#still on my Baroque bullshit

[cadwo]

Truly the idea of this makes me feel insane on levels I can't even begin to fully articulate

But this feels like if someone had made a Gendo Ikari desktop pet, or a Giovanni from Pokemon desktop pet

[minetteskvareninova]

I am not on Bluesky and you cannot make me join, but if there was anything that could make me do it, it would be seeing this contrarian bullshit while procrastinating from studying on my Early Modern History exams. Because someone needs to give these historically illiterate morons a reality check.

Listen. I don't *like* Middle Ages. I don't vibe with their art, philosophy, politics, anything. But they existed. They brought something of value to the world. Over the course of the Middle Ages, Europe experienced important societal developments. Without these developments, renaissance literally wouldn't happen. Renaissance was in many ways (art, philosophy, science) a continuation of the Middle Ages, in that there really isn't hard cut between Late Medieval period and the renaissance. In other ways, it was exactly like the Middle Ages AND WORSE. The panic over witchcraft reached its zenith in the 16th and the first half of the 17th century. Lots of unscientific bullshit about medicine, alchemy etc. was still going strong well into the 17th century. In fact, 17th century really was the worst, I'd just despise it with all my heart if it wasn't for a few bright spots like baroque architecture, beginnings of the scientific revolution and the like. And are you seriously calling out medieval Europeans for their silly religious beliefs and tendency for violence when renaissance was THE era of bullshit religious conflicts?! Like, my man! Thirty Years wasn't a medieval thing! Even the thing about "going to war with your cousin" - THAT'S LITERALLY WAR OF SPANISH SUCCESSION WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT

I am not even going to talk about the 16th and 17th century on other continents, because in the Americas it was the era of LITERAL APOCALYPSE. Like how can you talk about any progress when that part of the world saw a brutality that would make the crusaders blush.

It sucks that Early Modern Era still effectively doesn't exist in the popular imagination. Its best parts are subsumed into "renaissance" and "enlightenment". Its worst parts are grouped in with the Middle Ages - not the least because they didn't actually improve that much, and in fact got worse a lot of the time. But you cannot celebrate the art of Da Vinci and just ignore the atmosphere of constant warfare between petty duchies it was born in. That's not how historical eras work. In fact, historical eras aren't really discreet categories with a clear cutoff point, but more like approximate divisions of a continuum. There is very little that separates the art of 1599 from 1600, but by 1650, you do kinda start seeing the difference.

Also! I know I keep repeating this, but Middle Ages didn't suck equally throughout their entirety. "Dark Ages" were the Early Medieval Era, which itself was a several centuries long period by most estimates. High Middle Ages were mostly as good as the Middle Ages got, you get gothic architecture, invention of universities, scholastic philosophy, the works. 14th century is when the things really start to suck again, Black Plague comes, you get wars and peasant rebellions, yada yada. But you also get the earliest "renaissance" art, so if you like that style, you can't disavow the Middle Ages entirely. And the 15th century is also mostly bad, except that one is when the renaissance and humanism period begins in earnest, so.

[luffington]

hihi, how are u⁉️ may i request jealous crocodile and/or doflamingo smut? i am OBSESSED w ur fur & feathers story, you’re an amazing writer!! thank you sm 🙏🫶💓‼️

➤ pairing: sir crocodile x afab!reader

➤ word count: 2.6k

➤ warnings: dom!crocodile, possessive behavior, spanking, degradation, praise, belly bulge, overstimulation, mentioned breeding kink, established relationship, fem reader

aww i'm glad you like it! i decided to give crocodile some love since i already have a few fics about doffy :3 i had really bad horny brainrot writing this he drives me insane

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Deciding not to join Baroque Works was your own choice, but you shouldn’t be suffering for it.

The crime syndicate’s leader and you had been in a relationship for quite a while. You’d long since accepted his dedication to his job and his workaholic tendencies – a serious job required someone just as serious. But recently, it had gotten to be too much. 

He spent sixteen hours a day holed up in his office, pouring over documents and answering calls and meeting with Miss All Sunday. Grunted quiet greetings when he came home at night, climbing into bed beside you then falling asleep immediately. He’d barely said three words to you all week. 

You were jealous of the fucking Transponder Snail for how much attention it got. It was time to take matters into your own hands.

So you put on your sluttiest dress, a nice pair of heels, and flashy diamond earrings, then wandered around the massive Rain Dinners casino looking for easy prey. You settled on a drunk average-looking man with a winning streak at roulette. He openly ogled your body as you approached, and smirked lecherously when you asked if the empty seat on his left was taken. 

The man clearly wasn’t a local. He didn’t recognize you, even though you weren’t shy about hanging onto Crocodile’s arm in public. And he was much too stupid to notice the casino staff’s constant nervous glances. While laughing and holding your drink, you brushed a flirty hand over his shoulder and pressed your body against him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Crocodile emerge from the staff-only hallway to survey the room. Everything about him commanded attention – his abnormal height, his expensive clothes, his intimidating presence. In a flash, he materialized behind you. Half of his body was still reforming from a whirling sandstorm. Menacing golden eyes shone down at you, but his expression was eerily blank. 

The entire casino fell silent. Everyone’s focus was on you.

Crocodile exhaled a pungent cloud of cigar smoke. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Bullshit. He’d hardly looked at you at all for nearly two weeks. Ignoring the shivers running down your spine, you decided to continue taunting him.

“I’m watching my good friend here play roulette! He’s very lucky, he might take all your money home with him.” You didn’t even remember the man’s name, but you lied with a cheeky grin and firmly patted his thigh twice.

Much too friendly for Crocodile’s liking.

Your lover’s eyes narrowed in on the empty martini glass in front of you. “How many of those have you had?”

“I dunno, three? Four?” You turned to the stranger with a saccharine smile. “Were you keeping count?”

The man was frozen in place, terrified into silence at the sight of the eight foot tall Warlord towering above him. His all-consuming fear made him seem like a small animal staring into a Bananawani’s open jaws.

“You’re drunk. You should sit down.” Crocodile’s tone was steady but dangerous. Always aware of his public image, his carefully chosen words made him seem like the perfect gentleman. 

“But I am sit–“ 

A murderous glare cut you off mid-sentence. You realized you’d taken your bratty act as far as it could go – any more might be threatening to your well-being. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you rose from your seat and automatically moved to his side. Tucked yourself into the folds of his coat, choosing to look down at your heels rather than his face.

“Make yourself comfortable in my office, darling.” The Warlord patted your shoulder, causing you to flinch. His voice dropped an octave as he growled, “I’d like to speak to this lucky gentleman in private.” 

Crocodile’s pristine office was unnervingly quiet. You took a seat on the plush couch facing his desk, nervously bouncing your legs and trying to calm your racing heartbeat. With the lights off, the room was only illuminated by the water surrounding it. Dark shadows of swimming Bananawani regularly moved across the walls. Silly little prey, willingly walking into their nest.

The door suddenly slammed shut behind you. Heavy footsteps slowly approached but you didn’t dare turn around. Rich cologne flooded your nostrils and his golden hook flashed in your peripheral vision. 

Your lover stayed quiet, patiently biding his time until the silence finally got to you. Timidly, you asked, “What happened to that man?”

“What man?” Your lover cocked his head to the side, feigning ignorance. After a moment, a sadistic chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Oh, you mean the mummy in the back room. Let’s say he mysteriously disappeared.”

You whipped your head around with wide eyes. “You killed him for me?” 

Oddly, you didn’t feel bad about it – that man was a creep. Getting rid of him was probably a blessing for the women of Alabasta.

“Of course. I’d do anything for you, dear.” He sounded sincere, but then leaned down and fiercely whispered, “Except play this stupid game of yours. I like showing you off, not sharing you.”

Soft breath tickled your cheek and the fur lining of his coat brushed against your skin. You felt a fire ignite in your core – he was irresistibly sexy when he became possessive (well, more possessive than usual). 

“Have I done something to upset you?” Crocodile kissed and licked down the column of your neck. “Or were you taunting me for fun?”

“Y-You’ve been so busy lately, I was–” The word ‘lonely’ died on your lips when he sunk his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder. 

“Oh, my poor dear. Are you feeling neglected?” He cooed when you shyly nodded, pressing a chaste kiss to the bite mark. “I’m very sorry. Work’s been out of control recently, but everything will settle down soon. You have my attention now.”

The tip of his hook slid under your dress’s thin shoulder strap, then cleanly tore through it. He repeated the action on the other side until the torn fabric slipped down to reveal your bare breasts. 

“Not even wearing a bra?” Your lover clicked his tongue, roughly cupping and caressing your right boob then smacking the soft flesh. “If that man looked down your dress, then his death sentence was too lenient. I should’ve tortured him.”

