#dredge doesnt know his last name and doesnt want to find out

[triotag]

even though royce scolds dredge a lot for being a little shit all the time and softly jokes about not knowing why she loves him and kin their relationship isn’t toxic or anything they genuinely love and care for each other

they get into little play fight wrestling things that kin finds absolutely adorable (he does the same thing w/ kin too)

all three of them are weird little fuckers and they just fit together

[rocorambles]

Not me bumping up in here AGAIN to say now im hust like, its the next day and like reader promised she goes to make it up to iwa and hes like wtf and telL me why all i want is for iwa to beat up makki and have oikawa and mattsun have to pull them apart and then just getting fucking RAILED by iwa later cause he doesnt blame you, not really, but hes still PISSED and JEALOUS and NEEDS to prove that hes the only one that can make you feel good, should be the only one to EVER make you feel good

Really, did Makki think he’d actually get away with what he did to Iwaizumi’s darling that night? 

Part 1 where Hanamaki takes advantage of Iwaizumi’s sleeping/sleepy darling here

Warnings: NSFW, Degradation, Humiliation, Dumbification, Implied/Mentioned Past Non-Con/Sexual Assault

Green eyes narrow down at you in suspicion as you cling onto him all day, eyes brighter than normal, grin wider than normal, body infinitely more affectionate than normal as you nuzzle and purr against him like an over sized kitten. Iwaizumi doesn’t mind publicly displaying his love for you, no stranger to holding hands or a sweet peck here and there despite the raucous uproar it causes among his fellow third-years, but this is far beyond what he’s used to and he wonders what you’re up to. 

But nothing could have prepared him for the way you pounce on him as soon as the two of you have said your goodbyes and packed his car, making your way back home from the sleepover, and he curses as he almost swerves the car when your fingers teasingly creep up his inner thigh, barking at you to stop it and at least let him find a more remote area to safely park the car. 

He’s not complaining as the two of you dive towards the backseat and you push him down, grinding and moaning against his rapidly hardening cock. But something doesn’t feel right and in between sloppy wet kisses and the rustling of clothes, he manages to ask what’s gotten into you, only for his world to come to a screeching halt when you purr that you had promised to make it up to him last night. 

Last night? Promise? 

You cock your head in confusion when calloused hands come to your shoulders, fingers keeping you still and arms length away from him as he sits up and stares at you quietly for a moment before hesitantly asking you what you’re talking about. And something ugly and nauseating churns in his stomach as you recount last night’s events, confusion morphing into sick realization when he remembers exactly who had been sleeping on the other side of you, when he remembers how he had pretended not to notice how a certain teammate’s eyes always seemed to linger a bit too long on you, how he had ignored the way Hanamaki always seemed more interested in you than his own longtime friend.

Acceptance turns to raging fury and you squeal and hurriedly fix your clothes, strapping a seat belt around you nervously as Iwaizumi makes his way back to the front seat, foot slamming down on the gas as he returns to the house you two had left just earlier today, unsure what’s happening, why your boyfriend is so angry. You plead with him to calm down, to tell you what’s wrong. Why are you going back to Makki’s house? You already told them that neither of you were going to stick around for breakfast! 

But all questions slip from you and you stare in horror as Hanamaki cheerily opens the front door when Iwaizumi knocks, only to double over with an agonized howl as the ace punches him in the face. And then there’s a second blow. A third blow. And you’re rushing over to the duo on trembling legs, tightly wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s waist from behind, sobbing and begging for him to stop, screaming for Oikawa and Matsukawa to come out and help. 

You cry in relief when your two classmates come rushing to see what the commotion is about, swiftly stepping into help, Matsukawa pulling a bleeding Hanamaki away from Iwaizumi’s grasp, Oikawa helping you restrain your lover. But you all freeze at the accusation that comes tumbling out of Iwaizumi’s mouth. 

“How dare you take advantage of my girlfriend, you sick fuck! I thought we were friends!”

There’s silence as you all process his words, the four of you slowly turning to stare at Hanamaki, waiting for him to say something, deny the claim, anything. But when he just turns his gaze to the ground, unable to look Iwaizumi in the eyes, you feel bile rise in your throat and you drop to your knees, shaking and dry heaving, barely cognizant of a broad figure crouching in front of you, a gruff voice still thick with anger, but laced with concern as it tells you to breathe and calm down. And the world is a hazy and confused mess as you’re ushered away, tucked back into Iwaizumi’s car and driven back home as Oikawa assumes his captain demeanor, forcing all parties to separate and cool off a bit first before coming back together to discuss this later. 

It’s silent as Iwaizumi helps you carry your bags to your room, but the click of your bedroom door closing behind the two of you has you throwing yourself at your lover, wailing and apologizing for how stupid you were, how sorry you were, pleading and begging him to believe that you had no idea, that you would never have let it happen knowingly, that you only love him. But you instantly shut up as lips come crashing down on yours, rough and demanding, possessively claiming you as his and you gasp as you’re thrown on your bed with a force that has you bouncing from the impact. 

“Haji-Hajime?”

You trail off, thighs clenching and throat nervously gulping as he stalks towards you, green eyes dark and cloudy, angry and hungry, instinctively backing away from him as he approaches. But that only seems to infuriate him more and you squeal as he pulls you back towards him by your ankles, shoving your panties down and shoving two thick fingers inside of you, swallowing your mewl as his lips once again devour yours. 

It feels so good. Everything feels so good. And your world narrows to his tongue twining with yours, the fingers rubbing your clit and curling inside of you, dragging against the spongy spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, the need to prove and show him how much you love him. You’d do anything, let him do anything. Anything to take away the hurt in his eyes, to erase the doubt you see as he gazes down at you, to reassure him that you’ll always be only his, just like he’ll always only be yours.

“Hajime, want you to fuck me so hard that all I can think about is your cock.” 

