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#some of these are from several months ago
nathaslosthershit · 3 days
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Some Bad, But a Whole Lot of Good (LS2)
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Summary: To the fans, it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume the week after his replacement had been hell for newly dropped Logan Sargeant, but to the people who knew him, they weren't worried. Warning: James Vowles slander, a lot of it, I made Logan yell at him because I want to yell at him
Getting fired a week before your first child was born wasn't on anyone's bucket list. But here Logan was.
He was mad- no he was furious. Sure, the past few months with the team have been miserable, but this was the worst timing possible.
"Why now? Why not the two weeks we were off on break?" Logan asks yells. He doesn't lose his cool, at least not like this, not by yelling at his boss.
"Logan, you have to understand we are in between a rock and a hard place. I am truly sorry but it's a difficult time for us-" Vowles begins to explain.
"A difficult time for you? I am about to have a fucking baby, James. Next week! What the fuck am I supposed to do?" He got up and ran his hand through his hair. "You just had a baby a year ago, I would have thought you of all people would have thought this through more."
"Believe me, we have Logan, we have discussed this at length for a long time now."
"Oh fuck you! You have been thinking about this for a long time and choose now to do something about it? God, James, why do you hate me so much? I know I haven't met expectations, I know I have fucked up, but I still have given everything to this team and this is how you end it?" he finally met his boss'- ex boss' now, I guess, stare.
As Logan looked at his team principal, he tried to see any remorse or sincerity in his eyes but just as he had suspected, James' apology was bullshit, completely insincere. He knew this wasn't going anywhere, he didn't even know why he was fighting.
Formula 1 had been the dream for a while. Logan had let himself sacrifice everything he could to achieve it. He tried to tell himself that he had made it and that he was happy, but it wasn't true. He couldn't face the reality of the dream he worked so hard for not being everything he had imagined.
After meetings about contract termination and how they were to proceed, a sad little goodbye party filled with people that were probably thrilled to have him go, and an actually heartfelt apology and goodbye from his teammate and those he worked closely with, the American left the factory for the last time.
The most difficult part of this whole affair? Telling his very pregnant wife that he was now unemployed, a week until their first child's due date.
After tears, cursing a certain British boss' bloodline, and dissociative silence, Logan sat next to his wife as she suddenly burst into laughter.
He was stunned, she was practically doubling over, at least as much as she could in her current condition. The sight so ridiculous given the circumstances that he began to laugh too.
Several minutes were spent laughing until their stomachs hurt and then trying to catch their breath before either one of them could say another word.
"This is such terrible timing!" she said, wiping her eyes as she continued to giggle.
"Could not me a worse time" he replied as he started to laugh even harder.
"God, we shouldn't be laughing at this! We have officially lost our minds"
"Perfect timing too! Just like everything else"
It was ironic, this was the absolute worse scenario Logan could come up with but this was also the hardest he had laughed in a long time. When was the last time he actually laughed? The last time he actually felt joy about anything involving his job?
As if she could sense what he was thinking, she took a few deep breaths, finally calming down, as she said, "This is insane of me to say, but maybe this is a good thing?"
He knew where she was going, he thought the same, but he needed to hear her rationalize it before he agreed.
"I mean, honey, you were miserable. And I am sorry because I did love some of the people on your team but most of them were jackasses! It was such a time commitment and you have spent so long giving everything to them just for the team to spit in your face. Plus, with savings and such, we have enough to be fine for a while, even with the baby. You finally can put your family and yourself first"
She was right, it was time he admitted to himself how much he had hated his job in the past few months. How miserable it made him. How he could hardly enjoy anything in his life because he was always thinking of how to improve, how to show he still has potential even with the shitty car he was given.
"Im sorry. I- its not fair that I spent so long chasing a dead end dream that I couldn't actually enjoy what I do have. I mean, I could never race again and I would be 1000 times happier with out little family then I could ever be in F1. I will never not put you both first again." He said as he looked at her, held the bump, and genuinely got to relish in what was to come.
The first race weekend since Logan was replaced, he wasn't stewing in his misery, he was sitting in the hospital next to his wife, holding his first born, and the last thing on his mind was what was happening anywhere else in the world outside of the room his entire life was currently in.
logansargeant
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liked by alexalbon, jensonbutton, and others
logansargeant New job
user1 hey! so this is insane
user2 unemployment has never looked better
alexalbon This is a crazy way to hard launch fatherhood but good on you, mate!
logansargeant got to keep them guessing
user4 dilf era yes please
oscarpiastri how long is the contract?
logansargeant full time for 18 years, then after there is a bit more leeway, but there is certainly no retirement in my future
user3 replaced right before he had a BABY?! oh that British fuck better watch out
jensonbutton Such a big moment! So happy to see where life takes you, I know it will be great!
A/N: Had to finish this right after the news he is testing for indycar in november dropped!!! U-S-A U-S-A!
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Since it is almost 911-day, and I am sure to be proven wrong about all of my headcanons (can't fucking wait!), I need to put some out there about my special guy. Don't even know if any of this makes sense, but here you go.
When Tommy opened his eyes, he stared at the burnt-out corpse of a helicopter.
Oh, he thought, I'm back here. His thoughts felt thick and slow, and he couldn't quite make sense of what he was seeing.
He had been here before.
He had crashed his chopper once before. He had done several emergency landings, but only actually fell out of sky one time, and that was in the army.
He couldn't fully remember. He couldn't remember what went wrong, and the theories that everyone else had were just that - theories. All he knew was that he lost control, he crashed, and was the only one to survive. Three were dead on impact, one died before recovery, one died as the medics were still working on him, and Tommy made it.
He hadn't been awake when they had gotten him, and he had only seen the photographs of the crushed chopper, so whenever he found himself back here, he stood outside of it, staring at the thing that clipped his wings for years to come.
After, he was discharged and sent home, and the thought of flying filled him with anxiety, so he didn't. He stayed on the ground, only able to stare up into the endless blue and yearn and fear. About so many things.
He blinked.
"Tom."
He turned around, no longer in the middle of nowhere staring at a broken chopper.
He was in the backyard of his aunt's house - his father's sister. The person who had spoken was Michael, one of his cousins, who, like the rest of the family, insisted on calling him Tom because Tommy is juvenile! Grow up!
"You know the rules, man," Michael continued, sounding almost apologetic.
Tommy remembered this day. His mother had just died a couple of months back and he was still getting used to the loveless house and the polite coolness of his father's family that his mother had done her best to shield him from.
His thoughts felt disjointed, and he couldn't quite remember what this was about. Someone said something that made Tommy feel awful, at the very least, and when he tried to speak out, Michael had stopped him.
You know the rules.
Like be seen, not heard, don't disagree with the adults, and, most importantly, don't be gay.
It was the moment that Tommy realized he needed to keep quiet about everything. Don't speak up, don't do anything but nod when faced with their opinions, be straight.
He blinked.
"Thomas."
There was only one person who called him Thomas, and only one person who did it like this - slurred together into almost one syllable, always sounding angry.
He was back in the living room of his childhood home, seventeen, a backpack slung over his shoulder, his father sat on the couch with a bottle of whiskey.
He had trouble grasping his thoughts for a moment - hadn't he just been in the yard? Much younger? What was that about a helicopter?
He knew what would happen that day. He'd kissed Andrew Jenkins behind the old hunter's shack three weeks ago, and the rumors had finally reached his dad.
"What did I always tell you?" his father asked, or tried to.
He had said a lot. Never anything worth listening to.
"Didn't ya hear me, boy? What did I always tell you!?"
Tommy's father was not a man who liked being ignored. He yelled and roared, spittle and drops of whiskey flying from his mouth. Tommy stayed quiet.
"No fucking son of mine will be one of those queers, you understand me, boy!? So, when I ask you whether what I heard is true, you better say no!"
Tommy had to think of something about a forged signature, of running away, of a camp and drills and training and men just like his father, of a helicopter.
"Is what I heard today true, boy?"
"You're a sorry excuse for a man." Tommy was reasonably sure that was not what was supposed to come out of his mouth. He never said anything like this. He only ever wanted to.
His father, in a blur, suddenly stood in front of Tommy. His face morphed into Gerrard's for a moment, then back into the haggard, cross-eyed man Tommy had known in his youth.
He was close enough that Tommy could smell his alcohol-stained breath, something he had become too familiar with. When he was young, his father had seemed scary, intimidating to him. Now, he seemed weak, not able to keep himself upright.
All his life, he had wished he had taken a swing at his dad, just once. Fought back, just once.
Violence ran in the family, after all.
He had a hand fisted in the collar of his father's shirt. He didn't know how it got there.
His father smiled. He had never smiled. Sneered, yes. Frowned, a lot. Never smiled. It didn't suit him. "Do it, you coward. Be a man."
He hadn't said that in this context. Not to Tommy. He had said it to his brother-in-law after Tommy's mother had died and a fight between his father and the rest of the in-laws caused them to never contact Tommy again.
God, Tommy hated this man. He didn't hate many people, he didn't think. Vaguely, he thought that he would normally just wash his hands of them and never think of them. That sounded better.
But he would never completely remove this. He was his father's son, after all.
He blinked.
"Tommy."
They had moved from the living room to the entrance. He wasn't seventeen. He was 40, holding onto his father's shirt collar, and in the open door of his childhood home behind him stood Evan.
He reached out a hand, and Tommy immediately dropped his father in favor of turning around and accepting Evan's grasp. His grip was strong, a bit tight, clutching at him almost in desperation.
"Tommy," he said again, but there was almost an echo there, far away and urgent. He seemed to be staring right through Tommy.
He gripped Tommy's shoulders with both of his hands. "Tommy, come on. You gotta be here."
"I- I am?" Tommy said, or he thought he did. His voice got lost in Evan's.
"Tommy, please."
He blinked.
Then again.
And again.
He smelled smoke. The side of his face felt tacky and the sun was painfully bright in his eyes. His head was pounding.
He tried to sit up, but everything in his head slid off a slope and he dropped back down, closing his eyes against the spinning tree tops.
He breathed against the nausea rising up in his stomach, but that just made him cough thanks to the smoke. God, his ribs hurt. He'd probably cracked a few.
His copter had gone down, he remembered suddenly.
He had told them that something wasn't quite right, but they had sent him up anyway. And then, he started having issues with the rotor controls.
He'd tried for an emergency landing, but when there was nothing but forest underneath him, there wasn't excactly room to safely land a chopper.
He remembered being conscious after hitting the ground. He remembered crawling out of there and throwing up as soon as he got his legs under him, before he stumbled away as the hunk of junk left of his copter burst into flames.
He had made as far as his legs could carry him until he collapsed to the ground.
His head hurt. Breathing hurt. He kind of just wanted to go to sleep.
"Tommy!"
He smiled a bit. Maybe he could go and find Evan in his dream again.
"Tommy!" Louder this time. Closer, it seemed. Urgent.
How long had Evan been shouting for him? He'd heard that same urgent undertone in his dream.
"Tommy!"
He could hear additional voices, now. He couldn't identify them. He could hear the sound of several heavy boots making their way through the undergrowth.
Good. He didn't think he could talk if he tried.
For a moment, the sounds stopped. Then picked up again, louder, and faster, and coming closer.
"Tommy!" A heavy body crashed to the ground next to him, and hands on his face gently, slowly helped him turn his head to look at Evan, kneeling next to him.
He slowly raised his hand. His shoulder hurt a bit, too, but not as bad as his head. Evan took his hand before he could try to figure out what to do with it.
"Can you talk? Where are you hurt?"
Everywhere? Tommy didn't think he had broken anything but his ribs - miracle of miracles - but he was pretty banged up. He'd probably be bruised all over. He was probably also concussed, now that he thought about it.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Swallowed, and it felt like nails scraping against the inside of his throat. Kept looking at Evan, despite the presence of other people appearing at his side, other hands trying to figure out what was wrong with him.
