#whipped out his full government name for this one

[lord-of-the-bundle-of-sticks]

thx for the tag ^_^ i chose tragik cuz it spoke to me

if y see this do it slash threat (not really) (do it if u want)

Not me having some kinda type... Who shall I tag? I think I wanna tagggggg... @mybugsmybugsmybugs @mexicangela @lunar-years @biscuitboxpink but no pressure!! I just thought it would be fun!

[sirfrogsworth]

Early voting to beat the lines... the best-laid schemes of mice and men often go awry.

So... yesterday was quite the day.

After being stuck in bed for the past 6 weeks with some mystery slump, I was finally feeling better. So I decided I would try to cram as many errands into my day as possible. That works better for me when I drive out into the world because I end up only having to do one big recovery instead of a bunch of little recoveries.

My to-do list...

Go to the doctor

Vote early

Return oxygen machine to FedEx store for scammy eBay guy

Return Amazon package to the UPS store

Get gasoline for my whip

Go to Discount Tire to get my tires filled for free

Drop a check off for my lawn guy

Mail a secret package to Katrina at the US Post Office

It would have been nice if I could have gone to just one shipping place instead of all three, but the universe has a sense of humor and likes to do shit like that to me on a regular basis.

So, I get my checkup, it goes quick, no long wait, I'm feeling good.

As I get in my car, it starts to rain. It was an ugly day and it actually has not stopped raining to this very moment a day later. Just gray, windy, chilly, and wet. I look up the voting place and start the GPS.

Wipers and music on full blast, it's time to get my vote on.

When I reach my destination, I realize early voting is at some kind of private golf club. And at the center is a recreation center—which is a public building.

So it's like this private/public turducken situation.

I was expecting this errand to take 20 minutes. Because early voting always seemed like a way to get in before the crowds of election day for a more convenient voting experience.

But the parking lot was packed and I feared my expectations were about to be subverted.

As I walk through the parking lot I see a bunch of signs in the ground.

And a particular one caught my eye.

This is bullshit.

Like, just a straight up lie. No truth to it whatsoever.

Amendment 3 in Missouri basically restores abortion rights in the state. And Republicans have taken issue with the following language...

"The Government shall not deny or infringe upon a person's fundamental right to reproductive freedom, which is the right to make and carry out decisions about all matters relating to reproductive health care, including but not limited to prenatal care, childbirth, postpartum care, birth control, abortion care, miscarriage care, and respectful birthing conditions."

They claim the phrasing "but not limited to" means you can give an 8-year-old kid "sex change surgery."

This is how their online flyer puts it...

It could also include a free puppy.

Or a zillion bucks.

Or a clown will come to your house after the abortion and honk your nose.

It's ridiculous and desperate. I honestly don't know how it is legal for them to put a lie like that outside of a polling location, but here we are.

The organization "Missouri Stands with Women" is run by... a man.

It was set up by a lawyer named "Edward Greim" on behalf of the Federalist Society.

His law firm has a lovely biography about him. And a bunch of publicly available contact information. I say that for no reason whatsoever.

The Federalist Society funds all kinds of shit like this. Their main thing is installing conservative judges all over the country who will reinterpret or negate legislation. And they do it all to "stand with women" by taking away their reproductive rights.

Here is the board of directors of the Federalist Society.

Ya know, before I looked this up, I said to myself, "I bet it's going to be a sausage fest." I am psychic.

I think it would be more accurate to say they stand with A woman.

Just one.

And she sucks.

Nicole is a law professor at Notre Dame. She chose her Catholicism over her right to choose. The Catholic Church will fuck your rights and your children and Nicole will help them do it.

Anyway... back to my quick and easy voting experience...

So as I'm walking in to vote I keep passing a ton of these awful signs. I notice an older woman standing next to the aforementioned "child sex change" sign and she says, "Can I talk to you about Amendment 3?"

At this point, I'm pretty angry. I look her dead in the eyes and say with my most assholish tone, "NO." as I walk past her.

And then she finishes her sentence...

"...to protect the reproductive rights of women."

Ah, dammit.

I thought she was an old Karen but she was cool as heck. Standing out in the rain telling people the sign is bullshit. I wanted to turn around and apologize but I was stuck in full social anxiety mode so I just kept walking.

If that old lady happens to have a Tumblr and follows me and is willing to read this giant story... I just want to say I am sorry. I thought you were awful and I should have let you finish your sentence. You're super cool and I'm happy there are folks like you fighting for what is right.

I get inside and a young woman greets me. She tells me the line is in the next room and points. I still wasn't quite sure what the situation was. The parking lot being full gave me pause, but I was still hopeful I could have a swift early voting experience.

But I walk through the doors and into a huge gymnasium and my heart sinks.

It's hard to represent in pictures how long this line is.

It goes all the way to the end of the gym, loops around, and comes back. At first I was not too discouraged, because there was a nice gentle ramp at the start of the line.

But then I notice several sets of stairs at different stages of the line. And I'm just thinking how hard it would be to stand in this line and then also having to go up and down several sets of stairs.

So I go back to the young woman working there and ask what their accessible voting options are. And she told me I could do curbside voting and points outside. I then notice a line of cars wrapped around the parking lot. I don't know how I didn't see them walking in, but I guess I was too busy being a jerk to elderly progressive women.

My biggest concern was time.

The longer this takes, the more energy I use up, the longer my eventual recovery will be.

They tell me the car option is the slowest. And I could be in line for 2 to 3 hours. And then an old man who seemed to be in charge walks over and tells me the fastest option is to stand in line.

So I walk back out to my car and grab my cane and decide to try the long serpentine gynasium line.

I start walking up the ramp and some of the other folks see how slow and labored I'm walking and they start encouraging me. "You can do it! You got this!" Which I suppose was meant to be a positive helpful thing. But I found it to be embarrassing.

I get to the end of the line and notice most of the line has bleachers directly next to it. So I decide to sit down and rest and figure out how I am going to survive this experience.

It took me a while to recover from the long walk to this spot. I watched a bunch of people pass me by and the line was actually getting much longer as I rested. I was not really sure what to do. I was trying to problem-solve this situation but the answer that kept popping up in my mind was just... "go home."

But I felt this was too important and that wasn't really an option.

My best idea was to ask someone if they would hold my spot in line. Perhaps I could just sit in the bleachers and follow them around in the line, staying as close to them as I could. But my social anxiety was set to maximum and I was not finding the courage to ask someone.

After about 10 minutes of sitting, resting, and thinking, I basically say, "Fuck it, I'll try to stand in line."

I get up and start walking to the end of the line.

Then I hear a voice yell out to me.

"Hey, man! Come over here! This is your spot!"

A young man was waving at me. He was accompanied by his wife. Both of them were dressed in black and they had a sort of goth skater aesthetic going on. He had a competitively bushy beard, but with less gray. And she had very vivid purple hair.

I was a little confused and still processing what was happening. Then they both started waving at me to join them in line. They remembered I got there just before and told me I should be in front of them. I walk over and thank them. Then he suggests...

"Hey, why don't you just sit in the bleachers and follow us around the line."

He suggested my idea!

Without me asking!

I felt like he read my mind or something.

Can bearded people read each others' minds? Was this some beard skill I was unaware of?

"I got you, man. You just sit and we'll keep your place."

And his violet hair'd significant other agreed. "Yeah, we got you."

The kindness of strangers was more accessible than my polling place and I was just so thankful in that moment.

So I sat in the bleachers and watched them traverse the line. In the middle of the gym there were some teenagers playing basketball. And so I just rested and watched them play.

That young man in the red pants was like a goddamn Harlem Globetrotter. He was just embarrassing the others. He was bouncing the ball behind his back and through his legs and then he just danced around his opponents like a figure skater. It was such an unbalanced matchup. He might as well have been playing 4th graders. Not only was he significantly faster and more maneuverable, but he was consistently hitting 3-pointers.

And then during a break, he ran towards the hoop, jumped from the free throw line, flew all the way to the net, grabbed onto the rim, and proceeded to do several pull ups as if they were the easiest thing in the world. I don't think I've seen anyone jump that far and that high in real life and it was just a bonkers display of athleticism.

I spent the entire wait watching him humiliate the others—hoping he would get a full ride scholarship to some prestigious university.

And I hoped the other boys paid attention in school and got straight As, because basketball was not going to work out for them.

As my new goth skater friends progressed through the line, I would make sure to keep sight of them. Every once in a while I'd give them a head nod to acknowledge we were in this together. After an hour and a half they were at the final segment of the line, so I sat next to the wheelchair folks.

I probably could have argued to sit with them in the first place. But I really did not feel like making the case that I was just as disabled as them and needed that level of consideration. The old man running things seemed quite stressed and was putting out 8 fires at once. And my anxiety wasn't really cooperating enough to be assertive in my needs.

But it worked out in the end, so I'm not going to dwell on the lack of accommodation for people who weren't *visually* disabled.

My new bearded friend neared the end and waved me over. I thanked him and his wife profusely.