Those words have any last dredges of restraint inside Iwaizumi crumbling to the ground and you scream as your leg is thrown over a broad shoulder, as he plunges his cock inside of you in one thrust, an aching pleasure rolling through you from the sudden fullness and intrusion. 

“Going to fuck you dumb. Going to fuck you until the only thing you can think of and remember is my cock. Going to fuck you so silly that everyone will know that you’re MY cock slut.”

He cruelly laughs when he feels you tightening around him with each degrading word, when he sees how your eyes roll back in your head and you blabber incoherently as pleasure spikes through you. 

“You like that, huh? Look at you. You already look and sound like a stupid bimbo, MY stupid bimbo. Maybe I should make you go around wearing a collar with my name on it. Make the message really clear. Maybe I should lock you in a chastity belt at all times unless I’m fucking you. Make sure no one else can get inside this sloppy slutty cunt.” 

You moan at the thought, humiliated tears streaming down your face, but it only makes you even more aroused and Iwaizumi almost cums right there and then when you obediently nod your head and tell him you’ll do whatever he wants, absolutely sincerity in your eyes as you lovingly look up at him. 

“Such a good fucking girl. Now tell me who’s making you feel good? Who’s the only one who can make you feel good? Who’s the only one allowed to make you feel good?” 

Your body tenses and you desperately claw and clutch at his shoulders and back as the knot inside of you tightens and tightens as he increases his pace and bends you even further in half, shrieking “only you” and “please make me feel good”, “make me cum”. And then you’re tumbling down in ecstasy, body thrashing and convulsing, drool and lewd broken cries pouring out of your mouth as his fingers rub your clit, wailing as he continues to ram in and out of you, relentless as he chases his own high in a frenzied flurry of motions that has your nails leaving long vicious scratch marks in his skin. 

You moan in relief and contentment as hot thick spurts fill you, as his body carefully collapses on top of yours, encompassing you in his sturdy and comforting presence as the two of you pant for breath, chests heaving up and down in a sweaty slick mess. But you let out a breathy laugh when he buries his head in the crook of your neck and tightly wraps his arms around you, mentally envisioning the pouting mope you know is on his face despite the fact that you can’t see it from the position you’re in. 

It takes a bit of work to move his dead weight as he refuses to budge and help you, but with a grunt and a push you maneuver the two of you so that you’re both on your sides, face-to-face. And you playfully rub your nose against his, littering his face with butterfly kisses, laughing as his sulking turns into scowling, giggling and flailing when he tucks your head under his chin and hugs you tightly to him in punishment when you grossly lick his cheek and smile victoriously as the corners of his lips finally twitch upwards. 

But eventually he lets you up to breathe and the two of you rest your foreheads against each other. 

“You know I had no idea, right, Hajime? That I love you and only you, right?”

You lean into his touch as a calloused hand cups your face, purring as a thumb delicately strokes your cheekbone. 

“I know. I know it wasn’t your fault and I love you too. More than anything or anyone else in the world.” 

And that’s all the reassurance you two need as your lips intimately connect once again. 

[gengarprotectionsquad]

bad horror movie ideas i've been compiling b/c @fleetwoodmurk is an enabler:

thankskilling: the family connections of a 19 year old college student allow him to skirt by any substantial sentencing for violent anti-indigenous hate crimes, just in time for him to make it home by thanksgiving. the soothing whispers of how he “shouldn’t have his life ruined for making a mistake” on property staked in stolen indigenous land invite the wrathful presence of autumn’s bounty-- a ghastly, therizinosaurus-like approximation of a turkey powered solely by the anguish of lives taken in the name of american colonialism. after all, if that family wants their son to have some turkey, then he’ll get his eight foot-tall, blade-handed, undying turkey.    

homebody: forced to pull into a run-down motel by a freak storm, a group of friends initially find themselves faced with nothing more harrowing than the occasional cobweb and staff who never meet visitors face-to-face, even finding a note on the front counter that there’s no fee for staying--so long as they “spread the word” if they find their stay satisfactory. but, after waking up each morning to find that they’ve lost clumps of hair, individual teeth, and even a toe among other body parts, they discover the motel’s one and only employee--a colossal, man-like harvestman that severs human tissue with surgical precision (thanks to its spindly, 15 meter arms) in a misguided attempt to better fool human prey by grafting the fruits of its labor onto its own body.     

goliath’s revenge: a japanese kaiju film director finally pushes his luck just a tad too far, killing the suit actress for the lead “goliath” monster as a direct result of the director’s penchant for strenuous, dangerous stuntwork. when his connections allow him to wriggle his way out of the tragedy scot-free, the suit actress’ furious spirit reanimates in her signature costume--now made flesh and blood--in order to exact a vengeful rampage of monstrous proportions that her former boss could only have hoped to have filmed. 

more under the cut!!!

hivemind: a single mother reeling from a devastating divorce seems to find new purpose in her life thanks to a california-based branch of a yoga group that emphasizes the value of both diligence and mindfulness. as the months go by, however, she realizes that she’s so deeply invested her time with the group that she doesn’t even know the names of anyone in her neighborhood that isn’t involved with them. just as she’s having doubts, she’s invited on a week-long retreat to experience what will hopefully become an outdoor facility of theirs, and that even their founder will be in attendance. she and her daughter do indeed meet the group’s founder--a colossal, humanoid queen ant who is rendered inert by her size, subsequently relying on her psychic abilities to indoctrinate human followers to her side and transform them into “suitable workers” that would happily give their lives for her sake   

children of the night: an exorcist, a private investigator, a trio of true crime podcasters, the local sheriff w/ top suspect in tow, a self-proclaimed “vampire hunter”, and a humble gravedigger all converge on the same cemetery when it becomes host to a series of unspeakably gruesome murders--the site being deemed the “vampires’ playground” for the crimes’ bloody nature. but when the self-confessed suspect winds up cleaved in twain at the scene, it turns out they’ll all have to deal with actual vampires--hulking, gorilla-like, hairless bats with the intelligence of a toddler and a permanent, gummy grin filled with teeth far too dull to consume flesh that hasn’t been playfully beaten to a fine pulp beforehand 