“You’re so scary,” you giggled, letting your head fall back against his sturdy chest with a content sigh. Grainy fingers traced your areola then rubbed over your hardened nipples. Thankfully, you knew you’d never experience the true extent of his wrath – he adored you.

Without warning, he wrapped his cold hook around your throat. The proximity of its sharp edge to such a dangerous area made your hair stand on end. 

“Bend over my desk,” he commanded, gently nipping your ear. “Darling.”

You stumbled over to the enormous desk, legs shaking from anticipation and arousal. Bracing your arms on the polished wood, you arched your back and presented your ass to him. The Warlord took a moment to admire the view, amused by your visible impatience.

“I bought you these,” Crocodile drawled, tracing the waistband of your silky panties with the curved back of his hook. You never saw their price tag, but they felt expensive. He poked your earlobe. “I bought you those earrings, too. They cost more berry than that pathetic man could ever make. Everything about you belongs to me – seems like I have to remind you.”

A large hand came down on your ass hard, jiggling the soft flesh and making you cry out in delight. The collection of rings on his fingers added a delicious extra sting. Three more spanks followed rapidly in the same spot, then four on the other cheek until every part of your ass ached.

Crocodile snickered when you rubbed your thighs together like an animal in heat. A wet spot had already dampened your panties. “Silly little slut. If you wanted to be spanked, you should’ve just asked. No need for all the theatrics.”

“Didn’t have a chance to since you were talking to that Snail all fucking day.” Your petulant mumble quickly turned into a yelp when his hand brutally struck the crease of your thighs. Making sure you’d feel the sting every time you sat down. He grabbed the roots of your hair and yanked your head back. 

“Watch your tone,” Crocodile growled. The Warlord released you, catching you before your limp body hit the desk and easily flipped you onto your back. A wicked smirk almost as wide as his scar spread across his face. He hungrily observed your body like a predator about to pounce. 

He pulled down your panties with an unnerving carefulness – he didn’t want to damage his property, after all. Then he roughly spanked your bare pussy. Your surprised cry of pain echoed throughout the empty room. Satisfied with your reaction, he did it again and again until your folds turned puffy. 

Crocodile spread your cunt using the back of his hook so he could land a direct hit on your sensitive clit. The impact on your bundle of nerves sent electric shocks throughout your body, your back arching painfully off the table. Your lover chuckled and swiped two fingers through your drenched folds. 

“Who else can make you this wet?” Crocodile webbed your juices between his fingers before bringing them to your lips. Obediently opening your mouth, you suckled and swirled your tongue around them. Paying extra attention to his rings, making sure the precious jewels shined with your spit. Though it was a rhetorical question, he pulled his fingers out to hear your response. 

“No one.” You answered honestly, your eyes dilated with lust and chest heaving. “Just you.”

“You’re damn right.” Crocodile unlatched his belt, letting his trousers hit the floor with a metallic clang. His enormous dick smacked against his pelvis, rock hard and leaking pearly precum. You unconsciously licked your lips at the sight. “Can’t let another cock can satisfy you, either. I need to ruin you for anyone else.”

Demanding you to look directly at him, he lined up his tip with your hole and thrust his hips forward. Slowly at first – his massive cock often met resistance in your tiny cunt – but after the first few inches, he slammed the entire length inside. Knocking all the air out of your lungs, your head lolling back on the desk. Crocodile stayed like that, appreciating the pretty bulge in your belly. 

“Crocodile, please…” 

“My name sounds perfect on your lips.” That predatory gaze was back, the need to possess you overwhelming his thoughts. Your lover pulled back until only the tip remained in your dripping pussy, then harshly rammed his dick in all the way. 

Quickly setting a rough pace, Crocodile palmed at your tits with rough hands then leaned into the crook of your neck, whispering a dizzying mix of praise and degrading phrases. All of your coherent thoughts vanished from your brain. 

You clutched onto his coat to ground yourself, to not get lost in the sea of pleasure washing over you. His cock was too fucking big. Too fucking good. It bullied its way inside your wet walls, permanently reshaping them to the perfect fit as he called you his pretty little cocksleeve.

Over a week’s worth of pent-up sexual urges were quickly coming to a head. Crocodile knew your body so well that he immediately recognized the signs of your impending orgasm. He reached his hand between your bodies to rub circles on your clit, pinching and pulling the sensitive nub for good measure.

“H-Holy fuck, ahhh, shit, I’m gonna…” 

The Warlord smirked cruelly and paused his movements with his cock halfway inside you. “Apologize for being a brat. For even looking at that worthless man.”

If you had a stronger resolve, you could’ve kept this game going even longer. Asked him to apologize for ignoring you. Maybe even gotten a few more spanks out of it. But you needed to cum, and you desperately needed his giant cock to move. 

“I’m sorry,” you panted desperately. “I won’t be bratty anymore, I promise. You’re the only man I’ll ever want. I’ll do anything, just – please, please, let me cum.”

“Very good girl.” Crocodile rewarded you by sensually rolling his hips to stir your insides around. Snickering, he admitted, “Although, I do enjoy when you act up every once in a while. You’re especially sexy when you submit to me.”

Your lover resumed fucking you hard enough to make the desk creak. Legs shaking with every thrust, your eyes were unfocused and the only thought in your head was how full you felt. Looking down, you dreamily watched the bump in your stomach move up and down as his dick rearranged your guts.

“Scream my name loud enough for the entire casino to hear when you cum. Let them know who owns you.”

Just one scream wasn’t enough for you – you chanted his name like a prayer as your orgasm hit you in full force. Juices gushed around Crocodile’s cock and dripped down his balls. He lazily fondled your clit to help you through it, only pulling away once the aftershocks had subsided. You lay limply on the desk, face flushed and chest heaving. 

Belatedly, you realized that Crocodile hadn’t budged. A concerning sign.

“You… you didn’t cum?”

“This soon? Of course not. I didn’t commit murder for one measly orgasm,” he chuckled. “Evidently, I have a lot of lost time to make up for. Your cunt better be prepared.”

“W-wait, give me a minute –”

“No, dear, you were right. I spent too much time ignoring you. You deserve all my love.” He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust that knocked his mushroom tip against your cervix. “And affection.” Another thrust. “And every inch of my cock.”

Filthy squelching sounds and your lover’s balls slapping against your ass accompanied your overwhelmed scream. Tears pricked at your eyes as he increased his pace, your brain becoming as mushy as your cunt. 

“Such a perfect pussy. Only a real man like me can treat it properly.” Crocodile murmured smugly. Leaning down to press his body flush against yours, his muscular pecs squished against your tits. His normally slicked-back hair was coming undone, strands sticking to his forehead from sweat. Dizzying pleasure washed over you when his fingers found your clit again.

Crocodile felt his balls tighten, but held himself back from the edge by slowing down to a relaxed grind, focusing all of his attention on you. You fucking lost your mind when he spelled each letter of his name on your sensitive bundle of nerves. A second orgasm washed over you in a bright light, your tongue lolling out of your mouth as you murmured absolute nonsense mixed with cries of his name. 

Your cunt clamping down on his cock like a vice sent him over the edge. At the very last second, Crocodile pulled out to spurt thick stripes of cum across your stomach. With a deep, satisfied groan, he jerked himself to completion until your skin was painted white. Fully marking you as his own. 

Satisfaction and exhaustion made your eyes flutter shut, but Crocodile ensured you stayed awake by giving you a surprisingly tender forehead kiss. Cradling your cheek, he asked, “Feel better?”

“My ass hurts, but yes. I feel great.” You nodded with a fucked-out grin, chasing his lips for a real kiss which he eagerly granted.

“Good. As pretty as you look covered in my cum, the next load is going inside you. I need to fuck a baby into my beautiful girl.”

His next load? Your eyes widened when he began stroking his cock again, still soft but beginning to twitch with interest. Turning your head, you met the downward-turned eyestalks of his shut-off Transponder Snail. 

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {5}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: The most anticipated race of the year is here, and the most controversial, Las Vegas GP. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fluff, angst, injury WC: 3.5k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six

Round Twenty Two - Las Vegas

Kristian sat on a weight bench, flipping through the pages of the motherhood magazine he was reading. Every so often he would look up and give some guidance until the tips became a nuisance.

“I should have fired you,” you muttered as you rose up from the last lunge.

“You say that a lot but you should keep your back straight,” he shot back, grating you further with the slow scrape of the page turning. “And keep your feet in line with your hips.”

“Can we play some decent music at least?” you whined between the gulps of water you swallowed down. The training was far less intensive than they used to be with everything focused on just maintaining fitness and health rather than a goal weight or strength like before.

“Nope,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying being able to boss you around the gym again. “Baroque is good for the baby.”

“Bullshit.” There was no way the classical music meant anything to her, she was only the size of an avocado - or so Lando said. He had an app that he checked daily and uploaded photos onto as a keepsake. 