"Ev-Evan," he croaked, and almost regretted it immediately, if it wasn't for the relieved smile it caused.
"Yeah, it's me, it's Evan. We've got you, now. You'll be okay."
Tommy nodded as best as he could, and Evan didn't leave his side for a moment when he was picked up.
He kept mumbling his name over and over whenever Tommy's eyes shut for too long, whenever it looked like Tommy was about to slip away. He kept holding his hand.
"Tommy."
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turtletaubwrites · 2 days
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Numbers Game ~ Chapter 34
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Can You Pretend?
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Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???
Numbers Game Masterlist
Word Count: 11331
Ao3 Link
Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link
Chapter Tunes: Taste of You ~ Rezz Feat. Dove Cameron | Crazy On You ~ Hidden Citizens
Summary: Getting to know the hunters is getting to you, especially when your own past gets too much attention.
Ch. 33 ~ Recap: You decided that you would kill Shanks for Buggy if he forced you to marry him, and Shanks realized that there was hatred behind your eyes. Mihawk confessed his plan to be the villain so that he could bring you back to Buggy. Crocodile and Buggy encouraged him to try to find another way.
Author's Note: I can't believe that all of these random thoughts I braindumped months ago are finally getting into the story 🥰🥰
Dark Content Warning: There's plenty of fun in this chapter, but there are some extremely potentially triggering scenes. PLEASE DO NOT READ if these might be triggering for you!!! I’ve included a summary directly below the scenes, so that you won’t miss the story if you need to not be in the BIG FEELS of the scene. The summaries will be bracketed with ~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~ Please take care of yourself, you are not alone! 💜
Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷‍♀️ I didn't bracket that scene, but please remember who they are! I still love my sweet, bad boys 🥰 but you have been warned!!!!
~ 1st ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if childhood trauma regarding parents fighting could be triggering. Flashback of very small children witnessing/hearing their parents having a very heated argument, from the child's POV. The topic of the fight is a bit of a spoiler, so if any kind of relationship trauma could trigger you, you can check the summary first before diving in.
~ 2nd ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if severe mental illness episodes, treatment, or hospitals might be triggering for you.
Alternate POV Symbols:
🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes
!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for up to chapter 1064 or episode 1093. As we get further into Egghead Arc where our lovely boys are showing up more, there will be more spoilers as time goes on. Sorry y'all, I'm trying to keep most spoilers small details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.
Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Hospitals, Doctors, Mental Health Treatment, Toxic Family, Childhood Trauma, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Death of an Unnamed Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |
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~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
Kat wasn’t here. 
Your sister wasn’t here with her wide eyes that were usually sharp with disdain, but always held concern for you. Always held an attention to your needs that you didn’t want her to carry. 
But not tonight. 
“How is this supposed to be protective? Shouldn’t you be giving me some fucking oven mitts?”
Your sister was nowhere to be seen, and you were trying extra fucking hard not to scream at the staff while they squeezed you into this too-tight, leather get up. The endless straps and studs seemed to be purposely placed in the least comfortable places. 
“I assure you, Miss Sylvad, this outfit will be highly protective.”
That voice came wafting over from the corner, Uncle’s favorite assistant finally breaking her silence when she slinked toward you. Her unnervingly straight hair was almost hypnotizing as it swayed with her movements.
You scowled at her.
“Funny, I’ve never seen a chef in leather before.”
“Then you haven’t been in the right kitchen,” she teased. “Bethany, please demonstrate to Miss Sylvad how to undress on her own, just in case. Baking can be so messy.”
Darla reached out to touch one of the dangling zippers along your side, and you almost gave in. Almost lunged for her fucking throat. 
“It’s been almost two years now, hasn’t it,” you asked instead, letting true pity coat your voice.
“Since what, Miss Sylvad,” she smirked. She was still too fucking close. 
“Since you became his favorite,” you soothed, patting her shoulder. “Better set aside all the berry you can now, Darla. When Uncle drops people, they tend not to get back up.”  
“There’s no need to be cruel, sweetie,” your mother breezed in with a smoothie. She took a sip while she walked up to you, giving the assistant no choice but to move out of the way. 
You were too busy getting a brain freeze to spit one of your usual retorts, although the urge to ask about your sister nearly pushed past the discomfort. 
~~~
The courtyard filled with applause at the sight of you, and your Sylvad smile deepened when you imagined the most satisfying ways to silence the vultures. The huge screen showed you strutting down the path, which was the only way you could fucking walk in that domestic dominatrix outfit.  
They’d even given you a tiny, studded apron.
Breathe. Just breathe. Don’t let it in. 
There she was.
Kat was staring at you, her face comically shocked, and you hoped your own shock didn’t show.
Your sister was seated with the Vinsmoke family, and the brothers seemed to be caught in a loop of gawking at you, and returning their attention to her. Their lustful, puppy dog eyes were comical on their own, but watching them look at her like that flashed too many feelings through you that you didn’t have time to name. 
Yeah, it would be weird to marry her favorite.
“May I offer you a ride, Miss Sylvad?”
“A ride,” you asked, almost squeaking when that velvety voice draped over you. You’d been so distracted by your sister, you hadn’t realized that the massive pillars you were heading toward were covered in leather and spurs.
And waiting for you. 
“A ride...”
Your head barely reached above his knees, which happened to have deadly looking spikes on them, pointed straight for your throat. Thankfully, Katakuri shifted them away before he kneeled down. He waited for your nod, then grabbed you so gently around the middle, and it took everything in you not to squeal when you soared through the air. 
“You can hold onto this if you like, but I promise that I will catch you if you fall.”
“Mhm, thank you,” you hummed nervously to the side of his face, clinging to another large spike on his shoulder that was hidden beneath his scarf. 
It was surprisingly warm this high up as you perched on the heat of his body. The feathers of his scarf were comfortable, slightly tickling around you.
“Are you afraid of heights?”
“I think I’m supposed to be,” you joked, earning what you thought was a smile beneath all those feathers. “I don’t know why I thought you’d be taller than these trees.”
“I’m not a giant, Y/N.”
What a voice… If you weren’t scared of getting knocked off of his shoulder by a branch, you might have passed out.
“Just, uh, king-sized then?”
That crimson eye turned its attention to you, and his next words almost did knock you out.
“I hope that you’ll find me… husband-sized, Miss Sylvad. May I set you down?”
“Mhm,” was all you could manage, until you were clinging to his hand again. Your date held you aloft while he sat cross legged on a grassy hill, setting you down in front of the strangest kitchen equipment you’d ever seen. There were two sets of everything for your different sizes, all in neon colors that looked surreal under the golden sky. 
Your grin faded for a second when you noticed the staff and their snails in the surrounding trees, but you shook it off. 
“What are we making?”
~~~
You were so messy.
“They don’t have to be perfect, Y/N,” Katakuri chuckled while you struggled to shape your dough into circles. “And we need to let the dough rise for an hour before we fry them.”
“An hour?”
“Good things take time.”
He motioned you toward the sink, and you washed yourself up before giggling while you held out the hose for him. His soapy water slid down the side of the hill, and your mind flashed an image of you leaping onto it like a water slide.
“This is a good laugh. I hope to hear more of this one from you.” 
Katakuri had frozen you again, your laughter fading while you watched him dry his hands on a towel the size of a rug.
You never thought you’d feel smaller than you had with…
No.
Buggy had a real name. 
You’d gotten rid of the names from before. “First love.” “Second love.” They weren’t real.
But what should you call them?
Nothing. Stop thinking about them.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t,” you took a breath, fixing your fucking face. “I’m just thinking about our doughnuts. We really have to wait an hour?”
“Would you like to go somewhere while we wait,” Katakuri’s voice rumbled over you until you shivered. “I can give us some privacy so we can speak freely.”
Privacy. 
With this “not a giant,” giant man. A very pretty, giant man.
“I’d like that.”
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
~~~~~~
~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~
They had all known this was going to happen, that Y/N would have to date the other men before she could leave with him.
Yet Shanks couldn’t stop feeling like a failure, so he latched onto any idea that might help him fix this. 
His current idea was making him sick, but not as sick as Buggy must feel, listening to—
“Looks like we’re not the only ones hoping for a peek,” the red haired Vinsmoke laughed to his brothers.
Shanks needed to get his shit together. He’d noticed the three men before they emerged from the trees, but he’d forgotten why he should care about them. 
Normally, they wouldn’t be a threat to him.
The blue haired one stepped up to smirk at him, and Shanks was almost sure his name was Niji. 
“The Emperor of the Sea wanted another look, eh,” the blue one asked. “Didn't get enough of our little princess last night? Well, that’s a good sign. I’m looking forward to having a taste for myself.”
“Looks like we’re out of luck,” the green one— Yonji complained, pointing through the trees toward a large hill. 
Shanks looked away from the princes so he wouldn’t hurt them. He couldn’t fight, couldn’t risk getting kicked out. 
He couldn’t see her through that dome of mochi the massive pirate had caged her in.
She’s okay. She has to be. 
“There might not be enough left of her to taste when he’s done with her.”
Shanks had to leave before he killed them, finding his own reclusive spot to stare at the giant wall between him, and the woman his two lovers loved. 
Buggy was listening. Or maybe she wasn’t wearing the locket? 
It was a small hope that did nothing for his guilt, or the well-deserved hate he’d planted in her.
Mihawk’s golden eyes filled his mind, tears making them impossibly beautiful when he apologized. 
When he finally said it back. 
It felt like hours went by while he watched that unmoving room. Useless. 
I’ve never had… She helped Hawk open up. She made Buggy feel loved. It was her.
Shanks hit the back of his head against the tree he’d leaned on, until he remembered all of those cam-snails in the forest. 
So the Emperor tried his best to imitate her. To put on that face. To pretend that everything was alright. 
He had no idea how she hid so well. Shanks’ own hidden truths were stuffed so far down that he almost didn’t believe them himself, but she had to lie with every breath. 
Y/N has a strength I never knew someone might need. Not like this. 
~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~
~~~~~~
~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~
He wondered how many hours of his life had been drained away in dingy taverns just like this one. Hiding in the darkest corner, a book with a dragon on the cover still unread in his hand, the World’s Greatest Swordsman listened. 
Mihawk didn’t expect to hear anything of note here, but he’d landed at Majiatsuka just early enough to book a room for the night. He couldn’t think about anything besides his need to protect her, and resisting his need to hop back on his boat, and go straight there.
“Hey, did you catch the feed tonight,” a red faced patron called out as two other drunks joined his table.
“Shh, Jacob, don’t say that shit so loud,” the one on the right laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You know the whole thing’s illegal, right?” 
“Yeah,” the one on the left spat, “and I know for a fact those assholes would only get a slap on the wrist, but poor folks like us? I don’t wanna know what kinda fine we’d get if we’re caught watching.”
That unread book was shut. 
“I really hope they show the good stuff soon,” Right complained, leaning forward with a hushed, slimy tone. “Can you imagine what that giant dick must have done to that rich slut’s cunt?”
“Oh yeah,” Left agreed with a laugh. “I imagined it plenty of times after the feed last night. Can’t wait for that whore to—“
“Jacob, was it?”
Mihawk shoved Left’s headless body to the floor, stealing his chair to sit across from the whimpering man. He ignored the screams while the place cleared out, and he ignored Right’s headless body that was leaking blood onto the sticky table.
He had dirtied Yoru on their weak blood, so he cleaned his blade while Jacob pissed himself.  
“Would you like to tell me everything you know about that feed, Jacob,” Mihawk drawled, more death waiting to pour from him. Endless death until he held her again. “Or…”
“I-I’ll tell you, please sir, p-plea—“
“Don’t waste my time, Jacob. Tell me about the feed.”
~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~
~~~~~~
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
"I'd like that."
His eyes looked even prettier when you said those words. 
He’s still a hunter. He’s still using you. Don’t forget.