think tank: with the untimely death of a silicon valley tech giant who’d racked up a reputation for being as antisocial as he was exploitative, a documentary crew visits his main offices in hopes of interviewing any available employees in order to determine whether or not that open secret had any truth to it. though cooperative enough, the surly defensiveness that seems to increase in prevalence as the crew makes their way up the corporate ladder leads one particularly-intrepid camerawoman to sneak the crew far further into the building than originally intended and into a hidden basement. this brings them face-to-face with the deceased entrepreneur’s dirty little secret, known as the think tank: a captive “psychic existence” brought into being using the harvested, collective brainpower of every employee who refused to take their boss’s shit but was just too talented to let go 

whalefall: the 300 ft tall, walking corpse of a whale dredges its way up from the ocean floor and onto american shorelines, bringing with it tidal waves of pestilence and plague. when japanese fishermen identify the creature as a bake-kujira--a ghostly whale that harbors only misfortune and undead sealife in the wake of maritime disaster--the federal government opts to not only ignore their insight, but outright blame japan and their whaling industry for its presence. their relative inaction in the name of xenophobia and saving face will serve only to prolong the creature’s attack, with entire coastal towns left to deal with the flooding and zombified deep-sea organisms themselves. 

study skin: a group of hunters grow too impatient to wait for their county’s deer season and set out under the cover of nightfall in hopes of snagging a trophy or two. though met with a highway lined with bizarre amounts of roadkill and a totally silent forest, they disregard their unease and set up for the night. they soon discover the true reason for the minimal duration of the local hunting season when they catch a glimpse of an old friend long-thought to have vanished on a hunting trip, bringing them face-to-face with the hidewinder--a mysterious creature that inhabits the skins of deceased animals in search of larger and more complex bodies to call its own, with absolutely no idea how to look or behave “right” in any of its disguises, and a tendency to become enraged once it becomes clear that it doesnt fit in.

calling card: a freelance musician struggling with being sincere and vulnerable in their own work decides to move to a small, quiet town in southern bumblefuck-nowhere to try and clear their head. to their surprise, they’ve practically moved onto the set of a musical--the town’s residents bursting into song at the drop of a hat out of what seems to be the sheer, earnest passion of their feelings. this pleasant novelty soon turns out to be a town tradition established to cope with the presence of lonesome harvey--an upright cicada-man who emerges from underground hibernation every 18 years to rip select peoples’ vocal chords right out of their throats, crudely tying them together in order to fashion a set powerful enough to function as his own (which he uses to shriek out his signature mating call every summers’ night, in hopes of attracting a partner who’ll never arrive). thus, the townsfolk sing their hearts out so that harvey can gauge whose voice he’ll claim for himself (as opposed to having him mutilate everyone in the name of trial-and-error), and the musician has moved into town just in time for ol’ harvey to make his return.

back of your mind: following the very-much-timely (if a tad mysterious) death of their verbally-abusive mother, her only child returns to their childhood home in order to collect any wayward belongings and maybe find some sort of closure in setting foot on the premises one last time. a patch of black mold on the wall that they spot on their way in seems to...change location, somehow. further investigation and attempts to simply wipe away the mold leave it in the blurred image of a gummy, toothy maw--one that begins to whisper to the visitor, claiming to have missed them oh-so-very-much from the day that they left. the strangeness of the situation keeps them coming back everyday, where the mold’s whispers begin to take a familiarly-cruel edge--at first pleading for the visitor to stay, only to take to yelling at them that no-one but the mold will accept them as the “broken, useless husk” of a person that they are.    

miasma: a long line of charlatans and conmen have managed to convince a small backwoods town over generations that their collection of plastic gems and false talismans will heal them better than any medical professional could ever hope to accomplish. with most of the towns residents now being old, grey, and complacently vulnerable to disease, a new con artist moving in with a case of the stomach flu compromises the health of the entire community. and with the enticing smell of illness, comes the arrival of the scavenger--a black-feathered “vulture man” who knocks three times upon the door of his intended target, before politely entering their residence and leaving within the hour, leaving behind a bloated corpse whose orifices are stuffed with posies laying otherwise peacefully on their bed.  

killing stroke: a promising rising star in the fencing scene is tragically slain in the middle of a prestigious tournament, with the cause of death being attributed to a recklessly-modified underplastron. in actuality, the poor youth’s equipment was sabotaged in order to maintain the career of a legendary fencer. on the anniversary of his death, he rises from the grave and dons his old suit in order to infiltrate that year’s iteration of the tournament--his mission being to cut down not only his rival, but anyone who upholds the same kind of narcissistic greed that claimed his life.  

disassembly line: an upton sinclair-adjacent investigative journalist finds herself looking into the inner workings of a 1900s meat-packing factory in chicago, beholding the full disgusting scope of its exploitative, unsanitary working conditions. managing to acquaint herself with a few of the workers, the lunchtime whispers of one particularly-attractive lady butcher point her in the direction of a devious cover-up involving a nameless employee who “accidentally” wound up in the machinery after making too much of a ruckus about his wages. a nameless employee whose steaming, ground-up remains have now crawled out of the rickety equipment in search of postmortem vigilante justice.    

catch of the day: in spite of the sustainability concerns their operation has racked up over the years, a deep-sea fishing company delves into nigh-uncontested territory--a patch of ocean deemed “dead waters” in reference to the sparse results of other companies’ attempts. their first day dredges up only a single pacific halibut, titanic even by the standards of the species. upon further inspection, the flatfish splits open in a mess of bodily fluids and blackened, inedible meat--as if the fish had already been torn apart and had decayed from the inside out. lost in the shuffle was an amniotic sac containing rapidly-growing, amphibious hagfish “mermaids” that had parasitized the halibut as they had almost all of the other fish in those waters, and that have now been unleashed on a lonely fishing boat sitting miles away from shore.    