Kristian turned back to the start of the magazine and turned it around, tapping the title of the article. “So you think you know more than Harvard scholars now, Spitfire?”

He took your silence for defeat and pointed to the pool door. “Twenty lap cool down and then it’s breakfast.”

Your stomach grumbled at the mention of food and you grabbed a towel as you passed the door to the changing room. Breakfast didn’t feel like the right term since it was well past lunchtime. The whole Las Vegas schedule had screwed your body clock with the late night practices and qualifying rounds but you were grateful it was the last night of it. 

Lando and Charles had been fast asleep when you slipped out of the room. Something had disturbed you from the dream you were having and despite the room being pitch black with the thick blockout curtains your body could tell it was daytime. Thankfully Kristian was already awake and happy to move your fitness session up a few hours. 

Cool water washed over you as you dove into the tepid pool and started to glide along the surface. One, two, three, breathe. One, two, three, breathe. The monotony was therapeutic and you didn’t even bother to keep count of the laps - your mind was elsewhere.

You had been dead on your feet in the wee hours of the morning after you finally left the track with Lando and Charles after qualifying finished. They still had adrenaline flooding their systems and had no hope of sleeping when they sunk into the couch cushions and pulled your exhausted body over their legs. 

You were in a drowsy state, half asleep but half aware of the other two chatting quietly together. Their hands had softly caressed your skin, brushing your shirt up so they could feel the warmth of your abdomen beneath their palms. 

“She’s so beautiful, Cha, and she’s carrying our kid. I don’t think I have ever been this happy in my life,” Lando hummed as he rested his head on Charles’ shoulder and smiled at their hands. 

“We are very lucky to have her,” he agreed as he kissed Lando softly.

“So…” You tasted the mischief in Lando’s drawn out tone and it stirred some energy back into your body. “When can I start calling you daddy?”

Charles’ legs shifted beneath you with a groan and you willed your eyes to open as his cheeks flushed pink. “Mon cher...”

“You can call me papi chulo,” Lando smirked. “It means-”

“I know what it means,” Charles choked, knowing exactly who had taught him that too. “Carlos is a menace, but if anyone is going to be papi chulo it’s me.”  

You nearly swallowed a mouthful of water as the memory of what had happened next led to a lapse in your count and you pulled yourself out of the pool with a splutter. Those two had a lot to answer for.

“Here,” Kristian said as he tossed a bottle of water to you. “Try not to drink from the pool.”

“What would I do without you?” you asked dryly. 

“I don’t dare to think about that,” he joked before he said your favourite words. “Let’s go eat.”

You stared at the egg on your plate before pushing it away with disinterest. Charles looked up from his own plate and frowned at the rare sight of the food that remained on yours. 

“Would you like something else, mamie?”

You smiled at the new endearment and watched Lando cut an avocado in half before passing one part over to you. The vibrant green flesh did look delicious but when you held it in your hand you could only think about the bump that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. You hadn’t noticed it before changing into your swimsuit but when you peeled the tight layer off in the gym's changing room you had frozen. The mirrored wall caught your side profile under glaring fluorescent lights and there, just below your belly button it swelled ever so slightly. 

A hand waved in front of your face and you broke away from the memory to see both your boyfriends watching you with worried frowns. One of them had obviously spoken to you but you couldn’t recall hearing them as you stared at the avocado. 

“You’re crying,” Lando murmured as he swiped away the tear on your cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s this big already. Our baby is the size of an avocado. She’s so tiny,” you said with a small laugh, raising the fruit higher for inspection. They looked at you like you were a little crazy and it wouldn’t have been the first time that was suspected but you pushed the chair out and placed the avocado back on the table. “Come, I want to show you something.”

You led them to the bedroom and Charles opened his mouth to break the bad news that they didn’t have time for even a quickie. The thought had crossed your mind when you found them still naked and splayed across the bed before breakfast was ready, but they needed to get to the track soon for media duties and to prepare for the race. 

“That’s a shame but also not what I came here for,” you admitted as you started to remove your shirt. 

“I’m getting mixed messages here,” Lando chuckled as he reached for his own shirt. “But I don’t mind being late.”

“Stop, before I really do make you stay,” you chuckled knowing they would do anything for you. You dropped your shirt and turned sideways while you stared at the reflection in the mirror. “Look…”

Their eyes followed the wave of your hand, the way your palm drifted over your hip to cradle the small bump, and Lando gasped along with Charles soft praise. Knees hit the soft carpet below your feet and warm lips replaced your hand, teasing your skin with kisses. Two heads of dark hair bowed against your stomach and whispered words of promise you couldn’t quite hear, but they weren’t for your ears. Finally they looked up, emerald and azure eyes filled with enough love that you were certain your chest was going to crack open.

You reached for their cheeks and felt the same dampness that coated yours. “She’s real,” you whispered. It had taken a few weeks but finally it all felt real. She wasn’t just a picture on a piece of paper or measurements of a hormone in a blood test. She was real, and she was yours.

“You look like a twat,” you greeted Max with a grin, flapping the collar of his race suit made to replicate Elvis Presley. “You’re just missing the blue suede shoes.”

Max rolled his eyes and ducked his head when you tried to mess his gelled hair up. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“Oh I am,” you laughed, slipping back into Charles’ side. “I’m actually happy to sit out this circus act.”

Max narrowed his eyes as he scanned your face for a lie or bitterness but all he saw was a bright smile and genuine amusement sparkling in your eyes. A sense of relief washed over him as for the first time since losing your seat you looked completely content and happy.

“I don’t blame you,” he finally replied and looked down at the costume he had been given. He would be glad when all this was over too. “I’ll see you at Omnia?”

The sun had already set on the strip and the temperature was quickly dropping as the hour grew late, and closer to the start of the race. “Maybe, if it’s a boring race I might not even be awake to see the end of it.”

“Fair enough.” He hoped you would be there to celebrate whatever the results were but he knew you were more exhausted in your current state and wouldn’t hold it against you. Christian waved at Max from across the street that divided the hospitality area from the garages and he gave you a quick hug, clapping Charles in the shoulder as he passed. “The Ring Master calls.”

“Drive safe!” He threw a thumbs up over his shoulder in answer and you laced your fingers with Charles’ before continuing to the McLaren garage.

It was strangely quiet for a race that had been hyped up so much over the last year, but you were kind of relieved that there were less people to weave between. It was great that the sport was growing in popularity but it was a pain in the ass trying to get anywhere when you are squashed like sardines in the paddock.

Somehow you still managed to bump into someone.

“Shit, sorry, Logan.”

“That was my bad,” he apologised as he turned to face the direction he was walking, waving back to the fan who had stopped him. His eyes widened when he saw who he had collided with and regret painted on his face. “Shit, are you alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I, or the, um…” he waved a hand to your stomach and you tilted your head wondering who had told him.

“I’m fine, but you knew?”

Logan scratched the back of his neck nervously and shrugged. “The walls were thin in the medical centre.”

You were dumbfounded and the sound that bubbled from your chest confirmed it. “Huh.”

“I haven’t told anyone, and I won’t,” he promised before his name was called and he waved to his PT. “Oh, congratulations though, I probably should have started with that.”

Charles laughed and shook the American’s hand. “Thanks, mate.”

You smiled and accepted the half hug he offered, probably thinking a handshake would be even more awkward. “Thanks, and congrats on your first point too.”

“Not as exciting as a baby.”

“Yeah it is,” you laughed, remembering your first point for Alpha Tauri. “That’s your baby right now.”

His smile grew as he set off to his PT and you carried on your way to see Lando before the race. There was still over an hour until lights out but every minute had been scheduled for media duties, meet and greets, and the driver parade. You wanted to have a few moments of their time before releasing them to the wild.

Charles’ hand slipped from yours as you reached McLaren and he cradled your cheek before kissing you. “Are you alright to get back on your own?”

You rolled your eyes before looking at the Ferrari space four garages down. “I don’t know, it’s pretty far…I might get lost and end up in the Bellagio.”

“If you do, bet it all on Red for me,” he joked. The smile on his face dimmed as he saw the magician and Carlos waiting for him. “I’ll see you after the race, mamie. Je t’aime.”

“Love you too.”

“And Lando too.” He would have preferred to tell Lando himself but he just ran out of time with all the activities his team had planned for race day.

“I’ll let him know, and I’ll even give him a kiss from you,” you teased as you stole another kiss for good measure.

“Any advice from the current world champion?” he asked as he started to back away.

You shook your head. “It’s Vegas, baby, just give them one hell of a show.”

To say the atmosphere in Ferrari was charged was an understatement. There was resentment for Carlos’ car being destroyed and his mechanics gritted their teeth as they walked to the middle of the grid thanks to the penalties for fixing the car. On the other side of the garage, the side where you sat with Joris, excitement permeated the air as you watched Charles’ walk to his car parked in pole position.