I joked, "Thank you for adopting a voter."

They seemed confused by my joke.

"No problem, man. Happy to help."

I told him and his wife they truly saved me. "I honestly don't think I would have made it through the line." And then I looked back...

I said, "As crazy as this is, I do find this kind of turnout encouraging." His wife agreed and said, "We were saying the same thing!" And then I thought, "Can the wives of bearded people absorb the mind reading ability? I hope she can't read my mind right now. Although, I'm mostly thinking that her hair is a really cool shade of purple, so she'd probably find that complimentary."

As I waited to get my ballot I could hear the happy couple behind me. They were very cute. They were making fun of each other in a very lovey-dovey fashion. I had high hopes they were going to grow old and gray and purple together based on their chemistry. And I was just so thankful they were able to recognize that I needed help without me asking. Because I probably would have just caved to my anxiety and not asked for help otherwise.

I got my ballot and sat down to fill in all of the appropriate squares. Thankfully I had prepared a cheat sheet on my phone.

It was an exact replica so I was able to copy it and finish quite rapidly.

Then I fed my votes into the vote-eating monster and they gave me a sticker.

My quick 20 minute adventure to vote early only took 2.5 hours!

And because I didn't want to buck tradition, I stood outside in the wind and the rain and took a voting selfie.

Yep, that seems about right.

Ah, crap... that was only the second thing on my to-do list.

Let's speedrun the rest of this story, shall we?

I drove to FedEx. I hauled a 40 pound box inside. I plopped it on the counter and said, "Man, this thing is heavy!" as I tried to catch my breath. The 20 year old working there then lifted it like it was a feather and I felt great about that.

I drove to the gas station because I was nearly on empty—that is both a metaphor and not a metaphor. I filled my ride with go juice.

I noticed I was a mile from the tire store and they fill up tires for free. So I did that and the guy was super nice and complimented my tires. I felt both weird and proud about having my tires complimented. Like, I had nothing to do with my tires being nice. But I accepted the praise on their behalf.

I drove to the UPS store. The last time I was there I made a scene. They refused to box up a return and I got upset and wasn't feeling well and they had to find a chair for me to sit in because I was going to faint. So I was hoping the same woman wasn't there, but she was. She didn't recognize me, so it was fine.

I drove to my lawn guy's house. He wasn't home. I dropped a check in his mailbox. My checks have corgis on them. My checks are cute.

I drove to the post office. I sent a secret package to my bestie, Katrina. I'd tell you what is in it, but it is an inside joke and you wouldn't get it. The woman noticed my voting sticker and I couldn't help thinking about what I just accomplished to get that sticker.

On my way out I noticed a miracle.

2 of the 4 doors were fixed!

I mean, I don't know why they couldn't fix all 4, but now the employees won't freeze in the winter. So I take that as a win. It only took a year and a half to accomplish and I'm sure all of my phone calls and emails did not help at all. But I'm going to pretend I saved the day regardless.

And then... I drove home.

5 hours of errands.

I was so fucking tired. My back was on fire with pain. I immediately collapsed into my bed. I passed out. And I slept for 14 hours.

The End

[ultralightpoe]

Can you do something with eddie and someone from scream? That don't really make sense but like the reader is a survivor of ghostface and kind celebrity for it. Like Sydney through the movies? There would be a time change but like that? That would be so amazing. I would give my left nut for that tbh. I don't have a left nut. But i gove one if I could.

Final Girl - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: This was from march, and I am cleaning out my drafts for y'all

Warnings: Slasher, wounds, eddie being a confused lil bug.

Word Count: 3813

Description: Eddie meets a final girl, and apparently trauma bonds

Enjoy!

College life sucked. 

This wasn’t an actual shock to Eddie Munson, since he had never been great at school in the first place. Come on, he had been a super senior. Eddie Munson, who normally spent his life in fantasy could at least be realistic about ONE thing, he was not really meant for school. 

But…. not many people got a second chance at life and not many people were given a full ride scholarship from the government. 

Jason Carver, the ‘King of Hawkins High’, had taken the fall for Chrissy Cunningham. Eddie was released of any and all convictions, and the government had ‘thanked’ him. But he didn’t stop there, Eddie demanded something in return since he nearly died from the bats. So, Eddie Munson the super senior graduated with the help of his friends and Eddie Munson got a full ride scholarship from the government. 

Wayne was able to open up his own contracting business and Eddie was able to move to his new college knowing that he would not die in Hawkins. 

But that meant actually attending classes in college, something that Eddie found himself despising. More grumpy than not in the mornings he found himself ignoring the life around him, grumbling to himself as he trudged through the autumn leaves, his converse beginning to soak through from the rain that drenched the earth. 

There was one good thing about mornings though, and that was who he sat by in his intro to Shakespeare class….You. 

You were everything. Or at least Eddie thought so. 

You always had a book with you in class, mostly fantasy which drew him in. You always looked angelic, even on days where you definitely just woke up, and most importantly you never talked to him like he was stupid which most people at this school had done. But most importantly he liked that you seemed to be fine on your own, whereas most of the class was desperate for friends. You were just fine sitting in the back like you didn’t care.

But that led to his next problem, he desperately wanted to get to know you. 

He had tried to make conversation in the past, but the words never came out right and class was always packed with work so he never really got the chance to break the ice with you, but everyday he told himself that ‘Today is the day I’m going to talk to her’.

So he talked himself up on the way to class, fixing his rings as he tried not to focus on how cold his feet were before he was sitting beside you, the chain on his pants scraping in the chair as everyone bustled to their seats around him. 

He waits patiently for you to join the class, taking a moment to survey the room of all your other shared classmates. 

The front row held a cheerleader that reminded him of Chrissy, the sweet angelic smile and the same ponytail, the only problem was he had heard this version say a few icy things to her classmates and Eddie liked to think that Chrissy would have never. 

There was a kid named Paul that sat just a row below him, three seats to the right. Whereas Eddie was more of a leather jacket rock and roll type Paul was all about the punk, mohawk dyed neon colors and piercings decking out his face. He always gave Eddie a rock on sign whenever they made eye contact and Eddie liked the minor alliance. 

Before he could recognize anyone else you were pulling into your seat, rubbing your arm as if you were in pain as Eddie whips to smile at you. He gets nervous when you raise an eyebrow before giving him a tight lipped smile like he was crazy, then he realizes that his smile was a little too wide and he was the one sending crazy vibes so he simply clears his throat and taps his pencil on the tiny desk. 

The seats on this campus were all made of cheap plastic that had bus cushions on the butt of the seat, and little desks that you could flip to the right to escape. He liked to think of it like he was buckling himself into a rollercoaster each time. 

“Did you do the homework?” He blurts, trying to act cool as you stare at him. 

“We had homework?” You ask, eyes snapping to the daily checklist before turning back to him. “Are you sure?”

“No, that’s why I was asking you.” He blushes, pushing some hair back behind his ear. “Because I didn’t remember if we had an assignment or not.”

“Well normally you can see when we do because our professor writes it down.” You whisper, using your pencil to point at the board the assignments usually are. You were leaning in like you were telling him a secret and Eddie couldn’t help but bask in your scent for a moment. 

“Right….. I knew that.” He blushes, leaning in himself. “But if we are being totally honest here I might need some help with-”

“Alright settle down students! Let’s begin!” The professor calls and Eddie tries not to kick himself as he draws back to pay attention. So so close. 

- 

College life sucked. 

You had talked yourself into going to college after the horrific events you survived, seeing it as a chance to make yourself a new person. Leave the bloody history behind and live your life. 

It wasn’t everyday people got a second chance at life after all. 

It had taken you months to convince your parents to let you go, and it had been a rough time to say goodbye to your close knit group of friends or as your hometown liked to call them ‘The survivors’. Tear stained goodbyes and tons of promises to stay in touch before you left and at the time you had thought it was for the best, but now that you were here you realized what a mistake you had made. 

You had always thought that being away from the place where it happened might help you heal, but it only seemed to make it worse. 

The winter cold made your wounds ache, which made it hard to move. You couldn’t seem to make a friend to save your life and whenever you get close you can never get over the fact that they might stab you just as he had. The nightmares grew worse since you didn’t know this place well and you didn’t really have a security set up which meant your roommate hated you and often whispered about you with other girls living in your dorm hall. 

But the worst part was you saw them everywhere. 

You saw Maya sitting with the cheerleaders at lunch, giggling and being the life of the party, no longer dead. You saw Dylan drumming on a desk rather than paying attention, and when he turned back to smile at you he didn’t have his throat slit. 

You saw all your friends, or what could have been your friends, making themselves known in the world and each time you just felt like a huge imposter. You were wasting your life, it should have been you. 

But the worst was when you saw them. Standing outside your window in the masks, watching from the doorway of your classes or trailing behind you at night. 

You saw them everywhere, you saw flashes of that final fight every time you close your eyes. An ironic feat considering the news articles always read how lucky you were to ‘escape with your life’. 

