#flail snail

[pocketsizedproductions]

Okay, usually I wait until a painted mini of mine has reached our D&D table before sharing it online, but for this one I simply cannot wait. I've had this idea for a long time of painting a nudibranch-inspired Flail Snail, and I'm so thrilled with how this turned out!!

If I find more Flail Snails in the wild I will be painting them bc I have at least 4 more nudibranch palettes in mind.

[oneshotsfunshots]

Homebrew D&D One Shot #11

I wrote this purely to use a Flail Snail mini I got for Christmas

[PDF]

[chromapede]

I hope no one has done this before.

[tee-wells]

beautiful things are happening in dnd

[cagemasterfantasy]

DND Monsters: Flail Snail

From: Tomb of Annihilation Volo's Guide to Monsters and Mordenkainen Presents: Monsters of the Multiverse

Large Elemental, Unaligned

AC 16 (natural armor)

HP 52 (5d10 + 25)

Speed 10 ft.

Str 17 +3 Dex 5 -3 Con 20 +5 Int 3 -4 Wis 10 +0 Cha 5 -3

Immunities Fire, Poison Cannot Be Poisoned

Senses Darkvision 60 ft., Tremorsense 60 ft.

CR 3

Traits

Antimagic Shell. The snail has advantage on saving throws against spells, and any creature making a spell attack against the snail has disadvantage on the attack roll. If the snail succeeds on its saving throw against a spell or a spell attack misses it, an additional effect might occur, as determined by rolling a d6:

1–2. If the spell affects an area or has multiple targets, it fails and has no effect. If the spell targets only the snail, it has no effect on the snail and is reflected back at the caster, using the spell slot level, spell save DC, attack bonus, and spellcasting ability of the caster.

3–4. No additional effect.

5–6. The snail's shell converts some of the spell's energy into a burst of destructive force. Each creature within 30 feet of the snail must make a DC 15 Constitution saving throw, taking 1d6 force damage per level of the spell on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.

Flail Tentacles. The flail snail has five flail tentacles. Whenever the snail takes 10 damage or more on a single turn, one of its tentacles dies. If even one tentacle remains, the snail regrows all dead ones within 1d4 days. If all its tentacles die, the snail retracts into its shell, gaining total cover, and it begins wailing, a sound that can be heard for 600 feet, stopping only when it dies 5d6 minutes later. Healing magic that restores limbs, such as the regenerate spell, can halt this dying process.

Actions

Multiattack. The flail snail makes as many flail tentacle attacks as it has flail tentacles, all against the same target.

Flail Tentacle. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 6 (1d6 + 3) bludgeoning damage.

Scintillating Shell (Recharges after a Short or Long Rest). The snail's shell emits dazzling, colored light until the end of the snail's next turn. During this time, the shell sheds bright light in a 30-foot radius and dim light for an additional 30 feet, and creatures that can see the snail have disadvantage on attack rolls against it. In addition, any creature within the bright light and able to see the snail when this power is activated must succeed on a DC 15 Wisdom saving throw or be stunned until the light ends.

Shell Defense. The flail snail withdraws into its shell, gaining a +4 bonus to AC until it emerges. It can emerge from its shell as a bonus action on its turn.

Monsters of the Multiverse

Large Elemental, Unaligned

AC 16 (natural armor)

Initiative -3 (7)

HP 52 (5d10 + 25)

Speed 10 ft.

Str 17 +3 Dex 5 -3 Con 20 +5 Int 3 -4 Wis 10 +0 Cha 5 -3

Immunities Fire, Poison Cannot Be Poisoned

Senses Darkvision 60 ft., Tremorsense 60 ft.

CR 3

Traits

Antimagic Shell. The snail has advantage on saving throws against spells, and any creature making a spell attack against the snail has disadvantage on the attack roll.

If the snail succeeds on its saving throw against a spell or a spell's attack roll misses it, the snail's shell converts some of the spell's energy into a burst of destructive force if the spell is of 1st level or higher; each creature within 30 feet of the snail must make a DC 15 Constitution saving throw, taking 3 (1d6) force damage per level of the spell on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.

Actions

Multiattack. The snail makes five Flail Tentacle attacks.

Flail Tentacle. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 5 (1d4 + 3) bludgeoning damage.

Scintillating Shell (Recharges after a Short or Long Rest). The snail's shell emits dazzling, colored light until the end of the snail's next turn. During this time, the shell sheds bright light in a 30-foot radius and dim light for an additional 30 feet, and creatures that can see the snail have disadvantage on attack rolls against it. In addition, any creature within the bright light and able to see the snail when this power is activated must succeed on a DC 15 Wisdom saving throw or be Stunned until the light ends.

Shell Defense. The flail snail withdraws into its shell. Until it emerges, it gains a +4 bonus to its AC and is Restrained. It can emerge from its shell as a bonus action on its turn.

[fidgetspringer-art]

The Shimmer Shields - Uniform design

[goylesnight]

I’m augmenting the “snail flail” miniature from WotK as a Krimble gift for a friend - Crafted eyes, a saddle and knapsack out of Green Stuff and carved out the lil <> mouth with a craft knife.

I have never painted miniatures before, so I naturally started with something simple like a dry brush zenithal base coat (this is sarcasm).

Honestly have no idea what I’m doing, but am having fun. Onto paint.

[harborsart]

[justalitlecreacher]

We had a very brief body swap moment in my last DnD session, but most interestingly our Paladin wound up swapping with the team’s pet flail snail

Upon swapping everyone back the snail became human and that’s where we ended

[animeomegas]

Sasuke 💕

How would he feel about creampies?

He likes them a lot, but he's sooooo embarrassed by that.

(Which is kind of a shame, because damn does he look stunning with a facial 🫣)

Anyway, he's one of those omegas that's kind of possessive over your cum. Like... it needs to be inside him because that's where it belongs?? Obviously??

He does not say this out loud though, because he's embarrassed.

(It's okay, Sasuke, liking creampies came free with being a mammal babe, chill 😭)

He gives them an 8/10

What does he like about them?