“I’m going to use my devil fruit power to create a room around us. No one will be able to see or hear us, but I promise to lower it whenever you wish.”
He’s so careful with me. This leech must really want to win.  
Your consent had hardly left your lips before your world became soft and pale, his power enveloping the entire hilltop, including the little kitchen and lamp posts that came with it. He'd kept everything except for the rotating pedestals that the nearest cam-snails had been perched on.
The smell in the air was slightly sweet, but the feeling of being trapped still crept in, almost leaving your throat in a scream. 
“It’s alright, Miss Sylvad. I’ll drop it right now if you want me to, but I’d like to talk without the surveillance. I won’t move. I won’t touch you.”
Katakuri’s voice had lost the slight tease he’d been giving you, speaking in an almost businesslike tone. 
So he’s good at pretending too.
“Thank you, Katakuri,” you mirrored his tone. “What would you like to speak with me about?”
Here it was. The old, familiar rhythm of negotiation that your dad had spent so many years making sure you understood. 
“My little sister has been kidnapped by Emperor Blackbeard. Since my mother was defeated, I am ashamed to admit that we are not equipped to get her back on our own. Pudding is only sixteen, Y/N,” he urged, enough emotion in his words to make you pause, even with your determination to keep him out. 
“I’m so sorry, but how can—“
“My family needs this marriage to happen, but I wanted you to know my true intentions. Please, marry one of us, Y/N. With the financial support your uncle has promised, we’ll be able to afford to bring an army with us to get her back.”
Those pretty eyes were urgent now. Almost desperate.
“There is nothing more important to me than protecting my family,” he whispered, although his voice was too large to feel quiet. “I swear that we will care for you. We will protect you with our lives. I’ll get you away from these people, Y/N. You’re an older sister, are you not?”
“Yes, but I’m… I’m sorry, but I can’t make any promises yet. Thank you for telling me the truth.”
A heavy fear gripped your heart, your whole body fighting not to shake beneath this man’s fierce request. 
He needed this. 
What will he do to get it?
“I understand,” he nodded, taking a breath that could have sucked the air from the room. “We need you, but our relationship doesn’t need to be for duty alone. May I return to showing you the kind of husband I will be?”
“I’d like that.” 
The truth of that surprised you, and you would have scolded yourself, but he moved. Stretching out his long legs, he laid on his side, propped up on his elbow. 
“You didn’t choose these clothes,” he noted, almost a tease. 
“How could you tell?” 
Sarcasm, seriously? I really am insane. 
“Leather molds to your body when it’s worn regularly. You don’t look very comfortable in that.”
Heat shivered through you, and his eyes went a bit wide.
“I’m sorry, Y/N, I wasn’t trying to—“
Laughter filled that sweet, soft room, a dam of tension breaking loose, and you would have joined him on the ground if your outfit wasn’t so stiff. 
“Oh,” you caught your breath, “I’m laughing because you were right, not because I wouldn’t…”
Holy shit, I want to fuck him. There’s that fucking death wish again.  
“What have you heard about me, Miss Sylvad?”
Absolutely nothing. Totally blank. Your brain couldn’t recall a single thought until you looked away from him, pacing over the soft ground.
“You’re a Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates,” you started listing the few details you could remember. “You ate the Mochi Mochi fruit. Your bounty is over a billion berries. Uh, you’re not a giant.” 
You shrugged when you turned back toward him, and almost lost your thoughts again.
“Oh, and you never lie on your… Are you a side sleeper, then?”
Tingles danced over your skin while Katakuri laughed full out, an overwhelming sound. He leaned his head back, the feathers that covered his face moving with his breath. 
“Why didn’t I think of that,” he rasped, still chuckling. “Would have been more comfortable than all the walls I’ve slept against.”
He sighed at the confusion on your face before rolling onto his back. 
“So, you do lie on your back, but you sleep sitting up,” you frowned as you walked closer, almost reaching out to touch him.
“It was a lie I told to protect my siblings. A sacrifice that has made me strong for them, but always alone.”
“I’m sorry, Katakuri,” you reached out now, smoothing your palm over the pink skull tattooed on his arm. 
“Don’t be,” he hummed, seeming so relaxed while he laid before you. “I recently lost a good battle, and it’s made me wonder if there are better ways that I can be a good brother.”
“Must have been one hell of a fight if Charlotte Katakuri is on his back for a stranger.”
You leaned against his arm, hoping that he’d take the playful tease. All the talk of protecting his siblings was taking your mind to places you’d rather not go.
You’d rather be following that death wish of yours. 
“I don’t want you to be a stranger,” he whispered as he rolled back onto his side to look at you. “I want to take you away from these people. I want you to meet my sister, and we can bring yours with us. We can protect them both.”
“I don’t—“
“But my goal for tonight is to help you relax.”
There was absolutely no way you could relax. 
“You’ve been doing so well, carrying whatever this weight is that your family has given you,” Katakuri praised. The touch of his fingers along your arm, and stroking down your back, felt dreamlike. Everything was strange and fuzzy. 
“Thank you.”
“I have one more thing to share,” he rasped, taking back his hand to touch his scarf. “Hiding was something else I did for a sister. I think that reason is gone now, so all I’m left with are my own fears.”
“Is it fangs,” you breathed, trying to be light. “That’s what my guess is, which is totally fine! I’d be more freaked out if you had puppies under there or something.”
“Puppies,” he huffed a laugh, cocking his head.
“I don’t know,” you squeaked, unable to shut yourself up. “Is it scars? I thought I saw… you know, I actually think that scars are—“
“Cute.”
“Uh, y-yeah,” you froze as a very large finger tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “That’s not the word I was thinking of, but they can be…”
“You are very cute, Y/N,” Katakuri hummed, and your mind blanked out again. “May I show you?”
You remembered how to nod, and luckily you’d already prepared yourself for what your suitor might be hiding. 
That scarf was a small mountain of feathers when he removed it, all that softness gone, and replaced with sharp fangs, and scars that stretched from the corners of his lips to above his ears on either side. His fangs seemed almost like tusks, jutting out to stretch over his lips.
Then he opened his mouth. 
“So I was right on both counts,” you gave a nervous smile at the sight of all of the sharp teeth in that mouth, not just the four large fangs that he couldn’t hide. “Do I win a prize?”
You knew that you’d been right about when he’d smiled before as you watched his whole face move with it now. 
“Well, I believe it’s almost time to fry our doughnuts.”
~~~
“Mm, fuck! That’s so good, Katakuri.”
He laughed at you then, tossing the rest of the massive doughnuts into his wide mouth that seemed just a little less dangerous when it was filled with sweets. 
You still had a plate of the smaller, glazed pastries, but the numbers were dwindling.
“This has been a lovely date,” you hummed, honestly feeling good for the moment. Katakuri had taken your mind away for a while, and it was a gift.
“Would you like it to be over,” he checked in, his brow arching even higher while he scanned you. 
He’s still so pretty.
He made you shy, but you were bold enough to shake your head. 
“Then would it be alright if I looked at you, pretty thing?”
Holy shit…
Katakuri had barely grazed your hip with his finger, but his voice went so deep, so dark, that you threw your head back, knees almost buckling.
He chuckled, helping you stay balanced while you struggled with all of the stiff bits of leather strapped to your body. 
Your locket fell out from where you’d stuffed it into the tight material, and you tried to leave it on the ground. You really tried to leave it behind.
It was a chain of guilt and brightness around your neck, and the best you could do was carry it with you while you tried not to think about drifting further and further away from that daydream of a life. 
“You are so beautiful, Y/N. May I create a bed for you so that I can see you better?”
Soon you were lifted up, perched on a mattress made of mochi that was too high for you to relax completely, until you forgot all about it. 
“You want me to touch you, don’t you, Y/N,” he asked in that tone that sent you reeling. He had set you up a little higher than his shoulders, and he leaned over you, his face so close as he took in a breath. “Gods, you smell so sweet.”
Why am I already whimpering?
“I’m going to touch you now, but let me know—“
“Touch me, Katakuri, please!”
The sound he made when you begged made you arch your back, but then you were gasping, fear creeping back in as he spread your legs. He held your thighs apart with his hands while he stared at you like you were a treat for him to eat. 
“I’ll be careful,” he breathed, a soothing threat while his sharp mouth hung open at the sight of you. “I’ll keep my head right here. Let me taste you, please. Let me fuck my tongue into you. I’ll be so—”
“Please! Gods, please— oh gods, oh f-fuck.”
Katakuri…
Katakuri’s tongue felt so good, so insanely good. You’d never thought to imagine what a tongue that size could do, but the press of it, the strength, the size, had you twitching and begging within seconds. 
And he’d told the truth. He was so careful. Careful to hold your twitching legs so they wouldn’t go near his fangs. Careful to keep his mouth away from your skin, just his tongue reaching out. 
That was all he needed.
“Kata-Katakuri…”
The precision he had was unbelievable. The flick of that huge tongue kept finding your clit over and over, and his pleased moans vibrated through you like a toy, an incredible toy. Then he did what you’d begged for.
Your nails looked so small digging into the back of his hands. He went slow, but soon his tongue was inside you, making you forget the world again.
“Don’t stop,” you begged weakly, surprised you could speak at all while the mochi bed sank toward the ground.
“We don’t have to stop,” he promised, smiling down at you while he traced his fingers over your skin. “But the bells are ringing outside. I believe our time is up.”
You whined. 
“Does this mean that you’d like to see me again,” he laughed while you still struggled to move. 
“I don’t think I’m supposed to answer that,” came your grumbled response. 
“Mm, what about now?”
Katakuri had brought you one of those giant towels, but he dropped it to trace his finger all the way up your thigh, barely touching the twitching, needy flesh he’d just tasted. 
“Fuck, yes. Please.”
“Good girl. I’m gonna take such good care of you, Y/N. My cute, little bride.”
~~~
No favorites. No least favorites.
Over and over and over. 
You hadn’t expected to have any favorites, and you were pissed that you already seemed to have them mapped out. 
Uncle Cedrick would use it against you, so it was better not to care either way, but your stupid brain wouldn’t stop. 
Katakuri had joined your family for breakfast, so polite as he sat on the grass by the patio. 
“What is your role, Kathryn?”
“Role,” Kat frowned at him.
“Position,” he tried again, glancing at you. “What do you do?”
“Kathryn is invested in her family,” Cedrick bragged, before scowling at you for speaking at the same time.
“Kat’s been studying business. Have you started your masters program yet,” you asked cheerfully, hating yourself for not asking sooner. 
“No,” she mumbled as she caught your uncle’s gaze. “Too much family stuff going on.”
“I brought you all some doughnuts.”
~~~
Today’s hunt was for the “truth.” It had been your choice, but you were sick of this shit already. 
“You’re a dog person,” Niji declared while his eyes traveled down your body.
“Well, I love dogs, but we’ve always had—“
“You don’t like spicy food.”
Oh thank gods, the bells.
~~~
Each hunter had to submit a list of their own questions, along with their guesses at what your answers would be. A lazy idea, but it was giving you a glimpse into what they thought of you.
“You really like my brother.”
“I don’t think it’s fair for me to answer that either way,” you teased. 
How does he keep his hair from burning with those sparks?
Cracker gave you another maniacal grin, his bare chest like a wall that kept you from checking your Uncle’s expression. Yours was on display again, spread across the side of the building, so you did your best to school it.
“That’s alright. Everyone likes my brother. But you… You’re a picky eater.”
You gave him the win. It was true enough when it came to the food your family served.
~~~
“Redwoods are your favorite trees.”  
“That’s right, Mr… Iceburg,” you smiled. You still hadn’t trained yourself to hate him for being here, for being a leech. He was still Mr. Iceburg in your mind, and that held too much weight. 
He’d guessed the most truths so far, and that teenage crush of yours wanted to crush all of your caution away when he patted you on the head at the end of his turn.