But there was no escaping them. You were trapped in an endless cycle of fear. You could trust no one and hurt no one. 

That’s what made the chocolate eyed boy next to you so confusing. He had been seated next to you since the beginning of the year and you often caught him staring as if he was trying to think of things to say, and whereas you tensed around most people you never did with him. 

Maybe that’s because you could feel the nervousness coming off him every time. 

You were actually shocked that he spoke to you this morning, and you were even more shocked to find that his voice was a raw sort of calm that drew you in, which made you ashamed to admit you were a little upset that your professor interrupted because you were desperate to hear him talk forever. 

But that spell broke as you watched the board up front, taking the next 40 minutes to regain your composure and think of all the things that could go wrong. He could know who you are and be an obsessed freak, wouldn’t be the first time. He could be a copycat, he could stab you. He could be worse and actually succeed this time. 

What are the chances? You tried to remind yourself, taking a deep breath in only to stop when you see Stu standing in the doorway with his shirt covered in blood, smiling from ear to ear. You cough loudly, choking on your own hair as tears spring from your eyes, drawing attention from everyone in the class as the boy next to you reaches to hand you his water bottle. 

You take it, chugging quickly as the soft bell goes off, setting the bottle back down with a quick thanks and bolting from your seat. You hear him yell out a ‘wait’ before he rushes to stand, hitting the desk harshly since he hadn’t put it up and cursing at the pain. 

You use this as a chance to escape, dashing out the doors and barely turning back to see if Stu would follow. 

He’s not real. 

But he could be, and he could come back and he could-

“Wait wait wait, Jesus you are fast.” The stranger calls, panting as he catches up, a ringed hand flying to his right side as if he were in pain while staring at you. “You okay? Had a bit of a coughing attack in there.”

“Yeah, I just choked on air.” You half lied, not making eye contact. “Thanks for the bottle by the way…”

“Eddie. Well Edward but everyone calls me Eddie. Munson. Eddie Munson.” He blushes, holding out the hand that wasn’t holding his side. 

“I’m-”

“Y/n. I know.” He smiles and you draw your hand back quickly, panic clawing at you as the fall wind hits your spine. Of course he knows, everyone knows. They are laughing at you. 

“You know?”

“Yeah. You introduced yourself on the first day of class? You told everyone your favorite book was Frankenstein?” He chuckles, pink singing at his ears and cheeks as you nod. Jesus you paranoid freak, he’s just trying to be nice. 

“Right. Yeah.” You smile, fixing your bag and moving to walk away before he walks with you slowly. 

“I was actually going to ask for your help.”

“With?”

“Homework. Or well, just classwork in general. You see I am more of a fantasy kinda guy. Elves and goblins and dwarves but this whole classic literature is kicking my ass. And you seem to devour it like no other so I was hoping maybe you could help out.”

“Like do your homework?”

“No!” He laughs, moving to scratch the back of his neck. You notice then that his hand is still on his side, and when he catches you looking he snaps it back down and fixes the leather jacket to cover himself even with the shirt. “Maybe just tutoring sessions? I’ll get dinner or something.” 

“Oh…” You think back to all the things you could say to get out of it, maybe that you just didn’t want to but then you see Maya walking by with a laugh and remember why you were here in the first place. 

A second chance at life, right?

“I… okay.” You agree, something in your stomach easing at his smile. 

- 

You both agree to meet up Sunday night at a pizza place right off campus, which gives Saturday free of any and all obligation. With no classes and waiting to do homework tomorrow you find yourself with a free day, so you use it to call home. 

Not your parents since you just know they will pick up on the slightest hint of sadness in your tone and demand you come home. Instead you call Randy, one of the other survivors from that night, and eagerly listen to all his news in bed. 

He catches you up on everything back home, from the gym being redecorated to the radio station he works at, but it was only a matter of time before you both had to talk about it.

“They knocked the house down, there were too many break-ins lately.” He explains and you hear a slight shuffle on the other side, knowing him that meant he was pacing. “Nothing gets people hornier than death.”

“Figures.” You try to laugh, your throat tight as tears spring to your eyes. 

“Actually Y/n, I am glad I got ahold of you. I wanted you to hear it from one of us rather than the world…” He starts and you take a deep breath as you try to control your panic. 

“What’s up?”

“Kelvin…. He uhm, he sold the story.” Your heart lurches in your chest at the words, the tears falling freely now.

“He what?”

“A movie company reached out, bought the rights to the story-”

“But we all agreed we wouldn’t!” You snap.

“He said they offered him a lot-”

“I won’t sign off, they can’t use-”

“They won’t use your name. Trust me I’ve already tried on my end.” Randy sighs. “It’s being released soon, called ‘Slashed’ and-”

The second he says the name you recognize it. You had seen a poster for it on a walk through campus but hadn’t actually stopped to look at it. Oh my god. 

“Randy, I have to go.” You rush out, a sob slipping past your lips as you hang up the phone right as your roommate comes back, glaring and rolling her eyes at the scene before her. You don’t hear what she mumbles under her breath, too lost in your own world.

- 

“Yes Dustin, I heard you.” Eddie sighs, searching his mess of a dorm room for his leather jacket as Dustin lectures him over the phone. 

“My flight lands in two weeks at 3, do you hear me Munson? You better have the couch clean enough for me to sleep on-”

“Dustin, dude, you need to have more trust. The room is all set up for your arrival.” Lie. “And I have so many fun things planned for you when you get out here.” Double lie. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” No. “And we’ll go see that movie you have been prattling on about-”

“Slashed is going to be so epic. Think Halloween but better Eddie-”

“Nothing is better than Halloweeen.” Eddie snaps, eyes finally landing on the leather jacket where he actually hung it up and snagging it, throwing it on and giving himself one last look in the mirror before he rushes a goodbye to his friend.”I’m running late and have togobye!” 

Before he knows it he is on his way to meet you, books in hand as he walks across the street and towards the pizza place that sits right off campus. When he gets there he finds you already seated in a booth, your own books already open in front of you and he tries his best to remain cool when he walks up. 

“Hey, how was your day off yesterday?” He asks, sliding into the seat across from you with an easy smile. 

“Busy.” You smile, and he tries not to notice the way it doesn’t meet your eyes. “You?”

“Promised myself I would clean my room…..didn’t.” He jokes, and that finally cracks an actual smile out of you which makes his heart skip a beat. “Now I am ready to read shakespine and shove my face with pizza.” 

“Speare.”

“Huh? Is that a type of pizza?”

“No. You said shakespine, it’s shakespeare.” You laugh and his eyes widen. 

“I think I know why I failed the last assignment then.” How is he supposed to fight off that feeling of pride when you let out a loud laugh?

- 

You had only expected to spend an hour with Eddie, but ended up spending four and closing the place down, to which he kindly offered to walk you back to your dorm.  You said yes, partly because it was way too dark outside and partly because you wanted to spend just a little longer with him. More than you wanted to admit. 

So you walked side by side, listening to him tell you about the funniest thing that had ever happened to his band ‘Corroded Coffin’ in detail before the conversation came to an easy lull. “Do you miss them?”

He looks over at you with a curious expression, waiting for you to explain. “Since you are here now, do you miss all your friends and family?”

“Well family wise it’s just my uncle Wayne and I, and I miss him greatly. I went from spending every day seeing him and never realized just how much I relied on him. He raised me and now I’m living in a world where I can’t dash to him with every bloody nose or black eye. And I just miss him a lot. My friends? I find that I miss some more than others. I miss my band, I grew up with them and they have known me since middle school, playing guitar doesn’t feel the same without them. But the Vecna crew? Jesus, I miss them all the time. Just thinking about them makes me feel like I’m lonely and ready to go back home.”

You knew that feeling all too well. 

You spot the entrance to your building, taking the lead in walking up the steps until you get to the door, turning to smile at him softly. He is looking at you with the softest look you had ever seen, and you begin to get butterflies in your stomach. 

“How about you?”

“My family and friends are….. Complicated.” You blush, the sound of Maya’s scream tearing through your mind. 

“How so?”

“I wanted to escape them, but they are the only ones that know me.” You whisper and he nods in understanding, something flashing in the brown of his eyes. Like a scarred memory. He knows he knows he knows. 

“I…. well I can’t say I know you as well as them, but I can say even knowing a quarter of you is a gift. And I would love to get to know more.” He says lowly, leaning in slightly and you find yourself leaning up yourself before the groan of the metal door behind you sounds out. 

“Look who's back.” Someone snickers and you take a quick step back from Eddie who shoots you a curious look, only for you to wish him goodnight and rush inside the building as the two girls leave. 

Your cheeks are pumping from your heartbeat, all the blood rushing to your face as you make a quick dash to your room. 

This cannot happen. You can’t be so stupid again. 

- 

The next morning Eddie doesn't grumble to himself, and he doesn’t complain about having to wake up so early. Today he walks with a pep in his step as he makes his way to class, eager to see you. 

