married. No, it wasn’t a mutual decision. No, I don’t know what it’s going to cost. No, I haven’t told mom and dad yet, I’ll do it tomorrow. No, don’t say anything in the bridesmaid group chat, I’ll do it tomorrow. 

The wheels of her suitcase are gritty on the floor of Grace’s apartment. She changes into pajama pants and an old St. Catherine’s t-shirt. She drinks a glass of water and racks the glass in Grace’s dishwasher. She sinks onto the couch, tipping her head back on top of the cushions.

“Oh my god.” Grace stops short at the edge of the room, peering at Will over the armload of bedding she’s bearing. “Did you break up with Gabe because he’s a vampire?”

Will touches the mark on her neck. It doesn’t feel like anything. If she hadn’t seen it in the mirror, she wouldn’t know it was there. “Wasn’t Gabe.”

Grace’s eyes bug out. I don’t want to talk about it, Will says, it’s not a thing. It’s not, like, the reason. It’s just something that happened. She takes the sheets from Grace and shakes them out and tucks herself into the couch. The streetlights outside cast thin stripes through the blinds and across the floor. She’s not going to cry into Grace’s fleece Patriots blanket.

The feeling in her stomach, hollow and sick, that settled in while she waited for Gabe to come home hasn’t gone away. It won’t go away for many days yet. Terrible days. Days of overhearing her mother on the phone apologizing to relatives about their nonrefundable flights. Days of trying to cancel wedding registries before she gets any more notifications about purchased gifts. Days of ignoring the voice messages from her parish priest, the one who was supposed to officiate. The absolute last person Will wants to talk to is a priest.

She goes back to the Midwest, feeling like a burglar in her own apartment as she packs up her things while Gabe is pointedly not home, driving her car along ugly interstates back to Massachusetts with her dad. Somewhere in Pennsylvania, while the road is empty in the beam of their headlights and they’re between episodes of a podcast about white collar crime, he tells her he’s proud of her. He knows it must have been a difficult decision. He trusts her to make the right choices. All Will can say past the lump in her throat is thank you. The tears trickle down the sides of her face in the dark.

She stays at her parents’ house. She writes thank-you notes that are mostly apologies. She goes to brunch with the friends who were supposed to be her bridesmaids, tells them it just didn’t feel right, I knew I’d regret it. None of them mention the cost of the bachelorette weekend last spring, but Will knows they’re all thinking it. When her mom asks, Will tells her she can pick up the dress if she wants. Will doesn’t want to see it. Every time she drives past the country club, the sick feeling in her stomach twists into a hard knot of shame.

On the September Saturday when Will was supposed to get married, Grace makes her go for a hike in New Hampshire. Golden leaves drift over the top of the low stone wall along the trail. At the top of the mountain, granite hills and colorful trees spread out below them. The lake in the valley sparkles in the autumn sunshine. They eat burgers at a roadside diner afterwards and drive back into Massachusetts after dusk, and then the day is over. It’s over, it’s done, it’s finally behind her, and now everything else is ahead.

She starts commuting into the office again. When coworkers ask, she tells them the Midwest didn’t work out. The engagement didn’t work out. After that, there aren’t any conversations about how unreliable she was last summer. She stays on top of her inbox, meets her deadlines early. Never misses a meeting. 

Boston’s not the same. Her old places are all Gabe’s old places too. Her friends are all Gabe’s friends. Most of them aren’t reaching out. Even the ones who are on her side seem confused by her. They don’t understand, because Will can’t imagine telling anyone the real story.

She thinks about going out. Thinks about getting on the apps. Trying to figure out… whatever it is she has to figure out. She can’t manage to pull the trigger. Someone could see her, recognize her.

Losing Boston, or at least the version of Boston she used to love, feels like another breakup. A separate grief just as painful as her grief for Gabe and everything their life was supposed to be. But Will ends it just as unflinchingly as she did her engagement. She finds a new job, something in finance or business or law in New York City, because that’s the place you’re supposed to go to start over.

The details of the job aren’t important. All that’s important is that it’s a job where beauty and breeding and ruthlessness are assets, and Will’s able to leverage all three to the hilt. Oh, and also it’s in an established industry where Rick Celebrini is a known and feared figure.

