#and then cut to leverage crew.

[katierosefun]

rewatching the first episode of leverage is so funny to me because any time one of the team members goes “yeah, we trust nate because he’s an honest man” oh they have no fucking clue what they’ve just walked themselves into

[pucksandpower]

Crazy Cravings

Max Verstappen x wife!Reader

Summary: pregnancy cravings can make you (and your husband) do crazy things … neither of you particularly minds

Warnings: 18+ content and pregnancy

You sit in the Red Bull Racing garage, feeling the warm Spanish sun on your face through the open door. The roar of engines and whirring of power tools surrounds you as the mechanics prepare for the race.

Your eyes are drawn to the iconic blue and silver cans scattered around the garage. Those tantalizing cans of Red Bull that everyone else seems to be drinking so casually.

Everyone except you and Max, that is.

You rub your rounded belly, feeling your precious cargo kick and squirm inside you. At six months pregnant, your cravings have been … intense, to say the least. But none more powerful than your longing for the crisp, fizzy taste of Red Bull.

The caffeine is off limits, of course. You would never dream of jeopardizing your baby’s health. But oh, how you crave that sweet, energizing flavor that used to be such a routine part of your life.

Max emerges from the back room, his bright grey eyes instantly finding you. He strides over, that effortless confidence and raw athleticism making your heart flutter, even after all these years. His gaze drifts to the Red Bull can in a mechanic’s hand and a grimace crosses his face.

“Liefje, are you alright?” He murmurs, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “I know how much those are torturing you lately.”

You force a smile, not wanting him to worry. “I’m fine, Maxie. Just … ignoring the siren call of carbonated temptation.”

His thumb strokes your cheek as he studies you, clearly not convinced. Max has been so incredibly supportive during this pregnancy, abstaining from Red Bull himself in solidarity. Cutting out his biggest vice, just so you don’t have to be tormented by the sight and scent of it everywhere.

“We should get you out of here,” he says, looping an arm around your waist to help leverage your bulk out of the chair. “The smells can’t be helping those crazy cravings.”

You open your mouth to protest, not wanting to pull him away from his work, but a fresh wave of dizzying desire hits you as a mechanic cracks open another can. The fizzing hiss and unmistakable scent make your mouth water uncontrollably.

“Max ...” you whisper, feeling your throat tighten with barely restrained craving and hormonal tears prickling your eyes.

He follows your yearning gaze to the Red Bull can and understanding dawns. “Oh, liefje ...” Scooping you into his arms, he strides from the garage, shooting an apologetic look at his crew.

Once outside in the fresh air, you bury your face against Max’s shoulder, inhaling his familiar, comforting cologne as he carries you to the motorhome. He eases you onto the couch, brushing kisses along your forehead and temple.

“I’m so sorry, schatje,” he murmurs, anguish lining his handsome features. “I hate seeing you suffer like this. If there was any way I could make the cravings stop ...”

You catch his hand, lacing your fingers through his calloused ones. “Max, you know I would never actually ask you to give up Red Bull, right?”

He shakes his head fiercely. “Not being able to have it for nine months is nothing compared to your sacrifice, carrying our baby. I don’t deserve you.”

Pulling him down beside you, you cup the chiseled line of his jaw, making him meet your gaze. “I happen to think you deserve the very best, Mr. Verstappen. And right now, the very best for both of us would be ...” Your voice cracks with fresh longing. “A damn Red Bull.”

Max’s eyes blaze with sudden determination, that iron willpower that has made him a champion coming to life. “Then that’s what I’ll get you. If those tossers at Red Bull Company won’t make a safe, caffeine-free version for pregnant women, I’ll personally make them regret it.”

You laugh shakily. “Max, you can’t just bully a corporation into creating a new product line for one person’s weird craving!”

“You’re not just one person,” he growls, tangling his fingers in your hair and bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “You’re my everything. And our baby deserves for its mother to be happy and have her cravings satisfied.”

Pressing a fierce kiss to your lips, he adds, “I’m calling them right now. And then straight to the CEO, if I have to. I’ll get you that Red Bull if it’s the last thing I do.”

True to his word, the indomitable Max Verstappen spends the next several days working every possible connection and calling in every favor. You catch bits of conversations, his clipped tones making it clear just how serious he is about this bizarre quest.

“No, I don’t care if it’s not ‘cost-effective’. This is for my very pregnant wife ...”

“She’s risking her health to grow an entire person! The least your company can do is make a freaking caffeine-free energy drink ...”

The crew quickly learns not to open any Red Bull around you, lest they face the wrath of an overprotective Max. Which is slightly embarrassing … but also incredibly sweet.

Your hormones most definitely approve.

Finally, there’s a break in the stalemate. Helmut Marko himself shows up at the motor home, those bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows furrowed.

“Max, this is ridiculous. They will not reconfigure an entire product line just because Y/N is having a little … craving.”

You brace yourself for the explosion, but Max just levels Helmut with that intense stare. “If you could experience these cravings yourself, you would be singing a different tune. Y/N is sacrificing everything to have our baby. The least Red Bull can do is give her a safe option to have the flavor she misses so much.”

Helmut’s expression softens slightly at the obvious devotion in Max’s voice. “You know that corporate will never go for it. Not for just one person ...”

“Then make it for all the other pregnant women dealing with the same issues,” Max returns, unruffled. “Or is a company that plasters ‘Gives You Wings’ on every can really too cowardly to follow through on empowering people?”

You suck in a shocked breath at his daring play. But the flicker of anger and resigned capitulation in Helmut’s eyes shows that it worked.

“Fine, you little shit,” the older man growls. “I’ll talk to product development. But I’m not making any promises!”

Except somehow … Max’s sheer bullheaded tenacity eventually batters through all the corporate resistance and red tape. Three weeks later, an unmistakable bright blue can appears on the counter, the iconic Red Bull logo stamped across it.

“What’s this?” You ask in confusion.

Max slides an arm around your waist, beaming proudly. “Open it and see.”

You crack the seal, sniffing cautiously … and almost melt at the nostalgic, beloved scent of Red Bull. But just as you start to panic about caffeine, you notice the slightly different flavor.

“Max, is this ...”

He nods, grinning. “Zero caffeine but all the taste you’ve been craving. No more tears over those damn energy drink cans, okay?”

Throwing your arms around him, you yank his head down to capture his mouth in a grateful kiss. “Have I mentioned lately how incredible you are?”

“Once or twice,” he jokes, then sobers, cupping your belly. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you and our baby happy.”

“You’re giving me everything I ever wanted and more.” You take a long pull of the perfectly flavored liquid, sighing in blissful satisfaction. “We hit the jackpot with you, Max Verstappen.”

He kisses you again, reveling in your obvious enjoyment. “The only jackpot I need is right here.”

***

Your baby bump has popped out to truly impressive proportions now at eight months along. What started as an innocent craving for Red Bull has escalated into an all-out physiological war.

Nothing seems to satisfy you for long — you’re a walking bundle of hormones and insatiable desires.

From the plush solitude of the Red Bull hospitality suite, you try not to gaze wistfully toward the Ferrari encampment. But you can’t resist fixating on the tantalizing cones of rich gelato constantly streaming from their hospitality tent.

Watching a couple of Ferrari mechanics stroll by, licking at scoops of pistachio and stracciatella, is enough to kickstart a powerful new yearning. Your mouth waters shamelessly as they pass, the creamy dessert leaving you weak in the knees. Before you can overthink it, you’re shuffling toward the entrance, one hand cradling your belly.

“Scusi,” you call out hesitantly as you peek inside. “Mi dispiace … is it possible to get some gelato?”

You half expect to be waved away — it’s well known that the Ferrari team is notoriously insular and protective of their spoils. But the cheerful greeting you receive is instantaneous and overwhelming.

“Madonna mia! Look at this beautiful piccina!”

Suddenly you’re engulfed by a whirlwind of chattering Italian voices, greeted by smiling faces from the team of elderly signoras who comprise the Ferrari hospitality staff. Weathered hands pat your belly and cheeks, clucking sympathetically at your swollen state.

“You poor bambina, absolutely enorme! Of course we’ll get you some gelato to refresh you. And biscotti too! You need to keep up your energy, si?”

You’re ushered toward a plush sofa, various grandmotherly types fussing over you like you’re the most delicate, precious thing. It’s … surprisingly wonderful. They clearly adore babies and pregnant women. You get the sense that indulging a mother-to-be is hardwired into their very beings.

A tray of gelato cups appears, the rainbow of flavors almost dazzling in their variety — chocolate, pistachio, prickly pear, lemon, stracciatella. Before you can reach for one, it’s plucked from your grasp.

“No no no! Leave it to Nonna Maria.” A stout signora with a green paisley dress and frosted silver curls shakes her head sternly. “I’ll start you with the lemon to whet your appetite. Then a nice creamy stracciatella as a proper treat for the bambino.”

The tangy flavor of the lemon gelato hits your craving exquisitely. As soon as you’ve polished off that cup, Nonna Maria presents another brimming with the creamy chocolate chip perfection of stracciatella. You moan in appreciation, unbothered by the chorus of approving noises from your doting new entourage.

Before you know it, you’ve been plied with cups of hazelnut, strawberry, and caramel flavors as well. These hospitable Italian ladies simply won’t be deterred from pampering a future mamma. As you scrape the last smears of gelato from a ramekin, a new grandmother settles on the sofa beside you.

“Now ... tell Nonna Gina what this little maschietto or bambina has been craving, eh?” She pats your belly affectionately. “We have chefs who can whip up anything your heart desires!”

Is it a pregnancy thing, this sudden wave of tears that blurs your vision? Or just being so insanely touched by the kindness and maternal care of these lovely strangers? You blink rapidly, swallowing hard.

“Honestly … gelato has been my biggest craving these past couple days. I don’t know if I can eat another bite.”

A chorus of disapproving gasps and tuts rises from the assembled grandmothers. “Bah! This pregnancy has ruined your appetite, piccina,” one crows, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ll soon get it back to rights, don’t you worry.”

For the next hour, you’re lavished with attention, fussed over and coddled like the most precious jewel. Cold drinks and chilled towels appear to keep you comfortable as the nonnas take turns sitting with you, petting your belly and swapping outrageous birth stories.

Their colorful Italian voices swell and ebb as they bicker over whose recipe for pasta al ragu is most authentic, who has the most grandchildren, and whose first-born grandson is most handsome.

It’s chaos and noise and overwhelming affection … and you’ve never felt so utterly content.

As the afternoon light slants golden through the awning, a familiar figure appears in the entrance, haloed by the fiery rays.

“Liefje? I’ve been looking everywhere ...” Max’s disbelieving gaze sweeps over the scene in front of him — you, surrounded by a veritable coven of grandmotherly Italians who seem entirely absorbed with you. “What in the world ...”