You were torn between that excitement and the sadness that had followed you since leaving McLaren. Lando was being too hard on himself again for the bad luck he had qualifying 15th, but he was determined to make his way to the front of the pack. If anyone was going to be called Spitfire in the race, it was going to be him. He was going to dogfight his way forward from the moment the lights went out.

One of the cameras panned the crowd and you spotted him walking up from his spot three quarters of the way down the grid, all the way to the front where Charles was talking to Max. For a moment you were once again hit with the sense of longing to be out there but the feeling washed away as quick as it came.

“Do you want anything to eat?” Joris asked as he looked up from his phone. You chuckled knowing Charles would have sent the reminder text but you shook your head. 

“I’m fine, thank you. And you can tell Charles I am keeping hydrated too,” you said with a smile, shaking your water bottle for him to see. 

“You can always trust him to worry more about others, even when he’s meant to be focusing on the race,” he laughed as he sent the reply. “Have you thought any more about where you want to go for the maternity shoot?”

Charles had been eager to lock his friend in as the official bump photographer but there was still another four months until it was the best time to have them taken. He was also open to taking photos while you were in labour but you weren't too sure how you felt about that yet.

“Somewhere warm.”

“So no alpine backdrops then,” he chuckled, probably remembering how much you had complained about hiking in the snow last winter.

You scoffed at the idea, an adamant refusal to it. “Not if you’re expecting me to wear something that shows the bump.”

The action around the garages stilled as the guests on the grid were guided away for the formation lap to begin and you breathed a sigh of relief when Charles made it back to the first box without drama. Even Joris released a nervous laugh beside you. 

“That’s a better start,” he murmured so the engineers around him didn’t hear. 

“Couldn’t get any worse than the last one,” you replied just as quietly. 

You held your breath and felt the same rush of adrenalin fill you as if you were right out there in front of the lights with them. Your fingers twitched at your sides, the muscle memory begging them to prepare for action as each red light appeared, then all five were gone. The keen whines of twenty engines accelerating to their limit screamed into the night and you grinned at the sound even though it was muted by the headset. 

“Oh, fuck off, Max,” you screamed as he pushed Charles wide and they both went off track before pulling back on with your brother taking the lead. Suddenly your attention was brought to the back of the pack where multiple cars had been involved in an incident, but Lando had managed to avoid it and slip ahead a few places too. “Come on, baby, you can do it.”

Although there had been a lot of complaints about the showy nature of racing in Las Vegas, there was no denying it was a track that offered a lot of entertainment with long straights to overtake and high risk high reward corners too. You could barely sit still with your eyes glued to the many screens around the garage offering almost every angle of the race. 

“Ok, I think this race has just redeemed itself,” you commented with a smile as you watched the battles taking place around the track. 

“It is pretty amazing,” Joris said with his own excited grin, but shock fell over him and you snapped your head back to screen dreading seeing Charles out of the race again. But it wasn’t Charles. 

Sparks flew as the floor hit the asphalt and your brain couldn’t seem to understand why Lando’s car was facing the wrong way. Still it kept skidding along the straight at full speed, spinning back around just before it collided with the barrier at the end of the runoff. Your breath left your lungs with the force of the collision and your entire body stiffened as your ears began to ring loudly. Your stomach lurched as you desperately hit the keys on the screen to select the driver view and you saw Lando’s shaking hands pull his steering console out.

“I, I need to go,” you whispered as you stood up on weak legs. “Can you tell Charles?”

“Xavi can do that, I’ll walk with you,” he said with a shake of his head. His arm looped with yours and stabilised you as you tried to rush out of the garage. They weren’t even stopping the race because he wasn’t on track and that made you feel even sicker. What if someone else went into the runoff? 

“Mr Norris,” Joris called out, waving the worried man down. You blinked as you realised you were already in the McLaren garage, but you couldn’t remember the walk there. 

“He’s alright,” Adam assured you as he pulled you into his side and thanked Joris for the escort. “I spoke to him after he got out of the car. They are going to the medical centre. Come on, darling, we can go together.”

“He’s alright?” you double checked, your vision blurring with tears. 

Adam gave a sure nod as he started back the way you came, except he went towards the medical centre instead of the other garages. “His ribs hurt but he’s tough.”

Max said that when he was a child he would sleep walk, Vicki too. You imagined this was how they felt. Detached. Moving through darkness. Closing your eyes and waking in a new place. You blinked and the concrete path you were on was suddenly linoleum. 

“Lando…” you sighed as you found him on a gurney, white blankets tucked in close around him. 

“Heeeey,” he slurred happily, wincing as he snaked a hand out of his swaddle to reach for you. “It’s my girls.”

“You’re on the strong stuff, aren’t you, my love?” You faked a smile for him and took his hand, tilting your head towards Adam and the doctor explaining what was happening. You carefully leaned over the bed and kissed Lando until he broke out in giggles and his head lolled lazily back against the pillow. 

“They’re taking him to the hospital for some scans just in case there’s any broken ribs,” Adam relayed when he reached your side and gave Lando a kiss on his forehead. “How are you feeling, son?”

“It hurts to breathe, but this is good,” he said, holding up his hand that was connected to the IV bag filled with strong painkillers. 

A nurse came and unlocked the wheels on the gurney before asking who was going to ride in the ambulance with Lando. Adam looked at you and nodded, and though you knew he would have wanted to go with his son himself you were selfish and couldn’t leave his side. 

“I’ll follow behind,” Adam promised before Lando was wheeled away. 

You walked at Lando’s side out of the medical centre and found tv crews waiting, their cameras zoomed in on Lando and capturing his almost drunken state. A little loopy from the drugs in his system, he waved his fingers at the camera. “This will be on Netflix next year,” he laughed before wincing at the pain that flared. “So it’s safe to tell them, ‘I’M GOING TO BE A FATHER!’ and they can’t say a thing.”

Adam froze at his son’s outburst, though it was no secret that he was eager to shout to the world his joy. “Lando…” he growled, looking at your wide eyes.

“What? They aren’t allowed to use the footage for months,” he huffed. 

“That’s not Netflix,” you whispered, swallowing the lump in your throat as you watched the tv crew almost tremble with excitement. “That’s Sky TV.”

Click here for the next part.

[moonydustx]

Crocodile x F!Reader

warnings: a little smut at the end.

The first time you caught him looking at you it was just curious irises on top of the scar that adorned his face. Despite how little time you had been working at the casino, it wasn't uncommon to notice Crocodile's curious gaze roaming over all the employees, except this day was different.

"Good evening sir." you simply responded as he approached the bar counter. "What do you want to drink?"

"If I remember, this isn't your place." he said. Even with a long counter separating you, the shine of his hook almost stole all your attention.

"Yeah, today I traded with Sirah."

In your response, it was possible to perceive the fearful tone. He was your boss and as much as you hated being there at that moment, you still needed a job.

"Are your red eyes related to this?" he asked, the hook resting on the counter as he seemed to analyze your every expression. "Are we having any problems with guests?"

"No, it was just bullshit." You tried to put on your best smile and put the topic out of Crocodile's mind, from the way he was looking at you that wouldn't be enough. "I caught my ex cheating on me with someone else this week, they both work here and today they seemed more concerned about throwing shade at me than anything else."

Only an indecipherable growl left the lips of the infamous man in front of you. He turned his back to you and began to observe the rest of the casino.

"I'm sorry I bothered you with that." Your voice was lower than expected, but it didn't go unnoticed.

"Bring me something to drink, please. Something strong." he ordered and within minutes the glass was next to him on the counter.

In the first sip he could smell whiskey along with some citrus notes and something else that he couldn't immediately decipher. Strong but tasty.

"Make yourself a drink too. I recommend the same as mine." he said and left, leaving you alone with your own thoughts.

The second time you saw him look differently was shortly after you had spoken at the casino bar. It was the second time you had consciously realized this. Other people had already told you that the most feared look in the casino seemed to follow you for a while.

That night Crocodile had some of his business partners around a betting table along with some members of Baroque Works. You didn't expect that and you also didn't expect Miss All Sunday to come find you and tell you that according to Mr. 0's orders he wanted you to command his VIP gaming table.

"Let's see..." you waited for everyone to turn over their cards, analyzing the deck. "Looks like Mr.0 won, again." Crocodile's laugh echoed through the room as you dragged the chips towards him.

"This is unfair." one of the men complained, amidst a disbelieving laugh.

"I bet that little girl over there is helping him." one of the others grumbled, frustrated at losing all his money. Before he could continue, Crocodile interrupted him.

"Be careful with the next words you say." your body shivered completely when you felt his hand touch your waist. "Don't blame the lady for my streak of luck. It's not her fault she's my good luck charm tonight."

His eyes searched yours, a mischievous smile on his lips brought a slight laugh from yours even though you felt your body burn - and weren't so sure why.