As per usual he arrives first, sending a rock signal to Paul as he takes his seat, flipping the desk down and pulling out his writing tablet as his side begins stinging in pain. Taking a hand and rubbing at his side slowly to help ease the soreness of the scars when he feels you come near, eyes already planted on him rubbing his side in pain. 

“Morning.” He greets, bringing his hand back down and giving you a smile. 

“Good morning.” You smile back, taking a seat, your eyes casting to the door for a moment before your face blanches out quickly and you turn to him. “I had a lot of fun last night.”

“Me too, we should do it again sometime. Not to mention it will really help my grades.” He teases, smiling at you like a conspirator. 

“We could always study for the test tonight?” You offer and Eddie feels like his body is on fire. 

“I would love that.”

- 

Dinners and study dates become a nightly thing with Eddie, and you find that you love them. You also find that each night he walks you home you are absolutely desperate for him to kiss you, and you keep getting closer and closer. 

Like tonight, your shoulders had been bumping each other the entire time, laughing gently as you recalled the jokes you made at dinner, your pinky grazing his own as he stared at you before you made it to your building. 

“Once again this is goodnight.” You blush, reaching a hand out to fix his leather jacket. “Same thing tomorrow?”

“Sadly not, I have plans with my friend Dustin.” 

“Right, you guys were going to go watch a movie together on his first night back.” You smile, before your mind is brought back to the posters of the screaming face all over town. “Do you know what movie you’re seeing?”

“Sealand or something?” Eddie shrugs, eyes hooded a bit as he steps closer. “You okay?”

“Me? Of course.” You smile, pressing your nose against his as you lean up to trace your lips against his own. He hesitates for a moment before leaning and taking your lips on his own, his hands flying to your hips softly as he kisses you deeply. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you make the mistake of opening your eyes, only to find Billy standing behind Eddie’s shoulder with a smile. 

Drawing back with a sharp gasp that has Eddie staring wide eyed. “You okay?”

“Yes!” You rush out, kissing his cheek before moving to rush inside. 

“What?” Billy laughs from behind you, following you into the building. “You didn’t forget about me did you? You didn’t wanna tell your boyfriend about me?”

“Go away.” You whisper. 

“Didn’t want to admit how you killed me?”He laughs bitterly as you slam your bedroom door. Hesnotrealhesnotreal. He. Is. Not. Real.

- 

Dustin is a big ball of excitement as Eddie leads him through the movie theater, watching people come out with shocked and excited faces. 

“This movie has to be good.” Dustin rushes out. “Did you know it’s inspired by a true story?” 

“What are we watching again?”

“Slashed.” Dustin smiles. “And it’s going to be so awesome.”

(Part 2 soon)

[goingsunnythousandmerry]

Sabo x Marine!Reader. Ya know like enemies to lovers

Sabo x Marine Reader

Authors Note: Hey as requested, here is my attempt at Marine Reader x Sabo, enemies to lovers. I blame Yamato for my marine character being the daughter of Akainu Sakazuki, because fuck that guy, and I bet his kids would hate him. Marine Reader also  kind of seems like a female version of Koby. Anyways, attempt at enemies to lovers as requested. Let me know your thoughts below, next time I may do Sabo x Subordinate, because I love an authority figure. Not sure I got Sabo’s voice quite right, I haven’t watched episodes with him in them in awhile. Hope you like it. Let me know your thoughts or requests below. Thanks Friends!

Def some fluff and for sure some NSFW. Daddy issues for days with this marine reader.

Warnings: MDNI, Daddy issues, penetration, vaginal sex, breeding kink, fingering, strip search, glove kink, finger sucking, I do not own these character, messy aftercare, I hate Sakazuki

You were a vice admiral in the marines, promoted for your valor at Marineford. A decision not suggested by your father, the new fleet admiral, Akainu Sakazuki. He’d taught you from a young age to believe in justice, however you never embraced his views of absolute justice. You failed to see life as only black and white, as he did. Rather, you saw a world full of color. With this view you knew there were reasons behind criminal actions. Your desire to help others was why you joined the marines like your father. Continuing your beliefs under your father’s regime had been hard, especially, when you came face to face with a criminal you had met before. A criminal who, by your father, was wanted desperately to be made an example to the world, for his crimes.

You stood in a hallway on an upper floor overlooking the socializing plaza at this year's Reverie. You were assigned to guard the hall, a floor above the meeting rooms for the Reverie, you didn’t expect much trouble. You listened vigilantly and walked the hall of your post, occasionally looking out below at the socializing royalty in the courtyard below. You’d been on duty a few hours and so far, nothing roused suspicion. Looking at the people below, you took particular notice of those from Fishman Island, Arabasta Kingdom, Cherry Blossom Kingdom, and Dressrosa. These characters were all from areas Strawhat Luffy had been to. You found it fascinating how they had found and flocked to one another.

To you, Strawhat Luffy was an interesting character, a pirate in what seemed like name only, he helped people. Yet, he declared war upon the world government, the agency you worked for. He also had done a great job of making your world government look bad for its involvement with pirates and in pirate affairs. You knew changes could be made and hoped that in your slow rise to power, you could help change them. However, you knew with your father in charge everyone was in danger. Trying to have open discussions on justice as a child with your father led to more training hours and more meals you were left unfed.

As you stood and stared out the window, you reflected on those discussions. Your train of thought was broken by the sound of a small chuckle from behind one of the columns down the hall from where you stood. You gasped and turned your head in the direction of the noise, your hair whipping behind you as shifted. You looked on as a man with a top hat and burn mark to his left eye stepped out from behind a column. Your breath caught in your chest as you studied him.

“Sa-Sabo, Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army.” You stuttered out through gritted teeth.

You unsheathed a (weapon of your choice) and ran at him. He laughed harder as you came hurtling towards him. As you were about to strike, he stopped you by grabbing your wrists. Hands still in the air mid-strike, you fought through gritted teeth to hit him with your weapon. The two of you panted and stared directly into one another's eyes.

“That’s no way to treat an old friend. It’s good to see you again, Y/N.” Sabo said to you with a smile in his calm voice.

“Friend? Sabo, you are part of the Revolutionary Army working against the World Government. I’m a Marine, thus you fight against everything I believe in! You’re no friend of mine.” You replied as you lifted a leg to kick him.

Sabo took the hit, but didn’t budge from his position. He chucked again and easily overpowered you for your weapon, tossing it down the hall behind you. As he took your weapon, you lost your footing and stumbled backwards.. Sabo caught you by the waist, ensuring you didn’t fall.

“Well the last time we met, you let me go.” He replied as he looked deeper into your eyes, now holding tightly to your waist.

You shoved him off you and took a step away from him. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to calm your angered breathing. Your eyes fluttered to the ground then back to the man before you, who was now thumbing at his top hat.

“Shut up. I thought I told you to forget about that and never speak of it…” You said with a pause.”I’d seen enough bloodshed at Marineford. I wasn’t ready for another execution… another war.”

“As you wish, vice admiral. That look suits you by the way.” He replied as he examined your outfit up and down. 

You were wearing the signature white Marine coat over your shoulders, a low cut top, and short skirt. You felt your outfit displayed your femininity while proving you were still ready to throw hands at any time. Sabo looked down to adjust his gloves, then returned his gaze to meet yours.

“Although, I don’t hate the World Government. I hate Celestial Dragons and what they do to the world.I hate that the World Government protects them.” 

Sabo stopped speaking and stared at you with more intensity. You took another step back as your mind raced through strategies to get your weapon back. Without it, you knew your actions were fruitless. You were willing to fight in hand to hand combat, but you had seen first hand the strength of Sabo’s dragon claw when you last met. You weren’t willing to take your chances with that, you had too much good to do in the world still. You breathed through gritted teeth as Sabo shook his head at you.

“I don’t think our views are all that different if we broke it down.” Sabo said.

“What are you doing here Sabo? Come to ruin the Reverie? I thought the Reverie would only help your cause, it’s a meeting for countries to discuss their issues and broker peace.” You argued as you aggressively took a step towards him.

In the gray walled hallway intermixed with square windows, you stood alone with Sabo. You looked at the wall behind Sabo and studied a tile, remembering that the hallways that connected to where you were stationed were empty of fellow Marines. This portion of the floor was guarded by you and you alone. You could try to scream, but that would make you look weak. You wrinkled your nose at the man in front of you and thought harder of ways to get back up to assist you. With your weapon, you could deal some damage, but you knew how strong Sabo was. You’d need an admiral to face him, especially now that he had the flame-flame fruit. Who knew if he was alone or if he had backup nearby. It of course, had to be one day you had grabbed your regular handcuffs instead of your sea prism ones. 

Suddenly, you remembered the transponder snail in the pocket of your coat. If you could just manage to call someone and let them hear you in casual conversation with Sabo, surely, they would send an admiral to help you. You didn’t know what your father would do to Sabo, but coming to Mary Geoise during the Reverie meant he and the rest of the Revolutionary Army were up to no good and needed to be stopped. Peace was at risk. 

