#sir sleepy

[fyllophobia]

[sleepymakeslumemes]

Just so you know, Legend's ancestor was very hip with the kids back in his day, had his own show and everything

Ralph wasn't far behind either: dude had a whole movie duology named after him. crazy stuff

[columboscreens]

[geekynerfherder]

Showcasing art from some of my favourite artists, and those that have attracted my attention, in the field of visual arts, including vintage; pulp; pop culture; books and comics; concert posters; fantastical and imaginative realism; classical; contemporary; new contemporary; pop surrealism; conceptual and illustration.

The art of Peter Diamond.

[local-loser-clown]

Crocodile talking about how frustrated he is that his devilfruit powers don't have any great uses for intimacy.

Dragon, who has been listening to him rambling about it for the past few minutes: You can harden your sand.

Crocodile: What dose that have to do with this?

Dragon: That still leaves pegging on the table.

Crocodile looks at him dumbfounded: Holy shit you're a genius.

[wordy-little-witch]

I'm caught perpetually teetering on the line between competent Buggy and absolutely fucked up into success Buggy, but I think I found a work around, and the reveal comes via Cross Guild - Mihawk specifically. Ergo, I thus drop little random numbers here for reading pleasure before I actually EXPLAIN it.

<><><><>

Crocodile

It was not abnormal for the clown to butt heads with the former warlord. They both had very strict and evident opinions, thought one (cough Buggy cough) was much more verbose about it. Running an expansive business with a bumbling fool of a face man was enough to instigate migraines in the most patient of men.

Crocodile was not a patient man.

One could only imagine the sheer agony of his day to day.

This came to a head, as such things tend to do, on a mundane Tuesday afternoon, barely past midday. Buggy had scuttled in, a veritable mess of a person, hair in disarray and sweaty. Crocodile had taken one look and sneered at the other in disgust. This, in turn, has set Buggy off.

The clown had apparently been out with the lower ranks, building rapport and assisting with the laborious tasks assigned to them. It was something he had done before titles had even been a passing thought to be disposed on his name, and he had made it abundantly clear that it would not stop now nor in the foreseeable future. Admittedly, Crocodile had tuned out much of it in preference for more entertaining thoughts, such as brutally mummifying a certain clown.

Thwack

Crocodile nearly dropped his cigar. He blinked, automatically turning a glowering glare at the other as he shifted his shoulders. Buggy simply huffed, pale though he was, meeting the dark scowl with one of his own.

"By the Seas, why do I even bother with you, I swear-!"

As fast as he had stumbled in, Buggy was gone. Crocodile stared after him well after the door clicked shut. He rubbed his shoulder with his remaining hand, grimacing thoughtfully. Buggy had hit him. Not hard enough to cause damage, not even enough to leave a bruise, but it stung. It had connected.

He was a Logia user, and the Clown had solidly hit him.

Thoughts racing, he tried to convince himself it must have been due to some leftover sweat from the physical activity the blue haired menace had been rambling about. Turning back to his paperwork, he firmly told himself that that was all there was to it.

He pointedly ignored the fact that Buggy's hands had been dry and dusted with dirt.

<><><><><><><>

Mihawk

Life on the island was much removed from the monotony of Kuraigana. It bustled with life here in a way both alien and vaguely familiar to the swordsman. Despite the brightness of the colors and the loudness of the cacophony, it was almost... charming.

He'd never admit that outloud, however.

One thing he did not find very enjoyable was the lack of challenge here. Most who used the blade and called this archipelago home withered under his attention, paled and bowed out from an offer to spar with stuttered excuses and fear in their hearts. It was disheartening, especially given how many of the showed halfway decent promise.

It was a slowly crawling Sunday evening when he happened across a small squadron of the newer recruits in one of the sandy clearings. Many were younger than expected yet carried a look of maturity far beyond the planes of their faces. Mihawk had found himself admittedly rather intrigued when Buggy had personally offered to welcome these young adults at best, teenagers at the lower end, to the Guild.

Even now, a few weeks into their stay on the isle, Mihawk noticed a marked change - a slight build of muscle mass, a more healthy coloring, cleaner clothes and faces. They were doing well, he noted.

They were also all working studiously with blades in hand.

