#if i have to build this whole ship from the ground up. i fucking will.

[zarnzarn]

to be loved is to be changed

[holylulusworld]

Caught Cold - Alternative Version (2)

Summary: Something goes wrong on your latest mission.

Ship/Main Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Read the alternative version here: Caught Cold.

Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, mentions of sex pollen, fluff, awkwardness

Catch up here: Caught Cold - Alternative version

The flight back to the tower is excruciatingly awkward. No one looks your way, and no one dares to say a word. Usually, you’d celebrate a successful mission, or crack not-funny jokes.

It’s bad enough that Bucky lost control and mated you like a wild animal. Tony and Steve walking in on you was the worst-case scenario.

How can you forget that two of the men you admire the most watched you and their friend mate?

“So—” Steve clears his throat. He tries to find the right words to apologize for not stopping his friend from mating you. “I’m sorry about the problems with the earpieces, Agent. I didn’t hear you called for backup.”

You snort. A broken earpiece is the least of your problems. You just had unprotected sex with your supervisor, and he claimed you. All the while he was under the influence of a strange toxin.

“Sex pollen, a hell of a ride, huh?” Tony cackles watching you and Bucky stare on the ground. Heat creeps into your cheeks remembering the way you were writhing on Bucky’s cock. “So…are we having a Buckethead baby soon?”

“First and final warning, Stark,” Bucky lifts his head to glare at Tony. He’s ashamed of his doings and hates himself for being unable to fight the sex pollen. “She went through enough.”

“You mean she ended up impaled on your—” Tony ends up on the ground, his cheek swollen and bruised. “What the fuck!”

“I told you,” Bucky raises his fist again, a not-so-silent threat, “stop making things worse for Y/N. It’s all my fault. If you want to make fun of someone, look for a better target. Leave my omega alone!”

You whimper when Bucky roughly takes off his jacket to wrap it around your shoulders. He looks you all over, clumsily patting your hair before he sits next to you.

His scent and the warmth of his jacket calm you. You close your eyes and inhale his scent deeply. If only you didn’t drop the vial with the pollen. Everything has changed, and you don’t know what will happen now.

Can you still be an agent? Will Bucky force you into submission? What if he rejects you now? He claimed you while being high on sex pollen. There is nothing you can do if he decides to break the bond.

“Everything is going to be alright,” Bucky suddenly takes your hand to hold it in his hands. “We will talk about everything after we land.”

“Young love,” Tony snickers. His cheek is swollen, but he didn’t lose his sense of humor. “Huh, Capsicle. Why don’t you grab a dose of sex pollen yourself?”

“Tony, that’s not funny,” Steve grunts. “Why would I want to use this devious toxin to force myself on an omega?”

Bucky flinches at Steve’s words. He feels guilt gnawing at his soul. Today, he added another sin to his long list.

“He didn’t force himself on me,” you murmur and lean your head against Bucky’s shoulder. "The sex pollen would’ve killed him. We had sex to help him survive. Live with it.” You glare at Tony. He opens his mouth but snaps it shut.

“We are about to land in fifteen,” Bruce calls from the pilot seat. He didn’t dare to ask what happened in the abandoned building. The sharp man didn’t have to ask. “Please fasten your seatbelt.”

You laugh at Bruce's seriousness. This whole situation feels surreal.

Who would have thought you’d end up with Bucky’s claiming mark?

“Uh—this is the bedroom, and there is the bathroom,” Bucky explains while guiding you around his apartment at the tower. You don’t tell him that his place is similar to yours. “There’s a kitchenette and you already saw the living room.”

“Don’t get me wrong, but why are you showing me your place?” You wrinkle your forehead.

“You’re my omega, and we will move in together.” He nods to himself before placing his on the small of your back to lead you back into the living room. “If we decide to have pups, we can have a bigger home. A house maybe.”

“Whoa, slow down,” you twirl around to place your hands on his chest. For a moment you allow yourself to feel Bucky up. Hands running over his chest you look at Bucky, really look at him. “We—we…”

“We mated,” he ends your line. “You’re my omega, and I will be a good alpha and take care of you. I claimed you.”

“The drugs…the sex pollen,” you sigh when he places his index finger on your lips to silence you.

“It doesn’t matter, Y/N,” Bucky murmurs. “You know that you’re meant to be mine.” He dips his head to steal a kiss. He whispers your name and wraps his arms around you. “Steve will help me get your things. You can get comfortable while we bring everything here.”

“You’re working fast.”

He grins. “I do.” Bucky wiggles his eyebrows. “This way I tamed a cocky omega and made her mine.”

“Dream on,” you giggle, relieved Bucky doesn’t regret his claim.

“Oh, daydreaming is over,” he purrs low in his throat. “I got the real thing now…”

“I’m still unsure this was the right thing to do.” Bruce shakes his head at Steve. “What if he regrets his claim one day?”

“Bucky was pining over her for months. I had to force him to make a move before that new agent got the chance to ask her out,” Steve casually says while deleting the footage of your latest mission. “He wanted to claim her, and Y/N wanted Bucky to become her alpha. We did nothing wrong…”

“You only made her believe she dropped a vial with sex pollen when in truth you rubbed it into Bucky’s tactical suit.”

“The end justifies the means,” Steve says before walking away.

Tags in reblog.

[nights-at-crystarium]

Hooooo boy ALRIGHT *rubs my hands together*

I'd already committed to making Fragments when I realized that building up a new character (wol/oc) could be done through other characters. Perhaps that's not even needed in some short and simple npc ship story, which this story's grown out of. My ambition's proportionate to your support and encouragement, seeing that people like what I do, I felt more confident to indulge and go deeper, write a proper ShB love letter, as I like to refer to Fragments nowadays.

At the same time I don't wanna overhype something that's never been in the plans. I'm adamant about keeping this story focused, anything that gets more than 1-2 comic panels is relevant to Vivi in some way, hence you won't see, let's say, a detour to uriancred even though I ship them. Try to please everyone, end up pleasing no one. If we at some point asked ourselves "what does this have to do with wolgraha?" that'd mean the story's lost its direction and crawled apart. And, why, yes, wolemet has EVERYTHING to do with wolgraha, glad that I realized it before it was too late!!

That being the logical reason, I also can't force myself to write about those who don't quite make it to my blorbo tier. Alisaie gets a lot of attention, while Alphinaud's just. There. Sorry :'> Still he has reasons to stay out of this, they just don't vibe that well with Vivi.

I may be unable to give equal amount of screentime and thoughtful approach to everyone in the ShB cast, but those who got lucky to be relevant to Vivi AND feed my brainworms will get their due tributes.

There's a risk that you won't unsee this once I point it out: the comic's still in the introduction phase where I shamelessly grab a character to tell something about Vivi. Of course I'm trying to be subtle, I also must respect said character, consider what they would and wouldn't do. ShB has brilliant, masterful characterization that's super easy to work with imo. Everyone feels like a person, you just analyze them a bit, see what makes them tick.

Speaking of real, I just can't imagine them sitting at a dining table in their battle outfits. What the fuck. No. Hence I gave them some casual clothes. I like it when things are grounded, when they make sense. I ask a lot of hows and whys.

On the topic of the Scions (not) being yesmen to the wol: that's simply the whole premise of Fragments, they mix like oil and water with Vivi. The writing process went like: Vivi falls for Exarch. Why not for ARRRaha? He doesn't only like Exarch, he likes the First as a whole. Why? He's happy to leave the Source behind. The Scions belong to the Source. Scions = duty = bad for Vivi. Why duty bad for Vivi? Oh he's just a pathetic piece of shit who wants to be Free. I gave him the archetype of a manic pixie dream boy from the start, then I just overanalyzed what it means for a guy that's supposed to be a selfless nodding hero.

Conflict's more fun to explore than total agreement. Are we there to be entertained, or what? That being said, conflict for the sake of conflict could become just as bland, balance is key as they say.

[thebibliosphere]

I saw your post about ingram, and out of curiosity, is there some advantage to going through the whole self-publishing thing with retailers when you're just starting out? like I mean the way that fandom zines work is that they don't even bother going through ingram or amazon or whatever. they just set up a social media site (usually twitter) to gain followers, open preorders (usually 1-2 months in length) to generate the costs of printing upfront, and then sell anywhere from a few dozen to several hundred copies of their books (usually artbooks, but anthologies exist too). I've seen some zines generate over a thousand orders. they're kind of like pop-up shops, except for books. maybe the sales numbers aren't so impressive to a real author, but the profit generated is typically waaaay more than the $75+ apparently needed for Ingram Spark, so I still feel like new authors could benefit from this method too, especially if they just need some start-up cash to eventually move to ingram if they want to for subsequent runs of their book. I think authors would also have to set aside some of the pre-order money to buy an ISBN number to have printed on their book, and I'm not really sure what other differences there are, but I just wanted to ask about it in case there's some huge disadvantage I'm missing!

So, popup zines work well for some people, and I know some authors who kickstart their work successfully. But for a lot, it's just not feasible as a long-term stratedy. Or even as a means to get off the ground.

Fanzines succeed primarily because an existing fanbase is willing and ready to throw money at something they love. They’ve got a favorite writer or artist they want to support. Supporting all the others is just a happy by-product. They also take a HUGE amount of short-term but intense planning that just doesn’t always jive with how some of us work.

I, for one, would never offer to organize a fanzine. I’ll take part in them as a creator, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than subject myself to wrangling that many people and dealing with the legal logistics.