“Well I’m here on business that won't affect the Reverie, I assure you, but it needs to be done. I saw you standing here all alone and wanted to say Hi, and thank you for last time.” He spoke with a smile as he tipped his hat to you. “So thank you, Y/N. I’ll be taking my leave now. I hope we meet again.” Sabo added as he began to turn and walk away from you.

You quickly shoved your hand in your pocket and grabbed for the transponder snail. Your thumbs began to dial before it was out of your pocket, knowing the precise number to call. In an instant, a hand was grasping your forearm and blonde hair fell into your face.

“AGH!” You yelled as you were slammed into one of the hallway walls. 

Sabo’s hands were pinning your wrists above your head. You squirmed, trying to break free from his grasp, but to no avail. The transponder snail fell from your hand with a thud. Sabo shifted his arms, holding your wrists above your head in one of his hands and searching your coat pockets with the other. Your legs separated father apart as you squirmed against his hold, and he Sabo stood between them. 

“Now, why would you go and do something like that? All I was doing was thanking you. I’ve searched your coat pockets, but be honest with me… do you have any other weapons or ways of making calls hidden under your clothes? You know besides those weapons of mass destruction.” He said as his eyes trailed down to admire your breasts through your low cut top.

“No.” You replied through gritted teeth, still trying to wiggle your way out of his grasp.

“I never thought the man who killed my brother would have such an attractive daughter.” He replied with a small chuckle.

“Brother!?” You asked with a gasp, pausing momentarily from fighting his gloved hands that confined your wrists above your head.

Sabo looked down at the ground between the two of you. Then returned his gaze to you. His grip loosened slightly. He took a deep breath as his eyes turned to meet yours.

“Ace.” 

You gasped.

“Then are you also….” You began with widened eyes as your jaw fell closer to the floor.

“Brothers with Strawhat Luffy? Yes.” He replied with a nod.

You sank down the wall and as your breath caught in your chest from the news you had just received. Sabo put his other hand around your waist to keep you from sliding to the ground. He smiled at you then looked down the hallway to where earlier, you had been gazing at the socializing plaza.

“I saw you. That group of people you were watching out there, they were all brought together by my brother. That’s what he does. He may be a pirate, but he helps people and brings them together to make the world better. He’s going to be King of the Pirates and the World Government isn’t going to be able to stop him… or I’ll be the first to stand in their way and I won’t be the only one, but I won’t let anyone take his dreams from him.” He responded, returning his gaze to meet yours. 

His gloved fingers tightened on your waist. A small breath escaped your lips as you stared at Sabo. There was so much love in his eyes. Love and determination, like what you had seen from Ace and Luffy that day at Marineford. Before your father had… Your eyes started to water as you looked at Sabo’s kind features. He let go of your wrists, allowing your hands to fall to your side. You reached for Sabo’s shirt, gripping it tightly between your fingers. A gasp escaped his lips as he looked on at your eyes filling with tears. You shook your head as tears started rolling down your cheeks.

“Sabo, I didn’t agree with it. I didn’t want Ace to be executed. I still can't believe it… He was such a nice guy. Hell, he convinced me to keep being a marine when I was over my fathers justice tirades. He thought I should go after my dreams if it was what my heart longed to do.” You yelled, looking at eyes glistening wet with tears.

“What?” Sabo asked, gasping as he took a step back from you and the wall.

“In my early days of being a marine, I had a night off and went to a bar to cool off. I was frustrated with my fathers expectations. I sat next to a guy at the bar who noticed how upset I was. He listened to me and told me to go after my dreams. Little did I know until I saw him again atl Marineford… that day it was Ace, the FireFist himself… just in a crappy disguise. A pirate telling a marine to keep being a marine, just because it’s what she longed to do. That’s not someone who deserves to die because of who their parents were.” 

You looked down at your hands on his chest. You could feel how chiseled his chest was through his shirt. You slowly let go as you started to realize you were enjoying being this close to Sabo, you liked the feeling of his hand on your waist. He was your enemy, a sworn enemy of the World Government, a sworn enemy of what you believed in. Yet, here you were having a meaningful conversation with him and enjoying his touch.

“That’s Ace for you. Luffy’s just like him… Never give up on your dream, Y/N. If you ran the World Government I know the world would be in better hands. Keep making your way. Understand, knowing that though, I can’t stop living my dream either. Even if it opposes yours. I have to keep fighting for a world not ruled over by Celestial Dragons.” 

He took a step closer to you and wiped your cheeks. His calloused fingers felt comforting against your soft water covered cheek. Fireworks shot through your body as he moved his hand from your cheek back to your waist. You straightened up against the wall and pulled him closer to you. Your eyes met his as you nodded in understanding about what he had just said. 

“You never answered my question about the weapons…?” Sabo prodded as he slid a hand up your torso.

You laughed. Your stomach filled with butterflies as you stared into his dark caring eyes. He, an enemy, just wanted you to pursue your passion, and he thought you’d make the world better for doing it. He was so handsome standing before you, so commanding in his white blouse and jacket. His typical expression, full of determination and rage, but in other moments, you could see the softness he was showing you now. You bit your lip as you began to notice his lips inches from yours. You took a deep breath as you let the warmth of his touch envelop you with courage. 

“Guess you’ll have to search me.” You replied, raising your eyebrows.

His lips raised to a smirk. Sabo nodded his head and sighed. 

“As you wish, Vice admiral. I tried to offer you the easy way, but you’ve chosen the hard way.”

Sabo’s hands roamed their way from your waist to the base of your plump breasts. Your head leaned back to hit the wall at the feeling of his caress. He squeezed and began to play with your covered breasts. His lips fell to your neck where he placed wet kisses and took small nibbles until he reached your collarbone. A moan escaped your lips causing your hands to fall from his chest to the wall behind you. He continued to study your breast with one hand while the other circled your aroused nipple that poked through your shirt and bra. You let your legs spread and lifted one hand to run through his hair as he nibbled at your cleavage. 

Your right breast continued to be played with as his other hand traced down your torso and waist to your thighs. At your thighs his hand rubbed up and down your skirt a few times, stopping as he lifted his head from your chest to look you in the eye. You nodded at him as his hand played with the hem of your skirt. His hand rubbed up your thigh until it found your core. Your hands fell back against the wall as his hand traced your wet core through your panties. 

“So wet for me already… A wanted man is making you this wet… who knew the vice admiral could be such a rule breaker.”

“Did you find what you were looking for..?”

“Not yet, I’m going to have to do a more thorough search.”

You grabbed Sabo’s wrist to stop him from moving further. You bit your lip and raised your chin to look him in the eye. 

“Come with me.”

Sabo nodded back at you, allowing you to take his hand and lead him from the empty hallway. You turned a few corners, stopping to look for other marines before you did, finally stopping in front of a doorway. You rummaged through your pocket and pulled out a key. You opened the door and flipped on the light inside the room. The light revealed inside the room sat a desk with some paperwork and a picture frame on it, a desk chair, a bar cart, and a few pieces of artwork. The art on the wall mostly quotes about justice. You entered the room and sat on the desk, crossing your legs as you did.  Sabo stopped in the doorway and looked around.

“What is this?”

“My dad’s office.” You said, blinking your eyes at him. “Not his main one, just an auxiliary one. Just remember, we aren’t friends and don’t thank me for it next time. I’m a vice admiral, Sabo. So next time… I’m turning you in. I’ll train, so I’m strong enough. You’ll be my ticket to admiral.” You said with a smirk.

Sabo stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

“And this time..?

  You shoved some papers off the desk onto the floor and rested your hands on your crossed legs. Sabo rested his top hat on the bar cart and stared at you.

“This time? You can show me what being a Revolutionary means.”

“I like the sound of that. Now where were we? I think I was still searching for weapons and communication devices.”

Sabo approached the desk. You leaned back, relaxing on your hands which rested flat on the desk surface, supporting your weight. Sabo’s gloved hand caressed your knee and pulled your legs apart, spreading them wide. He stepped between your legs, his lips slamming against yours as his hand inched its what up your legs to grip your thighs. His tongue tickled at your bottom lip waiting to be let inside. Your lips parted slowly, letting him in and  allowing his tongue to take over yours. Your breathing grew heavy as you reached for his neck, pulling him deeper into your embrace. His pelvis rubbed against your still clothed core causing his pants to grow tighter against you. Your hand fell from his neck to his waist where you felt at his hardening member through the fabric of his pants. 

Your lips separated from his, allowing you a moment to breathe. Sabo’s lips trailed down your neck as one of his gloved hands slithered up to your heated core. A finger pulled your panties aside and began tracing your wet folds. You moaned as his fingers slid upwards and began circling your clit. His other hand roamed its way to your entrance and teased at your folds. Lost in the sensation of his fingers, you were caught off guard as his teeth dug into your shoulder.

“Sabo.” You moaned in his ear from the mixed sensations from his body parts.

“Do you want a criminal to finger you, marine?”

You nodded against his shoulder.