Stupid brain.
~~~
“You like cookies.”
“I’m not sure if that counts, Emperor Shanks,” you flirted while you planned his gruesome death.
“You’re right, who doesn’t like cookies,” he smiled that infuriatingly charming smile. “I think that you like to dance, but might need a little more practice.”
More images flashed in your mind. Too fast. Too real.
His pulse against your skin. His strong fingers controlling you, digging into your hip while he pressed himself—
The ringing of those bells was your new favorite sound. 
“I’ll give you that one, Shanks.”
You covered your hate with fluttering lashes, and a gentle bite to the lip that he always loved to stare at. 
He wasn’t staring at it today. 
Hot rage turned to icy fear when you saw that look in his soft eyes. Like he was seeing too far, too deep. 
What did he see?
~~~
Giberson already smelled like whiskey when he folded his lanky body into the chair across from you. You were more jealous than anything else, wishing that you could numb this shitty lunch away. 
“How are you doing, my dear?”
“Well, thank you, sir.”
“Oh no,” he laughed, that sharp smell getting stronger when he opened his mouth too wide. “Just call me Gibby. That’s what my friends call me.”
“Of course, Gibby,” you smiled. You knew you could do this. You could feel all the eyes on your skin. Appeasing an old man was nothing. 
Just boring.
“Alright, where should we begin?” 
The old man cleared his throat loudly, squinting at a notebook he’d pulled from his jacket, the silk lining gleaming in the sun. 
“You received your degrees from Pucci University. Excellent school,” he hummed while you tried not to frown. “I would have expected a Sylvad to attend an older institution, given your connections, but I’m sure that the food alone had to be worth it. Did you enjoy your time in the Gourmet City?”
“I did...”
“Well, let’s keep going. We are on a time limit after all, and I’ve been looking forward to having you all to myself,” he winked before diving back into his notebook.
The Concealer. Information broker. Emperor of the Underworld. 
What the fuck did he find? 
“Ahh, you worked at Polestar Principal Bank, I believe? Upstanding establishment, and just a ferry ride away from Loguetown too. Did you meet any interesting pirates when you weren’t making the rich even richer?”
“W-well—“
“And I noticed that your family always moved with you when you went to a new island,” Giberson beamed, flicking the paper while he nodded. “I just love those strong family bonds. Shows true value.”
Smile. That was a compliment. 
You didn’t believe the lie, but hoped that your face sold it while shame poured through you. Your eyes darted over to your sister against your will, finding her strained smile to reinforce your guilt. 
Wherever you moved, your family had followed, dropping Kat’s life away every time. 
“You enjoy reading fantasy novels, eating spicy food, and you’ve always loved cats.”
“Yes, I—“
“St. Poplar is your family’s original home. I saw that you attended St. Poplar Private School, but took a year off for independent studies before you returned to graduate at the top of your class. It’s strange though, I couldn’t find a scrap of information about that year, and it’s been bothering me for weeks now. Were you traveling abroad? I didn’t find any records of travel, or salaries for home tutors, or…”
Breathing. Were you breathing?
Eyes. So many eyes.
“Oh, dearie me,” Giberson sighed, setting down his evil notebook. “Please, forgive an old man his forgetfulness. That was after your father passed, was it not? Well, I’m grateful that you were able to take that time to be with your family, and I’m so sorry for—“
“It’s fine,” you lied in a voice that was too high, and too fucking fragile. “Do you have any other truths to guess?”
“It’s not a guess if it’s the truth,” Giberson teased while he raised his boozy drink, the ringing of bells coming to your rescue too late. “You are the loveliest, little lady in the New World.”
~~~
Having private conversations in front of servants had never felt comfortable, but this shit show kept leaving you with no other choice. 
Tonight’s outfit was thankfully close to “normal” clothes, but hair and makeup were still taking too long to wait for privacy, and Kat had started first.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here yesterday.”
You snorted at her little grimace, knowing that you were probably the only person she ever apologized to. 
“Sorry, it’s all good,” you appeased her narrowed eyes.
Your sister had clearly been making an effort to be positive around you since you arrived, but it was comforting to see her being more herself.
“Did you have a good time with the Vinsmokes?”
“Yeah, it was alright,” Kat brushed off, but she pinched her fingers together in her lap, and that odd guilt crept back in. “How was your date with Katakuri?”
“It was surprisingly lovely,” you rushed, ignoring her raised brows while you pushed on. “Do you not want me to marry a Vinsmoke? Because I can try not to end up with your favorite. I wouldn’t want you to—“
“Stop worrying about me,” your sister scolded, shaking her head while she huffed a laugh. “I actually wouldn’t mind being their sister-in-law. I’d love to go see their tech. Fucking hover boots? Honestly, you should marry one of them just for the shoes. I think you’d like their sister too, I hope you get to meet her soon. Their dad seems like a dick, but…”
The lead makeup artist caught your scowl when he blocked your view, so he turned your spinning chair, letting you see your sister’s flustered face.
“Are you sure,” you checked in again, too much guilt to stamp out so quickly.
“Would you shut the fuck up already,” Kat rolled her eyes. “You’re about to go on a date with a two story tall merman. I don’t need you to protect my feelings. I don’t even have any feelings about this, alright? I promise.”
“Cut it out,” she groaned at your searching eyes, “and tell me all about your lovely date with that giant, leather boy.”
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
~~~~~~
~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~
~~~
~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~
kitty kat’s gonna wake up. 
Loud noises had woken you. Loud, angry noises.
“You really think I can’t do math, Delaine?” Daddy’s voice sounded scary. “Whatever that thing is in there, it’s not mine.”
“Please, Arbo.” Mommy was crying. “Kathryn was premature, you heard what the doctor said.”
Mommy and Daddy were fighting about little Kitty Kat. 
“Doctors that accept bribes tend to accept even higher bribes, wife.”
You couldn’t open the crib, and you knew you shouldn’t. You weren’t strong enough, or tall enough to climb inside with your little sister, so you dragged one of your chairs over to stand on, and reached your hands through the bars.
“It’s okay, Kitty Kat,” you whispered as you covered her tiny ears, pressing your face between the wooden bars to watch her breathe.
You didn’t want Sissy to be scared.
“Since you’re done denying it, why don’t you tell me who you were out fucking when you should have been with our daughter? How often did you leave her with the governess so you could go sink your claws into some other poor bastard?”
Daddy sounded mad, and sad. 
“And where were you, husband?” That didn’t sound like Mommy. She sounded mean. “You expect me to wait around for months while you're out working, only for you to bore me to death when you grace us with your presence? Oh, please, Arbo! I just need to hear another one of your math stories. Please–”
why are they hurting each other? why won’t they stop?
“Shh, Kitty Kat, everything’s gonna be okay.” Sissy was starting to make little noises, and you couldn’t let her hear. 
“Who was it?”
“Arbo–” 
“WHOSE BABY IS THAT, DELAINE?”
“Daddy… Shh, Sissy. We’re okay.”
“S–Samson. It was Samson. Please, don’t hurt him, Arbo.”
“I’m not going to hurt the fucking chauffeur.” Daddy laughed. Scary laughs. Sad laughs. “I’m going to do him a favor, and make sure he never has to see your face again. Set him up with a nice job on the other side of the fucking planet.”
“Thank–”
“Don’t you dare thank me. You know what? You’ve got two choices, Delaine. Take his baby, and go live out your happy life with that unlucky chauffeur, or get your shit together, and pretend.”
“What–”
“If you want to keep being ‘Mrs. Sylvad,’ which I know you love more than your own family, then you need to put in the fucking work. Think you can do that, Delaine? Can you pretend to be a loving mother? A happy wife? That’s all I’ll ever ask of you, since I know there’s no real heart in that hollow chest of yours. Can you pretend?”
… 
“Of course, Arbo, dear.” That sounded like Mommy. “I’ll do anything to make things right. Whatever will make you happy.”
“Just keep pretending. I’m taking my daughter to the East wing.”
“But… of course, husband. Let me know if I can help with anything.”
~~~
“Hi, sweet– oh, angel, no! Shh, shh, Daddy’s here.”
Daddy rushed toward you, wiping your tears as he pulled you away from Sissy’s crib. He looked scared, and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying.
He carried you out before you woke her up, walking so fast until you were far away when he set you down.
“Daddy’s so sorry, sweetheart. We didn’t mean to scare you. You were protecting your– protecting Kathryn, weren’t you?”
“Why were you and Mommy so loud?”
Daddy was crying.
“We were just talking, sweetheart, we’re okay. Everything’s okay, Y/N, I promise.”
Daddy was lying.
“Okay, Daddy.”
i can pretend for daddy. i can help him be happy again. 
~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~
~~~
~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~
The scene above is from the reader’s POV as a small child. She woke up to hear her parents arguing loudly about her baby sister, so she reached through the bars of the crib to cover Kat’s ears so she wouldn’t wake up, and get scared. 
During the argument, Arbo accused Delaine of cheating, and asked who Kat’s father was. She admitted to the infidelity after Arbo implied that he had bribed the doctor she had bribed to keep it a secret. She told him that it was Samson, their chauffeur. 
Arbo accused Delaine of neglecting the reader during her affair, while Delaine accused Arbo of expecting her to wait for months, and of “boring her” when he returned from business trips. 
Arbo gave Delaine the option to take Kat, and go live with the chauffeur, or continue to be “Mrs. Sylvad,” by pretending to be a good wife and mother, and stated that he believed she cared more about that than her own family. Delaine agreed to pretend.
From the reader’s very young POV, she noticed that they both cried at different times, that Arbo often sounded mad, scary, or sad, and that Delaine sounded mean, and then “like Mommy again,” after she agreed to pretend.
Arbo came to get his daughter to stay with him in the East wing, and found the reader with her hands over Kat’s ears. He panicked and carried the reader away. He apologized for scaring her, and told the reader that they had just been talking, and that everything was okay. 
The very young reader knew that he was lying, but decided that she would pretend too, so that she could help her dad be happy again.
~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~
~~~
~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~
~~~~~~
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
This prince was already out of the game, but you were good at pretending. It helped that your costume for Fukaboshi’s date made you feel like a princess instead of a sex doll.
The crowd was still applauding while the platform lifted you into the air. Your light, flowy dress moved like gentle waves in the breeze, matching the shifting, ocean colors of the fabric. 
You could have gone without all the shells in your hair, and the iridescent scales that were painted around your temples, your shoulders, and along the backs of your hands and wrists. 
Fukaboshi’s soft smile was worth it though, as soft as shark teeth could be. 
“Good evening, Y/N,” he tilted his head toward you, his mane of hair falling forward like glittering curtains. “You are as beautiful as sunlight on the water.”
No favorites. No least favorites. 
~~~
“How did you know this was my favorite spot,” you beamed, trying not to feel woozy on the platform that had been perched atop your favorite cliff.
“I merely searched for the most beautiful waves on the island. You must know these waters well,” Fukaboshi praised, filling you with a strange pride for such a small thing.
You did know them well. 
Fukaboshi’s people treated you like a princess, doting on you like you were already theirs. They caught and cooked your food before the sky grew dark. There was music, and stories, and dancers, and it should have been lovely, but with every moment, the tide crept further in. 
Soon the waves were crashing loudly along the staggered cliffs, just barely reaching over the edge in a cascade of white that would grow and grow. 
It had always been your favorite spot to scream. 
“They are no longer listening to us.”
“Hmm?”
“I spoke too loudly the other day, didn’t I,” the prince sighed, glancing around at the now empty cliff. “My mother was never quiet in the face of injustice, but it seems that I have lost my chance now. You will be sending me home soon, will you not?”
Your mouth opened, but you took too long to lie.
“They are not listening, but I understand your caution. I want you to know that even if I do not get the resources my people need, I will still help you. We can leave right now, if you wish.”