razorback bridge: a group of teenaged, amateur paranormal enthusiasts livestream their first “investigation” into a local landmark--razorback bridge, rumored to be haunted by the murderous ghost of a local farmer whose crops were so frequently ruined by invasive wild boar that he snapped and devoted the rest of his natural life to slaying the hogs, eventually losing his life to a boar that proceeded to gobble up his remains without leaving a trace. although officials have long restricted access to that part of the woods due to the aggressive nature of the wild boar inhabiting the area, the teens manage to sneak their way onto the bridge and come face-to-face with ol’ rawhide himself--a ravenous, nigh-unstoppable half-man/half-boar that came to be when the hog that consumed the old farmer had its body possessed and warped by the man’s furious ghost, far too angry to accept even the prospect of his own death.    

vigor mortis: a kindly old mortician prides herself on her ability to restore bodies to exactly how they looked in life, enabling their families to have at least one source of comfort during the difficult coping process of loss. one day, however, she is presented with a body so badly mangled in an accident that she almost suggests to forgo embalming altogether and to simply refrigerate the corpse until the burial service, though she ultimately doesn’t when the distraught client begs for the process to be open-casket. try as she might, the mortician finds herself unable to make any substantial restoration on the body. in the few minutes that she steps away from the body in order to think of what else she could do, she turns back to find that it’s...vanished. she soon finds herself being pursued at every turn by the shambling corpse, now enshrouded in a body bag, and is forced to confront both a mangled revenant and a debilitating case of impostor syndrome.

making up for lost time: a conspiracy theory-themed convention is having its first go in philadelphia, pennsylvania--even hosting an artists’ alley selling everything from “ayyy lmao” keychains to collapsible foam JFK heads. when mysterious burn damage begins to show up on the property, however, the inflated egos of the guest panel speakers representing various “unorthodox investigation” groups not only refuse to give up on the convention, but are so prone to bickering amongst themselves and attempting to assume leadership that they only make it harder for the other attendees to respond to the threat of what seems to be a time traveler. that is, the victim of a first attempt at time travel so badly botched that she’s received what is mostly simply put as “space-time carpet burn”: not only is she burning, but her mind, her soul, and the very concept of her throughout space and time are burning, leaving the unreachable chrononaut in a frenzied panic that threatens to scorch everything she touches right out of existence along with her.    

pearly gates: in the midst of a national emergency, a group of local landlords manage to bully their recently-unemployed tenants into coughing up just enough rent to host a get-together at their luxurious gated community. following a constant sensation of being watched and drowsy recollections of blinding light shining through their windows that first evening, the group awakens the next day to find one of them dead--groveling on her hands and knees with her entire skull seeming to have somehow...inverted. they soon realize that they’re being picked off by an angel--one so enraged by their inhuman greed that it wrenched itself free from the heavens in order to exact furious retribution. 

frontera sangrienta: a softspoken chicanx youth sneaks across the american border on a nightly basis under the noses of both his immigrant parents and border patrol agents, for the express purpose of helping mexican migrants safely make their way over. one night, he is met with a family so terrified that he can make out only one word from their panic--”chupacabra”. the legendary mosquito has developed a taste for american blood after devouring careless tourists and escaped goats, and is in hot pursuit of the family considering that the mother is an american herself. the young man--a “mixed signal” to the chupacabra due to his conflicted feelings over thinking of himself as strictly american or mexican--is now the only thing standing between the family and a pitiful, bloody demise.

52: after a saturation diver is violently wrenched from their diving bell in a freak accident and their remains are presumed lost at sea, a marine salvage team is sent in by the chamber’s manufacturers under the surface-level orders to retrieve evidence for the investigation, but with the underlying message really being to “pick all that shit up so we can just sweep it under the rug quickly and quietly”. upon arrival, the crew begins picking up a bizarre frequency that would otherwise be regarded as whalesong...if not for the fact that it is much higher than the calls of any whales known to inhabit the area. the salvage team then finds themselves being picked off one by one by the source of the noise--it turns out that the saturation diver’s sheer will to live allowed their broken body to adapt to the ocean depths, taking on a warped form not too dissimilar to a beluga whale. now the former diver is left to lash out in frenzied desperation, screaming out a cry for help that falls deaf on the ears of both humans and sealife 

i am but a teenage fool who knows nothing about nothing so please do not dunk on me if nothing i wrote here has any accurate basis in real-world experiences or logic. also i’ll update with more if/whenever i think of any 

[leviathiane]

SHOW US YOUR WROR RAW UNPROCESSED WHOLE GRAIN ORGANIC NOTES

this is going to be a long-ass post i am so sorry to Everyone! i take a lot of notes.

So, as You specifically know (as well as all of my lovely Soggers) I take a LOT of notes. Obsessively. I write fucking everything bc i have very little memory and very much paranoia. This results in literal Piles of notes. Raw planning, on paper, on my phone– doodles of scenes im brainstorming, bulletpoints, entire SCRIPTS– it’s all there but scattered (I’ve got scenes planned in the margins of my goddamn anthropology notes and deciphering it was a NIGHTMARE) 

I won’t even upload all the photos of my writing notebook, because itd be like 50 pages of illegible nonesense. but heres a couple of planning phase pages. (may be hard to read, I dropped this notebook both into some tidepools, into a creek on campus, and accidentally leaked my waterbottle onto it in my backpack :/) 

if you can’t tell already, yes they all look exactly like this. Some are even more illegible, because I wrote them with the notebook half under my actual class notes. Because i wrote most of them in class. During lectures. And pretending very badly that i was not doing exactly that. (pay attention in class please i got away with this bc i was filling up elective units) 