He watched them work for a time, hidden into the shadowed spaces of the trees near the clearing, allowing himself but a moment of observation. His gaze inevitably shifted to their katas, their grips, their footwork. He frowned, brow furrowing slightly as he considered them, the oddly familiar movements ringing an unnamed bell within his mind.

A bright laugh distracted him, and he turned a glance to Audrey, one of the younger recruits, spinning fluidly between a parry, redirection, and then a slash. Her bright red plait swirled after her, and suddenly Mihawk was standing straighter, walking into the clearing.

The jovial air was quickly hushed, eyes growing wide as many bowed their heads in deference. Audrey met his gaze head on with a reckless defiance undercut only by the sheer terror she tucked behind bravado in her summer green gaze. "Sir," she nodded once, voice impressively level despite the white knuckles grip on her blade, now held at ease yet defensive.

He nodded once in response. "My apologies to have interrupted," he announced cooly. "I found you all practicing by chance and am quite pleased by your skills. It is evident you have an acceptable level of respect for the craft."

Many faces lit up at the compliment. Audrey herself smiled brightly, showing a little gap in her smile. Somehow, it made him almost fond of such a look.

"That being said," he continued before any further reaction could be given, "the swordplay you lot have been utilizing, wherever did you learn it?"

"C-Captain Buggy, s-sir!" A blond lad responded brightly with a smile, enthusiasm not defeated by his stutter. Thómas, if Hawkeye recalled correctly. "H-He has b-bee-been teaching us-s," the other hiccupped happily.

"The..."

"Chairmen Buggy said he knew a few styles. For now, we're learning this one - he said it would be easiest on us for the time being. Once we're stronger, he'll help us find individual styles to expand on!"

"Is that so," he replied absently, mind racing. He knew this style - he'd been on the receiving end of it more than once, after all. Never once had he considered that Shanks' impeccable footwork may have been a set style. It had seemed too randomized, too shaken from the norm to have a specific sequencing. And yet...

And yet.

"The Chairmen knows this style well enough to teach it then."

"Yes sir!"

"Mm. Thank you, then. You have given me much to think on. Keep up the good work."

Leaving just as suddenly as he'd arrived, the swordsman set on a straight path to the animal tents. The clown would doubtlessly be there at this time of day. Mihawk had gotten a general idea of the man's excessive schedule in his time on the island after finding the other's Presence too soft and wisp-like to pinpoint.

Yet a other odd thing about the clown, he supposed, making his way along.

Finding the clown had been easy. Guiding him from the masses had been equally so. Convincing him to spar had been... not. If anything, it had been loud, expressive and interspersed with crying. It had taken Mihawk quite explicitly swearing formally to not kill the other outright for Buggy to even stop his pathetic yet endearing tears.

Mihawk shook the latter thought off as quickly as it came.

Buggy asked if his daggers would suffice as a weapon, citing that Mihawk had been the one to ask for a spar, after all, and thus had a decent amount of choice. Pleasantly surprised by the clown's knowledge of the code, he'd cited it would be fine, as he would not be utilizing Yoru for this regardless.

They took their positions on opposite ends of their designated battle ground, eying one another carefully. With the clown right before him, Mihawk focused his Haki, intending not to quite crush the other but to study him as thoroughly as possible, to push his limits as it were.

Buggy surprisingly opted to play it safe, not lunging forward in a reckless attack as he so often seemed to do. Taking the signal, Mihawk moved instead, intending to push the other back, to catalogue his steps. Instead, Buggy twirled, one knife sliding sinfully along his own before looping back off again, redirecting his momentum easily without incurring nor causing any damage.

The dark haired man blinked.

He'd... barely felt the other move.

Typically Haki would ebb and flow around a person or object with the movements of the host. Split seconds before one moved towards the left, their Haki would lean into the motion. Identifying, studying and reacting to the Haki as opposed to the physical form took years of practice and mastery, something Hawkeye excelled in. His Observation was rumored to be on the same scale as Charlotte Katakuri, after all.

And yet a clown had blind sided him.