When it comes to authors doing anthologies, it'svery much the same. The success of the funding often hinges on having other big-name authors involved whose existing fans will prop up the project. Or having a huge marketing budget.

Most self-pub authors have zero marketing budget. I’m one of them, and I’m under no illusions that my work would not be as popular and self-sustaining as it is if I didn’t have a large Tumblr blog.

When I thank Tumblr in my forewards, I am utterly sincere. Tumblr brought fandom levels of enthusiasm to an unknown work and broke the Amazon algorithm so hard, that Amazon thought I was bot sniping my way to multiple #1 spots and froze my sales rankings.

That’s not the norm. And while I could probably kickstart my own work as an indie creator, that’s because I’ve put literal decades into building up a readership. I’ve been doing this since I was 16 and realized people thought I was funny. I didn’t know what to do with it or if I’d ever actually write anything, but it meant the groundwork was already there (thank you, past-me). I basically fell upward into my success by virtue of never being able to shut the fuck up and wanting to make people laugh. Clown instincts too strong.

New or first-time authors trying to sell their work without that will find it infinitely harder.

All of that aside, even if an unknown author somehow gets lucky and manages to fund their work, there’s still the question of shipping and distribution logistics. Are you shipping everything yourself? Better hope you’re able-bodied and have the time for it. (for reference, it took me months to ship out 300 patreon hardbacks because of my disabilites. It damaged my back and hands. I couldn’t type for several weeks after I was done.)

Are you going to sell primarily at conventions? Better hope you’re able-bodied, have the time and don’t have cripling anxiety about being in large groups...

Also, will selling a dozen to a few thousand copies in one burst be sustainable in the long run as a career? Not for me. Doing things via Ingram and Amazon means I earn a steady trickle of sales for the rest of my life provided the platforms remain and so long as I keep working and can generate interest in the series, not just when I have funds to pay for physical copies to sell. The one-time (in theory) cost of $75 to distribute through Ingram gets paid off pretty quick that way. And it doesn't require the same logistics as doing the popup/crowdfund.

Ultimately, it comes down to what you are capable of but also the type of work you’re doing. If you’ve got an extended network of fellow creatives who will back you or you’ve got a large following elsewhere, doing it like a popup might work for you.

If you’re an exhausted burnout who can’t fathom the short but intense amount of organization that sort of thing requires, not to mention doing it over and over and over... Ehhhhh. No thank you.

[thebisexualdogdad]

Sanji x top male reader first time? 👁_👁

Sanji x Male!reader - Desperate

It started with a celebratory make out under the tangerine trees after defeating Arlong and saving Coco Village.

You and Sanji had been building up the sexual tension from the moment you met back at the Baratie and now you thought you were finally going to get to act on your desires.

That was until a very drunk villager stumbled away from the festivities and found you, mumbling a, "what are you guys doing out here," before throwing back up all the alcohol he consumed and passing out against another tree.

"We have to take him back don't we," Sanji sighs with his leg still in between yours.

"Yeah we do," you respond quite disappointed that you didn't get to continue with your own form of celebrating.

A few days later you stop on an island to get more supplies and you think you have the ship to yourselves as Sanji had given the others a long list of obscure foods he pretended to need for dinners to keep them busy for a while.

The two of you are in your tiny bunk, crowded but making it work though just as you're about to slip your hand down his pants Luffy comes barging into the sleeping quarters.

"Sanji we have no idea what any of these ingredients are… uhh am I interrupting something?" He asks confused.

Once again Sanji sighs, crawling out of your bunk because of his failed plan.

Weeks go by and you guys are getting desperate, there isn't exactly a whole lot of privacy out on the open sea traveling six people on a small ship.

So desperate that when you arrive back at the Baratie to give Zeff an update on your adventures Sanji drags you away mid dinner to a storage room behind the kitchen.

You have Sanji pressed into the shelves, bags of food being haphazardly pushed off and hitting the ground with a thud as you kiss along his neck.

"Something tells me this isn't the first time you've done something like this in here," you chuckle, undoing his shirt and running your hands along his abs.

"What can I say? People love a man who can cook," he grins.

"You know Zoro totally saw us sneaking off right?" You say dropping his pants and toying with him through his underwear.

"At this point I really don't care darling, I need you and I need you now," he grunts, getting hard while you tease him.

His underwear falls to his ankles like his pants and he's moaning as you quickly stroke him.

You feel your own pants begin to tighten around your growing erection and can't wait any longer to finally fuck him.

You turn Sanji around, his face against a bag of rice while you stick two fingers in your mouth to wet them and begin playing with his hole.

You stretch him out with one finger first, then adding the second and Sanji is a mess waiting for your cock.

"Well what are you waiting for," Sanji says with a smirk, "you gonna fuck me or not?"

You laugh, removing your fingers and freeing your hard cock from your pants, playfully smacking it against his ass.

"We don't have all day lover boy," Sanji states but he gasps when you roughly push your cock inside him.

"You were saying some Sanj?" You grin, taking hold of his hips and beginning a steady rhythm.

"Fuck yes," he moans finally feeling some relief after waiting so long for this moment.

He holds on tight to the railings of the shelves, shaking them against the wall as you pound into him, a dishwasher walking by outside and instantly recognizing the sounds of Sanji's moan mumbling to himself, "not again."

Sanji reaches down and strokes himself, chanting your name as he gets closer to his release.

"Does that feel good?" You say cockily, "you like me fucking that perfect ass of yours"

"So good, so fucking good," is all he can mutter back.

Your nails dig into his hips, thrusting into him even faster and he cums all over one of the shelves.

"Holy shit," he cries, riding out his high with your movements never faltering.

After another minute or so you're about to hit your own orgasm and you want Sanji to taste it.

"Get on your knees," you say, pulling out of him and turning him around.

He immediately misses the feeling of you inside him but he happily sinks to the ground and opens his mouth wide as you stroke your cock until you're cumming across his face.

He's smiling as he swallows as much of your cum as he can and damn did he look good on his knees for you.

"You taste good, not as good as my cooking of course but still quite delectable," he smirks, standing back up and wiping the stray cum off his chin with his shirt sleeve.

"Very funny but we should probably get back out there," you laugh before kissing him deeply, tasting remnants of yourself on his tongue.

"Or," he says raising an eyebrow, "we can go steal some desert from the kitchen and fuck again on Zeff's desk."

"That, let's definitely do that and make sure you grab some whipped cream."

[xx-j4nu5-c4t5-xx]

I've been thinking about PT9 and how he'd acclimate to Sim society, and what struggles everyone would face trying to incorporate him into everything, and I think the hardest thing would be communication. Sure, teaching terrestrial language to an alien species would be hard, but you're sure to find some kind of common ground somewhere in a verbal language. Eventually, using some sort of concept or comparison as a sort of key, you'd be able to start translating things.

But what if you didn't have a verbal language to work with?

Back on Sixam, everyone had antennae, and everyone was always sort of tuned into a huge cloud of thoughts and emotions, like a hivemind. There was this constant buzz of feeling, at all times of the day, ever present in everyone's lives. You could feel the boredom of the students in class a few buildings away, you could feel the grogginess of the morning as neighbors woke up and started to get on with their days, you could feel everything. The aliens had written language, for documentation and stuff, but it didn't have a verbal equivalent. It didn't need one. You could have someone read the words, and the concepts could be shared immediately to everyone else in the room, no need to even open your mouth.

PT#9, having heard of the diversity and beauty of Earth (or wherever the hell Sims live idk), decides to leave everything he knows behind and settle down there. His travel through space isn't quiet, either, as he's got communication devices and a whole host of things on the ship that keep him tied to the network even when he's out in space.

And then he gets shot out of the sky by a fucking missile or something and when he wakes up in the crater, it's silent. Deafeningly, crushingly, overwhelmingly so. He can hear the remains of the ship smoldering and sparking, and the garbled noises of radio transmissions from the huge metal towers, but nothing holds any meaning. He can't feel anyone near him; at first, he's worried that he's crashed in a completely deserted part of the globe.

It only gets worse after he meets Jenny. He's trying to communicate with her, trying to understand what she's feeling and what she wants, but there's nothing. He can't tune into her wavelength, and it seems as though she can't tune into his. Nobody can. They just keep ignoring him, whether they mean to or not, and instead they just keep chattering on in that strange melody that pours out of their mouths without end. He's blasting signals out into the world around him, trying to explain that he's lost and confused and injured and scared, and nothing is listening. Nobody's there to even hear it.

Eventually, he starts picking up on things. The noises are usually consistent; these creatures make the same noises to refer to the same objects. The "egg" noise always refers to the white oval things in the little carton in the fridge. But sometimes the noises are wildly unpredictable, used for things they shouldn't apply to or trying to mean something entirely different with the same sounds. It's mind-boggling to him, and progress is slow, but the two of them make progress together. His field was always biology, anatomy, studies of the body and how it works and forms. He has an easier time understanding the diagrams in Jenny's textbooks than he does Jenny herself. He's definitely no linguist, but he tries his hardest to bridge the gap, for both their sakes.

He gets the hang of it after a few years, enough to get by, and sometimes to even hold a decent conversation, but it's always slow and never instinctual. The concept of trying to crush so many ideas and feelings into such odd and unnatural vocalizations feels pointless. Exasperating. Why can't they just listen to him directly and cut out the middle man?

Improvement gets exponentially faster after Johnny is born, though. Having everything laid out simply, and seeing how people start to understand these things from the ground up, helps immensely. Pol and Johnny sort of learn to be normal Sims together, or at least as close as they can get.