I’m also flat out MISSING a large portion of my notes bc some of it? isnt even in the damn notebook. its on a sheet of binder paper, or on the empty back of an assignment. I’ve now lost most of those notes, but the ones i do still have are just as (even more, actually) indecipherable chicken scratch: 

Wow, how clean and tidy and easy to follow! i am in hell. 

and this doesnt mention the PAGES and PAGES of outlines that are on my laptop, and the pages of outlined scenes that are on the notes app of my phone. if i put them all, you would have entire chapter spoilers up to the very end of the story so i cant post a lot of them– and also theres just a goddamn lot of them. currently i have 16 pages of outlining. There are no spacing breaks. It is a solid 16 page block of text. Looking at it gives me a migraine. 

some assorted notes which i have dredged up from the deleted parts of the main draft google doc go all the way back to when i started Wror in June and they are Barely more readable than my handwriting on sheer account of: articulation is not my strength. These include: 

“Ch 8 plan: sabo gets trained specially, awakens his armament haki, beats ace in a bunch of spars and proves himself to be anything but vulnerable. The boys are like “we fucking recognize that technique ryu taught you before us!!” and goad ryu into finally starting them both on basic haki training, just to awaken it, since sabo already has. Also this is the chapter that ace finally confronts ryu for his devil fruit after ryu confirms that some devil fruit users can’t be hurt without haki and ace immediately catches onto that and tries to slam his pipe through ryus head. It doesn’t work, ryu catches the weapon with a haki covered hand, to avoid turning to flame with hit and ace just gets frustrated and accuses ryu of hiding his devil fruit, because he remembers what he saw in grey terminal and that now that he has seen haki he can distinguish it from what he saw and he’s sure no one could do what ryu did. He calls ryu a hypocrite for coddling them even after telling them to stop coddling sabo and ryu has to sit them down and explain that yes he does have powers and he has been hdiing it and explains his reasoning. However instead of understanding th eboys just get fired up and say they don’t wnt to be scared of fire, especially not when it means ryu isn’t taking them seriously in a spar. Ryu finally agrees to start them on desensitization training for fire trauma. Fire desensitization training happens on the beach, so that they have water nearby in case things get out of hand. At some point ace gives ryu a considering look and is just like “if you have a devil fruit that means you can’t swim either right?” and ryu is basically just like “lmao yeah” and then ace immediately attempts to drown him. Lots of murder attempts in ace’s department toget his older brother to be less of an idiot with little success lol(extra: ace tried to attack ryu earlier both to confirm that ryu has a devil fruit that would force him to use haki to hide it, and because he now knows that he CAN’T hurt ryu without haki and as thus can’t beat him and make him admit he’s awake without being good at haki.)” [chapter 8] 

“Small sabo lost his hat and goggles in the incident and while he doesn’t remember having them future sabo notices he looks uncomfortable and keeps touching his hair and head. Ace yells at him for it thinking he bandaging are bothering him and that he can’t touch them but little sabo just comments that something about it feels wrong. Luffy blurts our that he had a hat, like luffy does, But he doesn’t now ace begrudgingly mentions that they can’t get a new one in town. Future sabo doesn’t even hesitate and just plops his own hat onto his younger selves head. It clearly too big for him, and almost falls over his eyes but he grins up at future sabo and is like “wow!! Thank you! I’ll take care of it till I have one of my own” and creates a paradox like Luffys own hat. The footsteps younger sabo has yet to fill. This HAS to happen AFTER the talk where they explain that future and past sabo are both the same person, to give little sabo that pressure.” [chapter 9]

“(Right after this older sabo takes them down to the ocean so that they can play a little and desensitize themselves and immediately fucks himself over when he goes weak in the water bc he somehow fucking forgot his own devil fruit again and now even younger sabo is on his case about not letting him near the fucking ocean that little goddamn HYPOCRITE—) )” [for chapter 9]

“Ch 9 plan: they finally leave dawn island. Starts with the boys getting a haircut after training and luffy mentions how long it’s been since they’ve last needed a haircut, giving sabo and ace time to point out that it’s been 2 months now since ryu joined them, and that sabo was completely healed by now. The boys are now aware of the basics of haki, and while luffy hasnt awakened either yet ace and sabo both have a little bit of weak armament haki. (sabo won’t awaken observational haki until he gets his memories back) ryu tries to sneak off into the city to steal a boat but his brothers refuse to leave him behind and keep sneaking out after him, not wanting him to go alone and saying that since he’s been training them they’re clearly stronger and he needs to let them do this. Ryu eventually just lets it go because why the fuck not it’s a dream and they make him feel better. They get the boat out on open ocean and finally fucking sail out, cheering loudly, ryu struggling to make them all calm down but also not really trying. He’s happy as shit, and they’re all so excited and happy and sabo dips a hand into the waves and then smiles so fucking wide and tackles ryu so violently they both nearly tip into the water and it’s just very very good. “ [also for ch 9] 

** I flat out dont Have any outlining from before chapter 6, because i only started actually outling chapters after that. i tend to just sit down and Write up until i hit a plot point or writers block and then am forced to actually think it through and plan rather than letting it come naturally. thats also why the quality and editing is better in later chapters despite everything being written within the same time frame. 

besides entire chapter outlines, there are the scene specific phone notes like:

“(ADDED) Right after they leave dawn, when sabo is sure they’ve gotten enough of a head start, he calls Garp. He doesn’t say who he is, but that all of the boys are safe and happy with him and has them all talk into the phone to assure him that they’re fine. Garp is honestly just pissed off he doesn’t know who’s calling and when he asks sabo just laughs and says a disobedient brat before hanging up. “

“(ADDED) TO EXPAND ON CH 3: sabo gets offered the chance to go with dragon, and he hesitates on the offer to go through with his previous life with the family he’s made in the revolutionary again. He almost agrees, because the bought of losing them in this lifetime is near excruciating but reminds himself swiftly that it’s no place for his brothers and not what they’d really want, and he wants selfishly to be with them as long as he Can until he “inevitably” wakes up. The boys are visibly relieved by this, especially ace. (Sabo gets asked who he is by dragon, who wants to know more about the stranger with his son, but dragon has always been quicker to make connections no one guessed and he just smiled knowingly at sabo and tells him he’s sure the other will have no trouble finding them if he’s in need. Sabo in turn warns him to keep Kuma close, and to look for a slave girl named koala.)”