A chubby signora with a bright orange shawl wrapped around her ample form hops up, beaming widely. “Ahh! We have been absolutely spoiling your beautiful wife, of course. Did you know she had a craving for gelato? Well, no problem for us — we have taken her like one of our own bambinas!”

The others cluck and murmur in outraged agreement at his shocked expression.

“We absolutely will not let a piccina in such a state go hungry or uncomfortable! Now you sit down so we can get you a plate of some proper food too!”

Max gapes at you, utterly nonplussed as you grin back at him with unabashed glee, utterly stuffed with Italian desserts and reveling in the indulgent babying. You pat the space beside you invitingly.

“You’ve got to try Nonna Gina’s tiramisu, Maxie. It’ll knock your socks off.”

He settles beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulders and still looking rather dazed. But the instant the first warm smile and pat lands on his arm or knee, Max’s expression melts. This team of fussing Italian grandmothers has clearly adopted you both as their own.

Nonna Maria reappears, shoving a plate stacked with crispy arancini, indulgent risotto alla Milanese, and a creamy slice of tiramisu into your husband’s hands. “Eat up! You need to keep your strength up too, caring for this sweet cosa bella.” She plants bristly kisses on both your cheeks before scurrying off again.

Max watches her go, then turns to you with a bemused chuckle, squeezing you close. “Well, schatje. I have to hand it to you — at least your pregnancy cravings bring you to some … interesting places.”

You hum in agreement, perfectly content as you snuggle against his side. “Can you really think of a better place for me to nest?” You grin as another nonna appears to pat his cheek, welcoming him into the chaotic fold. “I think I may have just found my second family.”

He tilts your chin up, eyes sparkling with warmth. “Anything that makes you happy and keeps our baby healthy.”

As he kisses you tenderly, surrounded by clucking encouragement and rapturous croons of “bello, bellisimo” from your new Italian grandmothers, you know you’ve never felt so blissfully cherished.

You and Max make your way slowly back to the Red Bull motorhome, stuffed to the gills with gelato and trailed by a gaggle of besotted well-wishers calling out farewells and advice.

“I still can’t believe you managed to befriend the entirety of Ferrari hospitality,” Max laughs, helping ease you onto the couch in his driver’s room. He nudges your belly playfully. “This little one is shaping up to be quite the international charmer!”

“Says the man who single-handedly compelled Red Bull to create an entirely new product line,” you point out, patting your swollen middle contentedly. “I have a feeling this baby is going to be the most spoiled child on earth.”

Max settled beside you, gathering you close with a tender smile. “Can you blame all our people for wanting to give the world to you two?” His thumb traced your jawline reverently. “You’re carrying a little miracle, liefje.”

Your breath catches, as it so often did when he looks at you like that. Like you’re his entire universe. With so much pure adoration and love shining in those grey eyes.

“Our miracle,” you correct softly, cradling his calloused hand over your belly. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Not just supporting me … but giving me everything I could ever dream of.”

He opens his mouth like he wanted to protest, but you press on, needing him to understand how treasured he makes you feel.

“You don’t stop until I’m happy. Even when I get these raging, random cravings that probably seem crazy, you move heaven and earth to give me whatever I need. Most people would never ...”

“Neither of us is most people,” Max interrupts fiercely. He presses a searing kiss to your lips, then the swell of your abdomen. “You and our little one are my entire world. I’ll spend every day showing you how much I love you both, how grateful I am to have you in my life.”

Hormones raging, you pull his mouth back to yours, savoring the taste and feel of him surrounding you. When you finally part, you rest your forehead against his.

“In that case, you better rest up for tonight,” you tease. “I have a feeling that someone’s going to get a craving for sardines and waffles right around midnight.”

***

At nine months pregnant, you feel like a blissfully beached whale.

Your belly protrudes so massively that you can barely see your feet anymore. Simple tasks like tying your shoes or rolling over in bed have become awkward geometric obstacles. Max has to help you up from every chair or couch, his strong arms levering your frame into a vertical position.

Lingering in the paddock is no longer an option either. You’ve been gently but firmly ordered back home to Monaco to prepare for the baby’s arrival.

Thank goodness your nesting instincts are going full tilt — otherwise you might go stir crazy waiting for this little one to make their grand debut. You’ve rearranged and re-organized the nursery a dozen times, washed and rewashed all the tiny onesies and miniature accessories, and baked enough lactation cookies to feed an army of nursing mothers.

Really, there’s only one craving occupying your mind now …

The thump of shoes in the hall makes you look up eagerly. Max appears in the doorway of the sunlit nursery, loose waves of brown hair framing his face. The plain white tee stretches enticingly across his chest and shoulders, making your mouth water for an entirely different reason than food.

“Hey schatje,” he greets, eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes in your flushed cheeks. A knowing smirk tugs at one side of his mouth. “Were you just ... thinking about me?”

You shake your head adamantly, wincing as the motion makes your whole body ache in protest. “Maybe just a little. This particular craving is getting out of control.”

Crossing to you in two strides, Max cups your jaw and brings your lips crashing together in a searing kiss. His tongue sweeps demanding and possessive into your mouth, making you whimper faintly. That intoxicating masculine scent of fresh sweat, motor oil, and sandalwood surrounds you in an alluring cloud.

After all these years, just the taste and smell of your husband is enough to drench you in molten wanting. Baby or no baby, Max Verstappen is still the sexiest goddamn thing on two legs.

“Mmm, I know exactly what you need,” he rumbles against your neck, nipping a tingling path along your sensitive skin. “Luckily for you, I’ve got a free schedule all afternoon to help take care of this craving ...”

He scoops you into his arms effortlessly, cradling your heavy weight against his chest to carry you to the bedroom. You twine your arms shamelessly around his neck, luxuriating in the hard strength of his body against yours.

“Aren’t you worried about ... squashing the baby?”

“Not at all,” he deposits you carefully on the bed. Those bright grey eyes darken with blazing lust. “I’m going to take such good care of you and our little one.”

His hands and mouth seem to be everywhere at once — caressing, nibbling, and stroking every sensitive inch he can lavish adoring attention on. You keen softly when he dips his tongue into your navel, rubbing reverent circles over the tight swell of your belly.

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” Max murmurs, lips brushing the crease where your torso and bump meet. “So ripe and round and radiant with our child. My beautiful, strong girl ...”

All you can do is lie there gasping, overwhelmed in the best possible way. He strips you methodically, leaving a trail of scorching, openmouthed kisses over every newly exposed inch.

“My sexy little pregnant wife,” he husks, tongue dragging up the slick crease at the apex of your thighs. “Can’t resist this craving can you, liefje?”

His fingers plunge inside you, curling expertly as his mouth closes over your throbbing bud. You throw your head back shamelessly, mindless with pleasure as Max devours you.

So good, so unbearably good …

He ravishes you thoroughly, sending gushing waves of release crashing through your body over and over again until you’re gasping and quivering. Atoms of blissful satisfaction hum in your bloodstream as you float back into sweet oblivion.

An insistent nudge against your belly slowly rouses you. Max looms over you, hair deliciously rumpled and eyes glittering wickedly. “Did I satisfy that craving sufficiently? Or should I keep going?”

Your mouth curves in a greedy smile, hands gliding over his flexing shoulders and chest. “Again, please ...”

It had long since become a running gag around the paddock and team — before you were advised to stop flying. When you couldn’t be located, someone would joke that you must be off ravaging your utterly besotten husband yet again.

Max took the ribbing with surprising grace, grinning unrepentantly whenever his shirt collar revealed another blossom of lovebites discoloring the skin of his throat.

You really didn’t care about the teasing. You’re indulging an entirely healthy and normal craving — just a wife thoroughly appreciating her man.

“Can you believe people used to call this a punishment?” You giggle breathlessly one afternoon.

Max nips a stinging path along the soft skin of your inner thighs, tracing tantalizingly close to your heated center. He laves his tongue soothingly over the reddened marks, leering up at you from between your parted legs.

“Let them call it whatever they want. I’m just taking advantage of your hormones making you insatiable for me.”

“Mmm, well I can’t seem to resist your obscenely perfect body either,” you admit with a lazy stretch. “Maybe we really are being punished.”

One dark brow wings up eloquently as Max drags his eyes over you in a deliberately insolent perusal. Taking your leg in hand, he licks an achingly slow, filthy stripe up the crease where thigh meets hip.

You choke on a whimper, whole body jolting as he sucks a blossom of wet kisses into the satiny expanse of your inner thigh. Those bright grey eyes hold yours in wicked challenge as his clever tongue massages and swirls over your sensitized flesh.

“This certainly doesn’t seem like punishment to me,” he husks darkly. “Does it feel like punishment when I do this ...” His mouth moves higher. “Or this ...”

By the time he finishes torturing you into a quivering, needy wreck, you’re more than ready to beg.

“Please, Max!” You sob, bucking helplessly against the maddening sensations. “I need you, oh god I need you so bad ...”

He settles heavily over you, nuzzling your hair aside to trail searing kisses along your damp throat. “Then you shall have me. My needy wife can have whatever she craves ...”

It’s midway through one such shattering round of lovemaking that Max’s phone begins to ring shrilly. You try to disentangle, burning embarrassment tinting your cheeks, but he simply growls and clutches you tighter.

“Leave it!” He bites out, surging forward to recapture your mouth in a bruising clash of teeth and tongue between thrusts. “I’m busy ... satisfying … my wife ...”

After, as you lie tangled in a sweaty heap of satiation, you can’t resist asking with a wry smile, “Was that another craving I just demanded you satisfy?”

Max props himself up on one elbow, thumb stroking idly along your abdomen as his piercing gaze roams over your flushed, disheveled form.

“Whatever my wife needs,” he responds huskily. Those burning eyes promise infinite carnal delights to come as they caress your body. “I’ll always crave giving her everything she desires.”

He stretches beside you, a blissful smile curving his lips as you snuggle up against his side to exchange lazy kisses.

You’ve got a sneaking suspicion this is one craving that might outlast the pregnancy ...

[sweatervesto]

a few years back, lockstin on youtube made a video coming up with ideas for a physical counterpart to eevee, making a lizard thing. i decided to do my take on it!!! THIS TOOK A REALLY LONG TIME!!!!!!!! dex entires under the cut!!!

Mugini, Mutation Pokémon

The environment in which it's born sways its development. These influences become more apparent with age. Mugini living in different climates have differently colored tongues.

Mugini’s evolution is determined by the environment it hatches in:

Deserzoa, Spade Pokémon, hatch in a desert

It digs into sand with its shovel-shaped head. The tunnels it leaves are too flat for most predators to pursue. Deserzoa burrows span across 30 miles of desert.

Petrazoa, Cave Dweller Pokémon, hatch in caves or underground

It clings to cave ceilings, acting as a stalactite. When its favorite prey, bat Pokémon, wander underneath, it drops straight down to impale them with its spines.