Definitely the heat. The rush of warmth inside him makes him feel absolutely giddy.

But other than that, I'm not sure he could articulate why, it just feels like the right way to end things.

You couldn't really say why you decided to tease Sasuke.

Maybe your combined scents hanging heavy in the air was bringing out impulses that you normally had enough self-control to resist. Maybe Sasuke was just too cute to not tease every now and then.

You playfully nipped at one of the ankles that was resting on your shoulder, delighting in Sasuke's half-aborted gasp.

Or maybe, and this was the accurate answer if you were being honest with yourself, you had a theory about your mate to test.

You bent over a little more, grateful that Sasuke's flexibility was more than enough to accommodate you. The new angle pushed you even deeper into your mate and you both let out pleased groans. You had to take a deep breath before you could continue your thrusts.

This position, called the snail amusingly enough, was a new feature in yours and Sasuke's intimate lives, but ever since that fateful day two weeks ago when you had first tried it, Sasuke had demanded it every time. Even if you started out in a different position, he would somehow manoeuvre you both into the snail before the night was over.

You had already figured out that he liked the increased depth this position allowed, but you had a sneaking suspicion that his new obsession wasn't only about where your thrusts could hit. Hence why you were going to do a little teasing to test your theory.

"I'm close darling," you panted, running a hand up and down his outer thigh a few times. "Seeing as we're both tired and clean up can be a bitch, do you want me to pull out?"

You got to watch the exact moment when what you said sank in. Sasuke's face twisted in offended displeasure and his upper lip curled like he was going to snarl.

"No," he said shortly. His voice was incredibly firm and steady for someone currently being fucked. You had to work to hide your smile.

"Are you sure? Because-"

This time he really did snarl. It ripped out of him before you had finished speaking and you could have sworn you saw a flash of red in his eyes. Before you had a chance to look closer though, he kicked both of his legs off of your shoulders and tightened them in a vice grip around your waist, pulling your pelvis firmly flush against his.

You flailed for a moment as your balance shifted. Your arms fell down on either side of his head and you found yourself in something closer to the missionary position. Sasuke was glaring at you.

You knew it! Part of why he liked that position so much was because of how deep the creampie would be when you were finished. You couldn't stop the dopey grin from appearing on your face as you thought about how cute he was.

You didn't call him out (because you knew full well he'd be so embarrassed that it would end your night right there), but you did apologise, promise to cum inside him, and then let him manoeuvre you back into the snail position.

Too. Damn. Cute.

[conchcronch]

Kinktober 2024: Day 3

WC: 2296

Summary: It's been so long since you've seen Law and you're struggling. So you give him a call hoping he can give you some much needed relief.

A/N: This is the first time I've ever written Law so I hope it's not too out of character.

You groaned as your head hit the pillow, your hair was a mess, the blankets tangled around your legs trapping you as you flailed in an attempt to free yourself. You had been at this for what felt like hours. Trying every position you could think of, moving to different places in the room, but no matter how close you got you couldn’t get there. Your hand was beginning the cramp, the pads of your fingers showing the very early signs of being pruny from your slick. 

You had no idea what it was that you weren’t doing, he could get you to cum in a matter of minutes, yet here you were completely unable to get yourself there. You looked over at the clock on the bedside table, 3:34am. You rolled over, pressing your face into his sweater that you had stolen last time you had seen him, as you groped around in your bedside drawer blindly until you felt the small transponder snail you kept there. Quickly dialing him, you waited in anticipation, knowing he would still be awake but hoping he would pick up.

“It’s late.” His voice was low, gravelly. The same voice he uses to whisper in your ear as he fucks into you, holding you tightly against you. 

“Not like you’re sleeping.” You rolled onto your side so your voice wasn’t muffled as your hand slipped down between his legs, your eyes fluttering closed so you could focus on his voice.

”But why aren’t you?” 

“I couldn’t sleep.” There is a slight whine in your voice as you tease your clit, rubbing your index and middle finger along either side of it. “When will I get to see you?” You heard him sigh.

“Hopefully soon.”

“But when” 

“Did you really call me this late just to ask that?” 

“Partially.” You heard him huff a breath through his nose, knowing there was a smirk across his lips. 

“Oh yeah, then what else did you need?” Even though you hadn’t been together for very long, he could read you like a book, even if he couldn’t see you. 

“I miss you.”

“Is that right?” You nodded despite the fact that he couldn’t see you. 

“I miss you so much.”

“So much you’re called at 3 in the morning just to tell me.” You heard the quiet sound of a book closing, smiling when you realized you had his full attention.

“Uh huh” Slowly you stimulated your clit, rubbing the pads of your middle finger around in such a way that it was hard to stop your hips from bucking. You couldn’t stifle the breathy moan that slipped out when you applied just a bit more pressure. 

“Sounds like you called for another reason.”

“Mmhm” 

“Why didn’t you just say that from the start?” If you listened closely, you would have heard the faintest sound of his belt being undone as he leaned his head against the back of his chair. 

“I’ve been trying all night, b-but I just can’t do it.” Your voice was breathy, and as you ran your free hand over your face to push your bangs out of your eyes you felt a light sheen of sweat beginning to form.

“All night, huh? Why didn’t you call sooner?” 

“It’s embarrassing.” You whined, forcing yourself to swallow a moan that was threatening to slip out.

“Arousal is completely natural, nothing to be embarrassed about.” His hand wrapped around his half hard cock, stroking slowly as he listened to all the little sounds you would make whenever you weren’t speaking. “What were you doing?” 

“I-I’ve been fingering myself for hours.” He let out a heavy breath through his nose, the thought of you laying in bed desperate for him was enough to get his cock fully hard at the mere mention.

“Mhm” He encouraged you to continue. 

“I just can’t get there.” You slipped you fingers down from you clit, gathering your slick before pushing your middle finger inside yourself. 

“What are you doing right now?” 

“I ah I have a finger inside b-but it doesn’t feel as good as yours.” In any other situation, you would rather eat Law’s hat than say any of this out loud, but you had grown so desperate that any part of you that was shy had been silenced.