Will makes the connection pretty quickly when she’s introduced to her coworker Macklin. Mack is a half-step ahead of her at all times and it would be infuriating for Will, if she didn’t like him so much. Or if he didn’t like her so much. Everyone tells them they’re such a great team, hitting all their metrics, seizing opportunities, climbing the ladder together. Will sees in Mack a kind of internal steeliness that matches her own, which isn’t that surprising from someone who was raised by Rick.

Will’s kept cautious by the pervasive sense that she would fuck up anything she started with Mack. That’s what she does. She ruins things. She ruined everything with Gabe, and she’ll ruin anything she starts with another guy. And she really can’t afford to ruin anything with Rick Celebrini’s son. She’s found her niche in this industry, and getting on the wrong side of Rick would mean starting over, again.

So Will remains just as impervious as she can be. Even as she and Mack get closer and closer, and everyone in the firm starts to talk about them as a dynamic duo, and their rising stars are more and more closely linked together, she keeps everything strictly professional. Sometimes her eyes follow the lines of Mack’s three-piece suits not just to appreciate the tailoring, and as soon as she catches herself she looks the other way.

(She’s scared. Scared that nothing’s ever going to feel like it did with Ryan. Scared that nobody else is ever going to love her as much as Gabe did. She’s scared she doesn’t understand what she wants and that she’ll never figure it out. She’s scared there’s something fundamentally wrong with her and that’s why she hurts people. She’s scared that how much she likes Mack means she’s going to hurt him too. She’s scared and nobody knows it, least of all Will.)

Mack’s fascinated by her, and all the more fascinated because of the total blank of her personal life. When he tries to draw her out, he learns about growing up in Lexington, prep school and field hockey, going to BC. They talk about Boston, joke about their BC/BU rivalry, threaten to bet on the Beanpot. Will goes to office happy hours, is clever and engaging at client dinners. But she dodges all questions about what her life is like outside of work. Mack doesn’t know anything about her friends, doesn’t know whether she’s dating anybody, doesn’t even know whether she’s straight.

But Mack knows the connection’s there, and he’s going to keep trying. Picture those gifs from the 49ers game: Mack’s trying to get Will’s attention, and Will’s ignoring him, and Mack doesn’t even care. He’s willing to work for it. He wants to work for it. That’s how Rick raised him: how hard you work is the measure of how much you care.

One day Will rounds the corner by the elevators and walks into a knot of coworkers talking about some smart maneuver Mack pulled, something he talked over with Will in advance so she immediately recognizes a reference to a client or a contract term. “No dick, but he’s got plenty of balls,” says someone with their back to Will, and everyone who saw her come around the corner gets an awkward expression on their faces.

Will gives them the same look of icy disdain she uses to shut down people who call her Mack’s work wife. Someone says loudly that they’ve got a conference call starting in a few and the group hurriedly dissolves, except one office gossip who caught Will’s momentary confusion and has been simply dying for an excuse to have a conversation with her on this topic. She follows Will into the elevator. “Didn’t you know he’s trans?” she says as soon as he doors close. “It’s all very hush-hush, nobody ever says anything because Rick’s bitten a few heads off about it. I was there at an off-site when he literally yelled at someone about pronouns.”

(Just imagine Rick Celebrini when his kid announces he’s a boy. Okay, says Rick, not in so many words, if you’re a boy you’d better be the most boy you can be. What are you doing today to be a better boy? Mack’s grown up with Rick micromanaging his medical care and tailoring his punishing workouts to achieve some not entirely defined standard of masculinity and generally making Mack feel like he’s not working hard enough if he’s not at all times trying to be The Most Boy. Rick does not react kindly to anyone who suggests that Mack is anything other than his son… including and especially Mack, who is immediately reminded that he is All Boy, Only Boy if there’s ever any suggestion he might stray from Rick’s expectations of masculinity. Mack knows better than to say yes when the menswear stores he frequents suggest a pink shirt or a floral tie to go with one of those three-piece suits.)

Not that Will knows any of that. She dials the iciness a few degrees colder and hums the most neutral hmmm in her vocabulary until her coworker blessedly exits the elevator, disappointed by Will’s unsatisfying reaction.