In response, he turned, rerouting his energy into a graceful arc. This time, he saw Buggy move, body fluid as he shifted around the threat despite his Devil Fruit. Mihawk wondered absently if the Haki would cause damage before he lunged backwards as a dagger came dangerously close to his mustache. He allowed his surprise to show for a moment, gaze darting to Buggy. He'd expected a stunned look, perhaps a smug, prideful expression.

The face which met him was closed off, locked down tightly, offset even further by the garish painted smile on the other's sun kissed face. Buggy's eyes, usually a soft blue that summoned the skies to his very irises had frozen over into something iced and glacier like. Mihawk was fascinated.

Their dance continued on, far longer than the taller had anticipated. Their deadly dance was near silent, save the sharp swish of silk-sheering sharp blades through air.

Mihawk made one more movement in, managing to chip away at defenses to leave an opening for his knife to slip in silently. The blade cut through cloth and - not skin, not flesh, but something. Mihawk was suddenly frozen in place, staring at where the blade sat innocently up to the hilt in the new gap between Buggy's lower and upper ribs.

"Well, guess that call it, then," the blue haired man sighed, pulling back his hands to resheath his weapons. "That was a hell of a work out, man, you are fast as fuck. Nngh~" He stretched, a few vertebrae popping as he stepped back to spin on the ball of his foot, hair swishing. "Want to head back? Dinner ought to be ready soon. ... Mihawk?"

The dark haired man had since straightened, staring between his blade and Buggy's body, whole and hale. "... is this the reason for your oddities?"

"What?"

"You... why would you..."

Buggy, now wary, seemed to debate his next move. That was all Mihawk needed to meet the otherr man's gaze head on.

"It is nearly impossible to completely suppress one's Haki, and yet yours fits you like a second skin. It is hardened, expansive, and dense." He frowned. "It is... frankly speaking, more than merely intimidating."

Buggy rubbed his elbow. "Don't... over think it, okay? It's nothing special-"

"It is."

"It isn't, okay-?"

"It is and you do so without so much as uttering an indicator. Your Haki is so tightly bound that I could feel the moment my blade passed that barrier. You have and continue to actively do what many consider impossible." He stepped closer. Buggy stepped back. Mihawk followed. "You use an impossible technique with your Haki." Step. "You are teaching a recruit squadron swordplay in the steangest yet most effective manner I have seen in a long while." Step. "You certainly used Armament during this exchange on instinct alone." Step. Thump. Buggy stared uo, huddled back to a tree trunk. Mihawk leaned into his space. "And, perhaps strangest of all, you use a variation of Shanks' Violeta Vendetta for your bladed battles. Tell me just who or what you are, clown - because a fool or failure is not among them."

Silence reigned in the clearing.

Mihawk stared.

Buggy gulped. "He still... calls it that?"

What. "What?"

"Red hair... bastard stills calls her Violeta...?"

Mihawk nodded. Buggy laughs.

And then? Well, then Buggy explains

[casualavocados]

That's enough! I can't stand you being this drunk. Fuck. Chen Yi— Get up.

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 09

[calciferiguess]

(pretend i posted this two weeks ago)

day 31 of technotober- technoblade : your favorite moment

i have too many so i just did like half? of them;)<3

[aimbutmiss]

The day started like any other normal day. And it was, to Mihawk at least.

Yes, it was his birthday, but he never really cared for the occasion. Was he grateful for the life he was given? Of course he was. But he never saw the point in celebrating. He remembered the day when Shanks had showed up out of nowhere, ten years or so ago. He was overjoyed to see the man, hands itching to reach for Yoru, but the man stopped him with a whine.

"Nooooo, I come in peace! We can't fight, not today of all days!"

He held up the bottle in his hand with a bright smile. "We're gonna party until the sun goes down and comes back up!"

A frown pulled down on Mihawk's face, who was not quite understanding the situation. "What are you talking about?"

Shanks' smile quickly dropped too. "Don't tell me you forgot your own birthday."

Ah, right. So that's what this was about. The man had told him his date of birth some time ago, and in his surprise and perhaps slight tipsiness, he had admitted that they shared the same birthday. In hindsight, he should have known the red head would pull something like this. It was definitely in character. He sighed in frustration.

"I'm not quite the type to celebrate. You know I don't like to party like you folk."