“Take it out.” You did as he instructed, wiping it on your sheets before waiting for his next instruction. “What are you wearing?” 

“J-just a shirt and underwear.” 

“Which shirt?” As he closed his eyes he wanted to be able to picture you exactly how you were so he could imagine how you would look under him, begging for his fingers. 

“Y-your yellow button up.”

“What?” 

“I took it.” 

“I should have figured you had it.” He tried to keep his voice even, but truthfully the thought of you in his shirt was enough to force him to grip the base of his cock enough to hurt. “Take off your panties, unbutton the shirt, but leave it on.” 

You didn’t respond, immediately pushing the cotton panties off your hips and down your legs before working to unbutton his shirt. “Done.”

“Good. Now, what have you tried?”

“Everything.” You all but whined.

“I highly doubt that.” 

“I just can’t reach that spot inside, feels like my fingers aren’t long enough.” 

“We’re going to ignore that spot, okay?” 

“But it feels so good when you rub against it.”

“I know it does, but there’s better ways for you to get yourself there without me.” You wanted to argue it, but you knew he knew your body better than you did sometimes. “There’s no point in you wasting your entire night trying to get yourself off ineffectively.” God you loved it when he would slip into his more analytical self. “Put two fingers in your mouth.” He said this the same way he would tell someone a diagnosis that had you clenching your thighs together. 

You did exactly what you were told, tasting your own arousal on your fingers as you rubbing your thighs together, moaning slightly around your fingers as you swirl your tongue around the digits like you would his cock. “Take them out and play with your nipple for me.” The line of saliva connecting your fingers to your lip broke as you ran your wet fingers around your nipple. “Do it the same way I do it, take your time, there’s no rush.” 

“I miss your hands.” 

“I know you do, but you have to work with what you have.” His cock was so hard it hurt, the grip he still had around the base finally released as he ran his thumb over the bead of pre cum that had gathered at the tip, smearing it over his head. “How’s it feel?”

“G-good.”

“Now, with your other hand, slowly run it down your body. Take your time.” You couldn’t hold back to moan when you finally felt the tip of your finger make contact with your clit. Law was always very quiet when you had sex, the most you ever got out of him was a the occasional grunt when he was getting close, or a quiet fuck when you had his cock in your mouth, so when you heard a heavy sigh you felt yourself get even more wet, if that was even possible.

“L-Law are you-” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, hoping he would be able to answer your unfinished question. 

“Y-yeah.” A quiet curse left your lips as you picture him, leaning back in his desk chair, fisting his cock as he told you how to touch yourself. “Put your clit between your index and middle finger.” You did as you were told, starting to move them back and forth before he could tell you to. “Don’t go too fast, take your time.” You couldn’t stop the moans from falling from your lips as you slowly sped up, your hips canting forward. “You’re going to wake your whole ship.” he said, laughing slightly to cover the moan that came from the very back of his throat. “Are you ready for more?” He finally asked, having to completely take his hand off his cock as he felt the knot in his stomach begin to fray but not wanting himself to finish before you. 

“Yes” you breathed, taking your fingers away from your clit and running them down along your folds. 

“Are you wet enough?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the question.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more wet in my life.” The sentence made your stomach flutter, admitting something so obscene to him felt wrong but at this point you didn’t care. 

“I wish I could feel it.” He couldn’t stop himself from imagining how well your cunt would take his fingers, watching them become covered in your slick as he pushed them fully inside of you, his tattoos completely engulfed. “Move the transponder closer, I want to hear it.” The hand that had be roughly holding your breast moved to grab the snail that had been sitting on your nightstand, placing it on the bed next to you, low enough that he would be able to hear the sound of your fingers pumping inside of you. “Now, push your middle finger inside.” You did as you were told, immediately curling it upwards as you did so. 

“I can do another.” 

“Then do it.” You pushed your ring finger in next, digging the heel of your palm against your clit as you did so. You bent your knees, bringing your feet up towards your body so you could rut against your hand. 

The sound of your fingers smacking against your wet folds was like music to Law’s ears. His cock was aching, pre cum straining his white shirt where it laid neglected for so long. But he knew the moment he wrapped his hand around himself, his orgasm would crash into him. “F-fuck Law” you called to him, reaching over to grab his sweater that had been laying besides you, bringing the fabric to your face to both cover you in his scent and in an attempt to muffle your needy cries. 

“Are you close?” He thumbed his messy head, bringing the pre cum down his shaft but refusing to stroke himself until he knew you were almost there. 

“Y-yeah finally-y” your words sounded broken and they made his cock throb, his balls feeling heavy enough that part of him thought he might cum untouched. And while the curious part of him was interested to find out if he actually would, the rest of him was begging for his hand. When he wrapped his fist around his cock he couldn’t stop the grunt that slipped from between his clenched teeth. The slapping of your cunt was loud enough he was almost concerned someone on the submarine might here, but he knew he was the only one up at this hour. “Can you t-talk to me, please?” The need in your voice spurred him on, his hand moving quicker as he leaned forward, curving over himself. 

“Are you gonna’ cum, babe?” He rarely ever used pet names, often preferring how your name feels in his mouth over any other name. But he remembered how much you liked being called ‘baby’, knowing it always evoked a long moan from you. 

“Y-yeah p-please I need to cum.” 

“Use your other h-hand to circle your needy little clit.” Despite your arousal-drink brain you were able to just barely follow his instructions. “That’s a good girl.” The sound of your fingers and your moans filled his office as though you were there. His hand was moving at a desperate pace, using his own precum as lube was not the best idea but he was too far gone to change. 

“Do it.” Was all he could get out from between his clenched teeth. The sound of your orgasm throwing him over the edge and into his own crashing climax. 

You knew you likely woke someone up with the volume of your moan. Each moan getting softer as your orgasm tapered off, your fingers slowing as they fucked you through your climax. Your breath was coming in short bursts, your hips lowering and your thighs shaking slightly. “Did you cum?” Your voice was rough, and a small whine left your raw throat as you finally pulled your fingers from your cunt. 