Finding out that are other aliens and half-aliens with antennae gave him a little bit of hope, but he quickly found that none of them really used them. Most of them had been born into all of this "talking" stuff, and the ones that hadn't had already become fluent in it beforehand, leaving no use for the direct communication. Strangetown was still quiet, filled with chatter that only had meaning if you focused as hard as you could on the sounds. Pol was always in the dark, no matter what he did.

He left Sixam to be free of the noise and rigidness of it all, and boy, did he get it. Nothing made sense to him anymore. Nobody was guiding him or telling him what to do or updating him on the news or simply spilling out all their frustrations into the network. It was just silence, for as far as the antennae could feel.

An extra tidbit that occured to me: Pol would know exactly what happened the night Pascal got abducted; for the first time in two decades, someone got close enough that he could eavesdrop on an intelligible message.

[aiai0]

Fancy Seeing you Here || Roronoa Zoro

Syn: Robbing Zoro isn’t a good idea, and you’re forced to work for the straw hats after having a bitter reunion with Zoro when he rescues you from the hands of pirates.

Warnings: No Smut

Zoro x reader

—————————————————————————

Chills ran down your spine as you heard the laughter of the guards.

Those taunting chortles, reminding you that you were constantly under supervision, no escape and no rescue in sight.

Maybe you'd be a little bit more comfortable if you weren't stripped down to your underwear, arms chained up whilst you were forced down onto your knees.

God, it hurt.

Your whole body hurt, and the constant shivers from the sheer cold wasn't helping your state.

You couldn't feel your fingers, your lips were cracked and you could barely open your eyes.

All you wanted to do was go home.

"Hey! Can you at least give me my clothes back?" You yelled out, desperate to get the attention of the guards.

The response you got was a rock thrown at you, followed by mocking laughter.

"Perverts!"

You didn't know how much time had passed since you were captured and put down here.

At least it was a pirate ship, and not a marine one.

The guards were long gone now, enjoying hot meals in the kitchen with the rest of their wretched crew.

You were about to allow yourself to fall asleep, but the rushing footsteps followed by gunshots coming from the upper deck startled you awake.

What the fuck?

Was this ship finally going to be taken down?

"I'm going to check their treasure supply, you, come with me!" You heard a feminine voice.

Was she going to be a friend or a foe..? You only hoped she'd be cordial enough to get you out of these cuffs.

As the door slowly creaked open, the first thing you saw was the two blades of swords peaking in.

"H..hello?" You called out, rattling against the cuffs to grab their attention.

You heard a squeal and the yelp of another man.

You could only guess she had pushed him forward to protect herself from any danger.

"What is wrong with you, nami?!" He yelled, grumbling as he found his ground once more

You decided to speak up again. It was pretty dark so you assumed they couldn't see you well, the same way you couldn't see them well.

"Please help me! I need to get out of these cuffs... and some clothes would be nice too.." you pleaded, rattling the chains to show them you were, indeed, locked up.

"How do we know you're not going to attack us?" The woman named Nami asked, her footsteps getting closer to you.

"I haven't eaten in days.. and I have none of my weapons.. Im not a devil user either..!" You explained, desperately trying to convince them to let you go.

You couldn't hear anything after that.

They silently exchanged glances, Nami nodding at Zoro, motioning for him to hurry and break the cuffs off of your wounded arm.

You gasped in satisfaction, itching the spot where those damn cuffs had squeezed for days.

"Thank you! Thank you-"

As you got up to rush off the ship, you felt your knees give out under you, ending up with you crashing onto the man that had cut off your bindings.

You could see him now.

As clear as day.

"You!"

Before you could say anything else, everything went dark.

———

The music in the bar was loud, loud enough to conceal your footsteps and your presence.

You were planning on stealing something off of everyone in the building, a new type of thrill you liked to indulge in.

You had already stolen the wallets, rings, and necklaces off of half of the people here. It was getting boring.

Your hopes of the adrenaline and thrill of getting caught were slowly starting to simmer.

Key word, slowly.

Your interests were sparked once again when a pirate walked in.

How did you know he was a pirate? The wanted poster stuck to the bulletin board of the bar matched his appearance perfectly.

Roronoa Zoro, former pirate hunter, and now a pirate of the straw hat crew.

You licked your lips, watching his every move, the three swords on his hips taunting you to just try and rob him.

Maybe one of them wouldn't be so bad..

Twenty minutes later, you were running away with a wad of his cash in your grip and with him running after you with two swords out.

Unfortunately, taking one of his swords proved to be too much of a life threatening task for you..

"Come back here! Damn it.. how is she so fast!" Zoro yelled, anger and frustration mixing in the pit of his stomach.

All you did was giggle, jumping up and landing on the roof of a house, he followed straight after you.

You may not have a devil fruit, but you were definitely on par with many users when it came to physical ability.

"Give it up! I can chase after you all night!" He yelled once again, following after you as you jumped from roof to roof.

Twenty minutes later, you had finally lost him.

Really, all you did was turn a corner and he somehow went the other way? What a stupid way to lose someone.

"Ha.. chase after me all night my ass."

————

You woke up with a groan, your whole body felt like it was on fire.

"You're finally awake! Boy, you sure are lucky Nami forced Zoro to bring you here." You heard a voice speak. It sounded like a child speaking..

You quickly sat up, checking your surroundings.

You were in a doctor's office, and next to you there was a weird raccoon dog looking thing dressed up as a doctor.

"Did you just.. talk?" You asked, leaning down to get a closer look at him. “My names Chopp-“

You pinched one of his cheeks, completely in awe at how cute something a raccoon dog could be.

He grumbled, crossing his arms.

As much as he tried to look tough, you couldn't help but squeal at how cute he was.

The door to the office swung open, and in walked the one and only Roronoa Zoro.

"Finally! You! Give me my money back!" He yelled, storming towards you.

He held you by the collar and all you could do was put your arms up in surrender.

"I already spent it, loser." You stuck your tongue out.

You weren't gonna show fear towards him.

"Why you-!"

"Zoro! Leave my patient alone!" The raccoon dog yelled, and then proceeded to grow 3 times in size.

"Holy!" You yelled, startled at the rapid transformation.

——

A few days passed, you really didn't keep count. If you had to guess, you'd say about six days..

With the amount of times Zoro yelled at you, you were surprised you weren't thrown overboard.

"Listen, you green haired freak, I don't have the money!"

"Then make it up to me!"

"Kiss my ass!"

Blah blah blah..

At least the crew thought it was funny.

The only other person who didn't think it was in the slightest bit humorous was Nami.

"She can just work it off if she can't pay us back."

She yawned, sunbathing with a lemonade in hand.

"I'll be damned before I work for a bunch of pirates!" You yelled, handing both Robin and chopper lemonades.

So.. you were already working for them.. the world kept spinning and you had a safe space to sleep. You just hated admitting you were now a servant for the straw hats.

You did a bunch of stuff for them. Franky needed help with upgrading things around the ship, Usopp needed help with his inventions, and Luffy made you steal food for him. It was more dangerous than it sounds.

Sanji just liked having a girl keep him company in the kitchen, you hated it, to say the least.

Now Zoro.. he put you through torture.

He made you clean his weights, he made you spar with him, he made you scrub the floors of his room, and, to put the cherry on top, he made you bring him booze every time he was on watch.

The sun finally set, marking your week long stay with the straw hats.

And who did you spend this day with? Zoro.

"If you hate me so much, why do you make me stay with you?" You groaned, leaning against the railing.

"I don't like you, but you keep your mouth shut, and that's what I like." He replied, downing the rest of his drink.

He was so weird. Did he just not know how to express his emotions?

You've spent so much time with him, you were starting to suspect he had already forgiven you for robbing him.

"Admit it, you've grown to like me." You teased, poking his shoulder.

You were quite literally poking the bear.

He clicked his tongue and muttered a small “you’re delusional” Wow, he wasn’t even bothered to yell at you.

You wondered how far you could actually take this.

Running your fingers over his muscles, you leaned closer to him, "I definitely don't mind spending my time with you." You said, your voice sultry and clear with flirtation.

"Shut up." He muttered, but he didn't slap your hand away or move out of your reach. It was like he was enjoying this.

So you decided to continue.

“You know.. there’s something more I can do to pay back for what I did..” you whispered in his ear, leaving a trail of kisses on his jawline.

You were planning on going lower than that, but before you could make your move, you were pressed up against the railing, almost dangling off of the ship.

Zoro’s arms trapped you, an unamused look on his face.

“You want to play that game? Fine.” He said, leaning in closer to you.

You looked back, the water looked dark and dangerous. You felt like you could fall in at any moment. His hand moved to grip your cheeks, forcing you to face him.

“You’ve really pissed me off, (Y/n). So you’re gonna go and hide, and if I find you, then you’ll pay me back.” He said before letting you go and watching you scurry off.

Oh fuck.

Out of all the places you could hide, why would you pick the first storage closet you could find?

Maybe it was the adrenaline, and the thrill of being chased, but you were actually hoping he’d find you.

A few minutes later, you could hear his footsteps, and the familiar sound of his swords clanking against each other.

You held your breath as his shadow stopped in front of the closet.

The handle rattled and you could feel your heartbeat increase.

As the door opened, he peered down at you, a sinister smirk stretched out across his face.

He crouched down, his green bandana in hand.