"That's nonsense!" Shanks walked up to him and slapped a hand on his back, strong enough to send a normal man flying. But of course, Mihawk didn't move an inch. "Parties are like, the best part of being a pirate! And even if I respect your mysterious and lonely guy schtick, it's your damn birthday! You can make an exception for one day of the year."

He looked up, reminiscing about the past. "The captain was very firm about that. He would throw me and Buggy the most extravagant parties. He never once forgot; can you believe that?"

The captain he was talking about was indeed the King of the Pirates, Gold Roger. It had shocked Mihawk at first, learning about Shanks’ past. But the more he got to know the man, the more it made sense. A man of his caliber couldn’t have come from anything else. Shanks was a very talkative drunkard, so Mihawk was used to listening to stories about that time of his life. And frankly, he quite enjoyed it. These men in his stories and the stuff they went through were like straight out of legends... He gave a small smile to the excited man in front of him. "I guess I could indulge you just this once, but only because it's your birthday too."

He snapped out of the memories and slowly got out of bed, having had enough nostalgia to last him the day. But he was stopped by a floating hand pulling on his night gown.

"Stay."

Mihawk looked to the source of the muffled protest, which happened to be the blue mess in his bed. "Let go, Buggy."

"Nooooooo..."

He sighed as he sat back down on the bed, fingers immediately going for the soft blue locks. An approving hum came from the clown as he brushed through his hair with his long fingers.

This sleepy man, with whom he shared a bed, was one of those from Shanks’ stories. Except he was nothing like them. He wasn’t brave and fearless like in the stories, he was weak. But he knew exactly what he was and what he was capable of, and Mihawk loved him for that. He was charming beyond words, and a little stupid, but Mihawk was into that, as embarrassing as it was.

“Get back into bed and get your birthday cuddles.”

Mihawk chuckled at his partner. “Nice try, sweetheart.”

He got up to leave for the bathroom. “Do you know where Crocodile went?”

“Nope! How should I know?” Buggy answered way too quickly, which made the swordsman’s brows furrow.

“Hm. He’s probably in his office like usual.”

“Yes! That’s it.” Buggy exclaimed in triumph, for what he didn’t know. “He’s such a workaholic.”

“Indeed.” He replied nonchalantly as he reached for his razor.

“Wait!” Buggy ran out of bed to his side with a smile. “Let me do that for you.”

Mihawk stared at him with a raised brow. “You want to help me shave? For what reason exactly?”

“It’ll be relaxing! I’m good with my hands, you know.” Buggy wiggled his brows suggestively, which made his lips curve just the slightest bit. The clown could be funny sometimes, mostly when he wasn’t trying. Oh, how he loved this silly man.

“You literally have no reason to do this.”

Buggy sighed in frustration. “I’m just trying to pamper you, birthday boy. Take it or leave it.”

Mihawk thought about it for a second, and reluctantly gave the razor to the clown. “You better not mess this up. I have a very particular- “

“I’m aware, dear. Just trust me.”

He gently held his face and got to work, carving out the intricate design with capable movements. After he was done, he wiped his face with a fresh towel and gave him a kiss on the cheek to seal the deal.

“Was that a part of the service?” Mihawk jokingly asked.

“Only for you, handsome.”

Mihawk was never one for being coddled, always believing that being spoiled was being looked down upon. He didn’t need special attention and privilege to make it in life. But this, this he could get used to.

He pulled Buggy into a kiss that started innocent, but quickly grew more desperate. He was sneaking his hands under Buggy’s polka dot pyjama shirt when the man pushed him away.

“Nuh uh.”

“Nuh uh?” Mihawk stared at his boyfriend in bewilderment.

“Not now. I’ll give your birthday gift at night.”

Mihawk frowned. “It’s my birthday now too. What difference does it make?”

“God, you’re impatient. Night. No negotiating.”

Mihawk pursed his lips and didn’t protest. He was not happy, though.

Buggy stayed with him throughout the day, keeping him company and making sure he stayed away from the beach.

Yes, Mihawk could tell. But to be fair, Buggy wasn’t exactly being subtle. But he didn’t say a word, indulging in whatever the man was planning.

A surprise party, perhaps? God, he really hoped it wasn’t that. Crowds and being the center of attention didn’t agree with his constitution.