“Yeah, fuck.” You couldn’t help the small laugh at the sound of his gruff voice as he tried to catch his breath. “Do you feel better?” 

“Yeah, I think I can finally fall asleep.” Sleep was beginning to pull at your eyelids, having been evading you for hours. 

“Good, get some rest.” 

“Will you?” You pulled the blanket that had been pushed down to the bottom of your bed over you, rolling onto your side and holding his sweater against you as a makeshift pillow.

“I think so.” His voice was heavy with sleep.

“I’ll get to see you soon, right?” 

“We’re probably a few hundred knots behind you, Strawhat-ya asked us to meet you at the next port to discuss our next move.” 

“And when were you planning on telling me this?” You could hear the smirk on his face.

“Figured you knew.” 

“What part of this entire transponder call made it seem like I knew that, Law?” You tried your best to sound irritated but you knew it was clear you weren’t. 

“Get some sleep, cuz’ when we get to port you won’t be getting any.” 

“I’ll see you soon then.” 

“Goodnight.” You pressed your face into his hoodie as you drifted off to sleep, trying to think of all the ways you would get him back for not sharing such pertinent information with you.

[darlingsblackbook]

Weight of Expectations - 1

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary : You try and try your best, still it's not good enough for your liutenant. What happens when he pushes you too far?

Warnings : ANGST, simon being mean, bullying, yelling, feelings of lonliness, sad y/n.

AN : I was half asleep and dreaming while writing this, I was adding tags with my eyes closed, because wth are these tags, ghost car? Simon rileyn? 😭

The training grounds were a stark landscape of mud and sweat, a battleground that I had only just begun to navigate. The air was thick with tension, filled with the sounds of grunts, shouts, and the rhythmic thuds of feet pounding against the ground

Each day felt like a test, a relentless march toward proving their worth. I wanted this—wanted to be part of something bigger, to prove I had what it took. But every day felt like a war against Ghost.

“Push harder!” Simon’s voice cut through the air like a whip crack, sending a jolt of anxiety through me. The Ghost stood with arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my heart race. “You call that running? I’ve seen snails with more ambition!”

With every training session, it became painfully clear that Simon’s expectations were sky-high. He was relentless, punishing mistakes with unforgiving criticisms that left no room for error. His gaze, cold and piercing, seemed to search for weaknesses, and I felt myself being scrutinized under his harsh glare. The others seemed to flow around him, taking his orders without hesitation, while I couldn't help but feel like I was constantly struggling to keep up, drowning under the pressure.

“Y/N, stop daydreaming and move!” Simon barked, his tone sharp enough to cut through the humidity of the summer air. I flinched at the command, the sting of embarrassment burning deep as I forced my legs to work faster. The rest of the recruits moved like well-oiled machines, their movements synchronized, while I just felt like an outsider in my own skin, flailing and failing.

“Not good enough!” Simon snapped, stepping closer, his voice low and icy. “You think this is a game? If you can’t handle this, you don’t belong here.” His words hung heavy in the air, making me feel small and insignificant.

My heart sank. I looked around at the other recruits, hoping for a glimmer of support, but instead only found pity and judgment in their eyes. Whispers floated through the group as they watched Ghost tear me down, their words sharp as knives.

“How does Y/N expect to survive out there?” one recruit muttered. “If she can’t even handle a few laps, she's dead weight.”

The laughter that followed felt like a physical blow, and I fought against the tide of humiliation that threatened to pull me under. Every taunt cut deeper than Simon’s criticisms, reinforcing the idea that I were a burden, that my presence was not wanted. My frustration boiled over, and it was in these moments that I began to question my worth.

“Y/N, focus!” Simon shouted, his voice rising with irritation. “You think this is a time to be weak?” The anger in his tone sent a chill through me, and I felt my resolve waver. “If you can’t push through this, you’re never going to make it.”

“I’m trying,” I replied, my voice trembling as I wiped sweat from my brow. “I’m really trying.” But the words felt empty, echoing against the wall of Simon’s expectations.

“Trying isn’t enough. You either do or you don’t,” he shot back, his gaze unwavering, as if he was looking right through me. “Get back to it!” I swallowed hard, pushing through the pain, but it felt like running a race against the wind—every effort met with an unseen force pushing back.

With each failure, I felt a part of myself eroding under the weight of Simon’s criticism. It was exhausting to try and prove myself, especially when every moment seemed to invite more ridicule. The other recruits began to treat me with disdain, echoing Simon’s harsh sentiments.

During breaks, they would huddle together, sharing laughter and camaraderie, while I sat apart, feeling the sting of my isolation. Whispers and sideways glances followed me like shadows, a constant reminder of my perceived inadequacies.

“I heard she couldn’t even keep up with the warm-ups,” one recruit scoffed, and the others chuckled in agreement. The laughter rang in my ears like a cruel melody.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the training ground, with it came a sense of longing—a desire to be seen, to be validated. I wanted Simon to acknowledge my efforts, to see past the mistakes and recognize my potential.

But every time I looked at Simon for support, I was met with indifference. In those moments, I craved even a hint of recognition, a word of encouragement that might lift the veil of despair shrouding my spirit. Instead, he remained aloof, his focus always on the next exercise, the next task. I felt invisible, an afterthought in a world that seemed to favor the strong and confident.

The cycle of training continued, each session more grueling than the last. As Simon’s criticisms rained down, I could feel my spirit begin to fracture. I pushed through the pain, forcing my body to move even when every muscle screamed for relief. The fear of failure loomed large in my mind, overshadowing any glimmer of hope.

One afternoon, during an especially intense session, I found myself in a state of sheer exhaustion. The sweat was dripping from my brow, mingling with the dirt caked on my skin. I had just finished a series of demanding drills, and my legs felt like lead. Simon stood before me, arms crossed, his expression a mask of disapproval.

“Y/N, what was that?” he demanded, his voice a low growl. “You call that effort? You’re wasting my time!”