Fear, hope, grief, and guilt all hit your veins like poison until you almost cried out in pain. Yet, you smiled. Not your Sylvad smile, but a true, sad curve to your lips before you could answer.
“I am so grateful for the offer, Fukaboshi, but I have to stay. I have my own responsibilities, and I won’t abandon them again.” 
Silence rolled in, gentler than the growing tide.
“It may seem a strange thing to say given our situation, but you remind me of my mother.”
“Oh?” You didn’t know what kind of smile to give. 
The merman pulled a locket the size of your face from a satchel at his side, and you turned to let the soft lights of the lanterns below show you what it held. 
“That’s your… mom?” You’d left out the rudest word in that shocked sentence, but there was absolutely no way that tiny woman could have physically birthed him. No way she could have been with the person who had to be King Neptune, his face not even in the picture because he towered over her so thoroughly. “She was beautiful.”
“Yes,” he nodded slowly, looking at the picture before tucking it away. “But she was also strong. Fearless.”
Your memory finally kicked in, and Queen Otohime’s assassination formed into something real, not just words on a page. 
“I apologize,” Fukaboshi smiled. “You are carrying a weight, and I have added more.”
“No, it’s fine,” you didn’t lie. Sometimes just seeing pain that looked like yours felt like relief, a tiny respite from loneliness. Still, you tried to make things light. “I’ve been wondering about that bubble around your waist. Is it like the ones at Sabaody? I didn’t think they could last this far from the mangrove.”
Why am I so bad at making things light?
“So you’ve been to the archipelago,” the prince questioned. There was just a hint of anger in his words, but that hint felt very large as it shook through his enormous form.  
“I… we have a home there. It was mainly for business, but my dad would always bring me so I could see the trees. I haven’t been there since I was a kid.”
Sweet memories of bubble rides turned vile when you remembered how privileged you were. 
“Well, I hope that you did not have to witness what my people are subjected to there. Children should be protected from such ugliness. Unfortunately, the rest of the world seems to ignore or relish in that ugliness, and my people suffer the price.”
“I’m so sorry, Fukaboshi.”
The stars were difficult to see on the water now, the tide slamming against the cliffs again and again until the air was filled with salt. The prince stared at the spray, his fists clenching, almost shaking, and you hated that you could do nothing for him besides letting him leave, or getting him killed.
“My sister was chained while the celestial demons laughed at her tears,” he growled, shaking the wood beneath your feet. “I was forced to watch in silence with the crowd of cowards that are meant to govern this world. They were going to make her their pet!”
This terrifying, two story tall prince bared his teeth, raging at the sky, yet you were still far more afraid of the people he despised. 
“The Dragons…”
“There is no way for me to salvage this, is there,” Fukaboshi implored, his breath heavy. 
You took too long to lie. 
“Let me help you, at least,” he begged, dipping his head toward you. “I cannot see your chains, but I know that they are there. These monsters are using you for their entertainment. I don’t want to leave you here like this.”
Living under the sea might have been nice. 
“Thank you,” you choked out. You couldn’t afford to feel this. Even without the eyes on you, you couldn’t afford to cry anymore. 
You might never stop.
“I’m sorry, but I have to stay. I left before, and…” Stop it. That crack in your voice was too much. You had to stop.
Bells. 
They were distant, but ringing closer while you stared into the eyes of a truly good man that you wanted to send home this instant. He didn’t deserve to rot with these leeches. This prince needed to get as far away from you and your Sylvad smile as possible.
“It has been an honor to meet you, Y/N,” Fukaboshi hummed before the leeches and their snails arrived. “If you ever need a friend in the water, you will find a country’s worth when I tell my people of your kindness and strength.”
“Please, I haven’t done anything to deserve such high praise.”
“I would not survive a challenge such as this, yet you face it with a warrior’s will,” he praised, filling you with a strange pride for such a lie. “I hope that your responsibilities do not keep you from finding true happiness.”
There was no time to answer before your privacy was stripped away again, so the prince joined you in silence. The tide carried your rage for you, violent sprays of white dancing along the cliff. 
It would have felt so good to scream, but at least you knew that another kind soul existed in this world. 
At least you knew that he’d be free of you soon. 
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
~~~~~~
~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~
“What the fuck are you doing, mom?”
“Y/N, please, calm down,” your mom tried to soothe while you grabbed her nearest belongings to throw against the wall. 
You hadn’t been in this manor since you were little, and hated that you had to step into it now. College was supposed to be your escape, but they’d all just picked up and followed you to the nearest family property. You tried to pretend they didn’t exist, but your last call with Kitty had sent you into a rage.
“She’s only in high school, mom, she’s still a kid! I really thought you cared more for her, but you don’t give a fuck, do you? All you do is pretend.”
“Y/N, you have no idea what the world is really like,” she condescended, her chin lifting just a bit. “You have no idea what I have had to–”
“Save your sob story for someone who gives a fuck, mother,” you snarled in her face. 
It probably should have worried you how satisfying her gasp felt when she backed up against the wall. Nowhere to hide from your anger now. 
“If you let him marry her off, especially to a fucking Dragon, then you won’t get a single berry from me. So figure it out, mom. Will you get more money from selling your youngest daughter or your oldest daughter, because you can’t do both, you greedy bitch.”
All that satisfying fear on her face melted away, leaving Mommy with her perfect smile. 
“Of course, sweetie. I’ll try to convince him to wait, but your uncle just wants what’s best for her, and for our family.”
“I don’t care,” you breathed rage against her mask. “I’ll kill you both before I let one of those monsters touch her. I’ll make you poor, and dead. Don’t forget, your daughter’s not well!”
A satisfying hint of fear showed in her eyes before you walked away, harsh laughter following you through the halls.
Your laughter.
~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~
~~~~~~
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
That was a lot. 
A giggle left your throat at the dumb thought, and at the sound of all the shells falling from your hair beneath the too hot water. 
I’m not strong. Not kind. Not brave. 
The sick guilt in your heart made you want to run across the island to find the prince and beg his forgiveness for making him think that you were anything more than a selfish, entitled, rich girl. You weren’t doing anything special. 
Just trying to fix your mistake. Your failure. 
Trying to run from the cowardice and selfishness that had haunted you since you tried to run the first time. 
Then the second time. 
And the third time was the charm.
So selfish. Selfish piece of shit. I just left her. Abandoned her. 
You tried to take the locket off. It was comfort and torture. 
It was proof that true love existed, and it was a reminder of what a disgustingly selfish bitch you were. You had left your sister to the wolves, so you could go have an adventure, and let a bunch of pirates fuck you like a whore.
The warm metal dug into your palm as you gripped it, but you couldn’t take it off. 
My last selfish thing.
You pleaded with yourself, bargaining with your own thoughts as you crumpled to the floor in defeat. Sobs built up in your throat, and you didn’t have the strength to fight them.
Never again. I won’t be selfish again. 
I’ll protect her.
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
~~~~~~
~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡~~~
“So what were your big, evil plans?”
“What are you asking me,” Crocodile arched a brow at the man. He tugged on Buggy’s hair, his lips curving into a smile before he caught a hint of fear in those crystal eyes. 
He didn’t want to see that fear anymore, especially since his brave, little clown kept trying. Buggy had even told him about Red Hair’s shit with Y/N’s father yesterday, because “secrets keep fucking shit up.”
His clown had made him promise not to kill the pretty boy, though. Not for that, at least. 
“Sorry, that’s a dumb question. What, uh…” Buggy panicked, remembering how grumpy the man got whenever someone mentioned Baroque Works. “Where did you grow up?”
“You wanna get to know me better, so you start with my evil plans,” Crocodile stopped laughing enough to tease. He had to hold his breath when he saw the clown grinning at him, practically glowing.
“Well, we are bad guys after all.”
“We’re not the true villains of this world,” he rasped, taking a swig of scotch before returning his hand to that lovely, blue hair. “But now our guild gets to hit back.”
“I thought Mihawk was the one with a grudge. ‘The Marine Hunter,’ right? I wonder what that’s—“
Buggy turned to ice when that large hand gripped under his chin to tilt his head up, but he melted under Crocodile’s soft gaze. 
It still didn’t make any sense.
“What about you, little clown?”
“Me? I just,” Buggy cleared his throat, heat moving up his neck, his face. 
This man was overwhelming. 
“I wanted to find treasure,” he shrugged, the lightness leaving his voice too fast. “Now I just wanna find her.”
Crocodile’s chest felt tight every time Buggy’s voice dipped like that. Everyone was hurting. He hadn’t kept any of them safe from pain. 
“I wanted to build a place, a home, where I could protect everyone I cared about from those true villains,” he recalled, the shame of that failure hitting differently now. “I wanted to keep my people safe, but I got too… All I cared about was my big, evil plan, until I didn’t have anyone left to protect.”
The silence between them was soft, and Crocodile let out a breath when a gloved hand touched his. 
“Well, daddy,” Buggy soothed with a laugh, “you’ve got a bunch of freaks to look after now. Do you—“
The snail. 
The one for agents. And Mihawk. 
Buggy’s hands flew toward Crocodile’s giant desk to answer while they clambered off the couch.
“Good evening, sir.”
“Zala,” Crocodile relaxed, still pulling out his notepad. “What’s the mission status? Is Marianne—“
“Hey boss, it was amazing! We should definitely go on more heist missions after some PTO.”
“Are you saying the mission’s complete? You only arrived in San Faldo yesterday. How did you infiltrate it so quickly?”
Crocodile reached out to gently nudge Buggy’s nervously bouncing body parts behind him so he wouldn’t be distracted while he stared at the snail. The clown mumbled his apology, sending his fidgeting limbs to the corner of the room while his head floated above the desk. 
“All I had to do was cry, and scream a little, and they locked me right up,” Marianne reported, cheerfully. “Creepy place to put an asylum, though. Every time I looked out a window I saw people in masks. Yikes.”
“Masks,” Buggy asked quietly.
“It’s that carnival city near Water 7,” Crocodile hushed, returning to his own questions. “Zala, what’s your report?”
“Marianne is right, we made a great team.”
“It was so badass, you should’ve—“
“She was able to use the fingerpaints during art therapy to color trap the staff while I used my spikes as lock picks. It was child’s play.”
“I didn’t wanna mess with the patients though, so I hope you don’t mind that we let them out. After I made all their mean nurses cry and drool first, of course. They really liked that.”
“She’s scary,” Buggy praised, impressed with the terrifying teen. 
“Well, what did you find on him?”
“Oh, we didn’t find anything on the doctor,” Marianne drawled, and the sound of frantic snapping came through. 
Luckily, Zala’s voice cut in before Crocodile’s veins could pop. 
“There wasn’t anything useful on Dr. Vorsan, but we did find something on the CFO.”
“A lot of somethings actually.”
“Marianne, why don’t you go check on them? Make sure they're alright?”
“What the fuck are you talking about,” Buggy growled, his whole body connected now as he spoke too close to the snail. 
The scarred man reached out to calm him, but felt his own sickness start to fester, coiling in his stomach.
“Well, Miss Sylvad was listed as a former patient, so we looked for her files, and she had two cabinets dedicated to her.”
“You didn’t read them, did you?” 
Buggy wasn’t breathing right.
“Of course not, Mr. President,” the agent assured, some fear coming through her voice now. “We brought all of her files with us, but there’s more.”
“Definitely more,” Marianne noted, her voice sounding closer as she went on. “I’m glad we stopped for more food, they look hungry.”
“Explain.”
“Right away, sir.”
“Yes, Mr. Zer—Executive Crocodile, sir,” Marianne stuttered, finally sounding serious, but Zala took the lead.
“Some of the patient files included cam-snails with their initials and dates on the shells. I assume they’re recordings of sessions. Most patients that had recordings only had one or two snails in the group enclosure.”
“How many does she have,” Buggy choked out. He was shaking, even with Crocodile’s warm hand on his back.