And where was his other partner (both in romantic and business contexts), Crocodile? He wasn’t in his office like he initially assumed. He was sure Buggy knew where the man was but refrained from asking questions. He was quite sure the two situations were somehow connected.

That in itself was quite ridiculous to think about. Crocodile didn’t seem like the type of man to care about birthdays either, like himself. Maybe Buggy had somehow convinced him? It all seemed very unnecessary. He knew the clown had good intentions, but he would have been fine if no one acknowledged his birthday at all. It wasn’t of importance to him, simple as that.

Then why was this bothering him so much? He tried to focus on Buggy’s rambling but that feeling did not leave.

Why did it feel so wrong to be celebrated just for existing? To be loved and cared for?

Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t unhappy with it. Quite the opposite actually. But it just felt so… foreign. He needed time to adjust, to make his peace with it.

He thought he had gotten over this particular problem after he formed a relationship with his two business partners. It had taken a lot out of him to simply let them in, to feel comfortable in their presence, to not fret from every touch… And even though he trusted them completely, here he was doubting his place.

It just didn’t make sense. They were wasting their time and effort for an inconsequential event that would pass by, leaving nothing changed. So, what if he got a year older? What did that change? Why did they care so much about something he himself didn’t care for? To show their love? But Mihawk already knew they loved him.

“Earth to Mihawk, hello?”

Mihawk snapped out of his thoughts, staring at Buggy’s concerned eyes. “Hm? Sorry, I got lost in thoughts. You were saying?”

“I was saying I want to walk along the beach… You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry. I’m alright, just a bit sluggish today. And sure, we can go for a stroll.”

He walked hand in hand with Buggy, trying to ease his mind and keep small talk going. He wasn’t big on physical touch, but he really appreciated the warmth of Buggy’s hand then. The clown always had a way of comforting him without trying. Mihawk stopped walking when he saw the dinner table placed on the beach. That certainly wasn’t there before. It was adorned with red roses and lit candles, setting a romantic atmosphere. Crocodile was standing beside the table, looking at his pocket watch.

“You’re late.”

“I know! I got lost in my speaking, and hawk eyes didn’t try to stop me so I lost track of time…”

“You and your big mouth… I guess it’s alright, we didn’t miss the sunset.”

Crocodile walked up to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and sharing a chaste kiss.

“Happy birthday, hawk eyes.”

“Thank you.” Mihawk broke the eye contact as he felt his cheeks get hotter.

Crocodile gave a sly smirk. “Someone’s being bashful.”

“Well, I didn’t expect… this. I was convinced you were throwing me a party.”

Buggy frowned at the thought. “Of course not! That would make you uncomfortable, wouldn’t it? That’s the last thing I would want on your birthday. A private dinner on the other hand…”

“Is much more your style, is it not?” Crocodile completed Buggy’s sentence.

Mihawk was the luckiest man alive. He gave his lovers a small smile. “Yes, indeed it is. You are too thoughtful.”

“It’s literally the bare minimum but okay.”

“I can’t believe this, but I agree with the clown. What kind of partners would we be if we didn’t know your preferences?”

Mihawk sat on the chair the taller man pulled out for him as Buggy poured him a glass of wine, one of his favorites that happened to be quite expensive.

“I just don’t quite get what’s so important about this day, or what you would go through all this trouble for.”

Crocodile and Buggy shared a glance and turned to him with sad eyes.

“Because it’s the day you came into this world, and therefore to our lives? Because we love you?”

“Indeed. I don’t see what’s so confusing about us wanting to cherish the man we love, to show him how much he means to us. Is that a problem?”

Mihawk stared at the two in astonishment and eventually, a big smile stretched across his lips. “No, not at all.”

The swordsman had a lot to learn about love, about being loved, but he had two perfect partners to help him through the steps. He could get used to celebrating his birthday if it meant he got to share it with the people he loved. Maybe that’s what he had been missing all these years to give this day a meaning. Company.

And after dinner, Buggy didn’t forget about his promise from the morning. Easy to say Mihawk went to sleep a very tired but satisfied man.

[kindahoping4forever]

Ash IG Story

[empressofmankind]

CROCTOBER 3/31 ‐ "Coffee"

Pets are all the same

Inktober masterpost

[creativitycache]

Alright apparently I’m now outnumbered in my small office for not carrying anything defensive like pepper spray, a taser, or a metal baton every day.