Will lets the doors close. She punches the button for a different floor without looking at the display, aiming generally for something a long way away.

It’s just a surprise, that’s all. That’s why her heart’s racing, the unexpectedness of it. A confounding variable in the already tangled mess of Will trying to sort out her own identity. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything on the long list of reasons why she needs to keep Mack firmly in valued colleague/work best friend territory.

It’s a chink in the wall, though. And a wall that’s already being subjected to Mack’s considerable efforts, as well as geologic forces beyond Will’s control, is going to crumble eventually.

It happens at the holiday party. Some swanky venue rented out for the night, marble pillars, parquet floors. Raw seafood on ice, top-shelf drinks. Towering centerpieces with pine boughs and crystals. Will, in her classy little black dress, doesn’t have a date, of course. Neither does Mack, in his black suit with some requisite element of lowkey corporate festive. A red plaid vest, a tie with tiny holly berries on it, something like that.

They circulate through cocktail hour like the pros they are, catching glimpses of each other through the crowd, always aware of where the other one is. Somebody’s seated them at the same table for dinner (Mack might have had something to do with this) and after a couple of glasses of champagne Will forgets that she ought to be making holiday-appropriate small talk with everyone else at the table and she starts doing what she actually wants to do, which is talk to Mack. Mack, with his blue eyes and soft hair and strong fingers tapping the base of his rocks glass, making Will feel like she’s at her witty, charming best. Basically, everyone else is Tyler Toffoli on the plane and Will and Mack are in their own little world.

They sneak sideways glances at each other during the speeches and toasts, silent acknowledgement of corporate inside jokes. Will doesn’t look at Mack when Rick’s got the spotlight, but she can feel him sitting up straighter next to her, a little bit of extra rigidity in his spine.

After dessert the table groups start to dissolve and word starts to spread among Mack and Will’s coworkers, the younger crowd, about where the afterparty’s headed. Mack catches Will at the edge of a conversation and says something low into her ear, just for her. Want to go someplace else?

Will does.

Mack takes her someplace loud and anonymous, with more drinks and a crowded dance floor. Will doesn’t shrug off Mack’s hand at the small of her back. They dance, closer and closer together, and Will’s eyes are shining, and when Mack finally kisses her Will kisses back like she’s drowning. 

I’m calling a car, Mack says, and Will doesn’t let go, too much adrenaline and champagne and desperation to think about whether this is theoretically a bad idea. It’s been so long since somebody she cares about has touched her. Mack’s apartment is quiet and tasteful and Will barely sees it. She doesn’t want Mack to be something that happens to her. If this is happening, she’s going to make it happen just as much as Mack is.

If I was going to write a sex scene here it would be about how the expectations of masculinity that Rick has imposed on Mack have taken root in Mack’s assumptions about how he ought to have sex, and how that does or doesn’t align with what Mack actually wants, and how all of that collides with what Will wants, which is to eat that boy’s pussy.

Will falls asleep with her head on Mack’s chest and wakes up with the enormity of it all setting in. This is big, this is huge, and nothing that happened last night alleviated the underlying fear that she’s going to fuck it all up.

Mack can practically feel the tension radiating across the sheets at him. He reaches for Will. “I don’t want this to be a one-off.”

This does not have the desired effect of Will relaxing into him. Heart sinking, Mack tries again. “It can be if you want, though.” The pinch in Will’s brows doesn’t go away. Mack scoots back so he’s not touching her. “Just so you know, that’s really not what I want.” In the absence of a response, Mack starts desperation-yapping. “I know there’s something here, and I think you do to, and last night felt…”

Will’s eyes are huge across the gap between their pillows. She has to say something. “I’m a bad bet,” is what comes out. “I break everything.”

“Are you saying that because you want me to walk away?” Mack’s hoping that’s a quick answer, but Will looks like she’s actually thinking about it, so he keeps talking. “Do you want me to walk away?”

Very quietly, against the pillow, Will admits it. No.

Mack exhales. “Like, I’m not gonna. It’ll have to be you.”