Metalzoa, Crush Ton Pokémon, hatch in a power plant or magnetic field

The ground is flattened with every step it takes, making it popular with construction crews. Its tail is magnetic and can detach, but no known force is strong enough to remove it.

Hercuzoa, Muscle Pokémon, hatch on a mountain side

It stands up using its weighted tail as leverage, though standing is difficult because of its underdeveloped hind legs. It grapples prey with its muscular arms and slams them around, until they stop moving.

Zephyrzoa, Daredevil Pokémon, hatch on ocean waters

This rare Pokémon glides 500 miles daily over oceans. It uses its head crest to detect changes in air pressure, taking optimal flight paths. They climb up high then dive, seeing who can open their wings closest to the ground without crashing.

Toxizoa, Warning Sign Pokémon, hatch in a city

A layer of toxins rests just beneath its skin. When threatened, a hormone reaction causes these toxins to light up. The bulbs hanging from its head store corrosive acids.

Kafkazoa, True Bug Pokémon, hatch in a forest or jungle

The scales on its body have fused to form armor plating. It disguises itself among insects, waiting for the moment to strike its next meal.

Necrozoa, Spirit Pokémon, hatch in a graveyard

A layer of dead skin clings to its body, trying to drag it to the next life. Mugini's dormant third eye is exposed under this translucent skin, allowing Necrozoa to see wayward spirits to eat.

the evolution will be random if it hatches on a typical grassy route!

[spenceragnewfics]

CLOSET MAKEOUT? i need details !!!

I ABSOLUTELY LOVED WRITING THIS!!! It was so fun and I hope you all love it!!

BABY I’M YOURS | Spencer Agnew x F!Reader

TW: Allusions to alcohol, making out, hickeys, 

Word Count: 1.4k

Description: During a Smosh company party, Spencer gets desperate to have some alone time with Y/N.

One thing about the people at Smosh, they love to party. It’s kind of surprising with most of them being introverts and liking to be alone. Y/N guesses it’s because they’re all like family which makes it easier but it’s not for her to understand, just enjoy.

The company had just finished a huge project and so everyone was getting a well deserved wrap party. Ian and Anthony fitted the bill for it all as a way to say thank you and to keep up morale as this was the first big project since the company had become independent again.

The drinks have been flowing for hours along with food and plenty of music that has kept people on the dance floor. Y/N is currently there dancing with Chanse, Erin D, Angela, and Courtney, enjoying being with some of her closest friends. 

Not too far away is the group of Shayne, Spencer, and Marcus V (Chanse’s boyfriend). The three are watching the group with different loving expressions, their significant others not too far away, enjoying themselves. “Marcus, I’m shocked you’re not over there with Chanse. You two usually kill the dance floor at these things.” Spencer says before taking a sip of his drink.

Marcus shrugs, “Eh, he seemed excited to dance with his girls right now. Also it’s cool to be in the partner circle now.” He says, making the two other men laugh. “Yeah, it was just me for a while until Y/N grew the extra ball to ask Spence out.” Shayne teases as the aforementioned man rolls his eyes.

“Okay, whatever, easy for you to say, Mr. Golden Boy. Cast members dating is one thing but crew dating is another.” Spencer says, leaning against a wall. “Yeah, but I’m glad you too finally broke the tension. It was killer, dude.”

“Yeah, I know, I was in it.” Spencer deadpans, making the two men next to him laugh. It was true, Spencer had liked Y/N for years but never took a chance because he would always psyche himself out with the whole crew members dating thing. Thankfully, Y/N told him how she felt, after many many talks with Courtney about if she should do it or not.

Zoning out of the conversation, Spencer focuses his gaze onto Y/N. He watches as her body flows with the music, her head back enjoying the music as if she’s in another world. Maybe she is as she looks over to her boyfriend, a silly smile on her face as she continues dancing.

The look brings his own smirk and he sets down his drink, “I’ll be back in a bit, guys.” He says, not caring to hear a response as he walks over to the dancefloor. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulls her against his chest as he leans down to her ear “Having fun, little peach?” He whispers in her ear before kissing her neck. The feeling of his lips making her giggle, “Very much, is there something I can help you with?” She asks as she leans her head back onto his shoulder.

“Yeah, you can come with me.” He says before grabbing her hand and walking away from the dance floor. “Spence, where are you taking me?” Y/N asks, them getting farther away from the music makes it easier for him to hear and the excitement is clear in her voice.

“Somewhere private, need to be alone for a bit.” Is all he says as they continue farther and farther away from the party. Looking around, he spots a closet and opens the door. He lets her in first before coming in and closing the door. “So what’s this all-Hm!” Y/N starts to say but is cut off as Spencer kisses her roughly.

His hands are cupping her cheeks as he pins them to the farthest wall. Her hands find place on his chest as her hands make fists with his shirt to keep some leverage.

The room is dark, not light except the small sliver coming from the door frame. That doesn’t stop the couple as the two only become more intertwined as moments pass.

Spencer moves his hands down to her waist, squeezing every few moments while Y/N has one hand tangled in his, once, nicely styled hair that is becoming messier as the seconds pass. Her other hand is on the side of his neck, gently scratching the back of his neck which gives him chills. 

Moving his lips down, he kisses her jaw then makes home on her neck. She sighs happily at the feeling, the sensitive skin becoming a lovely fire with his lips searching the territory.

Starting to leave open mouth kisses, he finds the most sensitive part of her neck. The attention to the area makes her whimper as he starts to suck and lick, making a mark to show the world who makes her feel good, loved, and safe.

“If you keep going like this, I think we’ll have to worry about staying quiet.” She teases as he continues leaving marks on her neck. He hums before pulling away, “I don’t we’d have to worry, it’s loud enough out there and no one would come down here anytime too soon.” He sounds like he is basically suggesting and she can tell the biggest grin is on his face.

She uses this moment as her opportunity to push him against the opposite wall. He lands with a gentle thud before he feels her body on him, “I thought it was time to switch it up a little.” She says before kissing him.

Their lips move together in a passionate furry as he pulls her as close to him as he can. Needing to feel her all over him, like he’s addicted which he just might be. Her lips move down to his neck, open kissings being the way of travel down before she starts to leave hickies in her own right on him.

The sounds of his groaning and moans make edge her on. It’s sounds that not many people have heard and it’s something she treasures and values so much during their time alone together.

Once she seems satisfied, her lips move back to his. His hands land on her hips as she starts to unbutton his shirt. Y/N starts to slide the shirt off his shoulders when a knock sounds on the door, both of them stopping suddenly. “Spencer, Y/N, are you two in here?” Someone asks, it sounds like Chanse.

Before either of them can answer, the door opens and light floods the room. Standing in front of them is Chanse, Angela, and Erin. The couple looks at them shocked as the three’s jaws drop. “Chanse, what the hell?!” Y/N yells, “You didn’t even give me or him a moment to say anything.”

“I-I-I just-” The boy stutters out, almost speechless for once. “You three, leave now.” Spencer says, using his stern director voice. Something he has developed since getting his promotion a couple years ago. “Yeah, yeah, we were just about to. Sorry!” Erin says quickly as Angela starts to laugh. The door closes but Spencer leans over to turn on the light.

“Welp, that just ruined the mood.” He jokes, rubbing his partner’s hip. “Ruined the mood? Love, you should know me better than that.” Her face pulls into a cunning smirk. “But we should probably head home, don’t want another cast member or worse Ian or Anthony walking in.” Y/N says as she removes herself from him.

“Yeah, I like showing you off but that’s a bit much.” He says as she starts to button up his shirt. “Hmm, you do dress up nice when you want to, Spence. I like this look on you.” She says, wrapping her arms around his neck when his shirt is buttoned up.

“I’ll dress like this more often if you want.”

“No, I like your George Lucas look more.” He rolls his eyes as she laughs, “I do not dress like George Lucas!” He stresses, all she does is tap his chest with a teasing smile.

“If you say so, baby Lucas.” He groans as she takes his hand. The two of them leave the closet before heading to the exit for a lovely and fun night at home without curious co-workers trying to interrupt.

[pholla-jm]

A Little Crazy

IMAGINE: A LITTLE CRAZY~ ZORO X READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: non-established relationship. not proof read. mention of blood. gorey. use of weapons. ****************

When you first joined the crew… Zoro was a little bit wary of you. 

You didn’t seem like the pirate type, yet here you were. Happily bouncing across the deck with the Captain.

Maybe you were just childish like the Captain? 

He would think that… but something was just different. 

Sure, Luffy is childish, but he’s a pirate at heart. But when Zoro looked at you, all he could see was a cute little person wearing skirts and dresses all the time. Whenever he saw you during your free time, you were either coloring or crocheting. 

He’s never actually seen you fight either. Whenever there was a fight going on, you would run off- doing what you were tasked to do. 

He often wondered how you were even recruited to the crew. 

One day you were tasked with Zoro, and it was safe to say he was a bit hesitant.

He didn’t want you to be a hindrance to him. He didn’t want to constantly look over his shoulder, just to see if you were safe.

“Ready to go?” 

Zoro was snapped out of his thoughts to see you waiting for him. You were wearing a white long-sleeved crop top with a bow in between your chest, a light pink mini skirt with high black platform boots. To top things off, you adored two pink bows in your hair and you were carrying a tote bag.

Zoro rolls his eyes, “yeah. Let’s just go.” 

The both of you start walking together with no conversation ensuing. The only thing being said was from you… correcting the way he was going.

On the pathway, two men were walking towards you.

You didn’t pay any mind to it, since you thought they would be on their way.

However, Zoro kept one good eye on them just in case. He didn’t like the way they were eyeing the both of them. 

As the two men walked by them, it seemed that everything was just fine. Just maybe he was overreacting a little bit. 

However, a slap was heard and the next thing he had seen was blood spewing in the air. 

To the untrained eye, the person wouldn’t have seen what happened. However, with Zoro, he saw everything. 

The man closest to you had smacked your butt… and the next thing you did shocked him. You swiveled, taking the knife that was in your bag… and cut his hand off. 

Zoro was a bit shocked. He didn’t expect you to be carrying that in your bag.

The look on your face sent shivers down his spine. With a wide smile, eyes wide, and pupils shrank- you only stared down at the wailing man in enjoyment. 

“You bitch! You cut my hand off!” The man screeches as he holds onto his wrist. He was on his knees, tears running down his face from the pain.

His companion stares at you in shock as well. 

“And you touched my ass. It seemed like a fair deal to me.” 

His companion raises his fist, ready to strike you. But you were faster. Using the weeping man as leverage, you push him down and use him as a stepping stone to stab the other man in the chest. 

The man chokes a gurgled gasp as blood pours out of his mouth. The man struggles to fight back against you, but you render him completely useless as you push him to the ground. 