“There you are.” He said, wrapping the bandana around your head, low enough so that it was covering your eyes.

You felt him pick you up and swing you up over his shoulder.

This was only going to go one way.

And you were going to like it.

—————————————————————————

[thatsmyjamjam]

Departure

A bit of an introspective take of those three idiots jumping from the waterfall in Wano. Told from the perspective of Eustass Kid.

~~~~~~~~

That stupidly long celebration and the repair work were over as the three captains carved out their new paths. The ships were loaded with supplies and everyone was eager to leave, choosing the earliest moment possible, at the exact same time. It looks like everyone is itching to go.

That shitty rubber bastard and Twat-falagar were carefully planning on leaving via the official port, down a slow moving escalator. Like losers who wore life jackets and safety gear. The same port Kaido used to kidnap his crew and bring them to this hellhole of a country. He was not going to make his crew go down that thing. No fucking way.

The other captain's had chosen to come here, to this enslaved land, of their own volition. They had done so freely, selfishly even because no one wanted their help at first. Wano was an isolated land, not welcoming and certainly not a fan of pirates. That ugly fucking dragon had ruined any lingering goodwill to foreigners, especially criminals. They had bombarded in, the way a pirate should. The way he should have...

No. No, he had been betrayed by an ally and ambushed by a freak of fucking nature. That psycho bastard had jumped from such a height, no one had been able to sense him coming until he was right there. Who jumps from the clouds and tries to die? Fuck, fall in the ocean you senile shithead...

Tells him, he has to join...as if I'd ever sail under someone else's flag! He was his own man---Captain of his own crew. I ain't no stupid lackey!

Beats him and throws him in the clink to motivate his crew to do as he says. Gave his right hand man to that disgusting self-important loser Oorchi. Like he was just property. The thought was enraging, as he almost lost his composure and punched the ground. 

Then this bastard gambles with Killer, backing him into a corner of a non-winning bet: eat this defective smile fruit or I'll kill your captain. No one treats my crew like that and gets away with it. Heard he was killed by that courtesan and those samurai's. Good fuckin' riddance.

And then they forced Killer to do their bidding, all the while out of his damn mind, plagued by a face frozen in place, with a permanent smile.  The proud captain gnashed his teeth, before taking a deep calming breath. 

It was like this place was designed to punish him. Even Odon noodles were popular here. Nasty ass food. No, he didn't want to spend a second longer here than he had to. But he couldn't say that, not to those two shitheads.

He slaved away in those mines for days, recovering and building up his strength. Straw Hat was a nuisance, but the time did go by quicker when they fought. The rubber bastard didn't know how to shut-up. His upbeat attitude was exhausting and he didn't seem to care about his subordinates. Said he was sure his people were ok and that their plan to overthrow Kaido was going smoothly.

Kid snorted, This fucking dumbass doesn't realize Kaido doesn't play fair. What's to say he doesn't target your crew without you there? I need to find out what happened to everyone and soon.

He escaped, as quickly as he could, and went in search of his crew. Killer was shortly found, the closest of his men as they had used him as a mercenary in the capital. But the massacre soldier had failed some bullshit mission, and was in shackles. That, the redhead could deal with. But the blonde's mask was gone and all he could do was laugh. Over and over, like he couldn't stop. Like he could barely breathe.

Killer HATED his laugh. The sound, the tone, the cadence---He despised it.

He hadn't originally, as when they were kids, Kil would laugh freely, but as he aged, his feelings abruptly changed. He became quiet and reserved, covering his whole face with that striped mask. Never explained why and Kid had never wanted to pry. Some things are just hard to share, I suppose. 

And so, Kid freaked out upon seeing his partner so unhinged, getting easily recaptured as he still hadn't managed to remove the SeaStone cuffs draining his strength. They were brought back to the prison, but at least they were together, even if Killer was off his rocker. He wouldn't speak. All his friend could do was let out that frenzied bark of laughter. He won't even meet my gaze. What the hell had been done to you?

As he learned the truth of his right-hand's ordeal, he openly wept to the jeers and laughter of the other prisoners. He didn't care at that moment for their opinions.  All that mattered was Killer. 

They were then set up as some kind of cruel entertainment via water torture as Straw Hat battled it out. This whole experience, it was humiliating. It was fucked. And even more fucked as the samurai who gave him the keys to his cuffs called him Luffy-dono's friend. But Killer smiled, and reached for the keys, showing his first signs of recovery---it was such a relief that he let it go.

Kid declined Luffy's alliance offer as swiftly as it came, not as trusting as before. Screw shitty alliances. When he came back with his crew intact, he went after Kaido to settle a score. Fuck Straw Hat. Fuck Trafalagar. Fuck the Samurai's. Fuck all of Wano. And fuck their shitty plans. I wanted blood and that was it.

Eustass Kid would forever deny any kind of comradery with those two.

He may have worked with them to beat a common enemy, but that was it. Those two freaks of nature needed to go. The emperor's had gotten fat sitting on their thrones for so long. It was good to see them defeated, even if I had to work together with those clown's. He grimaced, the friendly vibes killing his mood.

The battle had been rough and he had been willing to die. Kid pulled no punches and gave it his all. Everyone did.

And now, it was time to leave, victorious. Going down a safe, slow port didn't match the atmosphere. It didn't feel like a hard earned win. It was a pussy way to finish this saga of their adventure. Jumping from the waterfall though...

It wasn't hard. He knew he could goad those morons into doing it. A simple dare: payback for that game of chicken that rubber bastard proposed----stupid lame-ass fireball he took from the old bag and for all Trafalgar's smart-ass remarks. Fuck if I'm going to listen to that asshat dish out orders.

(I love his side eye to make sure they're listening. 💜)

And so he laughed. A big belly laugh, as he gave his spiel about them needing to take the safe route. Because that’s what underdogs did.

Hook.

Line.

And sinker.

He almost gave himself away by snickering. Luffy and Law, two losers with a capital L, ground their teeth and absolutely lost it.

To the horror of their crews, both captain’s pushed forward and took the helm. He’d at least give Straw Hat some credit as more of his boisterous group accepted their captain’s decision. Law though, only Bepo was on board and it wasn’t because he was courageous, but because Aye-Aye Captain was his mantra. Still not a bad addition to a pirate ship.

But his crew, his hardened seadogs didn’t even bat a lash. They’re loyal. They don’t doubt me. They had guts and wanted to depart in a courageous show of freedom, of breaking free of the shackles of this desolate place.  It would be magnificent!

Those two chumps took a hard at port and forced their ship to abruptly change directions and head to the waterfall, the cowards from their crews wailing and pleading to not give in to the goading, a futile endeavor.

They raced to the water’s edge, and in an instant, three ships plunged down accompanied by the guttural yell of their respective captain.

Both triumphant screams and cowardly wails were drowned out by the din of rushing water. For a moment nothing else could be heard until the giant splash of the ships hitting the water and jutting forward, each taking a different direction: right, left, and center.

They’d be enemies next time they met.  This was goodbye.

But if his stupid crew didn’t stop waving…

A tick mark appeared as he saw Twat-falgar gesturing to a bottle of Killer’s handmade Vodka with that stupid cocky grin.

“Goddammit Kil, why are you being friendly?!!!”

He let a string of curses and ordered his men to make the ship go faster, further away from those idiots.

````````

Cover page 1107 has Law sleeping on a tiger with a bottle of Killer brand Vodka. It's such a fun detail. I love Kid's side eye in these pictures.

I wrote this at random. I've had notes on it for ages and finally got some free time. Hey when the inspiration strikes, you go with it.

[manorpunk]

[Setup: it's act III, and the major characters on both sides are marshaling their forces and preparing for battle. Jacob Martin Rider has been sent to the front lines and charged with organizing and supplying the war effort]

This must have been Jacob’s office, not due to any features of the building itself, but because there was a pink-haired Slavic twink standing outside the door, wearing a maid uniform and cradling an assault rifle. He had sunken eyes, and his sharp scowl seemed to be the only facial expression he was capable of making.

“State your business,” the twink said.

“Johnny Newsroom. I’ve been here since the beginning, I figured I might be able to help fill Jacob in on what’s going on.”

The twink looked up at him with bored, sullen incredulity. “We got the report you sent. He can read.”

Johnny crossed his arms. “I was second in command until this morning, I think that’s reason enough for me to see him.”

The twink gave him one more sullen look, then stepped away from the door.

“Fine. Have at it.”

“Thanks.” Johnny opened the door and started to walk inside, then paused and looked back. “What’s your name?”

“Anton Smolenski.”

“Anton, would you believe that this is the second time I’ve been unduly sassed by a short, expressionless, heavily-armed Slavic androgene?”

“Yeah. You mentioned Lieutenant Rina Pskovski in your report. Again, we try to read things before driving into an active combat zone.”

“I should try that sometime,” Johnny sighed.

“In transit? In fucking transit?” screamed a voice, hopefully Jacob’s, from the building.

Johnny hurriedly stepped in and closed the door behind him. Inside the office was Jacob Martin Rider, wearing a modern officer’s coat for once, though it had clearly been well-tailored, medals and stripes carefully arranged, and his black boots and gloves had been polished to a shine. Jacob didn’t notice him at first, since he was busy screaming into a phone in his right hand while his left hand held a can of beans with a bulging lid.