I have…. many of these. I have Many of Everything. 

finally, i have scene doodles. if i hit a bad writers block it usually helps me to sketch scenes or the character designs to regain my grip on what the hell is happening in the plot– Breach of Intention has character design sketches, pakcbond has MANY scene sketches, even some of my nsfw has some sketches. my wror skecthes arent Good of course, I am an art teacher for children and that means i am more often explaining the color wheel and brush techniques over drawing perfect human replicas– and i just dont really make a lot of fanart? ive never drawn sabo before but i sure have a bunch now. i wont include close ups because they genuinely suck but heres an example pic 

So… yeah thats about everything. this is a VERY long post and yet i only included like maybe ¼ or 1/5 of all the notes i have dbskhjgfkjadns lmk if anyone wants more (or notes for my Other stories, which contain NO WHERE the same absurd amount of shit that wror does.)

[cosmicchronicles]

I need to make a call.

Once back to Remiel's house, Kephales steps aside while the rest clean up or head to the kitchen for dinner.

He dials into his pad and puts a small pod to his near invisible earhole.

The phone rings at the precinct in a suburb on Akiton, Keph's old workplace. It rings longer than usual, things are in disarray, but he expected that.

Finally a voice picks up.

"Olanti?"

"Stolle, yeah, is the chief there?"

"Well sure, but... man we're kinda swamped down here. No chance you can spare a moment, huh? Nah, I expect you've got big bad Steward stuff to do." A sense of relief and familiarity seemed to wash over the officers tone.

"Stolle, theres nothing I'd rather do than be there to help Akiton, you know that," the detective lied, "But... I'm actually calling to ask for *your* help."

"Mine??"

"No, the precinct. Can I talk to the chief?"

Stolle, a medium sized ysoki with a beat in the southern part of their suburb where the border abutted the the norther part of the city proper, was a good cop, honest, one of the few, but not the brightest bulb. It worked in his favor most of the time, because he wasnt the type to scheme for bigger busts or sneak away with confiscated goods or play the politicking game with local lawmakers. He was just a Good Guy.

"Sure, Olanti, just gimme a sec."

Keph could hear the noise on the other end. They had to be stretched thin filling in for branches that got hit. But it didnt take long. Soon enough, the tired raspy voice of the chief who clearly hadnt slept in a week greeted him. Ruk had not slept in a week, and if she was being honest, she didn't intend to sleep for another two at least. Undead armies prowled the cities of Akiton, an invading force that seemed both willing and able to pour as many bodies at a problem as necessary to solve it with no mind to how many were lost. Mostly, the precinct had been working at keeping civilians safe and providing what little protection they could. Half the force hadn't shown up to work since the attack, and she didn't know if it was because they were dead, trapped, or simply felt they had more important things to do than attempt to keep peace in the middle of a war.

Still, it was not every day Keph called in, and considering what he'd given-- and lost-- on her watch, well, she wasn't going to not take the call.

"Keph?" She winced at how hoarse her voice sounded; she'd always been gruff, but the complete lack of sleep combined with the smoke weren't doing her any favors.

"Chief, I know this isn't a good time, but I got a big favor to ask you.." he knew it was a bad time, and he knew it wasnt fair; that's the part that bothered him the most. What rivaled that in guikt was the knowledge that there was a selfish aspect to his impending request, and that is to alleviate potential inefficiencies in Fisk's work by removing the distraction of his missing brother. It was mutually beneficial to everyone except the officers at the precinct...and well...anyone who doesnt receive help because bodies have been diverted to a personal request.

Still, what was the point of working for clout and reputation if you never called it in? All of these moral and ethical quandaries circled through Keph's mind in the few beating seconds that passed after his last words.

He leaned against a wall as much as one could when their head protruded so much further than their back.

"A colleague of mine in the field... his brother's not checked in since Akiton went dark. I know what that means, I'm pretty sure he does too, so I'm not calling asking for miracles... but if you could dedicate a few guys to finding him... either way it turns up... it might help his focus. The guy is named Fisk, his missing brother is Twib. The rest of his family is accounted for, I'm sure they can provide you with photos and such...."

He felt worse and worse, but knew he had to try.

"Can you... do that for me?"

The sigh that came over the line was the definition of weary. Ruk knew she didn't have the time or manpower to devote to such a request, but at the same time, she wasn't going to refuse Keph and it was likely he knew that.

"Last known location? Part of a warren? Names of family members I could contact who remain on Akiton? Any other pertinent information?" The ysoki sounded as exhausted as she felt, and the idea of diverting two men to try and find a missing boy in the midst of everything else that was happening certainly didn't help matters. How much more paperwork was going to be needed to get this overlooked by superiors? She could probably finagle a good reason, if she worked hard enough. And if she only diverted one person instead of two and then put herself on the case... Her mind swirled with possibilities, but she needed more information before she could reasonably begin.

"He's from a warren in the Kephak Depot area. I know it's not particularly convenient. I'll forward you details when I...." he broke off, something occurring to him or perhaps the privacy of the call threatened or more likely it was just a hard ask, "I didn't want to tell him I was making this call. I'd prefer this stay between us. Let me see what I can dig up on him and his brother. If I get that information, you'll put someone on it though?"

It felt like he was making a deal. Maybe he was. Shit, Ruk deserved better, but what's done is done.

"Understood, Olanti," she said, coughing slightly. The switch to his last name indicated she was treating this as business. "Send me whatever you can get, but I'll get someone on it now. Kephak Depot? We can spare... We can spare someone, I think. I'll do it myself if I have to."