“At least thirty, Mr. President,” Marianne said gently.
Gentleness couldn’t ease the chaos inside him.
“ETA,” Crocodile managed, having to pull back his own shaky hand.
“About fourteen days. The soonest would be eleven if Daz can snag us a coated ship before we meet at Sabaody. We picked up the other agents too, so we shouldn’t run into any issues getting through.”
“That’s too late. Buggy, whatever’s in there could–”
“I’m not letting random people watch Y/N’s–watch whatever’s on those snails! It’s bad enough that I’m already listening, and all those people are watching her all the time. It’s not right!”
“Sir, we did steal their encryption snail,” Zala offered. “They must have used it for patient privacy, but the white snail is ours now, and it’s already set up to transmit.”
“Transmit…” 
“Yes, Mr. President. If you have a healthy pro-snail, we could securely transmit the recordings to you one at a time. We wouldn’t need to watch them ourselves.”
“No,” Buggy sneered at the larger man, who grimaced before giving orders. 
“Wait for our call, agents. We’re gonna talk it out.”
“No, we’re not watching them. It’s too much!”
“Sir, there’s one more thing you should know,” Zala hurried, not pausing before she let it out. “There were instructions on care, and data transfer from old to young snails, as well as backup transmission logs dating back years. Someone else has all of these recordings.”
“Sir, are you still there?”
“We’ll call you back.”
~~~
“She keeps getting violated! No fucking PRIVACY! We can’t watch them without her permission, we can’t do it. Please, Crocodile,” Buggy raged through the air, until she started to cry, too far away for him to hold.
Buggy was learning how to go empty like she did, and it chilled Crocodile to the bone. He guided his clown to slump onto that green couch again, wanting to take away the pain that kept making that painted face crumple.
“Let me do it, little clown,” he whispered, kissing his temple.
“No, she wouldn’t want…” Buggy’s voice broke. 
Those distant sobs were too much to take. 
“Remember that night you helped me carry our girl out of Adam’s room?”
“Yeah,” he frowned, not sure if he should go along with the distraction. 
“You said you wanted–”
“I am taking care of her,” the clown snarled, pulling away from the comfort his star couldn’t feel. “We shouldn’t watch.”
Crocodile leaned back, resisting his old ways that had earned him nothing but pain and loneliness. 
“Our sweet girl told me something that night, Buggy,” he confessed, watching his clown’s face shift from rage to confusion. “I don’t think she meant to tell me, and she made me promise not to tell anyone.”
“So don’t–”
“I’ll never tell,” he vowed again, and might have smiled at the way Buggy’s head tilted if he didn’t need him to say yes so badly. “But I’m pretty sure I know why Y/N was in that asylum. I’ll watch the recordings, so you don’t have to, and no one else will.”
Crocodile begged now, choking on his old, miserable soul. 
“Please, let me help her too, Buggy. Let me help my sweet girl.”
Buggy stared up at that frightening man, and at the hint of tears that threatened to spill down that scarred face.
He really does love her.
Now Buggy reached for the comfort that his star couldn't feel. He clung to that warmth, squeezing tighter when those hums of surprise and satisfaction vibrated through that massive body.
“Little clown…”
“Protect her,” Buggy gave in, exhaustion nearly stealing his voice. She was still sobbing in his head, still losing her fight to keep her pain inside. 
“Our girl needs you. She needs her Daddy.”
~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡~~~
~~~~~~
~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~
The ex-Warlord didn’t want to do it in here. He’d helped Y/N fall apart right over there, so beautiful in the dress Mihawk had picked out. Always so beautiful.
But it would take too long to set up another room, and he couldn’t make her wait over his own selfish wish to keep that memory untouched. Even if she never said it back, never felt it, she had opened him up. Crocodile had told his sweet girl that he loved her in this fancy conference room. 
Now he’d locked himself inside that room with two snails, and a bottle of scotch, about to ruin that memory. 
He couldn’t think about it while he waited. Just let the thick smoke of his cigar fill his mouth, the feel of it unable to calm him while he doodled a little bananawani in the corner of his notepad. 
He never got to show her…
“Zala?”
“Yes sir, are–”
“I’m ready. Send the first transmission.”
“Right away, sir. I believe this is the oldest recording. We’ll try to go in order, but it’s a little difficult keeping them all lined up.”
“Just send it.”
~~~
~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~
Fifteen. She said she was fifteen when he died, so this can’t be too long after that. 
The image was cleaner than it should be. All the care and transfer to young snails must have kept the recording from degrading, even after all these years. 
Y/N’s young face was so clear on the projector screen, so clear that he almost walked to it, until the snail backed away from just her face, showing her at a table, slumped against the wall. Her eyes were almost crossed, staring into nothing. 
Then a voice came.
‘Good morning, Y/N, it’s Dr. Vorsan. Could you repeat your name for me?’
Sick laughter poured from the child’s lips, and Crocodile felt his long-neglected heart breaking more with every second it went on.
‘I don’t need to repeat it. You know it. You all know it.’
‘Everyone here wants to help you, Y/N. We want you to get well.’
‘And I want you to fucking DIE! Haha HA!! That's right, you piece of shit, I’m going to fucking KILL YOU!! You think you can– FUCK YOU, don’t fucking touch me! DONTFUCKINGTOUCHMMMN—‘
Nurses had swarmed her, blocking his view, but not before he noticed the restraints at her wrists. Her skin looked raw, like she’d tried to tear herself free with her nails, tried to tear through her own flesh. 
Crocodile didn’t notice the long lines his hook had already torn into the conference table.
He could see her again, and he memorized every face around her, every hand that held her trapped. One nurse even covered her lips until she bit them, only to let out another vile laugh before she cried.
‘No, please, don’t. Don’t touch me!’
‘It’s okay, Y/N. You’re not well. Just breathe, we’ll help you through this.’
The doctor’s offscreen voice didn’t stop her from snarling and pleading while another nurse stuck her with a needle. 
Y/N’s eyes started to flutter, her rage slowing until she was practically drooling, barely able to hold herself up in the wheelchair they dumped her in. 
‘daddy, please…’
She was so quiet. 
‘why’d you leave me here, daddy?’ 
~~~
Crocodile stared into nothing when the recording faded out, his ears ringing with a rage that could have drained the whole island of life. 
He couldn’t think. Almost charged through the door to find a fucking boat. Almost destroyed everything in sight.
My girl. My sweet girl.
The scarred man chugged half of the scotch since he knew he’d break the bottle soon, before making the call.
“Hello sir, did the–”
“Send the next one.”
~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~
~~~
~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~
The above scene is from Crocodile’s POV as he watched a recording of the reader. The recording showed the reader at the age of fifteen, not long after her father passed. 
She was restrained at a table, and Dr. Vorsan’s voice came from off screen. He told her that they were trying to help her get well. The reader reacted with unsettling laughter, cursing, and death threats. 
Nurses were shown holding her down while she resisted, and ultimately gave her a shot that made her slump into a wheelchair. She called for her dad softly, asking why he had left her there. 
Crocodile struggled with fury at not being able to help her. He drank, and called Zala to transmit the next recording.
~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~
~~~
~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~
~~~~~~
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
“Y/N, what happened? Did he hurt you?”
Kat growled her rage, her fingers digging into your skin while she struggled to pull you onto her lap. 
“N-no, he didn’t,” you coughed, then sobbed, then tried again. “He’s a good p-person.”
“Well, if good people make you cry like this, I’m glad we don’t get a lot of them around here.”
Laughs and sobs. 
And shame.
So fucking selfish. Making her take care of me again. Always about me. Fucking entitled brat, selfish bitch, weak—
“I’m so sorry, Kat,” you begged. Your pathetic sniveling came out muffled as you wrapped your arms around your head, curling in on yourself. 
“Sis, you’re okay. You’re safe. I’m safe. Why do you keep apologizing?”
Her fingers stroked along the side of your face, the parts that weren’t hidden by your shaking arms. Every memory of your failures as a sister filled your throat, threatening to spill and burn the world like lava. 
“I left you.”
Kat blinked slowly. Then frowned that perfect frown before she shook you, shocking your sobs away for a moment. 
“Don’t fucking do this! I’m a full ass adult, sis. I told you I didn’t want to run off with your clown, remember? Hey?”
Her words should have found their way inside, but you had already slipped out of yourself, your body limp, and useless beside her.
Your sister sighed, returning to gentle touches that didn’t feel real. 
“I don’t need you to protect me anymore,” she whispered, somehow reaching that floating part of you as though she knew where your mind had flown. “And if you only came back for that, then I need you to get the fuck out.”
A soft whine hit your throat, your body moving slowly. 
“You really want to be with those pirates,” Kat asked, voice soft and low while she studied your heavy eyes. “I don’t want you here if it’s going to tear you up like this. Maybe we can… I’m not watched like you are. Do you want me to try to call them? If I tell them you want to go back… I don’t know what they could do, but we can try.”
A million years were held inside you now. A million years to make the right choice.
“I’m sorry, Kat, I didn’t want to tell you... You were right. I don’t ever want to see those murderers— those monsters again. I shouldn’t have left. I should have listened to you.”
The best lies were true, but when truth was lost, you had to use what remained. 
You used the agonizing grief of losing your love to sell your tears, and you used every shred of hate you held for that traitor to make yourself believe your own rage.
“Did they hurt you?”
You took too long, letting silence lie for you. 
“I’m going to kill those fuckers. I bet we could hire someone to do it. Let me talk to Uncle—“
“Please don’t, Kat! I don’t want anyone else to know. I just want to forget it, all of it.”
It’s not a lie. It’s not a lie.
“Are you okay,” she asked after staring at you for long enough that you were afraid you'd failed again. Exhaustion fell on you, but you gave a weak smile at her question.
Another Sylvad specialty.
“I’m trying.”
You had missed those narrowed eyes so very much.
“Really, I want to be here, Kitty Kat,” you told the truth, laughing at the instinctual eye roll she gave at the old nickname. “I’m just having a rough time right now.”
“Have you ever not had a rough time? It feels like I’m related to a tragedy sometimes.”
Kat looked so pleased with herself when your jaw dropped, wiggling away from you when your shaky fingers started to poke at her ribs.
“Real nice, sis. Thanks!”
“I am extremely nice,” she deadpanned while she climbed to her feet. “There's a box of cookies in my suite if you want some. I ate like four of them before I came in here, so they should be—“
“Gimme!”
“Just don’t eat all of them,” she scolded, laughing as she walked away.
“I would never!”
Your mock outrage made her laugh harder, and then she was gone. That lie of a smile fell from your lips while you stared at the empty space she had just left.
Kat wasn’t there. She doesn’t know. She can’t.
Slipping away… but it was a different kind of lost. No more limp and useless limbs. No more tears unless you needed them to lie for you. You knew what you had to do.
i can pretend for you, kitty kat.
~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~
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Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!
Author's Note: I've still been disappearing from the world. I've received some very recent help that might make things a bit easier IRL, so I hope I can talk to humans again soon. For now, I'm just so very very grateful for all of you. This story is helping me through some tough shit, and it wouldn't exist without all of the support, encouragement, and inspiration that y'all give me. I know this one was heavy. I hope that if it hit you hard, you know that you are not alone. Sometimes just seeing pain that looks like ours is a relief, a tiny respite from loneliness. I hope that my words can be that for you, and that we can all get through the tough times with just a little less loneliness. 💜
Fic Updates & Extras: I've included a map below with OP Canon and Numbers Game locations in case y'all would like to see where everybody's at and where the reader's memories occurred. I only included relevant locations and this is definitely not to scale. This map began as my need to ensure that the travel time between Karai Bari, Oak Roots Estate, and then Alabasta and the asylum made sense within the One Piece world. (Although that world doesn't make sense, lol. I added up just the travel time of the Straw Hats journey between islands, and with no stops it would take approx. 22.5 days to get from Alabasta to Egghead 😅) I apologize that I don't have the map or the timeline in text format yet. I will be adding that soon since images aren't accessible for everyone. Please let me know if you'd like that so that my adhd brain doesn't forget!!