“Fuck me, Chief of Staff Sabo.”

“Never knew a marine to beg like this, but I like it.”

Sabo pressed his lips back to yours and ran his fingers through your hair. He bit at your  lip causing you to moan louder against his kiss. You moved your hands down his chest to his waist, where you started to unbuckle his belt. His hands met yours and forced them to wrap around his neck.

“Not yet. Have to search you first.” He said with a smirk before pulling at your clothes.

Sabo pushed off your coat and lifted at the hem of your top. Once your top was removed all that remained was your purple bra. A smile formed across his lips as he admired it for a moment before his lips established connection with yours again. Calloused fingers danced on your back until they found and undid your bra clasp. He pulled your bra off you in one swift motion. His tongue fought yours for power as he began playing with you exposed sensitive nipples. You moaned against his wet lips causing him to laugh against yours. Kisses began trailing down your chest until they found your nipples, where Sabo began taking small nibbles. As the tingle in your abdomen began to grow, Sabo’s still gloved hands trailed down your waist back to your exposed thighs.

In another smooth motion, Sabo lifted you from the desk and pulled your skirt and panties off. His lips still pressed to yours, as he returned you to the desk. He began rubbing his thumb in circles higher and higher up your bare thighs. His hands froze just before your core. You moaned with desire pulling out of the kiss to rest your head against his cheek and catch your breath. Sabo stood up tall and admired the view before him.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that’s what you were hiding under there.” 

“Well, what are you going to do about it? Such a high bounty, you have to be good for something.” You said with a chuckle as you bit your lip. 

Sabo’s gloved fingers moved up your thighs and slowly traced your entrance. You needed him. Your hips bucked towards his at the start of the new sensation. You moaned as a second hand began drawing shapes over your clit. You leaned back on your elbows against the desk. Your breathing grew heavier and more rapid.

“Sabo.” You moaned.

His gloved middle and ring fingers moved between your folds and pushed inside you. You moaned at the feeling of the cool leather and new thickness inside you. His fingers steadily pumped in and out of you, while his other hand began tapping and rubbing at your clit. Your hips bucked furiously against him as your craving for his fingers to stay inside you grew.  He chuckled and brought his lips back to yours. This time your kiss was sloppy as drool began dripping from your lips as he finally began giving attention to your sensitive spot. You loved his fingers, especially with his gloves still on, but you couldn’t help but wonder what was under his trousers. As his lips easily overpowered you, Sabo began switching between tapping and holding pressure on your sensitive spot with his gloved fingers. Sabo’s left hand slowed its motions against your clit as his other hand played with your sensitive spot. You moaned against his lips as the heat built in your abdomen.

“Sabo, going to cum.”

With that Sabo removed his fingers from your folds and removed his lips from yours. You whined at the loss of thickness within your walls. He deviously looked at you and brought his gloved fingers to your lips. 

“Sabo, need you.” You begged, hips bucking towards him and hands grabbing at his waist.

“Look at the mess you made. Better clean it up.” He instructed as he pushed his fingers into your mouth.

You licked and sucked on his gloved fingers, swallowing every last drop of your wetness. When he was satisfied he removed his digits from your lips and began unzipping his trousers.

“Now, I have somewhere to be, so we have to make this quick. You were so tight against my fingers, I can’t wait to feel you clench against me. Are you ready?” He asked as he dropped his pants and briefs to his ankles. 

You licked your lips as his hard member flung out and hit your throbbing core. He was big, and you questioned whether you could take all of him. You sat up and reached for his member, pumping it a few times. He grunted as you moved it up and down your wet folds. He repositioned as you played with his length at your entrance and grabbed your thighs with his gloved hands.

“Put your hands on my shoulders. You, marine, need to learn what your enemy is capable of.” 

You nodded in response. Sabo took his member from your grasp and as he did, you placed your hands on his shoulders. Slowly, he began pressing his pink tip against your entrance. You clenched your jaw as the girth of his member was a bit painful as it entered you. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You wanted this, so you smiled through it. Sabo stopped and looked at you, having noticed your breathing had changed.

“Can’t handle me, Y/N? Want me to stop?” He asked.

“No, Sabo. Need you.” You said as your eyes fluttered open and you pulled his lips against yours.

Sabo gently pushed his length in further. He stopped your kiss as your walls began to clench around him. He grinned as his length began to twitch inside you. Once your walls had relaxed some, he started to move his length in and out of you. His pace was moderate at first. You saw passion build in his eyes. He pulled your hips closer to his, forcing you to lie back some. His hips began to buck furiously against you causing his length to hit your cervix and the desk to shake. His balls slapped against your pelvis and perineum.

“Sabo” You called as your eyes widened.

Your head fell back in pleasure as he slammed against your cervix again, causing a picture to fall off the desk. Your hands moved to grip the edge of the desk for dear life, as the heat in your core built again. Your eyes started to water at the mix of pleasure and pain from Sabo’s pace combined with his deepness.

“Can you handle this?”

“Yes! Sabo!”

Sabo continued thrusting into you. Your breasts jiggled in his face, when he was at his deepest point within you. You moaned with every entrance, your eyes starting to water. Your thighs tried to clench around his arms, but he fought you, continuing to rail you deeper and deeper with his long thick dick. Your walls clenched harder around him.  Your hips fought his hand trying to buck against him for more friction on your clit.

“Sabo, going to cum.” You cooed through gritted teeth as he railed you faster.

“Me too. Going to finish in you and let it pour out onto this desk.” 

Sabo slammed into you twice more, as he did a tear rolled down your cheek.

“SABO.” You moaned loudly as you felt the heat in your abdomen burst.

Your juices dripped out of your entrance and down your thighs. He pounded you through your ecstasy. As you came down from yours, you felt a warmth explode inside you. His length twitched and he dropped your thighs to grab the desk, for support as he rode out his ecstasy inside you. The two of you panted, still intertwined. Steadily he removed his length from you allowing both your juices to drip from within you and pool on the desk. 

Sabo reached for a towel from the bar cart and wiped himself off, tossing a fresh one to you when he was done. You sat up and wiped yourself down, then reached to clean up the desk. You paused and looked up at him.

“I’m going to leave the mess, I want my father to know someone was here. I want him to know someone was ravaged on his desk.”

“Not, so innocent yourself, aye, Vice Admiral?” Sabo questioned as he zipped his pants and placed his top hat back on his head.

You crossed your legs and stared at him as he adjusted his coat. He was handsome for a criminal and he sure knew what he was doing when it came to pleasing a woman. That still didn’t tell you why he was here. He certainly had not come all this way to fuck you in your dad’s office.

“What are you doing here, Sabo? This was a fun detour, but you know I can’t let you go again.” You said as you stood up from the desk shakily.

“Why do you think I fucked you, so hard?” He said with a devious smile. 

You reached for the desk drawer knowing your father usually left a back up transponder snail inside. Sabo pinned you back onto the desk and threw the drawer open. He found the snail and put it in his pocket. Before removing himself from you, he smirked as he once again admired your still naked form.

“Shame I don’t have time for a second round, Y/N. The first was fun, but I really must be going. Until next time.” Sabo said as he slammed his lips against yours once more and squeezed your breasts in his gloved hands.

Sabo removed himself from you and ran out the door. You sat up and groaned. 

“My goodness, am I going to let that man get to me like that everytime?” You thought to yourself.

You stood up and put your clothes back on. Once you were dressed you turned off the lights, exited the door, and locked the room behind you.

“He said he wasn’t here to wreck the Reverie, but what could he be here for..? Well, he did take care of me, I think that warrants the head start I just gave him.” You whispered to yourself.

You took off in the direction of your weapon. Once you had your weapon in hand, you headed for the other side of the floor to find a transponder snail you could use to report the intruder. 

“Better start coming up with a cover story now… He was too fast for me? He pleased me into submission? He overpowered me and took my transponder snails? That’s it. Not too far from the truth, there may just have been a little detour.” You thought to yourself as you ran.

[viaoverthemoon]

Cause I have one request to make. What if older Leon (it can be either but I have vendetta in mind) was asked by the DSO to find an ex-umbrella agent she's kidnapped at the moment.

And when he rescues her there's all sorts of tension between them. She's grateful for him but he's wary of her(understandably so....) And over the time they bond over the fact they both want to save people (she's changed) . But over the time their sexual tension between grows and grows and one day it snaps....... Resulting in 👀👀👀you know

(please tell me you are understanding what I am saying like this idea is ingrained in my brain somehow. But you can ignore this request if you want.)

I see the vision, my dear! I see it so freaking hard!

Please hand over your brain so I can SMOOCH IT!!!!!

The gears are already turning and I grabbed my laptop as soon as I could <3

Vendetta!Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Leon finds and rescues you after being kidnapped. While you are grateful, you can't help but notice the tension that follows the both of you as you head to the rendezvous point.

Tw: Implied kidnapping, ptsd (I think), gun & knife violence/battle, zombies but they aren't described, fluff, SMUT, p in v sex, unprotected sex (Don't be silly, wrap your willy &lt;3) Let me know if I missed anything!