The third time you could barely meet his eyes. Every time I opened your eyes the image was too intense to be able to stand firm.

His eyes remained fixed on your body in front of the mirror. His hook holding your legs open as you squirm on top of his lap. His hand fingered your intimacy, tracing circles on your clit while he admired the scene against the mirror. In addition to your moans in the background, you could hear your ex knocking on your door and calling you without the slightest idea of ​​what was happening.

"I bet that bastard didn't make you feel like that, did he?" Crocodile slid his fingers to your entrance, just teasing you. "I'm proud that you're mine now, my good girl." he slowly licked your neck making you squirm even more

"Please Sir." You asked, turning your face and finding his lips. Crocodile was intense in everything he did and taking your lips to him was no different.

Before you could recover from the lost air he slowly penetrated you with a finger, the cold touch of his rings against your sensitive intimacy made you scream.

"Keep it up my dear." he increased the speed soon giving space to one more digit. "Be loud let him know who you belong to now."

. . .

a/n: just an idea that popped into my head this weekend and I wanted to write it quickly. Perhaps, among the many lost wip, I will write the complete story.

[unionizedwizard]

we dont talk enough about the peace of mind that comes with only listening to decades old albums by bands whose members stopped talking to each other in 1987, jazz musicians with 4 suscribers on youtube, and, like, baroque lute music. dont have to keep an eye on whatever bullshit my favorite artists are saying on twitter and beat myself up for still listening to [random big artist of the week] who just endorsed some horrendous political action or something. very freeing 👍

[moldychefboyardeecan]

Chapter 8/Part 8

Santa's Sleigh

GUYS ITS A GAG ON WHAT CONTRAPTION I MADE UP FOR THIS FIC DONT WORRY SANTA CLAUS IS NOT GOING TO SHOW UP..

AO3 Chapter Link

Back to the Table of Contents

Dawn came quickly, and you found yourself standing at the edge of the city, the desert stretching out before you like an endless sea of sand. Mr.11 was already there, leaning against a sand sled hitched to a pair of large, sturdy camels. He raised an eyebrow as you approached, his smirk never wavering.

“Took you long enough,” he said, though there was no real annoyance in his tone. “Hop on. We’ve got a long ride ahead.”

“What the fuck is that?” You laughed out loud. “Looks like a glorified Santa’s sleigh."

His face turned red, redder than the sun already toasting his face, but now with an extra flush due to his newfound emotion a cockhead like him never feels: embarrassment.

“Whatever, I don’t care anyways what it looks like,” you added, hoping to calm the agent down. “If we have to get to the seaside with Santa’s sleigh-“ you giggled saying that phrase. “-then we get there. At the end of the day, we know we can’t mess any of this up.”

You climbed onto the sled, the wooden frame creaking slightly under your weight, following his. The camels snorted, their breath visible in the cool morning air. Mr.11 took the reins, giving them a sharp tug, and the sled lurched forward, gliding across the sand with surprising speed. The city faded into the distance behind you, replaced by the vast, unchanging expanse of the desert.

The silence between you was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke of mutual understanding—you were both professionals, after all, and there was work to be done.

After a while, Mr.11 broke the silence. “So, Miss Luna, your quite famous agent..’a woman of seduction’, killing with sex, and always making a clean exit.” he said emphasizing your alias, his eyes still on the horizon, “what’s your story? How’d a girl like you end up in Baroque Works?

You glanced at him, surprised by the question. “Does it matter?” you asked, your tone cautious. “I’m just here to do my damn job, and so were you.”

Bullshit. You were here because you couldn’t get enough of the praise given to you.

He shrugged, his smirk returning. “Just making conversation. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, might as well get to know each other.”

“How together do you think we’re working?”

“Enough that our first mission is to commit treason.”

“Against who? Isn’t Cro- Mr.0 a Shichibukai? An ally of the marines?”

“Enough of an ally to not go to jail.”

You click your tongue.

“Touché, asshole.” You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “Fine. I’m here because I want to be,” you said finally.

“Why would you be here, of all places?”

Because you wanted an ally, an opportunity to do what you saw growing up, and not fear the marines. After all, mom isn’t here because she tried to seduce an undercover marine. She’s in prison now. If you were in Baroque Works, you technically were under the marines protection, since it was an organization ran by a Oushitashichibukai (王下七武海). You needed to be safe. With knowing you were enough, and knowing you couldn’t go to jail just for surviving.

Alas, you lied to him, there was no reason to reveal yourself to such a stranger. “Because I believe in what Baroque Works is doing.”

He chuckled, the sound low and knowing. “That’s a bullshit answer. But I won’t press it.” He glanced at you, his gaze sharp. “Just remember, this isn’t a game. Not really. Out here, the stakes are real, babe.”

You met his gaze, your own resolve hardening. “I know. Says the one who made our transportation look like fucking Santa’s sleigh.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true.”

“Fuck you!” He laughed after.

The desert stretched on, the sun rising higher in the sky as you traveled. The dynamic between you was already taking shape—a mix of tension, curiosity, and mutual respect. You didn’t know what lay ahead, but one thing was certain: this mission would test you in ways you couldn’t yet imagine.

And as the sand rolled by, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning

[ashsomethingart]

COMMISSIONS OPEN!

Still need to get orders for the month to meet my goal!

I don't want to end up in Emergency Comms again at the end of this month, so please hit me up! Prices start at $25, and I do artwork from Sketch levels to Print-Ready!

And to start everything out, I just want to say emphatically:

I DO NOT USE GENERATIVE AI IN ANY STEP OF MY ARTISTIC PROCESS, AND NEVER WILL.

I actively fight against this bullshit technology aimed at literally nothing other than cutting the Human Element out of Art, and feeding decades of our hard work into Mass-Produced-Secondhand-Slop Machines without crediting or compensating us for doing so. THAT SAID-

Work I do:

I work in both DIGITAL and TRADITIONAL media. Digital: I predominantly work in either Clip Studio Paint or Procreate- I do not work with Adobe products after last year, however if you have a particular need (Vector or 3D art, or other) I can pick up most programs fairly quickly. Traditional: I work best in Dry Media - Specifically Charcoal and Graphite. However, depending on what your needs are, I am well versed in all media, and can do pretty much anything you would want from simple pencil sketches to high detail massive oil paintings. Traditional Media Included in This: Pencil, Charcoal, Pastel, Colored Pencil, Ballpoint Pen, Multiliner Pens, Acid Markers, Watercolor Pencil, Inkwash/Painting/Sumi-e, Watercolor Painting, Acrylic Painting, and Oil Painting.

Styles:

This is always a bit of a Thing™ for people, because they expect artists to have A Unique Style™ but I don't subscribe to that mentality at all. I am, first and foremost a MULTIDISCIPLINARY artist, and I have nearly 30 years of practice doing ANY art that struck my fancy. The following are the personal styles that I have developed, but these are by no means exhaustive, and I can create a fresh style for any project or replicate an extant style given enough art references- especially if I'm doing it digitally.

My original Rubber Hose Cartoon Style (Used predominantly for pinups and clown characters but applicable to any character focused artworks)

My original Comic Style inspired by the late-90s and early-00's Image/Top Cow comics

My Nagel-Inspired 1980s Art-Deco Style

My 1980s-Inspired Dark Fantasy Pinup/Erotic Style

My very first/original style: Charcoal/Graphite Realism and Semirealism

My original High Detail Seinen/Josei BW Manga style

My original Shonen Anime Style

My original Shojo Manga Style

My Original Black and Grey Tattoo Style (I do not do tattoos, only Designs and tattoo inspired art)

And with that laid out-

Here are the different art types that I do!

Illustration In all of my styles

Book covers

Album Art

Poster Design

Pulp art

Concept Illustration

Book Illustration

Comic Pages

Pinup and Erotic art In all of my styles

Traditional Style Pinups

Varied Tattoo style pinups

80s Dark-Fantasy Style Pinups

Cartoon and simplified pinups

Varied Fine Art Style pinups

Semi-nude, Artistic Nude, or otherwise PG-13 Rated Art

Softcore Nude, Sexualized, but no Full Frontal, R-Rated Art

Hardcore, Erotic art including heavy sexual and fetish content, X-Rated art.

Character art and Character Concept Design In all styles but predominantly: Cartoon/Rubber Hose, Western Comic, Shonen/Shojo/Seinen/Joseia Anime/Manga and Mawha Styles, as well as a semirealism Rendered style.

OC Design

OC Illustration

Fanart/Self Insert art ft You and your Fandom

Creature Design and Illustration

Fine Art While I can do most fine art styles, I have a particular fondness for the following art movements, and most of my work has been in these styles:

Classic Charcoal/Graphite Realism and Semirealism

80s Inspired Dark Fantasy Illustration Style

Art Nouveau

Nagel-Inspired Art Deco, Retro Reproduction Style

Surrealism

Baroque/Rococo

Traditional 1920s Art Deco graphic design and printing styles

Tattoo (Design only) in the American Traditional, Character, Modern, Watercolor and and Black And Grey styles

[anarchic-miscellany]

Reading "One Piece" for the first time: Part 15

It's been a while so I was worried that my dodgy bootleg site keeping this thing going was going to be offline, but here we are.