“What do you mean this might have happened in transit? Did you ship them through a fucking wormhole? This thing is bulging with god knows what. No. Listen. That doesn’t happen in a couple days. That doesn’t happen in a couple years, not unless the canning facilities are contaminated, which would mean your whole operation is fucked from top to bottom. There’s so much mold in this fucking can they’ve developed their own civilization by now. Yeah, I fucking understand it was a big order, you’re supplying a fucking military operation. Are you just figuring that out now? If you’re having trouble filling it, maybe you shouldn’t have taken the fucking contract. I don’t care if you go over budget! That’s your fucking fault! Listen to - listen to me. I don’t give a shit if your company goes bankrupt and you lose your job and start sucking dicks in an alley. That’s your own fault for taking orders you can’t fill. Listen to me. You’re going to hold up your end the fucking contact. This is not a discussion. This is not a negotiation. This is me yelling at you. If you try to pull this shit again, I’m going to come to your office and shove this can up your ass. This is not hyperbole. I will personally come to your office, bend you over your stupid fucking desk, take off your pants, and shove this can up your…”

Jacob raised the can as if he was preparing to hurl it into the ground, then caught himself and stopped. “Jesus Washington Christ, I almost spiked this thing. It would’ve gone off like a goddamn chemical bomb. I’d be dead before I hit the ground. This thing is a chemical weapon. It violates the fucking Geneva convention. Point being, if you send me any more expired food I’ll have you put on trial for sabotaging the Usonian war effort and it will be a kangaroo court. Do you understand? I asked you a fucking question, do you understand? You’re goddamn right you do. I’ll be personally inspecting the next delivery. Bye.”

Jacob hung up the phone and turned to Johnny. “One second,” he said before Johnny could even inhale, then reached into his pocket and took a small plastic bag of a white powder that was technically unidentified but was absolutely definitely cocaine, and the past few minutes made a lot more sense.

“You aren’t quite what I expected, given your reputation,” Johnny said as he watched Jacob take a key bump.

“Yeah, well, I’m on the clock and off the cock,” Jacob said between sniffs. “You know why I can get away with all this shit? Because I’m good at what I do. You see this?” He held up the bulging can of kidney beans, “your average supply guy wouldn’t give a shit. The average supply guy would probably call the distributor and say ‘hey, how about you send us more moldy shit to save money and we’ll split the difference.’ Not me. A good general is like a father to his troops, you understand? No more of these fucking company men. You ever heard the saying that blood is thicker than water? The full version is that the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. The bonds of war transcend even family. Anyway, hi. Johnny Newsroom, right? Can I get you anything? Coffee? Whiskey? Cocaine? Hopefully without any fucking mold.”

“I’ll-“

“I hope Anton didn’t give you too much trouble. He’s the only maid I brought with me. It pained me to part with the rest of them but I had to set an example. Kick out the servants and camp followers, that’s what any good general does. That’s what the Romans did, kicked out the servants and family members and hangers-on. That’s one of the reasons our army was so shit in the late imperial period. All the fucking commissaries and base exchanges, our military installations were just fucking malls. Not on my goddamn watch. Did you need something? Because I have about thirty more suppliers to threaten.”

Jacob was vibrating with energy, a rubber band pulled taut and just waiting to be launched, an attack dog straining against its leash. He seemed like at any moment he might burst into a hundred mini-Jacobs, each one scurrying off to its own task.

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Come Back

(Masterlist)

get back to the war!!! i dont pay u just to look cute

(Content: dehumanization, physical violence, magical exhaustion, fainting, mass death implied, blood)

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

“Be realistic,” Dr.Martino yawned, “He obviously can’t destroy the whole planet.”

“But I want him to?” Paris glowered.

His hand raked through Delta’s hair again, more nails than usual. Delta twitched nervously. He was kneeling obediently on Paris’s side, the end of his collar grasped firmly in the prince’s other hand. He flinched whenever he touched him. Paris didn’t seem to notice. He was sitting comfortably in the captain’s chair, one leg folded over the other.

Delta couldn’t see Martino’s expression from his position. He had learned that when he kept his head bowed, it gave him the least trouble. 

“That’s the kind of greed they write fables about,” Dr.Martino warned, “Anyway, forget it. It’s not physically possible. Pick a city. Really, pick a block in that city. The buildings here are better protected than most.”

Paris tugged at Delta’s hair, like it was his fault. He winced. Nothing came immediately after it — no reprimands. Just venting frustration, then? Delta had to adjust his position for it to stop hurting. Again, Paris didn’t notice or didn’t care. 

They redirected the course. The actual captain re-entered the room. Paris did not move for her, forcing her to operate from the side terminal. 

The planet Tataka loomed large through the windows of the craft. It was green and purple, beautiful under any other circumstance. Paris was intent on destroying it. The war was upon them.

They weren’t aboard the Thorn today; they’d never make it into the outer atmosphere without getting shot down. It was a smaller, nimbler, and less conspicuous craft. From a distance, it looked like a passenger plane. 

As the ship lurched into motion, Simon returned from the break room. He’d been following his own advice, giving Paris quite a wide berth ever since he’d returned from the hospital. Simon looked at the current arrangement disapprovingly. He set down a coffee cup for Martino, not drinking his own.

“Your Highness, I’d really ask you to reconsider this. Not only is it too strong an escalation from a policy standpoint, but physically, Delta is out of practice from the last month. There’s a higher risk of inaccuracy,” Simon stated.

“Did you just say too strong an escalation?” Paris choked, “And who’s fucking fault is that? You knew I’d need him when I got back.”

Simon didn’t answer. It’d be too easy to say No one thought you were coming back and that was not a conversation he wanted to have.

By then, the mountains were coming into view. Paris stood up shakily, using Delta’s shoulder for support before tugging him up by the arm. They were bruising touches. Delta suspected that Paris didn’t entirely mean to be that rough. He had nerve damage from where the arrow had pierced him and couldn’t feel much in his hands. It had made him clumsy. Still, it hurt.

When the atmosphere was breathable, Paris dragged him out onto the main deck. He wrenched his arm back to get him to kneel, which was of course not an accident, on top of being totally unnecessary. Delta would’ve knelt if he’d asked him to.

The handlers trailed behind him. He snapped his fingers at them. Simon started to protest, then apparently decided it was not worth the effort of arguing. He poked at his wrist, remotely releasing Delta’s collar. 

Delta let out a little gasp when it hit him. The ground hung directly above them, the ship’s personal gravity machine working to bind them to it upside down. The effect was very disorienting. Beyond that, Paris was far, far too close to him. He didn’t like being touched while he was all unfurled. He never like being touched at all, but now it felt particularly invasive. He liked it better when Simon directed. They had already gotten to know each other’s communication styles with no ambiguity. The same couldn’t be said of Paris — especially not now. This wasn’t the kind of operation Delta wanted to improvise. The string of words that left Paris’s mouth was barely coherent.

“Fucking kill them fuck fuck Nezu fuck Taka stupid fucking destroy it now”

Delta could feel Paris’s heart within his chest, the new lung nestling itself into place, the spot where the ribs had cracked open. He felt the wind shift just as he readied himself. From his own reading, Delta could recognize Tataka’s parliament building. There was about a five block radius around it he thought he could reasonably smoke. He blinked.

He didn’t actually remember setting it off, which meant it had definitely been too much. He woke up on his side in Dr.Martino’s office, drenched in his own blood.

“-why I said not to let him-“ Simon’s voice cut into his thoughts. A little wave of electricity came off of Delta as he regained consciousness, making everyone’s hair stand on end.

“Hi,” Dr.Martino eyebrows furrowed as he smiled without humor.

“We should’ve warmed up first,” Simon pinched the bridge of his nose, “Are you feeling okay?”

Delta opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. The room smelled like a campfire. He realized the burnt scent was coming off his own skin.

“Just stay like that,” Dr.Martino told him, then turned back to his conversation. Delta closed his eyes, too sore to move. There was a distant feeling of gloved hands against his back, some medical assistant searching around for something or other. Two prongs entered the base of his neck without warning, causing another little shock throughout the room. He felt a hand against his forehead. Cool to the touch, but not comforting. Darkness closed in.

“Delta,” It was Paris’s voice. Delta cracked his eyes open, unsure how much time had passed. The prince was leaning over him, grasping the table for support. His expression was giddy.

“Good job,” He said. Two thumbs up. It must have been. Paris so rarely complimented him. Again, he tried to speak. 

“Leave him alone. He fried his vocal cords,” Dr.Martino called, from somewhere outside Delta’s line of sight.

“What? Permanently?”

“Not this time. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse, cause god knows you’d be fucked then.”

“What did you just say to me?”

Delta passed out again, mercifully.

[thephantomcasebook]

Ok now, going a bit crazy over ships, I find way more compelling the ground they are laying for the whole Daemon/Alys/Heleana/Aemond than the book dinamics. I mean we don't get a lot of what happened between Alys and Daemon on the book, but makes sense she takes his body after the fight and Heleana dying in possible the same day of Aemond. And now even Alys and Heleana connection

I think is not even that purposeful, but the potential here is way more interesting than they just going with Al*smond. Specially most of the things that are connected to that relationship is giving to other characters.

It depends really ...

I always liked Alys as a character in the book, I thought she was cool.

But going back through the book, in retrospect, it doesn't really seem that Aemond and Alys is a ... complicit relationship. The more I've thought and analyzed it, the more it feels that Alys put a spell on Aemond. Cause, Aemond, once he starts sleeping with Alys, gets really out of character, to a point of leaving his family twisting in the wind to pursue a reign of terror through the Riverlands that didn't particularly fit him.