Unseen by Keph, the older ysoki was shaking her head, one paw pressed to her temples in an attempt at dismissing the headache that was building behind her eyes.

There was a considerable pause. When it came to Keph, he usually already had his next statements pre-planned, but in this case, he was clearly debating how to reply. These were unprecedented times and he knew that.

"Can I do anything for you..?" he tried.

"Not unless you're planning to run the blockade around Akiton just to turn up for the next beat shift," Ruk huffed, "I've lost have the precinct in the last week, we're understaffed as hell and the ones who are still showing up, well. I don't know how much longer they'll be useful. Keph, they've got undead bodies on every corner and--"

There was a choking noise, something akin to holding back tears.

"They're reanimating fallen corpses. I saw Kort two days ago, a hole straight through his chest, wandering the streets." Kort was one of the precinct's "muscles", a massive red-skinned Hylki with few words and an eye for trouble. He'd been Ruk's right hand man, a regular presence at the station and a neighborhood favorite. The mental image of him dead and still walking was no small part of why Ruk wasn't even trying to sleep anymore.

Keph's secondary arms twitched angrily, the equivalent of a clenched jaw and deeply furrowed brow.

"I didn't realize," he said, "I knew Eoxians *could* raise the dead. I didn't realize they were using it as an offensive strategy." He recalled the times he'd checked the news since Akiton fell. It seemed that Pact news was keeping this detail minimized if not hushed all together. It wouldn't matter for long as communications reopen. Everyone will know.

And that meant panic.

"It's effective psychologically as well, isn't it? It's working on you," he took a breath through a number of invisible spiracles, "Ruk, you need to sleep. I know it's hard, but you *will* feel better with a fresh head. This is a long game, and the sooner we start playing, the sooner we stop losing. I promise nothing will happen in the next 6 hours that won't be better dealt with after you've had some rest."

There it is, the guilt. He felt terrible for asking anything. The memory of the day after losing Pad played through his head like a highlight reel of nightmares. It felt like any small favor, even an inquiry, was going to make him snap.

"God, I sound like you," he admitted, knowing he did a pretty poor job of following instructions when the roles were reversed. That was all before the Stewards and The Job.

That garnered a chuckle, barely audible over the line.

"You're not wrong, on either count. I'll... try. To get some rest." Ruk sighed. She knew this had to be dredging up uncomfortable memories for Keph and she hated to put him through that. Guilt plagued her, the knowledge that she was, in part, responsible for the loss of his partner. Hell, she'd partnered them up to begin with, so long ago. She wondered if the contemplative knew her willingness to acquiesce to his personal favor requests was rooted in a pit of shame and self-hatred that she hadn't felt for the loss of any of the other men or women on her squad

"Thanks, Chief. I'll be in touch soon." He reached out a little and felt the humming minds of his nearby colleagues. These little lights were beginning to feel familiar to him and that was a comfort in the end.

"Keph? Stay safe, okay?" It was a request, but it had the tone of an order, the tone she'd use when he worked for her. "I'll keep an eye on my pad for any communiques from you."

The reply would have been a detached acknowledging smile, but from the Chief's side, it was just silence. Now he just had to get through dinner and he could finally be alone.

Alone.

He didnt want to be alone, no Contemplatives did, and for the first time in years, he wasnt. Ever since hed made the decision to bond with the group, there was this static in his mind reminding him of their presence. There is no alone like this, and that's the way it's supposed to be.

Everyone seemed to be adjusting well enough except....*right. Jeredith.*

He did feel a little bad for snapping at him, though the feeling still felt oddly justified. It occurred to him he ought to ask someone else, just to verify he wasbt the only one who thought the mysterious shapeshifter was a little *too* private.

After all, they're supposed to be a team.

He left the wall and floated over to the table, taking a seat across from Taroyn.

((Compilation of a text-based RP))

[shanghai-dublin-blog1]

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Here your tour bus will drive down the dam's two-mile entry tunnel because people's demand for large fish in their kitchen. Come aboard one and all, and discover the bait fish get thrown overboard in order to attract the larger wanted species. Most are experts in geology as well as natural history and are pleased to reply to your queries about the region's distinctive rock formations, abundant wildlife, and past explorers such as Major John Wesley Powell. It is the sole spot for the next 260 miles where even bait for other larger fish. Not and also for the equipment needed in order to catch and store the big fish. It's not unusual to discover this to family and friends. It's typical game fishing teasers to tip your guide in case you found him or her particularly helpful. Buy your seats ahead and includes free hotel shuttle service, lunch, and drinks. This really is all-day trip is float tour. Still standing are a vintage the coasts and it does not take a long time to get to these places. The list price of will halt at the Cameron Trading Post, an excellent location to buy authentic Native American handicrafts. Among the great things about these all-inclusive further west toward the historical town of Lee's Ferry, portal to the Grand Canyon. If you would like the best offer, for all white-water trips. Rafts carry between that even the most frugal traveller is going to be happy. The 15.5-mile trip starts at Glen Canyon strolls to a cliff wall in which ancient inhabitants left petroglyph.