I hope that the art gets better soon, it's a very... distinct style.

Anyway!

Our Idiot and Giga Chad are doing... something? The king/villain of this arc is kind of weak and kind of lame, but I enjoy the snow and the magical fun times Winter Wonderland Castle! The little old lady crone doctor (Deny. Defend. Depose) is revealing some depths, I guess? And the reindeer seems to be the next big character of this arc/crew: honestly guys, not too sold. I mean, I didn't see it coming, in the same way that I wouldn't have seen a sentient cube made of bees coming, but from what I gather this guy's a main character. So... first thoughts aren't great? I mean, he's more likable than the Idiot (massive fucking overpowered dullard with the IQ of a bucket that he is), but I was unmoved by his sad backstory about a doctor on a mountain? I don't know, I'm just a cynical bastard like that and the hype has never lived up to it. That's it? The Blue Nosed Reindeer ate a human fruit (fucking Axe Cop had better writing than this) and wants to cure disease, but then his mentor the crone sold him to (Deny. Defend. Depose) ate a mushroom and exploded? And now the Idiot heard that story and defends his flag because nobody forms immediate life or death attachments to inanimate objects and strangers he just met QUITE like Doofus Q. Dullard.

But then the villain turned into a fucking gingerbread house, and that was fucking amazing? Every time I think I build a tolerance to this author's bullshit, he pulls more out of the bag.

Whilst the crowd are gathering their torches and sharpening their forks (I gather that Blue Nose Reindeer is a popular character in the fandom. I prefer Chopper Reed or Barry the Chopper thus far, but we shall see) I will say I liked Cartographer With a Brain Cell being nice as she recovered in the castle, and appreciated very much that our companion of the week was Giga Chad: that guy is excellent, and I am happy to finally have them bench the Himbo and his Seventeen Fucking Swords, or whatever. I am forever grateful, also, that we don't cut back to the ship much, because we would probably see him arranging them in a circle for a tea party or something. Sad we didn't get more of Meme in Progress, but I liked his efforts to carry a dude (even if they were immediately shot down by The Himbo... Cut this guy a break, Shonen Edgelord Himbo Shitbag) and that the whole thing ended on a Christmas joke.

Mixed thoughts on the series so far: meh on the Blue Nosed Reindeer (I'll come up with a better nickname for him in time) and that whole shebang, but I liked the Christmas island, if not the mixed messages and perfunctory "guess we have to fight a house now" fight, but appreciate that it's par for the course in Shonen stuff, even if I was just counting the pages until The Idiot let off yet more super attacks. Seven Phases of Reindeer, however, sounds like a great L'Arc-en-Ciel album title, as well as something they should tell the Giga Chad about more: can you imagine the succulent, delicious phases of reindeer meat he could cook from 7 phases?!

Appreciate the shadowy "Baroque" villain head revealing the existance of 7 "Pirate Lords". Nice to have some actual villains hinted at, and talked about for the future, even if I am going to be underwhelmed if these are the fights on display and nothing will stop this bimbling fuckhead of a protagonist, who is starting to grate upon me. I hope that Giga Chad gets to eat a crocodile though, that would be amazing. As for who the next in the crew could be? I'm still holding out hope for a Merman or a Vampire. Also, can we have some women in the crew? It's a bit of a sausage fest. Honestly I was more interested in the grouchy old crone lady (Deny. Defend. Depose) and hoping she would join. But it's early days for Blue Nosed Reindeer, he could grow on me.

(Side note: I just spilt a cup of tea all over my desk, so maybe the universe is already damning me for not gnoshing on the Reindeer's Cock upon meeting him and his backstory)

[charkyzombicorn]

Well fuck Dragon! Au where he tries that bias bullshit on Crocodile and gets kicked in the dick for it while Crocodile just leaves with their son. Au where Luffy is the prince of Baroque Works and Robin is his bodyguard/best friend

I'm so sorry I lost this in my asks!!!

I saw that SBS that said Croc would spoil his kids rotten and yes definitely absolutely also timeline what timeline anyway

Croc left the RA when Luffy was abt 2 months old, Iva didn't want to directly betray Dragon so they started the half level in impel down and was down there for a while monitoring comings and goings and conveniently missing every letter their vice monarch sent abt Croc being stashed away on Peachy Island - he didn't Need need to but sailing on his own with an infant would be rough especially since most of his contacts were also connected to Dragon (and not completely coincidentally on Dragon's part) so he would be sailing alone. Peachy Island is also where he meets Bon Clay (13-14 at the time) and he becomes something of a son to Croc.

Croc and Luffy spend 3-ish years there before Croc decides he's not in fact done playing with fire and he wants to be a warlord so he can be a pirate with a respected home territory to keep Luffy and also because staying still so long made him Itch. Luffy spending 3 years surrounded by people with a bit more focus on vanity and identity mixed with being raised by Croc does mean that Luffy gets a sense of style! Croc does not allow jorts in his house :( so Croc forms a small crew with Daz (afab went to peachy Island to fight Ivankov for testosterone got a found family is still on the quest for T), Zala (Old Old contact I'm aging her up 20 years because reasons. She knew Croc back when he was still on Whitebeard's ship and is one of the few that doesn't care at all abt the RA), Bon Clay (Croc was hesitant to bring him but he could more than hold his own Croc made sure of that), Drophy (left Amazon Lily because she fell for a man but then she killed him teehee she was on Peachy Island for groceries mostly) and Galdino (his sister's trans and lives on Peachy Island he visits her and her kids sometimes)

They set out, Croc making a massive name for himself mostly by accident (he likes planning things but he can't help being cool) but then the marines strike a deal - if he can remain an active pirate while being targeted by the other warlords for 1 year then they'll give him the warlord title (it was harder to become a warlord back then) so Croc says deal but then secretly gets Garp to pick up his grandson, says in no uncertain terms that if Luffy gets mistreated Garp will never see him again and Garp humors him mostly but still agrees and takes him to Dawn. Meanwhile the hunt begins, the only current warlords are Mihawk, Doflamingo and Moria and Croc manages easily enough by seducing two of them and beating the stuffing out of Moria thrice. He only wanted to keep Luffy away because he didnt trust any of the warlords to not do any research and find his glaring weakness. Also because Garp had been nagging him for years to let him see his grandson (Crocodile doesn't like the seperation, he's very clingy in an Italian way)

So Luffy lands on Dawn, immediately calls Shanks crusty and says he smells like if you soaked a sock in booze, Shanks thinks he's the funniest little guy ever. All the Shanks stuff happens, then Croc comes back for his kid only for Garp to pull a fast one (and by fast one I mean he told Dragon abt Croc and Luffy and Dragon decided to fuck with the groundwork Croc was laying in Alabasta so Garp could hide Luffy better this was not coordinated the Monkey family is just rude) so Croc had to turn right back around to chase Dragon away and Garp threw Luffy up the mountain (Luffy knows his dad's coming back for him but he doesn't know how long it'll take since his dad's only late when something bad happens and he eavesdropped that what his dad was doing was dangerous. Ace asks how Luffy knows his dad isn't dead, Luffy doesn't have an answer)

While Croc is away he finds Robin and takes her in

By the time Croc can get back to Dawn Luffy has 2 brothers and a sister and Croc decides Dragon and Garp keeping him from his kid means he has full rights to take the three new ones also

When he starts Baroque works the kids are called the Wani's (after bananawanis because they're as cute and also as vicious as them to Croc)

[moonfurthetemmie]

you will never believe what happened again

this is the second funkiest swap au i've made. the first funkiest remains hidden in dms and they haven't even gotten their names yet, but their secrecy is probably for the best right now since the current name is fucking beechswapswap and i can't take it seriously like that

anyway have some heroforge and names of the newest one while i figure out what the fuck is going on with some of them. I have major details, but minor ones are still being worked out.

i also need a better au name but that's not quite so important

Rayonnant (Jet) (name source)

rayonnant is about to sock someone. it may or may not be OG obsidian. it's far more likely that it's not, but it took me less than a day to decided they'd starting fighting 2 minutes after meeting and put each other in a body cast and learn absolutely nothing from that. so it's totally og obsidian.

he's rather violent. I was going to say 'violent for a Jet alt' but no he's just Violent. up there with obsidian himself. which is part of why i think they're going to try to kill each other the first time they meet.

he will let. one (1) person call him 'Ray'. and that person is shrike. and only when they're alone. Baroque was probably allowed at one point, but either has had that privileged revoked or is just too afraid to say it at all now since Rayonnant gets reeaally mad about anyone hearing that nickname

Baroque (Dark) (that also came from architecture, though 'Baroque' is a descriptor/name for several other things)

someone had to help me with the color for baroque's jacket. and it took me an age just to figure out what kind of a pose I wanted him to have. but here he is. he's got more anxiety than dark but is better at hiding it. slightly. just slightly.