The humiliation washed over me like a tidal wave. “I—I’m trying!” I protested, my voice barely above a whisper. But the words felt feeble, lost against the weight of Simon’s disappointment.

“Trying isn’t enough!” he barked. “You think this is a game? You’re here to learn, to become a soldier. If you can’t handle a little discomfort, maybe you don’t belong here.”

The words struck me like a physical blow, reverberating through my chest. I struggled to hold back tears, the pain of inadequacy consuming me. “I’m not weak,” I said, but even to my own ears, the declaration sounded hollow.

Simon stepped closer, invading my personal space, and I felt the urge to shrink back. “Weakness isn’t tolerated here. You either toughen up, or you’re out. Simple as that.”

His words were harsh, but it was the indifference that cut the deepest. It was clear to me that Simon wouldn’t bend, wouldn’t show a shred of compassion. The weight of his expectations hung heavy, a noose tightening around my neck. As I looked into Simon’s eyes, searching for any hint of understanding, I found only a cold resolve. In that moment, I realized I was fighting not only against Simon’s expectations but also against a growing sense of hopelessness that threatened to consume me.

The sessions dragged on, and each day felt like an uphill battle. I was trapped in a cycle of despair and determination, fighting against the tide of my own limitations while yearning for a glimmer of hope. I could feel the eyes of the other recruits on me, judging and laughing as Simon’s harsh words echoed in my mind. “You’re not good enough.”

As the days turned into weeks, the atmosphere among the recruits shifted. My struggles became the source of gossip, the training ground's unofficial entertainment. Whispers followed me like shadows, a constant reminder of my failures. “Did you see Y/N today?” one recruit would say, and the laughter that followed was sharp and cutting. I felt the weight of their gaze, the disdain that seemed to pour from them, and it was suffocating.

The laughter was infectious, and soon it spread like wildfire, fueled by Simon’s unwavering stance against me. The others began to mirror his sentiments, adopting his sharp tone and biting remarks. “You’re slowing us down, Y/N!” one would shout, echoing Simon’s criticisms, and I could feel the sting of betrayal in those words. What had once felt like camaraderie had twisted into cruelty, and I felt my heart sink further.

In those dark moments, I sought solace in the only thing I could control: my training. I pushed myself harder, hoping that if I worked enough, Ghost would finally notice my efforts. If I bled, if I hurt, if I endured—perhaps he would see me for who I am, not just a disappointment. But every time I thought I was making any progress Ghost's criticism would bring me crashing back down.

“More effort, Y/N! You’re not even trying!” he would shout, the disdain in his voice as sharp as the crack of a whip. Each time, it felt like a dagger to my heart, leaving a deep wound that never seemed to heal. I gritted my teeth and pushed through, running lap after lap, each footfall resonating with my determination. But as the days dragged on, the thrill of ambition began to fade, replaced by a gnawing sense of despair.

Despite my efforts, the other recruits continued to treat me with a mix of scorn and derision. They would mutter comments when I struggled during drills, their laughter ringing hollow. “Maybe Y/N should just give up,” one would quip, and the others would snicker in agreement. It became a routine, a cruel game that I found myself trapped in, and with each passing day, my confidence eroded further.

One afternoon, during a particularly grueling training session, I felt the familiar tightening in my chest, a prelude to the storm of emotions that always threatened to drown me. I braced myself for the inevitable onslaught.

“Y/N! You’re not even close to meeting the standard! I could throw a rock and it would outperform you!” His words were met with a chorus of laughter from the other recruits, and my face flushed with humiliation. The heat of my embarrassment was nearly unbearable, and for a moment, I felt completely exposed, as if the entire world was watching me fail.

“I’m trying!” I, for once, shouted back. The words bursting forth in a moment of desperation. “I’m doing my best!”

“Your best isn’t good enough! It’s time to toughen up!” Simon shot back, his gaze unyielding. “This isn’t a charity; this is a military training ground. If you can’t handle the pressure, you should be looking for a way out.”

The laughter that followed felt like salt in an open wound, and again my heart sank further. I turned away, fighting back tears of frustration. Every word Simon spoke echoed in my mind, reinforcing the idea that I was a failure, a disappointment. The cruel laughter of my fellow recruits followed me like a shadow, a constant reminder that I was alone in a sea of expectation.

After the session ended, I lingered behind, desperate to escape the judgmental stares and the mocking whispers that clung to me. I longed for validation, for a moment of recognition from Ghost—anything that might help me feel like I belonged.

But instead of finding solace, I found only silence. Simon brushed past me, his attention already shifting to the next task. The lack of acknowledgment felt like a dagger, and I fought against the tears that threatened to spill over. The loneliness was crushing, and with every passing day, I felt myself slipping further away from the person I had hoped to become.

Weeks turned into months, my spirit grew more fragile, battered by the weight of Simon’s expectations and the harsh judgments of the other recruits. I began to wonder if I was truly cut out for this life, questioning my ambition and my resolve. Simon’s relentless push only deepened my doubts, and the idea of being a soldier began to feel like a distant dream, one that was slipping further from my grasp.

In a moment of quiet desperation, I decided to confront Simon after a training session. I needed to hear his thoughts, to understand if there was any hope of redemption. As the other recruits began to disperse, I took a deep breath and approached him, my heart pounding in my chest.

“luitenant,” I began, my voice shaking slightly. “Can we talk?”

He turned to face them, his expression unreadable. “Make it quick, Y/N. I don’t have all day.”

I swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “I know I’ve been struggling, and I’m trying my best to improve. But it feels like nothing I do is ever good enough for you. I just want to know if you think I can make it through this.”

Ghost's gaze hardened, and for a moment, I feared I had made a mistake. But instead of dismissing me outright, he seemed to actually consider my words. “You want to know if you can make it? The only person who can answer that is you. If you think you can, then you have to prove it. No one’s going to hand you anything in this life, especially not here.”

I felt a flicker of hope but quickly realized it was overshadowed by the reality of his words. I had grown accustomed to his harsh criticisms, but this felt like a challenge, an opportunity to reclaim my dignity. “I will prove it,” I replied, determination igniting within me. “I will show you that I can be strong.”