Sources: The vast majority of the canon details were compiled by the sweet, glorious, super heroes at the One Piece Wiki, and The Library of Ohara. I would be lost without them!!!! 🙌😭🙏🏼 I'm basing the Numbers Game geography mainly off of This Map by xads181 on Reddit. It is so gorgeous and helpful! 😍 I also referenced This Map from the One Piece Wiki, and This Map from ClayStage.com. I made this map using miro.com.
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Numbers Game Map ~ Chapter 34
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Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18 | @bontensbabygirl | @bbnbhm | @0-sparkling-lace-0 | @ihearthazuki | @mikisspeak | @djloveyou3000 | @mercymccann | @horse-and-writer97
Part 35
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Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.
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| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |
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whereserpentswalk · 2 days
Text
You have to wear power armor for your job. You're a ranger, it's your job to go out to under explored planets and other heavenly bodies and retrieve things, or make contact with people, or deliver things. As romanticized as it is its mostly just walking through places humans can't safely walk through.
Seeing your power armor for the first time was weird. It was entirely metal, but it was very sleek, form fitting, with a pinched in waist and chrome texture. The helmet had a large visor, like a motorcycle helmet, you could see someone's eyes through it, you'd be able to see more but a gas mask like thing covers your mouth and nose below the helmet. You're even allowed by the company to paint it or add stickers. You feel so elegant within it, so powerful, so modern.
On your first mission you understand just how much you'll be wearing your power armor. You're on a planet with an atmosphere that would poison any humanoid on it, and it's inhabitants breath that stuff so there's no changing it. You spend months trying to track someone down, and never take off your armor once.
As time goes on there are more and more missions like that. You've walked through a forest filled with poison plants. Several places with no atmosphere at all. A planet where it rains glass. The skeleton of a long destroyed spaceship. A place so cold the ocean is solid ice. A place so hot your blood would have boiled if not for your armor. Days, weeks, months, spent inside armor. The company doesn't let you take off the armor on missions, but it's just safety, in almost all of these places it would kill you the momment you took your helmet off. They don't give you much time between missions, so you get used to being in armor very quickly.
Your armor takes care of you. Nutrition is injected into your body, and waste product is removed directly from your guts. The suit cleans your entire body without you noticing it. You can sleep while the suit still walks for you. You don't feel any pain or heat or cold. You can even browse the internet with it, and you can call or text anyone without moving your hands. They joke that the armor masturbates for you, but it actually does send pleasurable sensations throughout your body when you need that type of sensation. It all feels weird at first, but soon it feels normal. You had some robot freinds in highschool, you wonder if they felt like this.
When you’re between missions, and spending time in various hub stations or port cities, you realize you're wearing the armor most of the time too. Sometimes you take the helmet off but that feels weird, you don't like the feeling of air on your face. The other rangers you know, the ones who have been doing it for years longer than you, don't ever want to be outside of their armor.
You eventually get permission from the company to go back home for a few weeks to see your family and freinds. When you get to your homeworld you take off your armor for the first time in a long time. You don't really have normal clothing so you're wearing what you had when you first left nearly two years ago. Your family and freinds all want to catch up with you but it's all so weird and awkward.
You feel like you've been skinned. Every little thing touching you feels so uncomfortable. Your body seems so gross and soft and week, everything feels so wrong, and hard to move. You're not used to taking care of your bodily functions or grooming, and it's both hard to adjust, and gross for you to have to do these things. The idea of putting food in your mouth seems so disgusting. You can barely walk on your own now.
You tried to go on a walk with your joyfriend. But the wind on your flesh disturbed you so much that you began to weep. They tried to hug you but it only made things worse.
After that you just wore your armor for the rest of the trip. Most people you know were disturbed. They wanted you to quit the job but the pay was too good, and you wouldn't know where else to go. It was just another thing everyone would get used to, just another mundane fact of life.
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ghostradiodylan · 2 days
Text
Probably a lukewarm take, but other than the (lack of an) ending, the Laura and Ryan scenes are some of the worst written and conceived parts of The Quarry.
And this is completely separate from whether Ryan is interested in Dylan (he is, but that's another post and not important to this rant) or Kaitlyn; even if Ryan had no other potential relationships in the game, even if Laura wasn't practically married to Max, wearing his ring around her neck the entire time they're talking, it still would feel flat to me because nothing about it is earned.
Laura is on a killing spree with the single-minded goal of saving Max. She genuinely believes the only way to do that is to kill Chris Hackett. Even if you've made her argue with Max to the extent that they can, they're still a strong unit when she goes out to solve this werewolf thing once and for all. Even if you don't believe in love think their relationship would survive all this trauma, she deeply believes she owes it to him to rescue him, that is her entire guiding ethos during the game.
Ryan is going with her to try to keep that from happening because Chris has been his friend and mentor for years. We know Ryan has an absent mother, unmentioned father, and a potentially turbulent family life, and he's been coming to HQSC for so long that it feels like home to him, that Chris and his kids feel like family. Laura has already killed Kaylee. Even if Ryan completely bought into the werewolf thing by now, that would be a tough pill for him to swallow, given his reaction to her death.
Then, they fall in the titular Quarry and suddenly have the option to express a completely unearned sort of camaraderie with each other. Why is Laura asking Ryan about his love life in the first place? The question about him being single makes sense as a dig, but it doesn't make any sense for her to ask about him being a 'brooding and mysterious loner' because... she hasn't actually seen him do anything brooding or mysterious? How did she even get that impression? If Laura's got some kind of borderline psychic intuition then this is really the worst possible use of that ability--she should have foreseen her need to go to that motel and stay the fuck out of locked storm shelters instead.
It doesn't make a lick of sense for her to say that Kaitlyn looks up to him either. She hasn't seen that. Hell, we as players haven't even seen that! Kaitlyn seems generally tolerant of but unimpressed by Ryan. She has the option to be impatient with him multiple times and even get the chyron that she's ‘losing respect’ for him if he suggests she take the gun and go after Nick instead. This seems like an objectively good idea, since she's a much better shot than Ryan, a fact which the game keeps telling us despite refusing to give her a gun until the last possible second, though maybe the concern is that she'd have to drag Nick back to the campfire herself. (Honestly, I think Kaitlyn could do it, I think she's like a mighty ant who can lift many times her own weight, but that's not what this post is about.)
Ryan, for his part, shouldn't really be willing to talk about any of this with Laura either. He canonically doesn't even want to talk to his coworkers about his animation school decision (in the office scene with Dylan and at the campfire with Emma if you choose truth like a lunatic) and he's known them for at least two months, if not for years attending the same camp. But he met Laura a few hours ago and is suddenly willing to spill his guts about who he does or doesn't have a crush on and who does/doesn't have 'the hots' for him, despite the only experience they have together being her leaving his friend of several years dead facedown in a pool and expressing a strong desire to kill his father figure? I simply do not buy it.
I'm not sure if this was supposed to go along with the relationship system that they scrapped or what (there's not a single shred of Ryan and Laura stuff in the datamine that I've been able to find), but all it really serves to do is muddy the waters by trying to force some level of intimacy on Ryan and Laura before the big confrontation at the Hackett House. But that confrontation itself should have been the thing that forged that intimacy between them and allowed them to go on to fight Silas together.
Overall, I think it's a major sign that the back third of the game got a very rushed and, frankly, bad chop job (which we know is true) and that they struggled to tie the resulting loose threads off in a way that made any kind of narrative sense. It's a shame, because the writing in The Quarry is actually way better than most people give it credit for, it just wasn't allowed to pay off in a lot of ways that clearly were intended.
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voxofthevoid · 2 days
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Yo, time for Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #5 👁
The fic has currently stalled at a hefty 41k because I've been writing sukuita nonstop for around a month now (Gojou's still two chapters and probably over 10k away) and snapped from goyuu withdrawal. Poking at a quick-and-dirty goyuu oneshot that's...dirty for sure but not quick at all. All @nearalways's fault, again.
Anyway, to switch it up from the creepy church demon sex that's been happening over the last few posts, this week's snippet is entirely a conversation between Yuuji and Megumi. Enjoy?
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“Do you think having sex makes it harder to jerk off on your own?”
Fushiguro chokes on nothing, whipping his head around to stare at Yuuji with eyes that’re twice their usual size. “What.”
“Y’know…” Yuuji gestures. Fushiguro’s expression screams that he does not know. He looks a little like he doesn’t want to know anything ever again, really. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m just asking!”
Fushiguro sucks in a deep breath, screwing his eyes shut so tight that it hurts to look at. “Why are you asking me?”
“Who else? You saw how Kugisaki reacted when I asked her about sex. She’d rip my dick off.”
“I,” Fushiguro grits out, “will rip your dick off.”
Yuuji gasps. “You wouldn’t!”
Fushiguro’s eyes narrow. “You sure?”
Yuuji opens his mouth to say yes, but…he can’t. Even narrowed like this, there’s too much white in Fushiguro’s eyes. He looks a little crazy, just in a cute way. Yuuji definitely shouldn’t tell him that.
But he does need to tell him something so that Fushiguro won’t get any ideas about the scissors on his table.
“Your dad would think that’s foreplay,” Yuuji states confidently. “And we don’t want that.”
Fushiguro makes a noise. “What the hell, Itadori?”
“Yeah, I’ve been saying that a lot too,” Yuuji mutters, gesturing at his crotch.
Fushiguro’s eyes drop and dart back to Yuuji’s face, wider and wilder than a second ago. “Itadori!”
“I can’t get off anymore,” Yuuji blurts out in self-defense. “No, I mean—I can. I could, with him. But I can’t jerk off properly. It gets hard, but I can’t, y’know, finish.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Fushiguro asks. His tone is kinda weird; Yuuji can’t tell whether it’s despairing or curious. Incredulous either way, just like the way he’s looking at Yuuji. “How are you telling me this?”
“Huh?” Yuuji slides down till he’s lying fully on Fushiguro’s bed. For good measure, he turns onto his front, keeping his dick out of sight and snipping distance. “You’re a guy too. I figured you’d get it.”
“I don’t,” Fushiguro says repressively. Then, after a long moment of very loud silence— “What do you mean you can’t…finish?”
“I can’t come.”
“I got that.” Fushiguro sighs, putting his book away and leaning forward in the chair, all his attention on Yuuji. Usually, Yuuji would sit up straighter in response—Fushiguro can get really intense—but right now, he’s more interested in protecting his dick. Plus, this mattress is comfortable. “I have no practical experience with sex, but I’m fairly sure doing it with someone doesn’t mean you can’t give yourself a hand. That’s basic biology.”
“Yeah, I thought so too, and it’s not like it’s been like this the whole time, just…” Yuuji blinks, realizing several beats too late what else Fushiguro just said. “So you are a virgin!”
“Not the point!” Fushiguro snaps.
“Alright, alright. Hey, I’m not judging you, I swear. I also didn’t—”
“Itadori,” Fushiguro cuts in sharply, “focus.”
“Right…” Yuuji thinks for a moment, trying to find words that won’t spook Fushiguro—or piss him off. He’s already almost glaring. “There wasn’t anything weird at first, even after I started fucking him. Doing him felt better than my hand, obviously, but I still jerked off all the time. More than usual. I was horny all the time. I’m still horny all the time.”
“You sound like some sex addict,” Fushiguro says with a grimace. But his cheeks are a faint pink.
Yuuji shrugs. “Maybe. Kind of. It’s not the sex, it’s—”
It’s the place. That church. Except not really. Deep inside, Yuuji knows that the church is just set dressing. It’s the priest who’s the problem. Everything Sukuna is, everything he makes Yuuji feel—addiction isn’t really a wrong way to put it. Yuuji’s never felt anything like it before; he’s never wanted anything like it.