Zoro could only watch in amazement as you stabbed the men over, and over again. All with a large smile on your face. 

Once you deemed the men dead you stood up with that smile still on your face. The crazy look in your eyes slowly disappears. 

“Sorry about that.” You say while straightening out your clothes. 

“Oh, um, don’t worry about it.” 

Zoro eyes you up and down, taking in your bloodied figure. He wasn’t used to this… but he found it quite charming.

It was a different side of you that he quite liked. It made his heart beat a little faster than normal, something that he wasn’t used to. 

“Should we get you cleaned up?” He asks, referring to the blood that was plastered on your skin. 

“Oh,” you pull out your knife covering. 

Zoro lips pursed as he eyes the pink crochet knife covering. 

“Do you think it’s ruined?” You ask, pointing out the red splotches. 

Zoro sighs at the whiplash of your personality. Something he wasn’t expecting, but he realized that he didn’t mind it. 

“No…” Zoro starts already dreading and regretting what he was about to say, “It’s still… cute.” He mutters the last word like it burns his tongue. 

Your face lights up at his words, happy that said something nice about your crochet knife covering. 

“Thank you.” You gleam while bending down to wipe the knife clean of blood.

Placing the knife where it belongs you turn back to Zoro. 

“Ready to go?” You ask him.

“Hold on.” 

He rips off part of the hem of his shirt. Bringing up the piece of cloth, he wipes away some splattered blood from your face. 

The proximity causes you to freeze up a little. But you enjoyed the warm feeling it brought you. 

Once he pulls away, you can see the slight pink on his face. You enjoyed seeing the pink on his face, it suited him. 

You were determined to see that pink on him more often.

[lindseymcdonaldseyelashes]

Can't believe I'm not seeing more about the Leverage: Redemption Season 3 opening scene they showed at Electric Con (details—to the best of my recollection—under a cut because SPOILERS):

It starts with Hardison and Parker dressed to the nines, walking down the hallway of a big manor. They're on a date in Paris. Kind of. Parker wishes they could be out stealing things, but Hardison reminds her that they're trying to stay on the right side of the law, at least for the time being, because Sophie has been working on mending her relationship with Astrid in London. Parker's still not sold on the concept, given the conflict of interests between their work and Interpol.

We hear a woman speaking German from across the hall. The camera swings over to Sophie, on the arm of a mark as she aggressively butters him up. As Hardison and Parker pass, Sophie hands Parker the man's wallet. Parker takes what she needs before returning it to the mark before the couple strolls away.

Eliot pops in and knocks out the mark (I think) with a good punch. They walk along, and Sophie mentions she's hunting for the perfect gift for Astrid, but doesn't know what to get her—struggling particularly because it'd ideally be a non-stolen object. Eliot says it's also been a bit of a learning curve to reestablish his relationship with his dad. They also mention that Breanna's been looking at colleges along with Harry and his daughter (implying this is going to be an original crew-only episode).

Hardison reenters the scene, now dressed in coveralls and clearly stressed, muttering something to himself about a special ring. Eliot punches out another goon before asking Hardison if "Parker knows."

A door swings open, with Parker hanging upside down in her coveralls on the other side. She asks Hardison what Eliot was talking about, but Hardison manages to dodge her question, walking her across the hall and boosting her into a vent. Parker makes a comment about how the vent has a smell—event the vents in France smell like cheese.

Before long, she's back with a small golden trinket, stolen from a nearby vault from some rich jerk. Problem is, said rich jerk comes around the corner, trying to impress the lady he's with, and they beeline for the vault. He sees it missing and sounds the alarm. Parker, Hardison, Sophie, and Eliot are trapped, and they're going to have to think up an exit strategy, fast.

Not to mention all of this happens in one continuous shot (faked with movie magic, but impressive nonetheless).

They also showed a quick cut of bits from later in the season. We got a very fast shot of Alexandra Bligh—implying a possible return of RIZ—and some scenes with some of the costumes from the exhibit—including Harry with a beard and a disguise with some wild sideburns.

Super curious about whether this is going to be a straightforward proposal arc or something more interesting, given that Hardison and Parker's relationship is anything but ordinary and they don't necessarily seem the traditional marriage types. Can't tell you how excited I am for this season to air.

[deconstructthesoup]

Thoughts on a Leverage-Dead Boy Detectives crossover that I'll probably never officially write but still:

-The Leverage crew (Redemption timeline because it lines up with the DBD show, but Hardison's there in person) is staying in London for a little while, mainly because Sophie's trying her best to reconnect with Astrid again

-They get hired by a woman who says that her younger sister, who was a student at St. Hillarion's (which went co-ed sometime in the 90's), died mysteriously and she's absolutely sure that the school covered up the circumstances

-And guess what? Meanwhile, the DBD crew's been hired by the ghost of the girl who died, and while it is a pretty personal case for Edwin and Charles, they agree that not solving the case would be a disservice to themselves

-So, the two teams make gameplans---Hardison, Eliot, and Parker infiltrate the school as teachers (Breanna is Hardison's TA, much to her irritation) while Sophie and Harry act as shady lawyers who tell the headmaster that they're very good at burying secrets; and Crystal and Niko get enrolled as exchange students while Jenny gets a position in the cooking staff (the Night Nurse absolutely refuses to actively take part in the case-solving, and of course Edwin and Charles don't need aliases)

-However, things start to go south for both teams pretty quick

-For starters, Sophie and Harry know Crystal, at least by way of her parents---Sophie attempted to pull a con on Maddy back in the day, failed, and convinced her to con her rival instead, and Harry helped the Surname-von Hoverkrafts out of some legal trouble when they still lived in the States

-Not to mention, Breanna's very tapped into the social media circuit, and she knows that a) Crystal used to be the epitome of the entitled rich showbiz kid, b) that she dated some guy named David and then went completely off-grid for weeks, and c) she's suddenly had a complete personality and lifestyle change

-And on the flip side of things, Charles is a little too interested in the weirdly high-tech things that the new computer science teacher and his TA have hanging around, which means that Breanna and Hardison are convinced that someone is sabotaging them when it's really just Charles accidentally breaking their gadgets

-This comes to a head when the OT3's having a lunch break on the grounds, Parker points out Niko, and Hardison and Eliot immediately begin making fun of the stuffy-looking kid in a bow tie that she's talking to... and when Breanna comes up with her sandwich in hand, she's incredibly confused, because all she sees is Niko talking to herself

-So, naturally, Hardison, Parker, and Eliot wind up scouring the school records until they eventually find a boy who matches Edwin's description... who, of course, vanished mysteriously over a century ago, along with five or six of his classmates

-Hardison talks Eliot and Parker into doing a stakeout of the computer lab, and they wind up catching Charles in his "fiddling with electronics" act---and, well, it turns out that a) Eliot can beat up a ghost, even one who's a fairly decent fighter himself, and b) Parker carries a pair of iron cuffs with her (why? she's Parker, next question)

-There's a little interrogation action between Charles and the Leverage crew... except, of course, Breanna and Harry still can't see him, and they don't understand why all of these legendary thieves are yelling at an empty chair

-And then the electricity cuts out and everyone hears whispers

-And suddenly someone puts their hands on Hardison's shoulder and he's thrust back into that time with the coffin

-And Eliot turns around and sees the mean goth from the kitchens pointing a knife at him, and the two of them wind up facing off

-Everyone else is stuck in a full-ass vengeful haunting, but Parker notices Crystal holding onto Hardison, Niko sneaking over to Charles, and Edwin standing at the center of the room with his eyes glowing and a hellish aura radiating off of him

-Parker does the sensible thing and, after getting Sophie to pull Crystal off of the boys, takes the cuffs off of Charles's hands

-The haunting immediately stops, Breanna and Harry can definitely see Edwin and Charles... and both teams have some explaining to do

-Once they figure out that they're here for the same reason, Niko's the first to suggest that they work together

-There's a lot of arguing over that, but the general consensus is that they're after the same goal, they're on the same side, and clearly if they don't actively work together, things are gonna go sideways

-Also, once they start talking, Breanna is very psyched to know everything about the supernatural side of things, and Parker decides that she's going to make Niko her apprentice (mostly because they have been getting along in the girl's gym class---and yes, St. Hillarion's does have different gym classes for boys and girls, despite it being co-ed now)

-Once they begin comparing notes, Charles mentions that he recognizes the headmaster---it's the same one he had when he was a student, and the man was already ancient then

-And... yep, turns out that the headmaster is a supernatural entity that's been doing some seriously messed-up shit in order to stay alive

-The two teams settle on a double-pronged attack---some of them will figure out how to get rid of the headmaster for good, while the others will figure out a way to expose the school's habit of covering up hate crimes

-I don't know how it finishes, but... uh, yeah, if anybody wants to take a crack at this, in fic form or comic form, you're free to

(Also, Eliot pretty much adopts Edwin and Charles the second he learns how messed up their lives were, there's also a few schemes from Niko, Crystal, and Breanna to get Payneland together, and Sophie somehow finds out Nate's afterlife placement and is beyond relieved to find out that he's living his afterlife in peace after all)

[rorywritesjunk]

best be prepared to get all that you bargained for

Buggy isn't used to the gentle touch you give him since you joined his crew three months ago. Rating: PG to PG-13 maybe? Warnings: Buggy isn't used to the gentle touch of a partner. Abuse never mentioned but mistreatment is hinted at, not necessarily by a romantic partner, just the world in general. There's injuries and blood mentioned, as well as alcohol. A/N: It took a few tries to write this but I like how it turned out. I had to think of the show "Leverage" to get some of the juices flowing. This came from a combined suggestion by @nerium-lil and @gabegade for Buggy love at first sight and him not knowing how to deal with affection. Thank you both! Title comes from "Carousel" by Tricky Pixie.

It definitely took Buggy some getting used to having a partner as gentle as you. He was used to living on the edge, looking over his shoulder for trouble while running head long into it. He didn't necessarily seek out trouble as he would trip, stumble, and fall into it.

Literally.

He literally tripped on a tree root and fell, smashing his face hard into another root while you two were out on a stroll. 

He expected to hear you laughing at him while imagining some non-existent bystanders saying Oh, that Buggy can't even take his love out on a walk without making himself look like a fool. So he was surprised when you were immediately at his side, helping him sit up before touching his face gently. He jerked away from you, not actually expecting the gentle touches on his face. He was used to force, roughness when it came to injuries. 

He barely felt your touches, you were so careful.

“You're bleeding.” You said with a sigh. “Let's get back to the ship. I'll get you cleaned up.”

“I'm fine.” He snapped, pulling away from you as his face burned with embarrassment. You weren't deterred by his gruff reaction. You got to your feet and held your hand out to help him up but he slapped it away before getting up. “Let's go.”