18+!! NSFW!! MDNI!! Read at your own risk!

Enjoy! <3

❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁

A small sliver of light suddenly shines into your dark room.

You'd been in the dark for so long, the light momentarily disoriented you. You back yourself into a corner, your heart rate accelerating as your anxiety rises.

Some new group of bioterrorists had risen, not as bad as Umbrella, but also not trying to do good like the government. They'd kidnapped you in hopes of using the information you must have, since you once worked with umbrella.

But you hadn't given them anything. Within the past week they'd tried everything in mental and physical torture, but you didn't relent.

The previous night, you'd heard some of your captors speaking of them getting impatient and frustrated with you, the possibility of just killing you and kidnapping someone else to take your place getting more and more appealing to them.

But you weren't going down without a fight.

You grab the only chair in the small room, holding it as best you can with your dislocated shoulder. You pant heavily as your wild eyes stare at the door that opens slowly.

You pause when your full name is called out, the chair dropping just an inch. A brunette man with bright blue eyes cautiously peeks into the room, gun raised as he repeats your name again.

A small flash of hope rises in your chest. He can't see you in the dark, so he continues walking in. He repeats your name, "-are you here? I'm here to bring you to safety."

His words bring you so much relief that you drop the chair. The guy whips his body toward you, turning on his flashlight and pointing the gun at you.

When he sees its only you, tired and breathing heavily with a gag between your lips, he relaxes and puts his weapon in his holster.

He approaches you slowly, as if you're a wild animal. "My names Leon Kennedy. I was sent by the DSO to rescue you."

You blink quickly, holding back tears as you nod. You stand awkwardly as he goes behind you, untying the cloth before stepping away. "Better?"

You take a moment to let your mouth salivate and clear your throat before speaking, "Yes... Thank you so much... You have no idea-"

"Good. Let's go." Leon turns back toward the door, leaving before you can finish.

His response stuns you for a few seconds before you brush it off as him just trying to hurry back to safety.

But the tension remains as you both travel through the abandoned city, helping each other up and down fallen buildings in complete silence.

You can't help but notice the way he sharply turns away from you after having to help you, or how an annoyed expression overcomes his face when you take too long to follow him.

It isn't until the two of you are forced to run into a barely standing house to get away from wandering A-Virus zombies.

Leon boards the door shut behind the two of you before leaning against it to catch his breath.

You rest against the wall of the house, breathing heavily as your mind can't seem to stop thinking about the way Leon has treated you so far. You hadn't done anything to him that would cause him to harbor bad feelings towards you. And you always helped him when he needed it. So why? Your curiosity gets the best of you.

"Hey-... Leon?" He responds to your breathy words with a grunt, not even looking at you. This irritates you a little, but you continue with a soft voice.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm super grateful for you saving me... But I can't help but feel like you don't feel all too happy about my safety."

He just grunts again, checking the number of bullets in his gun. "Don't know why you would think that." His tone contradicts his words, and your patience slowly deteriorates.

"I would think that because I haven't done anything to you! I would understand if I'd wronged you, but I haven't-"

"Oh, so working under Umbrella isn't doing something wrong?"

Your sharp inhale is the only thing heard in a pause filled with silence.

The both of you remain silent while staring at each other. Leon, looking at you with a blank look, was in much more inner turmoil at the moment. He wants to trust you, he really does. But Umbrella had taken so much from everyone. He can't imagine how sick a person must be in the head to work with them. Ex-employee or not.

You sigh and look him deep in his eyes, causing Leon to flinch because he swore he felt something ghost over the shell of his soul.

"I understand what you mean. And I'm not proud of the work I did under those monsters... But I'm not with them anymore! I'd found out that what we were doing was wrong, and immediately ran. I'm not who I was before. I swear. I just want to help those in need."

He just looks at you, mildly surprised by your sudden confession. All he can do is nod in acknowledgement. "Right... okay."

And from then on, you both get along relatively well throughout the journey to the rendezvous point.

You make pleasant conversation when possible, Leon asks if you need breaks or if you're hungry. He worries genuinely for your wellbeing. And you'd be lying if you said his care didn't make your heart go crazy. He cared for you. Found you food when you were hungry, handled your injuries, and popped your dislocated shoulder back into place.

The more he interacts with you, the more his determination to get you out of here grows. He hardly cares for himself, only thinking about you. And every time you thank him or give him that deep look of appreciation, he feels... things... Things he hasn't felt since his teenage years. He feels things that make him feel young again.

❁

Once again, you two are forced to retreat into yet another barely standing home. Only this time, you're both laughing as you close the door and board it shut together.

You step away and walk to a wooden desk, jumping up and sitting on it with your hand over your heart as you try to stop laughing. "Okay, that one liner you used when you threw the flashbang- 'Damn, I think you just got flashed.' Too fucking funny-"

Quiet snickers fill the tiny house. "Why, thank you sweetheart. And you're quite skilled with throwing knives. That knife you threw into that zombie's jugular?" He gives a playful chef's kiss, causing you to blush and giggle.

"Thanks. Told you I can handle myself."

"Right, and that's why you were kidnapped?"

You pause.

He pauses.

His words had unintentionally caused for your throat to close up. You cleared it, looking away from him and trying to give a small smile. But he knew he must have over-stepped.

He walks towards you. "Hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up-" You instantly try to reassure him.

"No, no! I'm fine- really! I just wasn't expecting it."

You're surprised when Leon gets closer, stepping in-between your legs and wiping liquid off of your face. "Then why are you crying?"

You gasp before lifting a hand to feel your face. Sure enough, you're crying. You sniffle, trying to wipe away the tears but they never seem to stop. "Sorry- I don't mean to cry. I've j-just had a really long week..."

He shushes you. "I understand. There's no need to apologize. This couldn't have been easy."

You take a few moments to calm yourself. And once your tears finally stop, you look up and realize just how close Leon is. Your noses graze each other when you look at him. His bright blue eyes staring into yours with deep concern, his brown hair falling over his eyes, his dark brows pulled together in concentration as he looks all over your face.

Your heart rate accelerates.

You lick your lips, eyes dancing over his face before flickering to his lips. "Thank you... Leon."

He hadn't missed the motion of your tongue, eyes moving to yours.

You both look at each other for what seems like forever before he leans in.

Life seems a little more colorful.

Life feels worth living.

Life has just gotten so fucking worth it.

His soft lips dance against yours, stubble scrapping your chin, but you don't care.

You sigh into the kiss, bathing in the warm feeling that comes when his hands come to rest on your cheeks. You cover his hands with your own, eyes blissfully closed as you forget about everything else.

Nothing else matters. No one else matters. Everything you need, is in this man right in front of you.

Before you know it, he's deepening the kiss.

His hands move down to your hips and he pulls away to catch his breath.

You both pant for a while, eyes remaining locked onto the other's.

"Do you-... Are you sure you want this?"

Do you even have to think about it?

You instantly nod your head, not a single thought of hesitation in your brain.

"Do you want this?"

The question surprises him. "Do I?!"

You laugh when he lunges forward, lips landing on your neck. He sucks and bites like there's no tomorrow, relishing in the sounds of your soft moans and whimpers.

His hands move to the band of your pants. "Can I take these off?"

You give a small, 'Mhm-' and the pants, and your panties, are off within seconds.

You grind into his clothed semi-bulge, moaning at the friction on your clit. Your ass hurt from the wooden desk biting into it, but the pain is barely acknowledged. Leon digs his hands into your hips, stopping your movements.

You whine, about to snap at him for denying you of pleasure. But your complaint dies on your tongue when one of his hands slides between the two of you.

You gasp, hips twitching as he palms at your cunt. "Yes..."

He just chuckles, continuing to rub your puffy lips and your clit as his other hand reaches for his zipper.

You bite one of your nails to keep from being too loud as you watch him pull his dick from his pants.

A whimper leaves your lips at the pure size and girth of him.

He jerks himself a few times, watching the pure lust in your eyes and the drool pooling at the corner of your lips. He calls your name to get your attention. "You ready? You look pretty out of it and we barely even started..."

You glare at him, his hot breath fanning over your face as he slides his cock between your folds a few times before entering you.

Your heart races right against his, both of you panting and groaning as he bottoms out. Your nails create little crescent marks on his shoulder and the back of his neck, sweat collecting on your hairline.

Leon gets lost in the feeling of your silky wet walls, large hands gripping your hips as he begins a slow pace.

Your hearts beat in sync, hands never leaving the other. You can't keep your hands to yourself, scratching along his back, running them down his chest, combing through his hair.

You feel a tug on your soul. A feeling of connection.

There was something so intimate about this moment. You felt truly tied to this man, something you hadn't felt with somebody else in a long time.

You clench around him at the thought and he groans, picking up the pace.

Leon has slept with women before, but there was something special about you.

Everyone else was a mere distraction. Something to keep his mind off of the many years of physical and mental damage he had to endure.