Simon nodded, a flicker of something—perhaps respect—crossing his face. “Then do it. Stop waiting for validation. Get out there and earn it.” With that, he turned away, leaving me standing there, feeling a strange mix of inspiration and despair.

As the days continued to unfold, I poured every ounce of energy into my training. I pushed myself to the brink, ignoring the pain that flared in my muscles. Each drill became a battle, and I fought with a ferocity I hadn’t known I possessed. Yet despite my efforts, the whispers and laughter of the other recruits echoed in my mind.

Even as I fought to prove myself, the negativity of my peers remained a heavy weight on my shoulders. Simon’s expectations loomed large, but it was the biting words of my fellow recruits that cut the deepest. Their taunts became a toxic backdrop to each training session.

“Why are you even trying, Y/N? You’ll never make it,” one would say, followed by a chorus of laughter that felt like daggers in my heart. Each jeer was a reminder of my isolation, a cruel reminder that I was fighting not only against Simon’s expectations but also against a tide of scorn that threatened to drown me.

I pressed on, fueled by a mixture of determination and desperation. I would not let the words of others define me, nor would I allow Simon’s disapproval to break my spirit. But the road ahead felt endless, littered with obstacles that seemed insurmountable.

In the depths of my struggles, I clung to the idea that perseverance would eventually yield results. If I could just push through the pain, the humiliation, the exhaustion—perhaps one day, I would emerge stronger. Perhaps one day, Simon would see me for who I truly am.

And so, I ran. I ran through the tears, through the laughter, through the doubts. Every step was a silent promise to myself—to rise above the negativity and become the soldier I had always dreamed of being.

As I pushed through the obstacles, I felt a flicker of determination ignite within me. I would not give up. Not now, not ever..

All Rights Reserved © 2024 DarlingsBlackBook

[lil-bitty-lubdubs]

The Basement Series:Septima pt.1

OK SO IM RESTARTING MY BASEMENT SERIES. IM DETERMINED TO FINISH IT. IVE HAD SOME IDEAS FLOATING AROUND MY HEAD FOR LIKE 3 OR 4 YEARS NOW. SO ILL REPOST THE OG WRITINGS AND THEN HOPEFULLY CONTINUE ON WITH THE NEW ADDITIONS. PLEASE ENJOY AND LIKE AND COMMENT. REBLOGS REALLY HELP TOO.