You followed after him, placing your hand in the small of his back to steady him just in case. He shook your hand off, glancing back at you, wondering why you were doing this. He didn't need someone to be soft around him; gentle wasn't even in his vocabulary. Yet you kept close to him, hand out, ready to catch him if he stumbled again.

When you got back to the ship, he tried to get away from you, he could clean himself up without your pity. He didn't want you to think less of him for tripping like that in front of you. Except you grabbed the back of his jacket, pulling him along with you as you took him to his room. 

“I'm fine!” He growled.

“Wait here. I'll get some bandages and towels.” You told him. “You have a cut on your cheek, and your nose is bleeding.”

“Don’t bother, I’ll live.” Buggy grumbled, but you were already walking out of the room to grab the items. He sat down at the foot of the bed, arms crossed as he glared down at his feet. He was a fool, tripping like that. Why didn’t he watch where he was going? Oh, because you laughed at something he said, but in a genuine way, not mocking or anything and he couldn’t help but do a double take. That’s when he tripped, fell, and smashed his face. 

It was like when you first met, face to face when you both tried to rob the same person. Both of you grabbed onto the vase worth more than Buggy’s bounty, and when you both locked eyes it was like butterflies exploded around you while birds sang the loveliest tune. Would he admit it was love at first sight? Only under the influence of a lot of alcohol. You, however, would giggle and say of course it was. You looked into his beautiful eyes and were captivated in that moment.

In that same moment he dropped the vase on his foot while you slipped out of your aerial silks, managing to avoid the shattered pottery.

You joined his crew before he finished asking, knowing the client the vase had been for would no doubt come after you for losing such a worthy item, not to mention the actual owner would be quite upset. That was only three months ago and you were already enjoying life in the tent. While you sometimes missed working alone, being able to enjoy the spoils of a theft without others nearby, you came to appreciate having people who had your back. Having an extra set of eyes to tell you which way to go made it easier to avoid trouble, and several of the crew were quite strong, able to pull you up by the silks faster than you could climb up in case of an issue. Not to mention just having help getting things set up and carried from location to location was a load off your shoulders. 

Buggy looked up when you returned, nudging the door closed with your foot as your arms were full of towels, a basket with a first aid kit, and a large bottle of rum for him. He made a face when he saw what you had. What the hell were you getting at? 

“I grabbed you something to drink while I fix you up.” You told him as you set the basket down and handed him the bottle. He took it from you and removed the cork, immediately raising the bottle to his lips to have a drink while you held up a towel. He flinched when you raised a corner of the towel to his face, leaning away from your touch. You frowned.

“You okay?” 

“I don’t need help with this!” He snapped. “I can take care of myself, you know!”

You didn’t say anything as you leaned your face towards his; he swallowed nervously, wondering what you were going to do, when your hand moved to the back of his head, holding it in place as you started cleaning the blood from his nose. Thankfully he didn’t bleed too much, just banged it a little and scratched the top of it. He stiffened when you did that, the bottle slipping from his fingers, but you were quicker, catching it and setting it on the floor.

“I know you can, Buggy.” You murmured as you adjusted the towel in your hand, using a clean edge to wipe away the blood. “But let me take care of you, okay? You don’t have to do it yourself.”

He didn’t actually know how to respond to that. Before you came along, whenever he’d get any kind of injury he’d just take care of it himself. A bottle of rum or whiskey and a needle and thread usually did the trick, but you were there now, cleaning the blood from his nose before moving to the one on his face. The cut was a little more serious, so you made sure it was cleaned properly before grabbing some bandages to help the skin heal. 

“I’m almost done.” You told him as you placed the first bandage, smoothing it over his cheek before readying the second one. He leaned back when you did that and you frowned. “What?”

“You really don’t have to do this.” He insisted. You raised an eyebrow before quickly applying the second one before he could pull back again. “Hey!”

“And I just told you that I would take care of you.” You replied firmly. “It’s okay to be taken care of, Buggy. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“Yea, but-”

“Buggy, I worked alone for the last seven years.” You told him as you held his face in your hands, inspecting him for any other injury. “And while I sometimes miss just having alone time, I’m happy to be here, knowing there’s others who have my back no matter what.” You leaned forward, bumping your forehead against his gently. “And I want you to know I have your back, sweetheart. I’ll clean all your wounds, no matter how big or small.”

He crossed his arms and looked away from you, cheeks pink as he took in your words. His eyes started to burn, tears threatening to spill. He was not into lovey dovey words or anything like that, so for you to say that to him had him feeling a little unsure. He didn’t want to be, he wanted to be confident around you, and he often was, but when he was vulnerable like this it was different. You weren’t going to take advantage of him, hurt him, or anything. You were going to make sure he was taken care of.

“You want me to bring you a snack or something?” You asked him as you collected the towels and clutter into the basket. He shook his head and sniffled loudly, refusing to look at you. You shrugged and reached for the basket but he grabbed you by the wrist. 

“I skinned my knees.” He muttered, glancing at you while gesturing to the dirty spots on the knees of his pants. He hastily wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. “When I fell, that is. And they’ve been bleeding.”

“Oh.” You smiled at him and grabbed one of the extra towels you brought. “Well, let’s get those pants off so I can get you cleaned up, Buggy.” You picked the rum bottle up and had a sip before handing it back to him with a wink. “I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.”

[hiccup-queen]

I'm listening to the Artemis fowl audiobooks (shut up, I know they're for kids, but they're genuinely good books even as an adult) and as I was struck by an absolute GALAXY of an idea

So in "The Opal Incident" Artemis is revealed to enjoy art. He's always been interested in realism, "but lately he's found himself drawn to more fantastic works". The basic premise is that there's a Lost Painting that he wants to steal.

How many times has the Leverage crew used a Lost Macguffin to reel in a mark?

Anyway. I need the Leverage team targeting Fowl. I don't care which book. Imagine the COMEDY of Spencer fighting Butler only for the troll of the first book to come out of fucking nowhere. Arctic Incident where the Leverage team keeps trying to reel him in, but he's so focused on his father (and the B'wa Kell takeover of Haven, but they don't know that) that he doesn't even notice. The Leverage team focusing on Spiro in Eternity Code, only for them to see a teenager being held hostage and IMMEDIATELY change priorities. (Their reactions when Artemis cuts off that finger.)

Anyway this is an untapped GOLD MINE and I need ten billion fics immediately.

[kana-daydreams]

𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 || 𝐋𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲

summary: you take Luffy’s hat hostage and use it as leverage to get him to look your way in hopes of rekindling what was once an unbreakable bond between childhood friends. genre: (attempted) angst w/ happy ending, gen wc: 3.4k

Crouching, barely camouflaged between lush tangerine trees, their citrusy and saccharine scent almost overwhelming your sense of smell, you peer down at the deck below you watching as every member of the straw hat pirates bustle about the Going Merry. 

“We’ve searched everywhere Luffy. Are you sure you checked every corner of the boys’ cabin?” You hear Nami let out an exasperated sigh and see her wipe a hand across at her brows.

Luffy, a few paces beside Nami, fixes a potted plant back into place, craning his neck to look over at her. His eyes fix her with a watery stare and his face is stained with tears; new ones threatening to emerge as he answers her with a weak nod.

“It’s probably overboard.” An audible yawn follows Zoro’s voice which cuts across from their right. 

His comment elicits a whimper from Luffy and a death glare from Nami, the former suddenly flopping to the ground, wailing a river of tears at the thought of his missing and beloved treasure.

“Idiot, look what you did!” Nami scolds and Zoro matches her frown with one of his own, the two commencing a wage of war through a bickering contest. 

You watch in slight amusement despite the seriousness of the situation as the rest of the crew attempts to calm down their navigator and swordsman, deciding that now was the perfect time to intervene.

 “I found it!” you hail them from atop Nami’s tangerine garden. 

All eyes direct themselves to you; all except one pair, and you earn somewhat of a look between  hesitance and relief from the straw hats as you begin to make your way towards them and towards the owner of the straw hat held firmly in your grasp.

Nami’s figure, however, stops you in your tracks before you could take another step closer to the hat’s owner.

“Thanks for finding Luffy’s hat.” A warm smile tugs at her lips though you notice it doesn’t seem to reach her eyes. “I’ll give it back to him.” She offers.

You look down at her outstretched hand which demands you give her the hat before raising your gaze to meet her brown eyes. “I’d like to give it to him myself if that’s alright.” You smile, a sweet and practised one like her own. 

You notice her hesitate at your words. “I…I don’t think that’s a—” A sudden weight on Nami’s shoulder, followed by Luffy’s voice, interrupts her. 

“It’s alright Nami.” 

Nami’s eyebrows draw together as she gives him a worried look. “Are you sure?”

Luffy removes his hand from her shoulder, returning it to his side as he nods slightly in response. 

Nami, although hesitant to leave you both in each other's company, returns a nod the same and leaves you two to your own, but not before sending a warning glance your way.

You watch as she retreats to a further corner of the ship; her along with the others keeping their attention fixed across at both you and Luffy and you wonder what warrants their audience—your marine uniform or something Luffy’s told them about you…Did he tell them about you?

Your attention draws back to Luffy who takes a while to meet your eyes and when he does, he plasters on a strained smile. “I’m glad you found my hat— thought I’d lost it for good.” 

At his words, you spare a glance down at the said object. You examine it— how battered and weathered it is, the red sash that rings around it just below the crown and the telltale signs that it’d been patched up a few times. 

I hate you! 

A frown ghosts over your expression and your grip around the hat tightens.

You loathe this hat.

It’s a feeling that has always lingered inside you since the day Luffy showed it to you with that wide toothy grin he always sported, saying he’d gotten it from a pirate.

You hate pirates. Always had and always will. 

Except for…

You return your gaze to look at the boy in front you, his mop of black curls becoming more dishevelled from the wind lashing against it. “You really treasure it, don’t you?” 

Luffy watches as your gloved hands fiddle around with his hat. “...I do.”

“Then I’ll return it.” You brandish the prized possession towards him and Luffy reaches a hand to retrieve his hat, but before his hands could make contact with it, you pull your own away.

Luffy’s face contorts in confusion at your action, though he doesn’t question it and instead takes a step forward, attempting to pry his hat out of your grasp; his movement urging you to take a step back.

Again, he takes a step forward.

You step back.

He matches it with another step of his own and so do you. 

“What are you doing?” His voice sounds annoyed as he pins you with a stern gaze.

You do not waver at the glare he sends your way and instead remain calm as you speak. “I’ll return the hat to you,” you start. “But only if you allow me to speak to you, Luffy…please.” You say, your tone pleading.

An indiscernible expression shadows Luffy's face at your words and a momentary silence settles between you both.

“Give me back my hat.” Luffy finally says.

You furrow your brows slightly, hurt that he’d refused your offer. What did you expect? You stole his hat— something he cherished with his life, which was now being used as a bartering tool.

“I won’t until you speak to me.” 