I mean, Aemond was always dangerous and violent ... but he's not going out roasting castles and keeps for the fuck of it. Nor would he be someone who would leave Daeron and Criston twisting in the wind to engage seven fucking dragons on their own.

To me, it really does feel like Aemond is under some sort of enchantment of Alys for reasons that GRRM doesn't reveal.

But it would be interesting, based on the interview with Patel about Aemond and Helaena's relationship. It could be that Aemond gets to Harrenhal and Alys is enchanting him, holding him up from helping Daeron. Helaena escapes King's Landing - perhaps even fakes her own death - and goes to Harrenhal. When she gets there, Helaena frees Aemond from Alys influence and we have a showdown between Helaena and Alys that matches Aemond and Daemon. With each Targaryen Prince having their own magical girl as their ride or die.

It would be pretty interesting to have Aemond & Helaena Vs. Daemon & Alys and build that up for Season 3.

That would be some pretty dope boy fresh 8-bit fighting game art. With some "Marvel Vs. Capcom" screen art of Aemond and Helaena standing together in pose in a split screen with Daemon and Alys posing together.

[yanderu-deredere]

hook.

★ your friends decide to do a road trip across a few states, to the coast! what's better than the beautiful boardwalk of lovelock after all? and they need a fifth person to come with them! so, of course, they drag you along. what could go wrong?

a/n: okay so ill be honest, i was kinda nervous to post this cus this is like way longer than my usual shit TBH but i really wanted to write this out and i felt like the usual bulletted thing wouldn't do my idea justice i guess? so have this word vomit LOL cus this baby has more parts (i think)

also these yanderes are very much inspired by all my favourite slashers (think hannibal meets chainsaw massacre meets house of wax) so the themes will be a bit more graphic

part one (here) ★ part two (line.) ★ part three (sinker.) ★ part four (?)

pairing: casimir fiala x reader x emmaline fiala word count: 3236

warning: gender neutral reader, reader is attacted to male and female yandere, readers friends are lowkey pieces of shit LOL, final ship is poly

"This doesn't look like Lovelock." Chloe muttered in that tone that just slightly grated against your nerves.

You, half asleep and kind of buried in bags, jolted at the sound of her voice. You glanced around, eyes blurry and your brain pounding just a little bit. The price of sleeping on a road trip, you supposed.

You looked over to the side to see what your friends were up to.

Chloe, the resident bottle-blonde of the group, had her entire body leaning a bit too heavily against her boyfriend Dirk as she tried to shove her torso out the window.

Dirk, too preoccupied with her body to really pay attention to anything else, only hummed and held her by the hip to prevent her from falling entirely out the side of the van.

You sighed and turned to your other side, trying to make out what your friend was so desperate to see outside.

All you could see, however, was what looked like an abandoned town. There was a little play ground, a parking lot beside that, some apartment buildings too--

Suddenly, the van skid to a halt, making everyone almost fall forward.

"Bran, you fucking bastard!" Dirk cursed before cradling Chloe's head to his chest "You okay, baby?"

Chloe, of course, played the whole thing up, whining up a storm. You just rubbed your neck, ignoring everyone else as you tried to figure out why the sudden stop.

In front of the car was a man much too well dressed for his surroundings. I mean, what business did he have in this place that he needed to wear a button down for? Plus he had what looked like a medical mask on?

What did you guys drive into, Chernobyl?

Anyway, you couldn't see the rest of his face very well because he had long hair with white side pieces and they were covering his face a bit too much but he was waving the van down.

Suddenly, as you were peering out the side of the van, your eyes met his sharp green ones and you felt a jolt of electricity down your spine.

You had a bad feeling about this place and about this man.

Still, not like you could say much. Who'd listen to you? Certainly not anyone else inside the van.

The man walked up to the driver's side, probably to talk to your friend Bran and give him directions. Thankfully, you were on the same side so you could do a little bit of eavesdropping on your own from your open window.

Observing him, you couldn't help but think that he was especially tall. He looked like he could almost be as tall as the van itself! You'd estimate his height at 6ft at least.

You couldn't even imagine how small you were compared to him if the two of you stood side by side.

"You're not supposed to be here. This is private property." The stranger explained and, though he was talking to Bran, you couldn't help but feel like he kept glancing at you from the corners of his eyes "You have to turn back and leave."

Now that he spoke, you also noted how deep his voice was. Though, you supposed, not surprising considering his height.

Big man, deep voice, you noted to yourself before mentally laughing at your own idiocy.

"What? There's no other way?" Bran's indignant tone pulled you out of your thoughts "I was so sure there was a way through here, up to Lovelock."

The stranger solemnly nodded as if completely understanding "There used to be but, after they shut down the factory, the Pharmaceutical company prevents people from passing through here."

Bran seemed to open his mouth to say something inflammatory. After all, he was known in your group to be a bit hot-headed. Even now, you couldn't see his face but you could imagine how red it was.

Kathy, Bran's girlfriend and your best friend, thankfully leaned over from the front passenger seat, her hand rubbing her boyfriend's thigh "It's all good! Sorry for the trouble and thanks for letting us know."

The man gave a curt nod "Just didn't want you all to incur the fines. The company still has the cameras up and there was a sign at the entrance saying something about trespassers."

"What are you, a glorified security guard?" Bran managed at least one quip and you saw Kathy hit him especially hard on the knee for that one.

You couldn't see the man's mouth from under the mask but you definitely felt like you could see his lips shift into a grin from under the cotton "Something like that."

Bran just scoffed and started backing the van up. The man backed away, giving a curt nod.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see Kathy conspiratorially whisper 'crazy weirdo' to you, Dirk and Chloe. Of course, you elected to ignore her.

Instead, you kept your eyes trained on the stranger, still curious as to why he was there.

When his eyes landed on you, you gave him a curt wave. A good-bye. Silently, you mouthed an apology for your rude friend. He gave another curt nod, and you left it at that.

Something about his green eyes unnerved you though--

There was a loud pop and the van jolted, making almost everyone inside scream. Bran himself let out a rather loud fuck!

"What the fuck was that?" He slammed his palm against the steering wheel, that explosive temper getting the best of him.

You watched as the stranger came over and looked at the car, observing it a bit before letting out a rather tired sigh "You popped a tire."

Bran's head swiveled to him and, if looks could kill, that man would've been dead "A tire?"

"This place is abandoned, they don't exactly up-keep the roads." The man explained, crouching to try and see what was wrong with said tire "You must have run over a rusty nail or an especially bad pothole."

Then there was a thumping sound, like he was ripping something out of the rubber "Or a giant copper hook."

Bran slammed his door open and marched over, getting to the tire just as the man stood up.

You watched it all happen and you've known Bran for a while. The two of you were taking the same undergraduate major, after all. You knew Bran was the sporty type, confident and cocky. He was maybe 5'8 on a good day.

This man dwarfed Bran when he stood. Definitely taller than 6ft then. Maybe 6'5?

He placed the hook he took out of the tire into Bran's hand and, though it looked rather hefty in Bran's hand, it seemed a bit smaller in his.

Any bravado Bran had vanished like the wind. Of course, Bran was still Bran so he grumbled, complaining as he dropped the rusty thing before he squatted down to figure out what was wrong with the tire.

You saw Kathy from the corner of your eye dialing a number. You figured it was probably triple-A or some other towing service that could help the group out.

For some reason, you didn't want to look away from the stranger.

He seemed to have the same idea because, as he took out a walkie-talkie from his belt, his green eyes were trained on you again.

Without taking his eyes off you, he took a slender finger and lowered his mask, tucking it under his chin. He had a crooked smile on his face, something like a mixture between a grimace and forced pleasantry.

Near the corner of his face, there was an indent of a diagonal scar. It stretched from above his lip to the center of his chin. You let yourself wonder why he had it. It split his lips a little, made him look kind of devilish.

"Another car needs help." He spoke into the little device, holding it in the palm of his hand and jostling it a little, making the antenna of it wiggle back and forth.

"Miscreants?" The static of it answered back, crackling and almost indecipherable.

The man laughed and you felt your heart skip just a little bit of a beat "No, just people who took a wrong turn. They seem very nice."

You tried to ignore the flash of sharp teeth in his mouth and chalked it off to genetics. Sometimes people just had especially sharp canines, right? Though something felt predatory about his. Not vampiric, maybe, but definitely wolfish.

"What's wrong with their car?" The longer sentence was easier to understand but it was filled with just as much static.

"Popped a tire on the main road." The man answered as he put his free hand in his pocket "They were trying to take the short-cut to Lovelock."

The sentence came out as a drawl, like there was a funny joke about it that you weren't privy to. Your head cocked a little, trying to figure out what it could mean.

He returned your look of curiosity with a small little smirk and a shrug, cocking his hip a little as he shifted his weight from one foot to another

Someone hissed out your name and you turned, finally breaking the staring game in between you and the stranger.

You turned to Kathy with a confused expression on your face, your eyebrow cocked "What's up?"

"I have like no signal like at all." She whispered to you as if it was the end of the world and she wanted only you to know.

Of course, since the two of you were sitting in a cramped van, the other two people in the van heard loud and clear.

"What!" Chloe shouted, scrambling for her own marble-cased phone "There's no signal?"

"No, 'fraid not."

You flinched, head quickly turning when you felt a breath against your ear. Suddenly, the stranger was leaning into the window of the van, crossed arms resting against the lip of the window.