Always remember my stuff is dark cardio and resus!

~~~

She awoke slowly, the world coming into her consciousness at snail speeds. Her brain felt heavy as if cotton was stuffed into its membranes. Her vision foggy though every light about her shimmered too bright for her to directly look at. Her strength was sapped, too weak to even raise her head up off the floor…

            Table. It’s a table… or bed,  she told herself. She was too far up for it to be the floor. Where is this? It was a dark room. Windowless. High celling. A basement. She tried to remember. Glove. A black glove covering her mouth. She remembered as fractured pieces of her past her coming into her consciousness. Rag. The glove was holding a soaked cloth. The stench- awful. Then darkness took her.

oh shit! She tried to panic but her heart was slow. Abnormally slow though steady. She turned her head to look around. There was bright earth blinding lights above her but the rest of the room was in shadow. It was a dark, dank place with no windows, no soul. It was the kind of place Bundonians would go to pay homage.

            “Oh God…” she crooned softly to herself, but someone heard.

            “Ah! You’re awake darling.” A man’s voice startled her though her heart only elevated slightly.

It was as if her heart was carrying a wide load behind it reacting too little too late, but the longer she was awake the more the weight was lifting. “Good. I’m glad to see those eyes.” His shadow appeared approaching from the left. That’s when she noticed it. The heart monitor just next to her bedside. She peered at the lines moving and shifting on its screen. She was confused a moment. Then she saw the wires attached to it. She traced them with her eyes from the machine straight to their source. Her chest. She realized she was unclothed save a thin white sheet covering her nudity. Her awakening heart picked up its beat, fear setting in. “What the hell…?”

            “I see you’re beginning to understand the fun we’re going to have together.” The man’s voice was cheerful, calm, and slick as a snake’s skin. He was out of the shadows now. He was not very tall though a bit heavyset, but muscular probably around 35. Brunet. He wore a white lab coat like a doctor would on a bad TV show. He took her wrist gently, pressing in to feel her pulse.

            “What?” She asked. “What do you mean? What the hell are you talking about? “Who are you?” she spoke each phrase louder than the next until she was yelling. “You’re crazy. You’re insane! Let me go!” she whimpered trying to get her other hand out from under the sheet.

            “Oh but you will see …uh…”he looked at a plastic ID card…”Septima is it darling? I’m Cal. Dr. Cal if you will. We’re about to embark on a journey, you and I, and have so much fun along the way. He reached down under the sheet and slid a hand between her legs as she wiggled. “Mmm. Wet.” His eyes glistened lust.

            “Nooo!” she let out a scream. “Don’t you touch me!!” she yelled as loud as she could. He remained unphased. Taking his hand out as he yanked off the sheet uncovering her completely.

            “No!” She screamed again, feeling exposed and vulnerable. This is not going to end well.

            “Now, now, its alright.” He murmured and patted her hand locking his whole palm over her wrist while pulling her arm well above her head, holding it down.

            “Let me go!” She railed. “Stop. Let me GO!” she thrashed weakly.

            The doctor used his free hand to turn a nozzle and a sizzle was birthed into the air. An oxygen mask descended towards her face.

            Septima willed her heart into overdrive and flailed one handed even harder. She tried bringing her legs up to kick him but found they were already strapped to the table. She held her breath as he fixed the mask over her head and attached it with the elastic straps holding it in place with his hand as she tried to claw at it. In the pool she had a 4 minute breath hold. She could probably hold out for 2-3 now with all the energy she was exerting.

            Clearly the doctor was surprised how long she could hold it and began to feel impatient. Perhaps even angry. Good.

            “No. No. No darling Breathe. You need to breathe in Septima.” he urged. She refused.

He turned and grabbed a toilet plunger looking thing with his free hand as he locked her other arm together with the one above her head. He settled the contraption right in the middle of her abdomen, just underneath the ribs. “Breathe in. Breathe in. BREATHE!” He willed her, but she stubbornly held out.

            By now her heart was thudding in her chest right up against her sternum. She could feel the urge to breathe rise up, but it didn’t overwhelm her. Yet. He held out a moment longer giving her a chance to comply before thrusting his weight behind the plunger. It riveted a shock wave of air from deep within her chest all the way up her esophagus. It resulted in what sounded like a grunt as air left her lungs. A significant amount of air, but she refused to take a breath. He thrust again. More air leaked out of her. “Come now darling.” he said through gritted teeth. Yep. He’s angry. That strengthened her resolve. Maybe he’d run out of gas soon. He thrust 3 more times in quick succession though these weren’t as forceful as the first 2. But now, her lungs were empty. The burning in her chest grew every second. Spots danced before her eyes.

She needed to breathe. She had to. AIR. It was all that mattered. She gave up the fight and inhaled. A pure deep, clean lungful of cold oxygen tainted with sweet tasting gas. Relief flooded her chest, her eyes rolled back. She took another shallow breath. Her head already spinning.  But she was still intent on resisting further.  Clearly he knew what she was thinking because he leaned into the plunger contraption again. The breath left her inflated lungs. Too soon!  she screamed inside. She breathed in deeply again mouth open, desperate for air, her resolve failing.

One more time he thrust. By now she was barely conscious though still aware, lungs automatically filling in half bursts. Her body just stopped responding. Her precious heart slowed its rate again. Abnormally slow. It was calm and steady no matter how much she wanted it to kick into gear.

What the hell did he give me? she wondered. “Wrraanmrg…” was all that escaped her mouth.

“Yes. That’s it darling. That’s it. Give in to it! That a good girl. Gooood. That’s right. Take a deep breathe. Just give in. Good girl! Yes darling, that’s it! Breathe! Just breathe in.” he crooned into her ear, one hand sliding right between her breasts to feel the surge of her chest rise and fall.  She was no longer in control and she was losing consciousness. She yielded herself to him, no longer caring as his two fingers nestled into her carotid pulse.

[daniiiboo]

day 7 - falling for you - cb98

summary - You and Connor go ice skating, little does he know, you are a bad skater.

trigger warnings - talks of blades and reader sucking

dani's thoughts - OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS PROMPT SO MUCH IM SO- AHHH

word count - 498

find the rest of my 12 days of chrismas here !

The air was sharp with winter’s chill, but the festive atmosphere at the outdoor rink made it impossible to feel cold. Twinkling lights wrapped around nearby trees, soft music played through speakers, and the sound of skates on ice filled the night.

Connor was practically glowing with excitement as he laced up his skates, the grin on his face wide enough to make your heart flutter.

“This is going to be fun,” he said, tightening the last lace and glancing up at you. “It’s been way too long since I’ve done this outside.”

You smiled back, but your hands fumbled nervously with your skates. What Connor didn’t know, what you had carefully avoided telling him, was that you weren’t exactly a skating pro. In fact, the last time you had been on ice, you’d spent more time on your backside than on your feet.

“You okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Yeah, totally,” you said quickly, waving him off. “Let’s do this!”

Connor gave you a hand to help you up, and the moment your skates hit the ice, you wobbled. He caught you immediately, his hands firm but gentle on your arms.

“Whoa,” he said, laughing as he steadied you. “You good?”

“Yup,” you said, your voice higher than usual. “Just... getting used to it again.”

Connor raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he skated backward a few feet, his movements smooth and effortless.

“Come on,” he said, holding out a hand. “I’ll go slow.”