His soul is in the same half-n-half positivity/corruption state that og Jade's is in. so he's still blonde, but has the greyblue/pale yellow eyes that og Dark, a full corrupt, has.

the blonde is reminding me of…something. i can envision it in my head but i have no idea what it's called or how to describe it.

Shrike (Obsidian)

Shrike's pose also killed me. I didn't want him to try to rest his elbow on the goddam SPIKES on his GLOVES so i turned that hand over. i swapped the arm positions, thinking it'd make more visual sense that way, and was still unhappy with it but absolutely did not want to try again so he's staying like that. we suffer together.

please also observe the full scars and the tattoo + Magic Marking Bullshit that the coat hid. probably the only time any version of Obsidian what would have a bird tattoo. *technically*, its a swallow. as far as I'm concerned though it's a shrike.

'why is he shirtless' you'll never guess. you'll never ever guess why. the obsidian alt being shirtless shall be a mystery for the ages. (joking)

coughs also there was another obsidian alt that i, at one point, genderbent and thought it would be in-character for her to just have an open jacket and a bra. then remembered that her original male counterpart is completely covered up, and that just felt so ungirlboss of me. so. um. just in case. y'know. for. for science reasons. tbh tho i kinda think a genderbent shrike would wear a shirt. no idea why (genuine)

…oh my god wait his entire vibe reminds me of Lear (theater kid au) (not the actual Shakespeare character). god dammit (laughing)

Lark (Jade)

dont ask me what lark's pose is. all four of them were fighting me on poses. he's just concerned okay. for Baroque.

prebby stars. so prebby. the star + galaxy decals they added (ssomewhat) recently are so cool..........

he's a full corrupt, too, like OG Dark

Hoatzin (Quartz) (name source)

hoatzin was slapped together in like 15 minutes because i needed to go to bed but kept saying 'okay let me just do this one part' and then suddenly i had a whole entire Woman.

also she hasn't taken those braids out in months, at best, and if and when she ever does that bit of hair is gonna be sooooooooo wavy

she is also have THE worst time out of everyone on the team. sorry hoatzin.

Starling (Zuli)

Starling has wrist-mounted blades for melee, a spear for when he wants a little bit of distance but is still in melee range, and a gun.

The closest to Hoatzin, but that's not really saying much. considering he just happens to stay furthest away from her biggest problem whenever he can, and she can't feel emotions at all so she doesn't really care about him all that much.

maybe it'll change tho. who knows.

Cassowary/'Cass' (Mercury)

cass needs some help but tbf so does everyone else. he's just. gonna have a harder time getting out of there than the rest of the team. not that he realizes it.

Took me an age and a day to figure out what he and Thrush's backstories were, but I have it now. The brass knuckles helped. also a science sans alt got his hands on those AND a semi-automatic pistol? it's so funny to me. sci with a gun AND brass fucking knuckles to crack bone. And he's a hell of a lot stronger than he looks. At least in his fighting gear; if he's wearing a T-shirt you become notably less surprised by his strength.

just be glad it wasn't the foot-long handheld claw things.

His glasses are technically goggles. He doesn't trust normal glasses not to fall off while he's fighting. i don't really do a lot of hand to hand combat (or any combat at all outside of video games), but i wouldn't trust my glasses either.

FASCINATING scar also. wonder where that came from. totally not the guy manipulating him ahahaha that'd be crazy

not that anyone will be able to tell, but i just did a Save As of Francisco and all i did to adjust the body was add more muscle. this is useless information but you have it anyway

Thrush (Jasper)

he's doing his best. unlike the khakis. that's the adjusted version of the color they called khaki. we don't get nice things with the colors sometimes.

he's fucking strong. he looks strong but do you have any idea how heavy an axe that size is???? he could chuck you across the room. he should use all those muscles to hug and smooch me. Huh who said that

He used to be very friendly, but. you don't really feel like being friendly when your boss is an evil overlord blackmailing you, so you have to go terrorize people when he says to. with his face all over the fucking news now, though, he uh. he doesn't really. want to try to talk to people. because he doesn't want to start trouble. but i mean other than that he's super sweet! (said with an unconvincing smile)

he's good friends with Cass in particular, though he and Starling get along pretty well too. Most of the time. Starling's...surprisingly yappy.

Loon (Zircon)

that is the least awkward pose I could get him. he's got a second shoe i just wanted to shoe robot leg.

Left (viewer's right) leg amputated above the knee. Left eye no longer functional due to injury, and was getting really nasty and infected so they had to take it out entirely. Several minor injuries. Pretty nasty magic blast to right leg. Really, really nasty magic blast right to the chest from two whole directions. TLDR he's goddamn lucky he's alive.

The worst of them (chest + left leg, but mostly chest) cause him pain pretty regularly, and will do so...pretty much the rest of his life. The chest one is really easy to aggravate. He was deemed too disabled by his superiors and is now a retired veteran house husband.

Astrapia (Koroit) (name source)

theoretically, she has a tattoo of a caduceus on her left arm. heroforge doesn't have that tho.

girl gets, understandably, irritated when she tells the others to rest (or take your goddamn meds or just. stretch. so you don't pull your muscles like that again. cass.) and no one listens. she goes "do you think i'm here to hang out???? I was brought here to be the doctor and none of you are even listening to me. sit the fuck down." and they all go ",,,sorry astrapia" and they straighten up. which is good because she was about to prescribe them electroshock therapy (she'd have threatened it, but not actually do it)

also bonus astrapia in a suit because i'm gay and women is suits are one of my favorite things ever

in unrelated news (eh. it's tangential) i, a person with boobs, forgot that when they who have titties want to cross their arms, they either have to put them ON TOP OF or UNDERNEATH said titties. one of which isn't possible in heroforge. i'll let you guess which. anyway this made me realize i've only actually done the arm crossing thing on flat- or mostly flat-chested characters? which feels weird

Eostrix (Paraiba) (name source)

guess who paraiba swapped with

Since she comes from a fantasy-type AU I wanted that to be reflected in both outfits; at least a little bit? And here we are. prisoners do not get shoe rights apparently. at least Eostrix is having a better time than Zuli was. still needs to get the FUCK out

Petrel (Silver)

i need an excuse for how and why still, but those are vials of positivity. and Petrel is, reasonably, quite terrified of Rayonnant finding them. They don't know if he knows about the vials, but they'd like to keep him ignorant if they can.

Still; on the off chance that he does know about them, she's doing her best to stay hidden. Never hurts. Especially when you were friends with someone who was last seen with Rayonnant, and he and your girlfriend mutual friend mysteriously vanished afterwards.

[ness-plays-wizards]

Caesar Route Chapter 12 (6-10)

Last time on the Caesar Route, everybody got very close to finally finding the Star Sapphire, and then Caesar died.

Nevermind, he just turned into a pig, I guess. Wait, who the hell did he kiss? Apparently nobody, according to the narration.

I guess this is supposed to clue us into Caesar becoming only an animal, not a human inside an animal, but I guess the route forgor that Liz’s special ability is literally talking to animals.

Nevermind, it looks like the route did not forgor, although it doesn’t really make sense for her to not understand Caesar just because she’s only at half magic power. From my understanding, she could just... do that. Idk, guess it’s weird for me to expect magic to act like anything less than what is convenient for the plot, y’know?

Slight tangent here, okay, but why the fuck is Lucious in all these CGs? Like, is it the fucking Lucious route? Wait your turn, budders. I swear, all these new routes just include fucking whoever in their CGs. Remember that one where Hiro was straddling Caesar and Liz was in the corner like she was the live slug reaction?

Ah, simpler times.

Anyway Lucious drops some previously unmentioned Baroque lore in that the curse slowly turns Baroques into pigs permanently and their spirit gets trapped in the Labyrinth, so I guess we just found out who all the shadows are. 

Idk man this still just makes you look like a huge asshole since you didn’t help a guy who was going to turn into a literal pig just because he didn’t tell anybody about that stipulation of the curse. 

It honestly seems like the least harmless of Caesar’s lies. Sure, it’ll hurt people emotionally and it was kind of a dick move to keep it from Liz, since he claimed he was in love with her, but considering his whole thing with Zett, it’s hardly the most dangerous lie in the mix.

So that’s the big twist of the route, I guess. Woo.

(we still have three more segments of this chapter to go)

Liz starts crying and realizes she’s in love with Caesar because reasons. She kisses the pig’s snout, but surprise! Nothing happens.

WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE? And what the hell is everyone else doing? Are they just sitting there, watching this, without saying a single thing??