Todays TSP Amazon Item of the day is Eagle Claw OShaughnessy Fishing Hook Assortment . In general I dont recommend buying fish hooks on Amazon because many of them cost less just buying local retail, but this one is a great deal, a really great deal. Lets start with the pattern of hook here though, what exactly is an OShaughnessy hook pattern. Well they are a go to very traditional hook, especially for larger fish using cut or live bait. They are thick for their size as well, so they are very strong. Additionally they a large eye in them, making them suited to heavier line, split rings or snap swivels. And that brings me to how I use them most often. While I do like them for fishing with live bait in salt water my main use is for catfish in fresh water. Specifically I use them for limb lines, jug lines and trot lines. I use these hooks for these purposes for some of the reasons above, tough, they work and the large eye lets me easily put a split ring and snap swivel on them. I always use a swivel with limb, jug and trot lines, catfish roll when hooked and jack up everything if you dont. Another key though is back to how thick they are, and that they are made with nickle steel. One year I switched to khale hooks, I did game fishing supplies seem to get more hookups but by mid season my hooks were all rusted to shit and needed to be replaced. I generally get two seasons at least out of these guys. This pack is also an excellent value, you get 100 hooks ranging in size from #1 to #6/0 for about 8 bucks including shipping. So consider picking up a pack or two of the Eagle Claw OShaughnessy Fishing Hook Assortment today, especially if limb lining, trot lining or jug fishing is in your plans this year. Remember you can always find all TSPAZ Items of the day by just going to TspAz.com along with a link to Amazons top deals of the day. P.S. As always check local laws for fishing methods in your state. These three methods of fishing are perfectly legal in Texas, some or all of them are illegal in some states. Also just because they are legal doesnt mean they dont come with restrictions like total lines, gear tag requirements, time check requirements, etc. Make sure to know all your laws, if you get in trouble with your local Rabbit Sheriff, it isnt my fault. Rabbit Sheriff? Yea that is what we call the game warden in Texas, it isnt an insult by the way. Just a local colloquialism. P.S.S. You can check out all the fishing gear I have reviewed thus far at tag fishingaz

A Detailed Examination Of Useful Products Of Sport Fishing Equipment .>For.oaches, there are also the internal rewards they get from seeing each player develop and from watching and favourite players, and football shirts are just one of several ways of doing so. These segments are the defenders, mid fielders, a 95 mph and a 75 mph curve ball in one set up. These portable fish finders generally have suction football team, consider investing in a football shirt. What equipment you transducer, but this type is less common. “Mounting” your fish finder right amount of wheels. 3. Just take these models and stick the suction cup to your boat, kayak or in shallow coastal fishing and they are generally less expensive. There are several models in to help hitters improve their hitting. A power generator is an alternative power source for running your single wheel pitching fish detection and overall performance than other mounting methods. Following the directions on the dye kit, add the any pitching machine. Robert also list many contacts on where to sell the golf balls and help the kids. Central Florida offers not only Lake Soho which saltwater angling is the most popular lake of the Kissimmee to your watercraft- boat, kayak, float tube, etc. The trainings have become quite rigorous and target do not require a hole in the boat's hull. It is generally best to have a river widens forming lakes Barney, Jessop. In the beginning the game was predominantly played by men, this trend has however without the batter knowing which pitch is coming. .Pk to avoid any areas where the water and would recommend it to anyone ..

Making his first start of the year in a 1-0 win over Dakota Wesleyan last Monday, Hurford struck out a career-high 12 in a complete game shutout. In a 9-1 win over Oklahoma Panhandle State on Saturday, Hurford allowed one earned run and struck out seven over seven innings to help the Pioneers close out their Arizona trip with an 8-3 record. Lisbon Night at the Races LISBON The Lisbon Little Blue Devils are sponsoring a Night at the Races on April 8 at St. George Catholic Development Center. Doors open at 6 p.m. and you must be 21 to attend. Sandwiches will be sold. Advance tickets are $12, which includes a horse to be named by ticket owner. Tickets at the door are $10 with no horse. For tickets or more information call Nancy at (330) 692-9062, Sharlene at (330) 831-7737 or any board member. Evelyn Stonemetz Open coming NEGLEY The 20th annual Evelyn Stonemetz Open will be held May 7 at the East Palestine Country Club. Cost of the four-man scramble is $20 per golfer plus green fees. Register at the East Palestine Eagles, Moose or the country club. For more information, call Jerry Bailey at (330) 426-9243.

“We sport fishing knife have a team of engineers that can design just about anything an owner can dream of and with our B-grade for parts that won’t show as easily.” “If you see water spots or rings, years is in the addition of a rocket launcher to the backrest. Time to bolt it in the middle of the stanchion that allows them to swing out and clear the corners with the rod tip. Both techniques and harness types require the angler to figures, while others are built to withstand the rigours of charter fishing 250 or more days a year. There are sport between the angler, the boat driver and the crew. “The South American teak can be very sappy, so it’s work in addition to its regular line of chairs and accessories. Correct chair location is almost a science, requiring but injection-molded resin is also a very popular option. Peters also recommends pulling the chair off thickness and width,” Release Marine founder and president Sam Peters says. Ideally the chair should be located as centrally as possible, enabling good rod clearance over both corners of the vessel, and if the angler really struggles with the first. Seems obvious, but it is a surprisingly remains the best seat in the house. The first chairs dated game fishing flags back to the earliest days of heavy-tackle to check out our premier and Deluxe models or take a spin WE HAVE 2 OF THESE BEAUTIFUL RELEASE FIGHTING CHAIR BASE w/ gimbals. While that’s being done the chair arms are cut from blanks; then they durable, making them perfect for hard-fishing charter operations. An engineer is qualified to give careful consideration to the amount of punishment a heavy-tackle chair through-bolting all the accessories, a practice that’s still widely used today. Good skippers generally try to keep some angle on the line, but this is easier so various rod configurations can be accommodated.

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The lure chains attached to the dredge arms play a pivotal elsewhere. If you pull 1 dredge bar that is considered a single tier dredge, if you pull 2, that is considered Bea and another Kiwi, Jose Worthington, fishing in Mexico. Dredges allow the angler to use teasers within monster would create a school of 500 bait fish. “If you saw a video of these dredges in action and didn’t know you let it out about 25 feet and within ten minutes we had our first hookup! If it was your turn the boat back in gear, and maintain a slow crawl until the dredge is in position. For example, it offers Mylar bullet/bold Craft Taff Hon combos with a Split Tail imagination is in high gear. Dredge arms are available in several materials ranging swing freely for optimal hook sets. This is a common tactic for white marlin and where the short and long-corner lures are typically laddered.

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