You took a deep breath, placed your trembling hand in his, and shuffled forward. Connor moved at a snail’s pace, his grin growing as he watched you concentrate on not falling.

“You’re doing great,” he encouraged, his tone soft but teasing.

“Stop lying to me,” you muttered, your other arm flailing slightly for balance.

Connor’s laugh echoed across the rink, and for a moment, you couldn’t even be embarrassed, it was impossible to be anything but charmed by him.

It wasn’t long before disaster struck. As you tried to pick up the pace, your skate caught on a rough patch of ice, and you yelped as your feet flew out from under you.

“Whoa!” Connor lunged forward, catching you around the waist just before you hit the ice. You clung to him, your cheeks burning as you buried your face in his chest.

“Okay,” he said, his voice shaking with suppressed laughter, “I have to ask. How bad are you at skating?”

“On a scale of one to ten?” you mumbled. “Probably a negative three.”

Connor laughed, his hands still firmly on your waist. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because you were so excited, and I didn’t want to ruin it!”

He softened at that, his grin turning into something gentler. “You’re not ruining anything,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “This is fun. Besides…” He smirked. “I kind of like being the one to catch you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in his gaze made your heart flutter.

“Okay,” he said, still holding onto you, “how about I teach you?”

“Deal,” you replied, unable to hide your smile.

And as the two of you slowly glided across the rink—Connor’s hands steadying you every step of the way—you couldn’t help but feel that maybe falling wasn’t so bad after all.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: 3 Men and a Dog

David Fincher: hi i'm david fincher Fincher: i used to be big in hollywood until the curious case of benjamin button Fincher: now i have to share an apartment with david cronenberg & david lynch Fincher: so stay tuned for Fincher: David, David & David Fincher: coming this fall

Fincher: [bursting into room, arms flailing] David! David! I've got huge news! Lynch: the deep in the dark, the eyes in the snail? [Sustained Audience hooting and hollering, 30 sec]

Fincher: David, what am I gonna do? This dog followed me home... [camera close-up on dog, sustained audience 'awwww' 30 sec] Fincher: but David Cronenberg HATES mammalian life forms! What am I gonna do?? Lynch: the deep in the dark, the eyes in the snail [audience hooting, 2 min]

Fincher: you're saying that I should disguise this dog as a xenomorph? Lynch: the deep in the dark, the eyes in the snail Fincher: that's crazy! it would never work [smash cut to Fincher dressing dog as a xenomorph, audience laughter 10 sec]

David Cronenberg: hey honey i'm home! Cronenberg: god what a day Cronenberg: my boss down at the ponderous 70s sci fi factory was riding my ass all day Cronenberg: the brechtian distancing mechanism got jammed again

Fincher: oh gee that sounds awful Fincher: maybe you'll feel better after you sit in your favorite weird chair made of teeth and spinal columns? Fincher: here, put your feet up Fincher: let me get you your favorite pipe made out of gristle Cronenberg: why are you being so nice

[knock on door] Fincher: who could that be? Dean Koontz: hi everyone! [sustained audience applause, 40 sec] Fincher: why, it's our wacky next door neighbor dean koontz! Koontz: i heard you had a dog here! [sustained audience laughter, 50 sec]

Koontz: i just wanted to come over and see your new dog Fincher: ixnay on the ognay! Cronenberg: a dog?! what's all this about Cronenberg: DAVID is there a dog in the house?? >:C Cronenberg: you know how i feel about animals with all their organs on the inside! >:C

Fincher: you don't understand david Fincher: this dog is really friendly! Cronenberg: you know how i feel about mammalian life forms! Fincher: he's a good dog! you'll like him! he's got veins! he's full of them! Cronenberg: that's NOT good enough!

Cronenberg: show me this dog! [dog waddles out, wearing xenomorph suit] Cronenberg: Cronenberg: that's a xenomorph Fincher: yeah i know it's stupid Cronenberg: I LOVE XENOMORPHS! Fincher: you do? Cronenberg: i admire their purity [chef's kiss]

Fincher: does that mean we can keep him? Cronenberg: only if you promise to take good care of him Cronenberg: a dog is a big responsibility Cronenberg: you have to shine that chrome carapace everyday Lynch: the deep in the dark, the eyes in the snail! [audience goes wild]

[fanaticsnail]

Tobiuo 飛魚 (トビウオ)

Snail's One Piece OC.

Overview

Extended

Name: Tobiuo “Flying Fish” (Pronunciation: “To-bi-yo”)

Race: Fishman Class: Fighter Crew: Heart-Pirates

Pronouns: She/Her Age: 29 Height: 7’2

Appearance: Skin is a cool blue palette, accents of teal and pastel pink in sunlight. Her hair is a dark navy colour, almost like squid ink. Under unnatural UV, raised spots and diamond-shaped scales glow like bioluminescent coral.

Peculiarities: Has gills on her face and neck, her eyes have no pupils, her tongue is barbed, and her teeth are pointed. Has webbed hands and feet, has webbed ears that triangulate out like fins of a flying fish. She cannot speak above water, her voice was not made to carry in air (her kin are of greater depths: Down Under). She uses sign language (Auslan), and will whistle to bring attention to her so she can communicate. Her voice can be heard under water, but it is far easier to communicate through sign. She is also amphibious.

Love interest: Heat (Kid-Pirate Crew Member)

Heart-Pirate History: Was found by Trafalgar Law, Bepo, Shachi and Penguin entangled in barbed nets close to Sabaody Archipelago in a state of panic, frantically attempting to claw herself free. She was heavily injured as she fought her way off a courier vessel bound for the auction house, but has no memory of how it occurred. A slash mark of a blade on her outer thigh was the only remaining injury that healed over in a raised welt of silver. The courier vessel was destroyed, Tobiuo was the sole survivor of both manned crew and slaves for auction. Most of the Heart-Pirates understand her sign after a few months, and use it to their advantage to communicate at greater distance, or in silence while attempting to remain stealthy in covert operations.

Role: She is Law’s security officer, hand to hand and tridents are her specialties. Considering Law is a Devil-Fruit user, she is on retrieve duty if he falls overboard.

Fighting: Fishmen are stronger, faster, and tougher than humans: Tobiuo is no different. She much faster under water, more deadly and lethal. May become worked up into a battle-like frenzy and overcome with rage (Berserker) in the heat of fight. This numbs her to pain until after the battle is over.

Personality: Physically quiet due to her mutism above water, but has a bright sense of humor and is highly expressive with her body language and sign. Is very much akin to a older sister to the crew, and will scold with an arched brow and purse of her lips if she witnesses them behaving recklessly. Loves to laugh, dance and tease with the crew. However, if the crew tease and prod too much, she will pick them up as if they weigh nothing and confine them to quarters until they apologise - or simply hover them over the side of the Polar Tang and threaten to drop them in the ocean while they flail wildly.

Notes: I love Auslan (Australian Sign Language). I learnt Auslan "key sign" for work, and have used it since with my family. Tobiuo is a reflection of my love and respect for sign, and I adore her.

Art, Fics & Chats:

Lost in Translation

First Meeting

Heat and Feet

Height with the Heart Pirates

Tobiuo's colour palette

Between the Tang and the Victoria

In a bit of a pickle

Dialogue about Tobiuo

Searching (part 2: writing one-piece spoilers)

Ten questions

Four more questions

Don't be shy

Attraction

Pool Day

Please

Dance Night

Digital Art

Perfection (fic)

Beach Day

Wano

Security Drill

Grinning

Wanted poster

Retractable shoulder wings

Wings expanded

Shower

Heat's Beer

"Kid Pirate" Tobiuo

Tobiuo's Glare: semi-realism

Tobiuo gets a present

Teat: Tobiuo x Heat ship dynamic

Kisses

Meme

Reunited (fic)

It was an accident

He's never going to let her go

The moment they knew they were in love

I'm with you

Romantic kiss

When someone knows your language (Tobiuo x Wire, platonic)

Tobiuo By Others

Modern Au: The Death Doula and The Undertaker

The Sound of Silence: Heat x Tobiuo

Moodboard: Art by @/skullfacedlady (centre image), @/thenotsofantasticlifestory (Kiki [OC] x Tobiuo x Heat). The other images are stock photos or found on Pinterest. Drawn art here is by me.