[onetiredpup]

My oral fixation is peaking right now if anyone wants to come shove their cock down my throat or maybe just let me suck on their fingers while I sleep

[rugbuggk]

Integra being so tired after work to the point she just lets Alucard do whatever he fucking wants without any yelling or screaming or insulting or threatening so Alucard gets worried.

Seras come to her master’s office and sees how Alucard is about to slap Integra just to see if she’s actually dead and not asleep. And yes, she screams. Integra wakes up. She’s the one who ended up slapping Alucard.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 7-Tired

Day 7 -Sleepy

Other Stories

Other Days

Duke struggled on, every puff of his pistons more difficult than the last, but he would not fail, not his passengers, not his railway, and certainly not Staurt and Falcon. The coaches rolled quietly behind him, as if they could sense just how hard it was to keep moving.

‘Just make it to the platform. Just make it to the platform. Just make it to the platform,’ he chanted in his mind.

“Grandpuff?”

He would not fail, he couldn't. 

“Grandpuff!”

He barely heard Falcon call out to him.

‘Come on,’ he chided himself, ‘push on, push on.’

His wheels slipped, and he despaired as the train slowed.

Clunk

He felt an engine take the weight of the train from behind, allowing his wheels to get their grip once more. 

‘Push on! You’ve never let his grace down, don't start now!’ His exhaust barked as he pushed forward, steam pouring both from his funnel and the cracked valve. The engine behind kept up every wheel turn, their whistle sounding through the valley.

‘Ah, Skarloey.’ Duke thought, ‘Her railway must have sent her to help out.’

Duke frowned, that didn't make sense last he heard was Skarloey was barely running herself, she certainly was not capable of pushing with such vigor unless she’d been overha…oh.

He eased his throttle back and his vision cleared slightly; the engine running alongside him on the yard sidings was no longer painted blue or named Falcon, but was red and named Sir Handel. He wasn't on the Mid-Sodor any more, that railway hadn't existed for twenty long years, but on the Skarloey Railway. He let his crew finally close his throttle and regulator, letting Skarloey take the weight of the train the last several yards to the station. His crew were quickly out and examining him, asking why he’d pushed himself and risked increasing the damage. Duke stayed quiet, not knowing how to answer. How to tell them he'd forgotten not just where but when he was.

Skarloey pulled alongside with a wheesh to silence the crew.

“I forget we're not back then sometimes too,” She said quietly

She met Duke's eyes, and Duke saw terrible understanding there.

She looked down to the rails, the crews and Falcon silent, “One minute I’m almost asleep in the sheds, next I'm back broken. One bump away from my boiler bursting beyond repair, waiting for the day the railway's forced to scrap me to make ends meet. In the dark I can't see the changes to the shed, and I’m left thinking I dreamed the last few years until the sky is light enough for me to see again.

“That's why you can't sleep,” Fal…Sir Handel said heavily.

“I don't like sleeping in the shed either,” Duke admitted horsley. “I keep thinking I'm back in the shed, waiting to be found again.”

Skarloey’s driver’s expression hardened, and she bent down to look her engine in the eye, “we’ll fix it,” she looked over to Duke, ‘for both of you.”

“You can't save us from the past.” Skarloey reminded gently. “It has already happened,” She said.

“Watch me,” her driver said firmly and strode off towards the Thin Controllers office.

***

Duke returned from Crovan’s Gate works the next night. He felt better, if embarrassed by his lapse. The other engines didn't mention it, but the shed arrangement had changed. He was shunted into the shed facing the back of the shed rather than out, which confused him until he was realized he was being placed in front of Skarloey, with Rheneas to the side of his sister. An electric fixture had been fitted between them, although he had no idea what it was called, and it emitted a soft warm light between the two engines.

No one said a word, but Duke found himself incredibly grateful he had not just found a new railway, but a new home.

A/N:Hello Loves! Skarloey is refered to as 'she' in multiple places in the Reverand's notes, so generfluid Skarloey. Love Y'all!

[renerosin]

SIR LEWIS HAMILTON at the Met Gala [2024]