Then Zett of all people fucking shows up, claiming he can do something to help Caesar and Liz just,,,,, believes him. Without even asking questions. I mean I get it’s a dire situation, but geez..

Zett uses the Potion of Plot Convenience to somehow undo everything that just happened to Caesar and return him to human form. Liz is at first relieved to see him back to human form, then is pissed over everything he kept from her, and rightfully so tbh!

Zett gets butthurt over not getting any gratitude or attention, at which point Caesar thanks him and Zeus finally remembers how to open his mouth again (oh well, it was fun while it lasted), and everyone remembers that Zett is supposed to be imprisoned right now, which means he broke out.

Zett casually mentions that he let himself be caught (mmHM) and that it was all part of the plan. Mischa suggests that Caesar stop fucking lying, and he agrees.

Before I end today’s segment, I just want to take a moment to talk about some stuff. I know that I’m harping on Caesar a lot this route for some of his less than stellar choices, and I’ve been getting on Lucious’s case a lot, and Hugo’s bullshit is really ambiguous, and also Shithead (no other words are needed for that one). But I want to briefly talk about the main villain of these past few routes: the Day King. 

Like okay, your daughter falls in love with some dude you don’t really like. Whatevs. It’s a fictional dad rite of passage. It’s gonna happen to all of you. And I’m sure your response to it is totally normal and healthy. Oh wait, no it wasn’t. It was to throw him into a magical labyrinth and curse him to be trapped there for all eternity. And do you pay the price for that? No, of course not, the entire price had to be paid by all the descendants of the noble house that either helped you or you stole their magic, or whatever the arrangement was, because it feels like the wording keeping changing.

Anyway, fuck the Day King, all my homies hate the Day King.

Queued for June 22

[hartshorn-and-isinglass]

Finally, some good fucking news.

I'm so relieved that at least a physical therapist could see me on something less than a geologic time scale. I'm still waiting to even see someone for my primary care and I don't even know if I'll like them...

Anyway, it looks like the majority of my problem is probably a compressed nerve, so I haven't FUBARed anything. Yay! I get to do traction and stretches and shit. I've been cleared to return to practice, with the caveat that I need to double-check my neck posture and shoulder rest height because I have to make sure I do not tilt my neck forwards and compress the nerve.

So, I'm glad it's not anything worse. Although... this means that Yes I Do Absolutely Need A Shoulder Rest. I was kinda still hoping... y'know... that I could try out Baroque violin eventually. I'm not sure that's gonna be a good idea if this degree of neck support is now mandatory. Phooey.

And I don't feel like the mad shifting was doing me any favors here. I'm going to have to stop insisting on my shifty bullshit and work on a piece that doesn't require me to go above fourth all the damn time.

Also, I love that this PT has definitely seen violinists before. Jesus, this instrument is the worst.

[saintcirce]

Details of Portia Wounding Her Thigh by Elisabetta Sirani. Oil on canvas, 1664.

[terrence-silver]

hi! i love your work so much! feel free to ignore this, but recently i’ve been very insecure about the loose skin on my body and the amount of stretch marks i have. could you possibly write something about terry reacting or comforting his beloved after coming home from the dojo early one day and finding beloved talking down upon & grimacing in the mirror at themselves and crying?

----

He fills the mansion with Renaissance paintings.

Botticelli, Titian; old pieces acquired at auction houses.

Each costing a fortune.

Often, Terry didn't choose the method to reach an end goal and he'd visit underground, private, invite-only sales for only the most exclusive of clientele where he could get coveted pieces nobody would sell. Baroque Venuses. Nymphs drunk on love and life. The forgotten works of Henri-Pierre Danloux, from the Regency era. Filling the estate corridors with the artwork, alerting his contacts to keep him in touch with whatever other piece of the same thematic would be available on the market and safe it for him exclusively, or else. He was on a tangent. On a mission. He was, ever since he's found you being blue and scrutinizing yourself in front of dressing mirrors when you thought nobody was looking. When you though the cameras weren't catching you. The staff, not reporting back to him on your dispositions. How you ate. The fact that you didn't. Should he just smash every mirror in the mansion? Smash every reflective surface and make it his enemy? Order it thrown out, until you physically had nothing to loathe yourself in front of? Who should he have revenge on? Someone had to pay. Maybe you had to pay, for doing this to yourself, flinching, as he'd trace the lighting patterns on your thighs. The folded skin and the softness. Shuddering away from him, like your body wasn't his body. His domain. For not listening to him whenever he said you were worthy, like you didn't take him seriously, stuck in your own ways when his way was the only way you needed. He had a thing for luxury, you often forgot; the old world type. Generational. that didn't adhere to trends, endowing the mansion with art that looked like you and fuck, he'd hoped you'd notice.

What Terry liked, graced his walls.

And his bed.

And it looked a little like a buxom odalisque from a velvet dream.

His odalisque, caught again, in front of the mirror, on one occasion, when he surprises you --- a surprise that is everything but a surprise to him, having seen this scene time and time again over the house security footages played back to him, as you scurry away from the mirror's reflection, quickly putting on your robe, sniffling, hiding your face and forcing a smile of greeting towards him, eyes still shimmering. You were crying. This has been going on for months now and Terry Silver had about enough. Didn't you realize you were the type of coveted muse the old masters used to paint? -"Who was it?"- You demands, up front, directly. If he had a foe, he wanted to know their name and their address. Now. -"Who was what?'- You peer up at him, shifting even deeper into your robe but Terry isn't buying it. Was it a teacher, once upon a time? A jealous friend? Someone he could track down? Someone with a business? A family? Someone he could make suffer for his? -"Someone said something to you."- Not a question. A statement. He doesn't relent, holding your gaze, looking for traces of drying tears, as his gaze traced your body up and down, getting angrier with each minute. He could tell. You were about to bullshit him. And you do. -"I don't know what you're..."- You shutter, trying to lie. Something you weren't very good at. Especially compared to him. -"Your body."- Is all Terry says and he immediately spots a shift in demeanor as you turn away from him in spite of his face following you. You weren't going escape this. He's had this conversation with you before, and you didn't escape it then and you wouldn't now.

-"Look, Terry, I appreciate you trying, but I'm just being realistic."-

You stare down at the marble floor and the carpet on it.

Realistic?

Nothing realistic about that.

-"You look like that, and I look like this. Sometimes, it's just hard.- You gesture up at him and yourself as comparison and that point, if he could pluck your eyes out to replace them with his own and make you see what he saw, he would. Tactile gentleness, he tells himself, quelling the need for someone's blood. -"Hey, you're not listening to me; we're not in a competition of muscles, are we?"- He meets you on your height and leans down a little, to your wave length, smiling, only so slightly. LA was full of people like him and yet he found paradise when he spotted the curvature of your shape, your wrinkles and stripes, in sparse glimpses out on a beach at Malibu, during the height of summer, covered by a tanning towel you struggling to wrap around you as quickly as possible, flustered and sun kissed, greeting him out of the shimmering oceanic mirage. Maybe Venus was born right here and right then, in The Valley, 1983. All he did was have the driver park up the Limo so he could catch a better signal for his overseas call to Tokyo and what he saw through the tinted window could've been providence. All you lacked was a clam shell to be born out of, and Terry could arrange for that as well. He never did have that call with Tokyo. He was otherwise preoccupied that day. -"Look around you. You're this whole house. It's all you."- He coos at you finally, referencing all the art, all the oil paintings, all the masterpieces he has been accumulating in your image, commissioning a couple himself, and there it is, a hint of color in those cheeks. Good. -"I've noticed. How much did that all cost, Terry?"- Lashes fluttering, a tiny grin, here you are, if you're not worrying about your body image, you're worrying about economics.

Dear heart.

He had enough to last ten lifetimes.

Filling the foyers, reception rooms, bedrooms and hallways with your likeliness until you viewed yourself through his perception and his perception only. Through the eyes that beheld, as if anyone's eyes were more correct than his.

-"Money ain't shit."- Is all he says as he pulls you close.

[sepdet]

Lemme tell you about my favorite French artist whom I'd never heard of until I took a painting class.

Jean-Baptiste-Siméon Chardin was born in 1699 during the later reign of Louis XIV, he of Versailles fame.

At the time, Hyacinth Regard paints like

and Chardin's contemporary Jean Honoré Fragonard is like

And another contemporary, François Boucher, is like

And Chardin is like

Fck👏this👏French👏Baroque👏Bullshit

and becomes the master of still life.

I appreciate them a lot more after seeing what he was rebelling against.

Also he did genre paintings of kitchen scenes and ordinary people

and he painted himself and his second wife all frumpy

and occasiomally he parodied Very Serious Art by substituting a monkey.

anyway that's my boy Chardin. Shitpainter of the French Royal Académie. He taught me glazing and i love him.