Stealing Luffy’s hat, you’re aware, was a low move and most likely a counterintuitive one, but left empty of an idea that could get him to acknowledge you, you opted to steal his hat as your last resort.

You scoff. How fate plays—forcing you to use the very thing that inflicted scars upon your relationship years ago to try and mend it. 

“I said give me back my hat.” Luffy takes a step towards you as your name grates against his teeth, a slight warning in his tone.

You steel yourself cradling the hat close to your chest. “No. I won’t until you stop acting like a five year old and speak to me!” 

Luffy’s lips curl into a frown, his brows pinching together in anger and frustration at your stubbornness and without warning, one of his hands darts out, shooting forward in your direction and towards the hat.

Fortunately, your quick reflexes allow you to get both you and the hat out of the way, though the action seems to anger Luffy further who persists in attempting to retrieve his hat, and thus a game of cat and mouse begins as his rubber hands begin to chase you around the ship.

It’s a game that continues for minutes—almost an hour— his hand twisting and turning, weaving and zipping their way through and under both narrow and wide spaces in every direction while you expertly evade his every attempt to grasp a hold of his hat as you dodge, skid, jump and even manage a backflip, almost tripping over your feet.

The rest of the straw hats remain silent spectators to the tom and jerry chase around the ship, though at one point during the chase, Zoro offers to intervene, but Luffy warns him against meddling with his fight.

“Just give it back to me!” Luffy bellows your name as you both are scrambling around on the deck.

 His elastic hands aim towards you and you duck, barely managing to dodge it as it crashes into the wooden wall behind you, splinters of wood pitching dangerously in all directions, and a shriek escapes both yours and Usopp’s lips who cries at Luffy to be more careful with his baby.

“If you want it back, you’re going to let me talk to you first!”

“I don’t wanna talk to you!” Luffy shoots his arm in your direction from beside the ship’s guardrail and this time you're unable to dodge it as they tangle themselves around you like a rope, rendering you unable to move.

You struggle in his tight grasp, though not tight enough to hurt you, as he reels you in closer to him.

Up close, you notice his face flushed and covered with beads of sweat, and watch as he reaches a hand to retrieve the hat that had fallen out of your grasp;  it being your only hope of reviving your friendship.

“Please Luffy…I just want you to hear me out.”

Luffy tenses at the crack of your voice and at the flood of memories that ambushes him, along with the familiar feelings of guilt and regret.

“Why should I, after you stole my hat?” He fixes the said item back on his head.

You avert your eyes and are slow to respond after the mention of your sin. “Because…we’re friends.” You eventually say.

Luffy’s eyes widen slightly at your words—at your lie. “Were friends.” He corrects and though his tone is cold as he speaks, there’s a tinge of  hurt as he forces himself to say the next few words. “Now you’re my enemy.” 

You feel your heart pinch in your chest and tears slowly brim at your eyes, reminded of the words that were spoken–you’d spoken–that brought your friendship to an end.

But couldn’t he see how desperate you were to fix that. How many times you’ve tried gaining his attention for the past couple of days you’ve been stuck on this damn ship because of him, sneaking on board after a fight between your ship and his. All because you wanted to correct the wrongs of the past and attempted day by day; relentless, every idea that sprung to mind, to rekindle that bond you once had— 

You bite down on your lip in a futile attempt to subdue any sobs that might escape.

But it seems you’re the only one who cares.

“You rubber jerk!” 

Luffy is taken aback by the tears that start streaming down your face and isn’t prepared for when you unexpectedly nail him in the head with your own. 

A grunt escapes you both when your heads knock together, sending a vibration rippling through your skulls and you feel Luffy’s arms untangle themselves from around you, the action causing you to slump to your knees.

You hardly hear the splash that follows and the worried voices of Luffy’s friends as you grip at your head which rings in pain, and only manage to come to your senses when Nami’s horrified voice screams at you, Luffy’s name, alerting you of his presence being no longer in front of you.

Later when the sun sets in, painting the ocean’s dark blue waters in its orange hue, you find yourself leaving Nami and Robin’s shared room in desperate need of some fresh air.

You’ve been cooped up inside their room the entire day after your fight with Luffy which ended with the taste of salt on your lips and your uniform soaking wet when you rescued him after he’d fallen overboard and into the sea.

“Luffy I–” your words were lost, interrupted when Luffy  hacked out a violent cough from beside you on the deck after you’d just fished him out from the sea.

You didn’t reckon that your headbutt would be strong enough to send him toppling over the guardrail and now both of you were drenched in salt water that pooled to the floor beneath you.

You waited for his coughing fits to cease before once again attempting to apologise. “Luffy I-I didn’t mean for all of this to happen— I was only trying to get your attention.” You admitted, not proud of the fact that you’d had to resort to stealing his hat to do so.

Luffy remained  silent at your apology and his lack of a response invited with it, a tense and uncomfortable silence. He didn’t even make an effort to spare a look in your direction.  

Instead, he raised himself off his back, reaching for his hat further beside him which too had been a victim of the sea, before putting it on his head.

It was all the hint you needed to know that he didn’t wish to speak to you and thus you pulled yourself to your feet, taking your leave. 

It’s been hours since neither of you’ve spoken to each other after your one-sided exchange, avoiding each other like a plague throughout the day.

You close the door to the lounge room behind you as you step outside, shivering slightly when a cold breeze attacks your skin; Nami’s clothes which she’d lent you after yours became drenched in water, not aiding much.

“Maybe I should have brought a jacket…” you murmur to yourself, rubbing your hands up and down your arms to warm yourself up as you start padding over to the guardrail near the figurehead of the ship.

As you approach, ahead of you, you notice a familiar figure seated atop it, seeming to be lost in thought.

Luffy is yet to notice your presence and before he could, you spin around on your heels, ready to head back in the opposite direction. 

However, you only manage to take a few steps forward when you hear him call out your name.

You ignore him, racing back in the direction of the lounge room, and although he continues to call your name, you still do not slow your steps; increasing your pace at the sound of his footsteps trailing after you.

Just as you’re about to take the first step up the staircase that leads to the lounge, you’re abruptly forced to a stop when a hand catches your wrist.

 “Wait, don’t go." Luffy’s voice pleads urgently from behind you. “I wanna talk.”

You remain silent for a beat as you crane your neck to look back at him in surprise. "W-What?" you ask, not certain if you'd heard him right.

"I wanna talk to you...please." Luffy says again.

“Really?” you ask, wondering why he’d had a sudden change of mind. 

Luffy answers you with a single nod, silently hoping that you would agree to his request.

“Uh…sure.”

There’s a faint smile on his lips at your response as he releases his grip on your hand before leading you both away in the opposite direction of the lounge.

A minute later, you’re both standing side by side; a few feet between you, near the railing closest to the figurehead.

Both of you are yet to speak a word to the other, the waves crashing against the ship and the howls of the wind, the only sounds which fills the silence that lingers between you.

It is soon broken when Luffy finally decides to speak.

“I’m sorry.” 

You turn your gaze away from the sea and over at him when you hear his voice that comes out barely above a whisper. 

 “For what?” Your brows knit together in confusion.

“For being a liar.” His eyes do not meet yours when he speaks.

Immediately the image of two children; a little boy with a mop of black hair and a little girl, the same age, makes its way to the forefront of your mind. Wide smiles grace their faces as they’re chasing each other around a lush open field of green, then clambering up a fruit tree; the boy’s hand reaching down to help the girl onto the branch he sits on before gathering the tree’s ripe fruits and eating their fill.

Later they’re settled next to each other on the pillow-soft grass, the girl’s eyes  pinned up at the sky watching the passing clouds and the boy snuggled up beside her, fast asleep while their pinky fingers remain entwined in a lifetime promise.

The wholesome image soon dies away when another appears in its stead, showing the same two children in the same field, but this time their bodies roll in the grass; their faces stained with dirt and bruises, and adorned with frowns as they tug and push at each.

“You’re not the one who should be apologising.” You return your attention back to the sea. “Becoming a marine was never your dream; it was mine.”

It was true. A younger and selfish you had forced Luffy into sharing a dream that was only truly ever yours, something you didn’t realise until you’d grown out of your childhood years and into your big girl pants.

When he’d come running to you one afternoon during your usual playdate session with a straw hat festooned with a single red sash attached to his head, announcing he’d gotten it from that red head pirate that’d come to town and followed it with the line that he was going to become the 'King of Pirates', you felt hurt—betrayed. 

His news to you had then escalated into a fight in which Luffy’s newly gifted hat got buried in the mud underneath your feet, him shouting that he hated you with a ruddy face, puffed with anger and with you declaring him your enemy, adding that if he did really become the King of pirates or even a pirate at all, you’d be the one to put him behind bars.

Your lips pull into a sad frown. “And I’m truly sorry that I took your hat...again.” You add with a whisper, recalling again when as a child, how you'd ripped the hat away from his grasp, how you’d tossed it in the mud— and how you’d trampled on it with your feet all while Luffy was screaming at the top of his voice for you to stop. 

Luffy looks over at you with a small smile. “It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not!” You whip your head around, staring at him in disbelief. “I acted like an immature brat like I did that day, and because of it I lost you.” Your voice cracks. “ I…I don’t want to lose you again.”

Luffy notices you bite down on your lips and that your eyes begin to flood with unshed tears. 

The sight reminds him of back then when he’d told you he’d hated you and how a single tear had trickled its way down your face as you fought hard to stifle the rest.

“I missed our friendship Luffy…I missed you.”

Luffy felt his heart both ache and warm at your words.

He'd missed you to— Always had.

He'd thought about you everyday, since you'd left his town; the same day you no longer would be known as best friends. 

Losing you that day made him regret showing you the hat Shanks gave him and telling you his dream. Maybe he should have kept it a secret and if he did, maybe things would have been different—maybe your friendship would have lasted at least a little longer than it did. 

He’d thought that either that day would be the last he would see your face or that if he did see you again, you would be chasing after him from a marine warship. 

Apparently it was the latter. 

The initial feeling that bombarded him when he saw your face again was a heart-stopping surprise. But then a rush of other emotions accompanied it; guilt being the strongest, especially when the image of your crying face flickered to mind after he’d told you in a fit of rage how much he’d hated you.

Luffy points his gaze away from your own. “Back then when I said I hated you”—his hands ball into fists at the memory— “I didn’t mean it.”

You look at him with teary eyes. “R-Really?”

You can vividly recall that horrible moment when Luffy had uttered words you’d never imagined he would say to you, and which had brought tears to your eyes for weeks anytime you were to recall the memory.

Luffy looks at you, noticing your quivering lips and his starts doing the same. “Yeah, I do. I’m sor—” 

He’s barely finished with his response when you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and engulfing him in a tight hug.

“I miss you so much, Luffy, I really do.” You sob violently into his shoulder.