He grins, like this is a joke, and it infuriates Will because he doesn’t understand. It’s not funny. Will’s warning him that he’s going to get hurt and he’s laughing. “That’s what I’m worried about,” Will hisses through her gritted teeth.

“That you’ll break up with me?” Mack, incredulous. “I can take it. That’s not a reason not to, like, try.” He reaches for Will again and Will lets him. “I could change my mind and dump your ass too.”

Will gives him a scornful look at the suggestion that anyone could ever break up with her, and Mack cracks up because it’s such an extremely Will reaction. “Let’s just be good, okay?” Will lets herself be pulled into his arms. “Until you break up with me, and I’ll deal with it. We can be good for now, right?”

Will whispers it against his lips before she kisses him. So good.

Eventually they get up. Will picks through Mack’s collection of sweats and ends up in a Canucks hoodie and Lulu joggers because she refuses to wear anything that has BU on it. They get coffee, and while they’re drinking it at opposite ends of Mack’s couch with their feet tangled together in the middle, Mack says I think you should tell me more about what you said earlier. About breaking everything.

Will’s silent, turning the sleeve of her coffee around and around the cup. There’s no way to avoid it. Mack’s going to have to find out sometime, if they’re going to do this. And Will really, increasingly every second, wants them to do this. “I was engaged,” she says, watching Mack. She can practically see his mouth forming questions, but he waits. “Like two years… three years ago now. My college boyfriend. Gabe. We were together for seven years. We moved to [Midwest city].”

“You lived in [Midwest city]?” Macklin’s laughing. “I can’t even picture it.”

“I know, right?” Will briefly experiences the warm glow of being known before she gets back to business. “It didn’t work. I cheated on him.” Will takes a deep breath. “Like, a lot. Her name was Ryan.”

She watches for Mack’s reaction to the pronoun, but he just nods. When Will doesn’t say anything else, Mack asks, “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know.” Will used to think about googling, but there’s no place to start. Ryan. The dive bar. The city. That’s all she knows. “It wasn’t… like that.”

“What happened to Gabe?”

“I ended it.” Will doesn’t have to google Gabe. He pops up in suggested posts, in her friends’ tags. He has a new girlfriend. They got a puppy. “It was, like, not very long before the wedding,” she adds, just so Mack knows how awful she is. “It really, really sucked.” Will puts all of the anguish of that brutal September into each really.

Mack forms his next question carefully. “Did you break up with him because he was a guy, or because he wasn’t the right guy?” 

“I don’t know.” Will lifts her chin defiantly. It’s the most vulnerable thing she’s ever said. Here’s my fucked up situation. Here’s what you’re getting into. 

“What’s that mean for me?” Mack does not relate to identity crises, having had his own identity rigorously reinforced since adolescence (or so he thinks). “Being… the guy that I am.”

“Oh, are you trans? I hadn’t noticed,” Will says, like she didn’t have her tongue in his pussy ten hours earlier.

Mack laughs, and that’s enough vulnerability for two people who don’t like it and are going to have to figure that part out later. “We should have dinner next weekend, if you don’t break up with me before then.”

If I was not inherently resistant to established relationship fic, there would be a lot to explore here. Chiefly, I’m intrigued by what happens when Rick’s singleminded focus on Mack’s masculinity (and the not-necessarily-positive ways that Mack has internalized that), collide with Will’s attraction to Mack, which is not premised on masculinity. Will’s got to figure her own shit out somewhere along the way, but she’s at least pretty sure that 100 percent masculinity is not on her list of priorities in a partner. I think that Rick is immediately welcoming to Will, to a degree that’s almost curious, and Will and Mack slowly realize that in Rick’s eyes Mack’s earned some kind of manhood badge by bringing home a hot girlfriend. Also, as ever, there’s a plot to be made out of Rick treating Will like another Celebrini child who warrants Rick’s micromanaging, and Will figuring out how to resist that without alienating Rick, and along the way prompting some realizations for Mack about the ways in which his Sheriff Rick upbringing was maybe a little bit fucked up.