Sometimes—a lot of the time, more and more often this last week especially—it’s a physical need, a hollow ache that haunts his gut and his bones.
His dick too.
“It’s…?” Fushiguro prods after Yuuji’s silent for a while.
Yuuji blinks at him, refocusing. “It’s him.”
Fushiguro makes a noise in his throat, like he was expecting that answer but doesn’t like it much. Yuuji can’t blame him. He doesn’t like it either.
“You really like that guy so much?” Fushiguro asks.
“Ugh.” Yuuji shoves his face into the mattress, suffocating in the darkness for a few blissful seconds. Then— “No. Hell no. He’s an asshole. Nobody would like him.”
Yuuji still doesn’t understand why he’s apparently popular among the churchgoers. He’s never brought it up with Fushiguro and Kugisaki after telling him he’s fucking a guy because he wouldn’t put it past them to put two and two together. They’re both weirdly intuitive, and together, they’re worse. Plus, Yuuji’s not the best liar.
But Fushiguro’s looking at him like he’s lying right now, and that’s very unwarranted.
“It’s true,” Yuuji insists. “I never ever want you guys to meet. He’s that bad.”
Fushiguro blinks very slowly. “And this is the guy you’re dating?”
“We’re not dating!”
Shockingly, that doesn’t seem to help.
“Having sex then,” Fushiguro says, his frown deepening. “That’s worse. Makes it sound like—”
Yuuji waits, pushing himself up for his forearms for a more level view of Fushiguro’s expression. It’s twisted into dark lines; Yuuji can recognize displeasure and disapproval, but there’s more there, he can tell.
“Fushiguro?”
Fushiguro lowers his eyes, scowling at the floor. “Never mind.”
“But—”
“Are you being safe?”
Yuuji’s jaw clicks shut. “Um…”
Fushiguro’s eyes snap back to his face. “Itadori!”
“Define safe?” Yuuji ventures.
Fushiguro drags a hand down his face, skin catching on skin in a way that makes Yuuji wince in sympathy. “How do you get into these situations? You’ve been here for less than six months.”
“Hey, you make it sound like I do dumb shit all the time!”
“You do,” Fushiguro says mercilessly. “At least you admit this is stupid.”
“Yeah, well…” Yuuji flattens himself against the bed again. “The sex is really good though.”
“How would you know? He’s your first too.”
“That’s true. But he’s kind of a freak. I didn’t even know—”
“No,” Fushiguro interrupts, his tone flat but still cutting. “No details. I don’t want to hear this.”
“Fair enough,” Yuuji says, but then something occurs to him. “Is it because he’s a guy?”
“Huh? What—” Realization widens Fushiguro’s eyes, which narrow right after. “No. That’s not it. I’m fine with that.”
“Oh. Cool.”
“I am,” Fushiguro says more firmly; Yuuji can see his fists clench. “I’d be a hypocrite otherwise.”
Yuuji frowns at him, trying to— “Oh. Oh. So you’re—”
“Yes. Still not the point.”
“I don’t think we have a point anymore,” Yuuji muses. He sits up, finally, shifting to perch on the edge of the bed, mirroring Fushiguro’s pose on the chair. It’s as close as he can get to the guy without walking over there, and the way Fushiguro’s staring at him says he might bite if Yuuji does that. “Thanks for telling me, Fushiguro.”
“Oh, for—” Fushiguro looks away furiously. “It’s not like you couldn’t guess anyway.”
“I…didn’t really think about it? I mean, there’s all the stuff your dad says, but—”
“Shut up,” Fushiguro hisses. “Go back to talking about your sex addiction.”
“Do we have to?”
“You brought it up.”
Yeah, fair point. Yuuji’s not sure what he was hoping to achieve. But Fushiguro’s pretty much the only person he can talk to about it. The internet wasn’t helpful. Hell, parts of it were trying to say his balls weren’t working because of cancer or something. Yuuji’s not opposed to calling Sukuna a kind of disease, but it’s not literal.
And thinking about Sukuna is a bad idea because there’s a lot to remember, most of it not innocent, and Yuuji’s dick is on a hair trigger these days. Heat pools between his legs, and Yuuji grabs the nearest pillow, putting it on his lap.
Fushiguro’s confused for only a single second. “Are you kidding me?!”
“I haven’t come in a week,” Yuuji whines.
“You—” Fushiguro looks pleadingly at the ceiling. But nothing there seems to help him any. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but just…go fuck the guy.”
“I can’t,” Yuuji whines again.
“Why,” Fushiguro grits out, “not?”
Yuuji tries to figure out how to put it without giving away that he’s going to the church to fuck its weird, creepy priest who may or may not be infesting his dreams.
He settles on, “He’s only available at night. And Nanamin’s back now, so I can’t just leave like I used to.”
“But you don’t have a curfew or anything.”
“Yeah, but—” Yuuji gestures. “He’d have questions if I came back in that state. And it’s his house. I don’t want to be rude.”
Fushiguro’s expression softens. “At least you have some sense.”
“Hey!”
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starrysharks · 7 months
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remember that i'm ALIVE but minty isn't unfortunately
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snailwitdamail2 · 11 months
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calling it now. the new apes trilogy is gonna have an ape/human kiss like the og movie did.
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twnj · 1 month
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Re-draw of my first sketch from this fic. I cannot find the post.
'Elbows on the wooden surface, Shikamaru leaned forward, pathetically gesticulating floppy fingers as he spoke to the barman. His sharp nose jutted out of his profile, reddened with what seemed to be sunburn, and a little ball of hair sat knotted at the base of his neck. Stray hairs, not long enough to reach the hair-tie holding it in place, fell out to frame his face and ears, and below the little silver hoops in them hung a small pair of orange-padded earphones. Their colour was striking against his pale skin and dark hair, and Temari followed their cord down to his jacket pocket, where it disappeared entirely.
[...]
As quickly as it had hit her, the image of the little boy faded, and in its place stood a man: a fully grown man ordering a drink at a bar and plucking a cigarette from the pocket where his headphone cord disappeared. [...]
Shikamaru had grown up. When exactly, she couldn’t pinpoint — maybe when his father had died, maybe during their first night in Rome, or perhaps even before — but the fact remained that he had. There was stubble on his chin, stubble that was neither patchy nor short enough to suggest he’d just forgotten to shave.'
Grandmaster ao3 by @notquitejiraiya
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sapphic-agent · 6 months
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What a horrible day to have eyes. I go into the anti Aizawa tag and I'm greeted with this.
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You know, I don't even completely disagree about Eri. I love her, but Horikoshi didn't write her well. No one's doubting that. But if we're talking about her trauma not being handled well, she's far from the only case. Not to mention her quirk was the reason as to why she was abused, so the point about her power is irrelevant in my opinion.
(Also, the complaint about her being a "perfect" abuse victim is weird... She's a child. Children usually are perfect victims because they're either completely powerless or their innocence is being manipulated and taken advantage of or both. It's also funny how OP doesn't complain about Izuku too because at least Eri has some form of agency. At least she's allowed to look at Overhaul as her abuser. Izuku is reduced to supporting and validating his abuser's feelings. Why is trauma handled incorrectly in MHA until the minute it comes to Izuku's lack of negative feelings towards Bakugou)
But even considering all of that, blaming her for Aizawa's shortcomings as a character is wrong.
I genuinely don't know where this came from. They don't even have that many scenes together and we've almost never seen him being a "cutesy" dad to her. We hardly ever see him even act paternally towards her, he's mostly seen escorting her and being by her side. If anything, that sounds way more like fanon Dadzawa. And considering a lot of the manga was changed to meet the fans' expectations of certain characters (specifically for Aizawa and Bakugou), if he has been changed into a "cutesy dad," then that's the fandom's fault for perpetuating that trope, NOT Eri's.
But more importantly, complex? Interesting? AIZAWA?
OP is acting like Aizawa's role in the story isn't being whatever Horikoshi needs him to be at the time. Hell, most of his overall dialogue is commentary for telling the audience how they're supposed to feel. Part of the reason Bakugou's behavior is never condemned is because Aizawa is always conveniently placed to shut down any criticism about it and defend him.
You'll also notice that despite challenging "everything Deku's heroism is about in a nuanced way," Aizawa never actually tries to teach Izuku differently. He condemns and scolds him for it but never actually explains what's wrong with his concept of heroism and tries to teach him differently. So what exactly is he challenging? Because Izuku still holds onto his ideas of heroism and Aizawa never tried to correct it even prior to Eri.
So instead of blaming a six-year-old who wasn't even given that many scenes in the story, maybe take a look at your favorite's failings as a character.
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melly-mello · 3 months
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*gives u wobbledog*
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This request is kinda old, but I thought about making a sequel to this ;))
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questioning sexuality is so exhausting
#(edit: sorry for the rant in the tags and i just. i want someone to talk to me)#i keep on doing it for no apparent reason#someone was talking about lust yesterday and i realised today that.#even tho id thought i don't experience it. i possibly do. but exclusively towards women.#i hate it here!#for a multitude of reasons i will never have a relationship with a woman but! i may be incapable of having a relationship with a man!#at some point in the last few months i have abruptly pivoted from definitely wanting marriage and kids to being ambivalent on marriage#and not wanting kids. that's such an outlier in my life that it might just be a mental health thing tho idk#but at the same time i. want to be loved.#i don't know what i want anymore and im tired of questioning myself#i definitely overthink it but idk how to stop it#and i hate hate hate how the moral obsessions have bee lately#this isn't entirely related but it kind of is#like Am i a terrible morally bankrupt person for having certain thoughts or is it just religious ocd go brrrr?? am i overthinking it?#i don't know. i don't know!#for a while labelling myself as arospec ace kinda calmed that down but. i don't know#i do't want to be attracted to women. i don't want to have to look away so often. i don't want any of that.#but i don't know how to stop it.#i don't even know if i'm attracted to men at all.#this is a cry for help and encouragement and prayers no matter what your views on these matters are#queer stuff tag#i nearly fessed up to my friend yesterday about same sex attraction and i might've except that it would have probably outed me as#the person who anonymously sent in a question several months ago about the side b movement to a church thing#ive only told one person at church about any of that sort of stuff and it was very vaguely worded#also see: this friend is the mother of the boy i?? i don't even know how i feel about him#i increasingly think it wasn't romantic at all. but i don't know#i would love any encouragement you got. anything at all.#i don't know how much this stuff is affected by the fact that i consider myself unloveable and think it highly unlikely any boy will ever#care for me#now im rambling. sorry
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linkneol091 · 6 months
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BREAK DOWN BREAK DOWN
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warmspice · 2 months
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more entry snippets..
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cartoon-skeleton · 7 months
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My prof gave us this giant slab of plywood and said we had to cut it up in 4-6 pieces and rearrange it to make a painting about time and narrative (unless you don’t want to, he said, do whatever). This shit is heavy as fuck but it’s ok because I’m the strongest person in the whole world and nationally renowned arm wrestler. Anyway, I drilled through the front of my panels in 4 places by accident because I forgot to measure the width of the scrap wood i was using to brace the pieces. Idgaf though. Like genuinely I am not sad. Also, the school only allows gamsol in the studios and there are signs about that everywhere but my professor has old man cred and actually made it a requirement that I use linseed oil because he said it was a “shame” how my “beautiful colors” were not allowed to be luminous because the gamsol flattens them so badly. So now I’m being illegal in the studio, but apparently literally everyone has been doing that this whole time. Shout out to me for not being able to discern the severity of certain rules. You can already see the difference tho. The panel with the silhouettes, all the snow was painted with linseed oil. Every other dull matte panel is all gamsol. Anyway this is due Tuesday and I only consider it 50 percent done so wish me luck
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flamingplay · 3 months
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Another day, another musician telling me in all seriousness they consider a business/marketing minor
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