Your wide eyes met his green ones again and he grinned, all wolfish and devilish and all your observations about him seemed to flash warning signs in your head.

"Something about the old factory leaking radiation or something." He answered easily enough just as you scooted a little so he wasn't talking right into your now rather hot ear

You nodded slowly but the tone of his voice as he spoke was that same tone he used when he mentioned the city; like he was telling half-truths and it was on a need to know basis and you didn't need to know.

You had been on the receiving end of that bullshit for so long, with the same exact friends you were with in the van, that you could detect it from a mile away.

"Plus, they've shut down the cell towers near here already." He gestured flimsily in some direction, probably to said cell towers.

Then, there was silence in the van. Chloe kept fiddling with her phone. Dirk, as always, looked distrustfully at the stranger, like a toddler who'd get his toy snatched away the moment he dropped his guard. The toy of course, being Chloe. Kathy just looked panicked and anxious.

You were anxious too. You were never good with silence.

As a way to make conversation, you fiddled with your fingers and decided to introduce yourself before asking the stranger who he was and what he was doing there.

You really didn't think he'd answer.

"Casimir Fiala." His name flipped off of his tongue with a fascinating smoothness "I'm just here to... research... the abandoned buildings."

There it was again, that need-to-know-only tone. This time, you waved away the blaring alarms in your head, tucking them away to note later. Instead, you decided to joke with him "Guess you're not a glorified security guard."

"Sometimes it feels like it." He flashed you a snide half smirk and there was a part of you that felt satisfied that, this time, it felt like you were in on the joke.

It definitely made you grin, that was for sure. Before you could respond, though, the sound of a motorcycle suddenly filled the area, getting closer and closer till it was accompanied by the crunch of gravel.

"That will be my wife." Casimir yelled above the noise as he backed away from the window and tucked his arms behind his back in one fluid motion.

When he did, you couldn't help but curiously peer out.

Just as he said, a woman appeared on a motorcycle, dust cloud surrounding her. If Casimir was overdressed, this woman was underdressed.

She was wearing skin-tight clothes, cargo pants, the works. She looked like she was dressed for an action movie.

Hell, she looked she herself walked out of an action movie. She was buff, tanned, tattooed all over, almost as tall as her husband. She looked like she could take a steel bar and bend it in half.

With fingerless gloves, she removed her motorcycle helmet and her hair fell fluttering out. She had one lock of hair at the very front braided, some of it pulled back, but the rest of it cascaded rather messily, covering most of the right side of her face.

It looked like a bad blue dye job that was already growing back out but, somehow, she made it look ruggedly sexy.

That wasn't what was surprising. What was surprising was the eye patch and the burn scars.

"Oh my god." Kathy gasped out and you could see her and Chloe pull out their phones as if trying to film some circus freak.

Immediately, you were pushing their phones away, scowling at them as you tried to keep your voice down "What the fuck, dude, are you guys serious?"

You could see Casimir walk over to his wife, probably to talk to her about fixing your wheel. How kind of them. All the while, your friends were spitting on that kindness by mocking his wife.

"But like, did you see her?" Chloe tittered, looking through her gallery to try and see if she got a good photo but then pouting when she didn't.

"You're disgusting, Chloe." You spat out, hoping the absolute vitriol in your voice could snap her out of this weird Mean Girls trance she was in "They're trying to fucking help us and this is the thanks you're giving them?"

Kathy just scoffed and flipped her hair. "They're the ones who stopped us and got our tires popped."

"We're the ones that trespassed on private property." You snapped back and, suddenly, you felt too suffocated in the van. You knew who your friends were, of course, and you knew them to be the type of people to make small mean jokes but this was way too much.

You got out of the van, your arms crossed and wrapped around yourself, anything to give yourself any ounce of comfort.

This entire trip was a bad idea to begin with. You hadn't wanted to go but your friends insisted over and over that they wanted you around. You thought 'why not?' but, in the end, you turned out more of a fifth wheel than anything else.

"Oh, hey." Bran greeted you as you stepped up to the trio who were discussing how to fix the car "What's up?"

"Nothing, just wanted to stretch my legs." You lied easily enough since you didn't really want to tell Bran about how bitch-y his girlfriend was being.

Bran believed you, of course. He was too focused on being annoyed by the entire situation anyway. He seemed at least placated by the fact that he wouldn't have to pay for a new tire.

"Thank you so much, by the way, for like helping us out and shelling out cash for a tire." You decided to say since Bran definitely wouldn't say it. The smile on Casimir's wife's face was definitely worth it.

Casimir seemed to realise something because he looked at you in shock before gesturing to you and introducing you by name to his wife "And this is my wife Emm, she's the muscle of this entire operation."

"Nice to meet you." She put her hand out and you were about to take it only for her to quickly pull it back and wipe it on her pants "Sorry, I've been fixing machines all day. I'm dirty as all hell."

"No worries! Not like I'm all showered! We've been on the road for like three days now!" You waved off her concern and held out your hand.

Hesitantly, she took it and the two of you shook hands.

You noted that the burns she had on one side of her face seemed to spread down her body because her entire arm from shoulder to wrist (or what wasn't covered by her gloves) were covered in wrinkly scar tissue.

You tried not to stare. She probably got enough of that in her day-to-day, she didn't need it from you too.

You hoped she didn't get it from Bram already. He could be so insensitive without even thinking about it.

"Anyway, I was just sayin' that I'd love t' ride over to the gate, the one leadin' to Lovelock and send out a call, try to get triple-A over." Emm cupped the side of her neck, looking rather thoughtful "Boss won't be happy since we ain't suppos't have people over but."

Then she shrugged as if she was trying to say 'what can you do' before continuing "I got to go soon, though, 'cus I saw that the weather was suppos't to be terrible later today and--"

As if on que, thunder rumbled above, almost as loudly as Emm's motorcycle. You groaned because of course the weather would turn this horrible so rapidly and just when you needed it not to.

"Fuck." Bran put it so eloquently just as the rain started pouring as if the heavens above ripped open the clouds "Why can't you go while it's raining?"

"She only has a motorcycle." Casimir reminded him, his tone implying that fact in and of itself should've been explanation enough, his expression challenging Bran to say otherwise.

Emm looked much more apologetic but only by a bit "Plus, the road to Lovelock is 30 minutes and it's known to landslide when it's rainin'. I'm willin' to help ya'll but not that willin'."

Bran let out another expletive while you gave them an apologetic smile and a thank you.

"I'll be happy to invite ya'll over to our house. We live only a minute or two from here." Emm continued as Casimir shielded her with his lab coat, ducking her head a little as she walked closre to you so you could hear her over the hiss of the rain "It'll be better than that cramped van."

"I'll let everyone know!" You yelled, smiling gratefully at the couple.

Part of your brain registered the warning signs in your head. After all, though you'd tried your best to be polite to them, you did remember how odd Casimir seemed when you first encountered him.

Still, they were trying their hardest to accommodate your group. And, after how rude your friends were, you felt an odd obligation to make up for how mean your friends had been.

After all, what was the worst that could happen from just being nice?

[chaitantei-ao3]

22

"So that's how it is." Mac stretches his hand in explanation.

They look at Dee sprawled diagonally, chest rising and falling, arms akimbo on his bed like she’s nesting on a bed of twigs. Once Dennis saw her recreating a Seventeen magazine’s fall cover which he’d told her looked more like a Garbage Pail card and she’d pushed him off the bed.

"We have no other option.” Dennis taps his chin in thought, “We have to throw her out." he says looking at Mac, an action to make it absolutely clear who’s doing the actual throwing.

Mac hesitates, "Well, Dennis. I…tried.”

"Try harder then." Dennis narrows his eyes, "She's on my bed. And she must be off it. This instant.” he imagines the earth shattering and swallowing Dee whole. The image gives him a little reprieve but as he it’s wiped away the instant he sees Dee drooling on his pillow.

“Look, I can sleep on the couch and you can take my room.” Mac looks at his phone, “I mean I really need to sleep… I can’t get late for the funeral. I’ll just knock down-” Mac looks around, “Wait a second. Where’s the goddamn beer?”

Did Charlie just take all our beers? I'm going to exchange a strong word with him today, Dennis. I will set him straight. What does he think huh? First!” Mac raises his finger, “He blatantly blasphemes the Lord then he has the gall to-” Mac picks up his phone and paces towards the window, “Oh my god, Dennis. Charlie’s out there with Frank and they’re drinking our beers outside the building right now." Mac opens the window craning his neck. “Charlie is going down today. Where’s my Bible I am going to read him- wait, are you okay?!”

“I’m perfectly-” 

“No, you’re looking- you’re looking so pale right now.”

Dennis coughs.

“Dennis - what.. what is happening?”

Mac places his hands on Dennis’s forehead, rubbing his thumbs on his cheeks. A rush of heat trails the path of his fingers. “Hey- what can I do for you? What should I-”

Dennis feels the sheen of sweat on his forehead cool and he digs his chin on Mac’s shoulder.

“Hold on!” He feels his weight shift.

“What are you-” Dennis says, hoarsely. 

Mac squeezes his arms and Dennis hovers an inch off the ground, feeling his heart up in his ears. Mac wheezes and loses his grip, breathing hotly on his neck. “It’s the- I’m kind of out of practice and I just ate. Hey-”

Dennis hears Mac’s heart thud. 

“Dennis. Hey. Are you okay?”