Anyway. Here’s how the story would end. Mack makes it a running joke about Will breaking up with him. What do you want to do for Valentines’ Day, if you don’t break up with me before then? At first it’s jarring, and then it’s a comfort, a little reassurance that Mack still likes her enough that he’s willing to risk it all going wrong. Yeah, I could do Thanksgiving in Lexington if you’re not going to break up with me… Do you want to come to Whistler with us this year, if you haven’t dumped me by then?... I’m going to book our flight for R.J.’s graduation weekend unless you want to break up first. And then, over time, it starts to become jarring again. We should move in together when your lease is up if you’re not going to break up with me.

“Stop saying that,” Will finally says. “I’m not going to.”

“You’re not going to break up with me?” Mack’s about to fist-pump over his long game paying off. “Like ever?”

“Like ever,” Will confirms, and Mack can’t get down on one knee fast enough.

[newtafterdark]

My buddy @danstillcreates and I recently went through the "Welcome Home" site together & left with awe for the gorgeous art, writing and voiceacting... as well as a few theories.

Specifically what we've started to call the "Black Mold Theory"-

-which reminded me of another moldy man who did not ask to get put into situations™... Ethan Winters.

[silvr-skreen]

"Not all who wander"

[every-sanji]

[juanasfanart]

I CANT STOP DRAWING FINDING FRANKIE STUFF ISTG

[chai-en-kaadhale]

RAHHH BENE GESSERIT DESIGN

+ original sketches under the cut

[shima-draws]

Thinks about how the Straw Hats were separated for 2 whole ass years and how much they must have missed each other and explodes

[frnkiebby]

we love a good whore on the floor~🎃

[rabidogbite]

Call Them Brothers by @wutheringmights / bordado y transfer sobre tela (2008) by Ana Teresa Barboza / הבל | hevel by @/nathanielorion / Serie: Detective Cha is Dead by dir. Kim Cheol-gyu / Serie: Tale of the Nine Tailed by dir. Nam Hyeong Jo & Kang Sin-hyo / Untitled by Liam Cushing / Angel of Grief, grave of Emelyn Story by William Wetmore Story / Serie: Arcane, Episode 7.- Pretend like it's the first time.

[blashdafish]

"Sorry, my friends and I weren't on the guest list." "It's fine, enjoy the party!"

@thetisming

bonus

was gonna add some more with actual effort but got eepy 😔

[gloombeaches]

some of my fav fruit ghoul minis!

[camels-pen]

consider sanuso bodyswap where Sanji is of course "admiring" Usopp's body and Usopp is trying desperately to keep himself from getting worked up so that he doesn't light himself on fire.

Luffy and Chopper are not helping. They are in fact doing the opposite of helping. They've ramped up their pranks and are doing anything possible to get Usopp angry so that he combusts, freaks out, and then dives into the ocean to put himself out. They think it's hilarious.

Nami and Brook are Also not helping, since they're conspiring with Sanji to put on a fashion show with Usopp's body. Sanji called it "not wasting a precious opportunity to get him in something other than overalls". Usopp called it mutiny and he was gonna- dive into the ocean, holy fuck Sanji why is it so easy to catch fire?!

Best part about this is that Sanji assured him, several times, that his body doesn't get hurt by catching fire. Usopp still jumps into the ocean every time.

Robin pipes up at one point, asking if Sanji was immune to just his own flames or all flames. Sanji just kind of shrugs and said it depends. Franky, having just been leisurely watching all of this gets an idea. Would his Franky Fireball hurt Sanji's body or just give him more fire to work with?

He tries to coax Usopp into agreeing to test it out and, somehow, he manages it. Albeit, Usopp is all knocking knees and chattering teeth, a very odd sight from 'Sanji'. As part of the deal though, he can only shoot a fireball the size of his hand.

Usopp meant his small hand. The one Franky used for tinkering and fine detail work. He did not, however, clarify this.

So, when a fireball the size of Franky's big hand comes out, well. Usopp runs for his goddamn life.

It takes him a few moments- and the voices of his friends sounding distant and below him- to realize he hadn't, in fact, run to the men's quarters, but rather into the fucking sky.

And oooooh, boy he is gonna kill Sanji one of these days. Why was his body's first fucking instinct when running to go up, what the actual HELL-

Usopp lit himself on fire again.

He curses out Sanji as his Sky Walk fails in the same moment and he plummets towards the deck.