Luffy stills for a moment at your unanticipated action but soon relaxes, his gaze softening down at you as you continue to unleash a happy stream of tears.

He then slowly and gently wraps his own arms around you, burying his face against your shoulder as he feels his eyes brim with tears, his lips pulling into their usual wide smile. 

“Missed you a lot, too.”

© 2024 kana-daydreams

[katierosefun]

progress is going from “i need to kill myself” to “…i’m going to kill YOU. the only reason i haven’t done it yet is because i am merciful and also i can’t see my friends and my family and my beautiful partner in jail. so count yourself fucking lucky”

[mychlapci]

Two idiots fall into a latex pool So the Lost Light had to make an emergency stop on some random ass planet for whatever reason, and two idiots, Drift and Rodimus, decide to go out for a race to flex their joints and rev their engines a little. The logistics of how they get here doesn't matter; what they find on the other hand, does.

They skid to a stop when they notice a weird looking tree, organic of course, leaking what seemed to be white, sticky liquid from its bark. In fact, all of the trees in the immediate surrounding appear to be doing the same, the strange fluid flowing down and pooling into a shallow swamp of pale, opaque liquid around their raised, mangrove-like roots. Rodimus, naturally having his mind rotting in the gutter at all times, remarks that it looks like transfluid. Leading Drift, ever the hippie, to admonish him for projecting his perversions onto nature. This makes them fall into a petty little argument, and in the heat of the moment, sick of the bickering, Drift shoves Rodimus lightly on a shoulder.

Rodimus however stumbles on a raised root, and trips ass-first into the pool. Dragging Drift in by instinct. Before they know it, they're both engulfed helm to pede in that sticky fluid. Instead of getting out immediately to rush back for decontamination, these idiots continue to bicker, wrestling in the swamp while accusing each other of fault. Not realising that the latex they've fallen into actually has thermosetting properties, and is very quickly solidifying from their body heat.

Suddenly, it's become difficult to move. And hot. The alien latex has seeped in between their armour plates and components, and solidified into a thick, stretchy and snug film around them, binding their frames together chest to chest. That's when they start to panic.

It is only by pure luck that their heads were not in the liquid long enough for the film to form around their faces, but everything on their bodies neck down are now trapped in a makeshift latex cast. Drift's hands are planted on Rodimus' left spoiler piece and below his collar while he's straddling his right thigh, knee grinding into Rodimus' crotch. Rodimus on the other hand has his right leg curled around Drift's hip, ankle hooking on a corner in an attempt to flip their positions, while his entire left forearm is plastered to Drift's chestplate as the other is grabbing a piece of back kibble through the arm pit.

It took a bit of combined effort to roll out of the pool, splashing unhardened latex around them on the way. But once they were out, only then did the gravity of the situation dawn on them. They cannot transform, at all. The latex film around them was so thick and tight, it's basically holding their parts down by sheer pressure, robbing them of any leverage by gumming up their parts from within.

They can't access any of their weapons or transform into alt mode; they can barely even wriggle in their awkward positions. In fact, the more they struggle, the more hot and bothered they got, each movement seemingly translating to frame-wide stimulation as the "suits" vibrate and stretch from their efforts. Rubbing and clinging to all of their erogenous zones at once. Blocking their vents, forcing expelled heated air back into their systems.

Finally coming to the conclusion that they were stuck for good, Drift relents and sends a distress call back to the crew. To Ratchet, specifically. Help, of course, takes its sweet time arriving, giving them plenty of opportunity to drive each other wild with involuntary pleasure as they stupidly wriggle about and continue bickering.

When Ratchet arrives, they're whining at him for help, processor too fogged up with arousal and heat to do anything else. Once he figures out what had transpired to land them in their current predicament, he just sighs. It appears that once again, his sluts appear in need of another lesson about getting along like adult mechas.

Instead of cutting them free, the good doctor puts away the laser scalpel, and kneels down to push Drift against Rodimus even more, forcing moans out of them as their panels grind on each other through the rubbery layers. As much as they want to, they can't even open their panels, backed up lubricants leaking through the seams instead, moistening the insides of their makeshift suits, resulting in obscene squeaks with each glide of their hips, guided by Ratchet's unhurried hands.

He smacks their closed panels, alternating between each mech, making them cry out wantonly as they sob out apologies, getting wetter and wetter with each stinging slap. Unbeknownst to them, but in full view from Ratchet's position, their juices are actually causing the latex layer around their crotches to thin out, like-dissolves-like and all. It appears that the material is being weakened by the silicone in their lubricants. He affectionately rubs hard into those spots, making the two trapped bots squeal and seize as their bodies finally overload, panels thrown open, spikes and valves squirting into their suits as the weakened latex gives.

The makeshift suits now sport little tears and stretch marks around their exposed, dripping pussies. Rodimus shifts a little, groaning at the feel of wet latex sliding against his plating and erect spike. It's so sticky inside there, even with the rips. But instead of cutting them loose when Drift begs, Ratchet just reaches between them to stroke their spikes through the latex sheaths. Inserting his fingers into their slick valves, then into the mess between the suit and their plating. Curling his fingers and stretching that layer taut against their interfacing equipment. All while still molesting the outline of their sensitive kibble through the unsoftened latex around the rest of their frames.

Their punishment isn't over yet, and if they want be freed. Well, they better get to work and start leaking like good girls, he tells them, as he collects and smears Rodimus' pussy juices onto Drift's aft before pushing it down again, plastering his leaking pussy against Rodimus' thigh. They're going to need to produce so much more lubricants, as there's still so much latex to dissolve.-🔌

aughhh Wrap. Them. In. Latex! In Ratchet's medical opinion, they're going to have to rub and squirt against each other until they either pass out or the latex properly melts away :) And, if they do pass out from the sheer power of their endless overloads, they'll wake up to Ratchet standing over them, ready to resume their rescue operation.

[tiredhermitgirl]

LawLu and why it works (for me)

I recently engaged in @sungd ‘s post that was asking what was the appeal of lawlu and it really got me thinking/ hyper fixating on this ship more so I wanted to voice more of my thoughts on it!

Yeah the age gap is weird because it’s like a 7 year age difference so I see why folks are put off by this ship. HOWEVER, the reason why it doesn’t bother me as much is because of their personalities.

I’m gonna focus more on Law since he is the older of the two and that seems to be where people get hung up!

This will probably be long but bear with me there is a point! 😂 And if you don’t want to read all this either that is completely fine!

Ok here we go!

Law despite how he wants to be perceived, is actually a pretty respectful and honest guy. We get glimpses of this even from Sabaody where he gives the credit of freeing Jean Bart to Luffy rather than himself, despite it being him who cuts off Jean Bart’s chains and asking him to join his crew.

This happens again when he literally jumps into an active war zone to save a rival captain who he doesn’t really know at all. And rather than boast about it to Luffy’s allies, he just quietly stays in the corner and doesn’t even accept their gratitude for saving Luffy’s life. He even says that Luffy and co don’t owe him anything because he did this on a whim. Coming from someone who is framed as one of Luffy’s rival and also depicted as being sadistic and cruel, it is weird how Law doesn’t rub it in anyone’s face that HE was the one who saved Luffy and that Luffy and the rest of them owe him.

Even meeting up with Luffy again after the time skip, rather than Law force Luffy and his crew to help him take down Doflamingo because of some perceived debt, Law asks Luffy to form an alliance to take down Kaido. If Luffy had said no I get the feeling that Law would just accept it and continue his plan on his own. He never brings up how he saved Luffy as leverage or in general and again when Luffy thanks him for it, Law brushes him off and says that Luffy doesn’t owe him anything.

Like you literally save someone’s life and they don’t owe you???

And then we have Dressrosa where we get a lot of info on Law and why he is the way he is and why he hates Doflamingo. After suffering the way he has suffered, it wouldn’t be surprising at all if he was a cruel person because the world has not been kind to him. But he was saved by someone who was goofy, and kind, and saw him for what he was, which was a hurt child.

And he willingly shares all this information with Luffy, who resembles Corazon A LOT.

For me there are two crucial points in Dressrosa that really show just how much Law respects Luffy and even the crew itself.

The first one is his speech to Doflamingo, where he tells Doflamingo that he will lose because Luffy and his crew have performed nothing but miracles since they have been at sea. Despite Law being completely brutalized by Doflamingo and despite him wanting to be the one to take down Doflamingo, his faith is completely in Luffy, going as far as to call him and his friend’s miracle workers.

To me, this implies that Law has been following Luffy’s journey for a while which isn’t so far fetched but it also implies that Law has a great respect for Luffy and his crew that has been growing with each feat they accomplish. Notice how I use the word respect because we are not at the love stage.

The second crucial moment, for me personally, is when Law refuses to leave the vicinity of the battlefield despite him losing an arm and bleeding out. I remember when I first read what he said I was so shocked because it was so honorable in a way that we have only seen by Luffy’s crew and by people like Bon Clay and Jinbei.

The fact that Law wanted to stay and watch Luffy beat Doflamingo and if he didn’t beat him then he wanted to die with him because he would see it as his fault. The fact that he states that Luffy and his crew wouldn’t be in this situation had he not asked them to is something that has always stuck with me because it’s so… like idk I can’t find the word I am looking for but it just speaks “honorable” to me and it shows just how deeply Law respects Luffy and his crew. Like it just made me like Law even more because it showed that he CARES about people and that he avoids inconveniencing people as much as he can.

And what Robin says afterwards is, to me, what makes this ship work. This is verbatim from the manga but Robin tells him “Traffy, The captains in an alliance stand on equal ground! Luffy is here of his own will. He doesn’t participate in a fight unless he wants to.” And I think. This statement applies to Luffy’s approach to life in general. Luffy is all about freedom. Nobody can chain him down or make him do anything that he doesn’t want to do. Luffy is his own person and he has such a strong personality/ will that nobody can force him into anything he doesn’t like.

So when people try to make it seem as if this ship is predatory strictly because of the age difference, I understand why they feel that way but I would politely disagree because Luffy is NOT the kind of person who will allow himself to be in that situation and Law is NOT the type of person who would put another in that situation. Especially when you take into account Law’s backstory and hatred of Doflamingo. Law would never want to be compared to nor would he want to emulate someone like that. Also while they met pre-timeskip there was literally nothing there. Like to me this ship didn’t start until Punk Hazard.

And if we really want to talk about predatory then Boa Hancock simping for a 17 year old Luffy when she was 29? Yikes!

Anyway…

For me personally, I think if we were really to pinpoint when feelings would develop between them, I would say AFTER Dressrosa. Probably not towards Zou nor while they are on Zou. Law had too much going on in his head during Punk Hazard and Dressrosato even consider Luffy in any other light other than ally. After the defeat of Doflamingo, I think it would take some time for him to sit with his feelings on EVERYTHING and once he sorted through that then he might start thinking about how he views Luffy. If I were to say when that view would start, it would probable be when Luffy was on Whole Cake Island.