Dennis snorts, breathing in slowly and releasing it. “You think my body would ever have any-” 

Bile rises in his throat, Dennis clutches his stomach and rushes to the bathroom. Falling on his knees, he grips the rim of the toilet bowl and empties out the contents of his dinner, watching it swirl in orange. Glancing at Mac’s feet an inch away, his stomach pulls at him again and Dennis bites his tongue trying to swallow. The choking sensation builds and Dennis heaves, his mind shakes like he’s in a ship on raging waters.

Fuck.

Dennis finally lifts his gaze to see Mac standing at a distance away, not saying a word.

Shaking his head, Dennis glares at the mess sticking to the white porcelain, the smell. The goddamn smell shoots up his sinuses. Schooling his features he tries lifting his head and sees Mac watching him wide eyed, burn his insides with an iron tipped rod.

“Dennis-” Mac’s voice breaks. Dennis ignores him, staring at the floor and walking toward the basin. He looks in the mirror to see a vision more frightening than he could ever imagine. Skin pallid and beaded with sweat, pieces of sick stuck to his chin, hair matted on his forehead.

Clutching the cold marble Dennis flips open the tap and splashes his face. Dennis feels his back prickle and watches Mac shift his weight from the corner of his eye, Mac’s knuckles tightly hold the door frame and his forehead creases as he looks at him.

Dennis touches the hem of his shirt, removing it slowly over his head. When he looks back, Mac is nowhere to be seen. Dennis crumples the shirt in a ball, throws it on the floor and steps away from the mirror.

Read more

[beevean]

in your opinion, top 5 worst idw moments, and why

Just 5? How am I supposed to choose? D:

5) Sonic equating Eggman trying to conquer the world out of deliberate malice with Shadow trying to destroy the world because he was brainwashed into being a tool for destruction by his own creator, literally using Shadow's deepest trauma as a cruel gotcha - the same behaior Black Doom engaged in.

4) Tangle blurting out the name of Whisper's dead comrades because she thought they were cool, accidentally revealing her trauma to Lanolin who at the time didn't know her. Tangle's apology takes one shitty panel and it's played for laughs with her exaggerated expression. Whisper's takes a whole page and it boils down to her apologizing for having that pesky PTSD that makes her so irritable. This is what passes as ship development.

3) Lanolin being an utter cunt to Silver, speaking to him like she's his mom and disrespecting his credentials, and Whisper, by slamming her into the ground with a sneer on her face, because she has just decided that a random rookie is more credible than two veterans.

2) Sonic letting Metal go because he apparently believed that the robot programmed to be loyal to Eggman (as literally said by Metal) would have the ability to choose, let alone choose to betray Eggman. This causes the Metal Virus apocalypse, but Sonic never has to question his own choice, since the narrative chooses to build up a stupid moral dilemma about Mr. Tinker.

1) Everything about Sonic in #50. From him being a prick to Tails with his valid concerns about Metal, to that stupid horrible panel where he jerks off over how awesome his philosophy is while the light of God shines upon him, to the most terrifying line you could put into his mouth: "That's the problem with giving people choices, you can't stop them from making the wrong ones." Jesus Christ what the fuck is that, that is certainly not my Sonic.

[decarabiandivorce]

Am i the asshole for staying behind on an uncharted planet

I (23M) have been a new hire at this shipping company for around three months and it has been absolutely horrible. The company has us work outrageous hours and there is only one other employee. A month ago that employee (my mentor) went on a vacation and ever since then the president had me switch over from simply organizing packages to making full deliveries. On my first trip, I was attacked by a group of space bunnies and the company was sent into debt because of it. They told me the route was safe and secure, however, it was clearly not the case. The important cargo was destroyed and the remaining debt is now more than a hundred years' worth of salary. The company is going under and the president is even accusing ME of doing something. I have no clue what he is talking about and am very frightened by the experience.

Now then my mentor (38?M idk) comes back and talks about how he was hit by a meteor and crashed. It took him a whole month to recover his parts and just barely made it back. Before he could even see his family the company's appraisal AI scanned a memento he yoinked from the crash site and now the president thinks its a great idea to send two deliverymen to search for treasures to sell. Why do we even have an appraisal AI I don't even know. So now me and this captain i've know for about two months is being sent towards an uncharted planet.

Then we crash. There was a blizzard and I am sent flying into the snow. I am tired, hungry, and lay down on the ground as I contemplate my life. A long story short we reconvened and it turns out this planet is FULL of hostile life! Creatures as tall as me just waiting to eat us. Holy fuck. My mentor is taking this as a normal occurrence???? He spent a month on this planet??? The hell????

So after fighting off creature after creature-some as tall as space pups while others as tall as buildings, we somehow get enough pokos to pay back the COMPANY'S DEBT. We weren't even paid overtime and I think my mentor GOT A PROMOTION? We barely had enough supplies for one person so I started taking back some of the local creatures to eat. (DM me if you want some of my recipes!) . We wake up as soon as dawn breaks and this planet's day and night system are so unlike my own planet. By the time it's 10 PM its Nighttime! Dawn is around 6 AM!

My mentor has been relatively nice. He gets my silence and for that, I am grateful he doesn't have me talk a lot. Cons: He forgets about me really easily. Usually, he has me just follow him while we explore and at some points, I feel as if I could have just stayed at the ship and slept and would accomplish the same amount of work. It is aggravating to be woken up so early and told to just follow him around.

After another long expedition I am about 10 seconds away from passing out our ship's appraisal AI (who has been so snippy with both of us) blares out that we should return home now. The thing is, after so long of being on this planet I realized that I prefer this planet more than slaving away at that delivery service. The same service that would send me straight first toward a hive of space rabbits for my very first mission. So I lagged behind a bit.

In my lagging behind, my mentor starts up the ship and leaves. At first, I am shocked. He actually did that. Holy fuck he left me on this planet. Sure our suits were upgrades to filter out the oxygen just before we left and I could last for months if not years....it was still shocking to me. I could not help but watch the sky as he blasted away. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise!

I walked for a long time, resting in safe areas to conserve my stamina and eating the creatures I knew were edible. There was a lot of experimentation here and there and I missed the spices of back home. I just knew that a certain creature would taste way better if I added in a couple more condiments! (Remember! DM me for my recipes!)

While exploring one of the caves, a giant spiderlike foe kidnapped me and placed me on it's head. It was so cute! Like riding a weird dog.

It was nice being with the big spider. It gathered some ancient technologies that were perfect for my survival. None of the other creatures seemed to bother the two of us and it was nice to know that there was someone else on this planet that understood us. Still, I was tired and after what felt like days, my suit's forced sleep mode kicked in. I have no clue what happened afterward nor how many days I was asleep but the next thing I knew was that my mentor was right in front of me making sure I was okay.

He says that he came back for me with the help of our boss, but I could see the poko in the president's eyes as the ship went over finances with him.

They killed the spider to 'save' me. The spider went on full attack while I was asleep on it and the appraisal AI thinks I was in control of it despite being unconscious. At least the captain think's I didn't do it...

They then told me that there was no third seat on the ship and that I will be sleeping in the cargo hold until they got every single treasure on this planet. I am pretty sure that's a space OSHA violation but at this point, I have been in so many life-threatening dangers that I gave up counting. At least they don't expect me to help out because I am 'recovering'. They are content to let me stay by the ship and I have been using this time to perfect my recipes with the supplies they got from back home.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Hey Loves,

If you, like me, need something that isn't doomscrolling or feeling utter despair today, the article above is a really good way to ground yourself.

I also know quite a few of you are younger than me and may have been literal children during the fallout of 2016, so here is some advice as someone who was a young adult then and hurtling toward middle-age now: pick one or two concrete things to do, then get the hell off the internet as much as possible for at least the next 24 hours.

To quote the piece above

"we took note of two knee-jerk tendencies from the left that ended up largely being dead-ends in the face of Trump:

Public angsting — posting outrage on social media, talking with friends, sharing awful news

Symbolic actions — organizing marches and public statements

The first is where we look around at bad things happening and make sure other people know about them, too. We satisfy the social pressure of our friends who want us to show outrage — but the driving moves are only reactive. The end result wasn’t the intended action or an informed population. It’s demoralizing us. It’s hurting our capacity for action. Public angsting as a strategy is akin to pleading with the hole in the boat to stop us from sinking.

Symbolic actions may fare little better under a Trump presidency. In whatever version of democracy we had, the logic of rallies and statements of outrage was to build a unified front that showed the opposition many voices were opposed to them. But under an unleashed fascist — if it’s all you do — it’s like begging the suicidal captain to plug the hole. "

To keep with the boat metaphor: Right now, being online is like being on the deck of that sinking ship. A lot of people are still in the "fuck, fuck, the ship is sinking, fuck, we're all in so much trouble" or the "we TOLD you that guy was going to drill a hole in the boat, why did you bring him???" mindset.

They're not wrong; the boat has a huge fucking hole in it. But at a certain point, standing there all shouting about how this is going to end in these X, Y, and Z tragedies isn't doing much but winding each other up into despair. That's what a lot of social media is going to be for the next few days.

Some of us are going to try and patch the hole to slow the damage. Some of us are inflating the lifeboats, or bailing out the hull, tethering the people who can't swim to ourselves so they won't drown if this whole thing goes down. Figure out what you can do. Even if it's small. Even if it's just keeping your feet on the deck rather than deciding to beat the boat too it and throwing yourself in to drown.

I need to go follow my own advice now. I'm going to finish my to-do list and comfort my friends, and then I am going to go play this song on my fiddle until I feel better.