Either way, after thinking more about this ship, I am starting to like it more! Sorry for this long info dump! I hope it made some sense!

[bougiebutchbinch]

this morning we are plagued by thoughts of free-use Izzy, of the flavour where the Trauma Crew are all supremely stressed during the Kraken era, and Izzy started off as being an absolute fucking monster in the aftermath of The First Toe.

Jim, still spitting furious over the marooning of the rest of the crew and the loss of Oluwande, eventually snapped. They tried to go for Ed, but Izzy got in the way. So, Jim got in a huge bloody fight with Izzy that wound up with Izzy pinned beneath them, panting and bucking for leverage with his legs wrapped around Jim's waist but unable to roll them. They leant in to hiss threats in his ear, Izzy accidentally whimpered and went limp, and things... escalated from there.

(Adults only under the cut!)

Anyway, that first time was rough and brutal and more about Jim being angry than anything else (as much as Izzy thoroughly enjoyed it). But the nasty, humiliating shit they did to him earns the whole crew a reprieve from Izzy's nitpicking and yelling at least (though they're all still fucking terrified of Blackbeard, who has gone batshit, and even though he's taking out most of it on Izzy, still isn't afraid to let any crewmate who interferes become collateral).

At first, Jim was ever-so-slightly guilty, thinking they took things to far. But Izzy's kinda... not flinching away from them, or anything. Not like he does from Ed (though he tries so very fucking hard to hide it). He seems dazy and happy and calm, and actually runs the ship well in Blackbeard's absence. But it only lasts a few hours before Izzy gets called to Blackbeard's cabin and comes out worried and tight-faced and with bruises around his throat that Jim didn't put there, and immediately starts screaming himself hoarse at the crew again.

Jim hums. Considers the evidence. Then gathers the rest of the Trauma crew for a little confab...

Which is to say: the Trauma crew figure out that nothing calms Izzy down more than having his choices (consensually) stripped away and roughfucked for a bit, followed by lots of aftercare to make the effect last. Man has a hard reset button and it is up his ass/cunt. And the trauma crew all just swap nods like. Yeah, we can work with this.

Anyway, the Revenge crew gets back together, Ed stops blatantly abusing Izzy and the rest of them, and everything's sunshine and daisies. Until the first time Izzy snaps at Lucius or Pete or whoever.

Next moment, Frenchie and Jim are there, grabbing Izzy and shoving him face-first over a barrel and wrestling down his trousers while Lucius is frozen like. What is happening?? What the fuck is happening right now?????

(Izzy does freak out and safeword because these 18th century dolts have minimal BDSM knowledge, and never thought to establish new boundaries when they met up with the other crew. But after a lot of profuse apologies from Frenchie and Jim, Lucius (slapping a hand over Pete's mouth to keep him from saying whatever unthought-through-thing was about to come out) is like 'OH WE'D BE VERY OKAY WITH WATCHING. WOULDN'T THINK LESS OF YOU AT ALL. VERY HARD KINK POSITIVE, WE ARE', all while Pete's nodding enthusiastically. Izzy looks a tiny bit nervous, but he's been getting on with Lucius way better after the shark thing and the Calypso singalong, so he straightens up, raises his chin, glares at Jim and Frenchie, and snaps 'get back to it then')

(and THAT'S how he becomes the unicorn of the entire crew polycule sfhgldfksds. Just one more ship's duty. You swab the decks, you reef the sails, you scruff the first mate and fuck him when he gets mad.)

[foggyfanfic]

Did you guys hear Disneyland Cast Members voted to strike?

It was nearly unanimous too, 99% of the unionized cast members voted in favor of the strike. This doesn't necessarily mean they will strike, more that when the union rep shows up to the negotiation table on Monday they'll have that extra bit of leverage. Hopefully that'll be enough to win them living wages and such. I don't have anything intelligent to say, I just feel a kind of way about this subject, I'm going to put my opinions under the cut.

Ok, look, I love Disneyland. Love it with a passion. You know what reminded me this was happening and prompted me to look up the story? I was thinking of updating this card I made for one of the many games I've come up with to play in Disneyland because I have a weird variety of hyper-fixation when it comes to that park specifically.

So I am not speaking an ounce of hyperbole when I say Disneyland is my favorite place in the world.

But! Whoever the hell is making the big decisions around there needs to get their head out of their ass. I don't know if I should be blaming Bob Iger or Josh D'Amaro for the way the parks have been since the pandemic, but I'm going to blame both. I can deal with them experimenting with Genie Plus (I hate it but I'm used to capitalism), and I can sort of deal with the prices (I can't afford them easily but I'm saving up), but Disneyland has very clearly been trying to cut labor costs for a while now and it's incredibly baffling to watch. It feels like the parks are being run by somebody with a business degree from a sketchy "college" and zero experience with the real world.

They're cutting back on shows, overworking their existing staff, and skipping regular maintenance so they can operate the park with a smaller maintenance team. Overall it results in a worse experience for the customer, making it less likely that they'll convert new guests into returning fans like myself. While Disney World is a major tourist attraction that most people consider a once in a life time experience, Disneyland has always had a steady revenue from local Californians that return again and again. If you frequent forums about the parks you hear all about folks who live in SoCal that buy their annual pass (I know that's not what it's currently called, but that's what it is) and use it to get into the parks just to have dinner or rove around and maybe grab a churro. They might not be paying for Iger's next yacht, but those folks are providing a reliable revenue stream, and they go back again and again because for decades Disneyland has maintained a "magical" atmosphere.

And I feel like it's fairly obvious that the front line workers are the ones that make Disneyland what it is. Right? Like I'm not crazy, we all agree Disneyland would be nothing without the hard work of these cast members, right?

Why are they-? You need front line workers, why wouldn't you-? Do they not have years of research and experience backing up how beneficial a well paid staff is? I love the Incredicoaster but if all I wanted was thrill rides, Six Flags is an hour closer and a whole lot cheaper. I'm going for the complicated rides that require their own pit crew like Mickey's Runaway Railroad. Why are we even still having this conversation? I get that people like Bob Iger are a bit insulated from the rest of us, but the relationship between a happy staff and profit is well documented. Why wouldn't they just...? In the Disneyland subreddit a retired cast member post the Benefits Binder he got back when he worked for Disneyland and this thing was thick, it included health, retirement, and stock options. Somebody somewhere must have known that whittling down benefits while stagnating pay was not sustainable. Right?!

Like I said, I don't have anything intelligent to add to this conversation, but to be honest, I think everything intelligent to add has already been added. I'm just annoyed for my own sake and downright pissed for the sake of the cast members. I hope they get everything they ask for on Monday, and if they don't, I hope the strike knocks some sense into everybody it needs to.

[akumastrife]

might drown in these tides between us // AFTG (Selkie/Pirate AU)

Rating: Mature (canon typical violence, drinking and drug use, smut in later chapters, mentions of past abuse.) Fandom: AFTG/The Foxhole Court Pairings: MattNeil and Andreil (background: MattDan, Rennison, Allison/Seth, maybe I'll throw kevin in there idk the devil's been speaking to me.) pirates love sharing booty ok this ship's open relationships are vast Word Count: CHAPTER 1 (out of????) 3.7k {Read full chapter on AO3 and subscribe for future chapters!} Summary: Neil's spent too long running and hiding, too long lying and pretending, to ruin it all with a stupid bout of carelessness. He should run, but with one foot on land and the other in the sea and his skin pulling too tight wherever he goes, he's running out of options as his past gets closer to catching up to him. Or: The Selkie!Neil AU that got away from me. Written for the @aftg-paranormal event =3

“Crossbow!” Dan roars over the ringing canon fire.

“Not for long,” Allison throws back. She lunges over a sliding box and scoops up a rifle out of Renee’s hands. “Seth!” She shouldn’t’ve wasted the breath. He’s already sprinting across the deck and skidding between her and the railing.

She swings the barrel of the rifle onto his shoulder to steady and—between one breath and the next—they’re both deathly still on the rolling deck; Allison sighting her target high up in the other ship’s rigging.

Neil’s not sure his ears will ever stop ringing from the boom of cannons, the shouting, the clang of metal, the splintering of wood. But in that moment as he ducks behind the mast, he can somehow hear the exact moment Allison inhales slow and smooth, the catch as Seth doesn’t breathe at all, and fletching singing through air as an arrow skims scant centimeters from Allison’s cheek.

He watches the drop of blood fall to the deck, soaking in. 

She fires and the man tumbles down, scream stolen on the wind.

Seth cheers as Nicky whoops, hurling something at him. Neil doesn’t get a good look at what—Seth swings a cricket bat and sends it sailing across the space between their ships.

Another man falls.

It’s over fast after that, with a furiously waving white shirt and several of the crew swinging over onto the enemy deck.

Neil stays where he is, heart thumping fast but not from exertion. The boarding crew will handle what to take, who to spare. He’s content not to have a hand in it, distancing himself from the violence as much as he can. Instead focusing on keeping his head down and bringing Abby and Aaron bandages where needed, clumsily catching the hammer Andrew tosses at him to start temporary patching. He grimaces at the jarring of his thumb, but says nothing.

The work is becoming familiar, and there’s a certain surety in having a set role. Knowing what’s expected of him even if he hasn’t yet got a handle on all of it. He’s learning. Fast enough, if Kevin is only snapping at him that they’ll dump him on the nearest island, instead of actually doing it. They’ve passed two already this week, and Kevin has yet to make good on any threats.

He deftly coils up rope, and ties down a crate that’s come loose.

He climbs the rigging with a thick needle in his mouth to stitch up a rip in a sail. Almost-smiles at Nicky across the way, hanging down by his knees to catch a bulky spool of the waxed thread they use for repairs. Nicky smiles enough for both of them, laughing brightly at something Dan’s said, leveraging himself up to join him in his work.

Neil’s not forgiven him. Might not for a while yet. But he can accept the spool and cut off a length with the knife strapped to his chest before handing it back.

It’s all necessary, but tedious at the same time. A little less so with the chatter and cheers and ribbing floating around him. He’s happy enough letting it happen without him, sinking into the folds.

Familiarity is certain death. Familiarity breeds complacency—will make him docile as a calf to slaughter.

He clenches his hand against the trembling, forces a cough through the tight squeeze in his chest. Shakes his mother’s voice from his head.

Shakes Nicky’s eyes from him as he wipes his hand on his breeches, surprised at the smear of blood. He sticks his pricked finger into his mouth, ignoring the sting and the taste of grime, salt, and gunpowder ground into his skin.

That, too, is becoming familiar enough to not be worth his notice.

He’s not sure if it’s crashing waves or seabirds screaming in his ears.

{Read the rest of the first chapter on AO3 and subscribe for future chapters!}