But you?

You're the only one he felt a need to hold on to.

A sudden shock makes him thrust into you a little harder, causing you to cry out. You grip the nape of his neck as your back arches, legs raising to cross behind his back.

Leon grabs the back of your head and lead you into another passionate kiss, swallowing your whines and moans as his thrusts become erratic and desperate.

Both of your releases are within your reach, each of you getting louder and louder as you get closer. "Can I-... Can I cum inside? Please?"

Your approval is instant, not even thinking about refusing. "Yes-! Need it so bad..."

You jerk your hips to meet his with every thrust, the feeling of him kissing your cervix tightening the knot more and more until- it snaps.

Leon has to cover your mouth to muffle the loud sob the leaves your lips, not long after following you over that edge and seeing stars.

He bites the side of your neck to stay quiet himself, breathing heavily as the weight of the euphoria subsides.

You both lean on each other, bathing in the warmth and the safety the other provides.

"-One? Do you copy?"

The both of you startle, Leon accidentally pulling out of you and causing you to hiss at the sudden emptiness.

He mutters a quick apology before bringing a hand to his ear. "Condor One to Roost. I copy." He glances at you nervously. "Myself and-... Viper are safe and still on route to the rendezvous point." He embarrassingly turns away and fixes himself.

You silently gawk at your codename. It was flattering, in a way, but also showed that they really didn't trust you...

Leon soon finishes with his report and turns back to you, seeing you leaning on the desk. Watching him with a small smile and your pants back on.

He walks to you and places his hands on the desk, caging you in, before nuzzling his face into your neck. He breaths you in. "Sorry about that. Of course, we picked that before-"

"No need to apologize. I can see how I may have been kinda... snake-like-"

You laugh when he groans, lightly banging his head against your shoulder. You stay like this for a moment, holding each other, before Leon pulls away.

He gives you a quick peck on the lips and pulls his gun from its holster, checking the bullets again. "C'mon. Let's get out of here so I can get you back home and take you out for dinner."

You giggle, grabbing the first aid and weapons. "What, is this not already first date material?"

He pulls you in by your waist, getting close enough for you to feel his breath on your face.

"For you... First date material is so much more."

❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁

THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE AHHH!!

Ngl, I don't really like how long this is or how it ended, BUT LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Hope you enjoyed!

Requests are open!! <3

[possiblylando]

An 'Early' Analysis of Chainsaw Man Chapter 138

Woah hey I'm back, I didn't feel like talking about the past few chapters cause I didn't feel like I had anything to add since they all seemed pretty straight forward. That being said this chapter gives me alot of talk about. So we get a name for Sex Offender Girl. Boy this woman only gets worse the more we learn about her. Mifune is quite literally a government plant in denji's high school.

It's refreshingly disgusting the type of shit these girls will put denji through. It's like Fujimoto keeps trying to one up himself each time he introduces a new "love interest" (Mifune is not a love interest she is a sexual predator let's keep this 100% clear). Maki was a groomer, Mifune is just a straight up Pedophile. She is going to have such a satisfying death I can feel it. This chapter goes on to confirm a few things. First off, Yoshida is apart of Public Safety. Which sorta debunks a previous thought I had of him being apart of another group. I am interested to learn 1. What Divison 7 does 2. Which Division Yoshida is in Given we know 4 was the rejects and 5 are hybrids. My best guess is that Division 7 is a sort of Espionage/Intel Division. Yoshida likely also belongs to Division 7 unless he's got some silliness going on, Which is very likely. Actually- I just now realized something. She calls it "Special Division 7" not Division 7. Looking through the list of Division members on the Wiki, That Special Prefix is very important. The Special Divisions are all full of freaks and monsters. This Sex Offender is more than likely a monster all to her own if she's apart of a Division we've never even heard of.

Public Safety is just as fucked up as actual governments. It's great.

I hate that she's winning me over. I want this woman dead stop making me think she's silly. Fujimoto is really good at humanizing horrible people. It mirrors real life monsters who tend to blend in with society and even seem charming on the surface. Moving on from this fucking Sex Offender. Asa continues to be the realest character in the series.

I doubt I even need to say anything about how real she is. Asa is a deeply disturbed and neglected person who's shut off from the world despite her own need to validation and recognition. She and Denji are different sides of the same coin. While she tries not to show it, The fulfillment she receives from praise seeps through. This scene specifically resonated with me a ton.

I wish we got a better look into Denji's thoughts in this scene. I can't even really get a grasp on what he must be thinking through all of this. In the last few days he's lost a major part of himself and has been replaced in face by a fraud and in action by a girl who he was forced to dump by his sister. There was a moment here before the reveal on this very page where I was thinking Swords was someone else. It was clearly someone from Part 1. He had a hoodie so maybe it was Violence? But that couldn't be real Violence was killed by Darkness. WAIT- BEAM? No I couldn't be beam he's been dead aswell. The Chapter is called Swordman so then maybe it's Katana man's return? No he wouldn't be on speaking terms with Denji after his testicles got mashed. So then-

Turns out it's the Longsword Hybrid from the end of Part 1. Yeah turns out he's alive. Which as many people have pointed out, Means the rest of the Hybrids are alive. So is Reze alive? Certain fans seem to think she is. At this point she seems to be the only match for Denji who isn't a complete psycho. But she still tried to kill him. But then Denji was still willing to run away with her at the end of the fight. If she does come back I hope she and Denji don't rush into a relationship, Let them chill for a bit before getting into anything serious Fujimoto please. If Reze really is alive I'll talk about her more in depth when she shows back up. But I need to say my peace.

The Whip Hybrid is going to be insane popular and so many of them are going to be just as Horny as Anime-Only Makima fans. I hope Swords ends up being chill with Denji and not another dickhead who tries to kill him. Denji needs another Male friend who doesn't treat him like shit. His only known ""friend"" in part 2 is yoshida and we all know yoshida has not been treating him well.

[swampstew]

KillerCook Chapter 13

Welcome to Raven’s Reading Nook - a small corner of this blog dedicated to cozy story times. Join us in the family room as we sit around and celerate Straw Hat Luffy's birthday. Rated Mature for language. Minors DNI

Going Live in 3…2…1…

GO

“Good evening everyone, thanks for tuning in. I’m Killer and this is my neighbor, Sanji.”

The two blond men sat at a slim table as they faced they audience, both waving their hands in greetings and casual small talk as viewers started joining the stream.

“Have you ever been on a live stream? Wait, are you even on social media?” Killer asked.

“Killer, we follow each other on Instagram,” the curly browed man scoffed.

“Oh the one I hardly use?” Killer asked in surprise, quick to pull out a cell phone. After scrolling for a few seconds, “Oh yeah, here you are: Sanji {censored}. Wait, THAT’s your last name? Are-are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m adopted. What about it?”

“Why would you use your full government name on the Internet, you [redacted] idiot?” Kid griped as he came into the camera’s focus, taking the third seat at the table.

“It was never a concern until you blabbed it out loud in front of 3,000 and growing listeners,” Sanji snapped at them, whipping out his cell phone from his suit. “Great, now I gotta go on private…huh…hmm…maybe, maybe I’ll just change my user name,” he quieted down suddenly.

“Ooooo-kay. Moving on - we’re switching things up a bit. Today is a friend of a friend’s birthday and, surprisingly, a few people came to us seeking advice on making cake. Did no one ever teach them to bake? So Sanji and I thought we would make it a challenge. For ours and your entertainment.”

The camera was shifted offside to the second half of the kitchen, on the massive kitchen island that was set and stationed with ingredients, counter-top ovens, and three contenders.

Franky, Usopp, and Bubblegum.

They waved at the camera before the spotlight was once again on Killer.

“Now I’m no stranger to making cake but I’m brave enough to acknowledge that when it comes to plating and food decorating, Sanji is the true expert. Heat, please bring out the birthday cakes.”

Heat walked to the camera and showed off the treat before depositing the three-tier cake, with classic yet tastefully festive decorations, on the table for the hosts. Clean calligraphy on the top declared it to be Sanji’s roommate’s name, the birthday boy. Straw Hat Luffy. Repeating the process, Heat dropped off another cake, this time the cake was designed and shaped to look like a hunk of meat. A small straw hat sat atop of the bone leg.

“Thank you, Heat. Our challenge is to have our contenders make cakes that rival Chef Sanji’s. The rules are: it has to taste well, look good, the cake must be made using the ingredients on the table - no getting creative…looking at you, Bubblegum…” Killer warned.

“Both stacked cakes are layered with buttercream frosting, and decorated with more frosting, modeling chocolate, and fondant for the details. On average it takes about 90 minutes to bake and decorate a cake with enough time for cooling and correcting for any errors. But Killer is a bit sadistic.”

“That I am. And because it’s my show, I’m only giving these guys one hour.”

Kid slammed his hands on the table, standing up to shout, “SO GET BAKING!”

A separate camera was stationed and angled to record the contenders, catching Usopp as he jumped and knocked his bowl of eggs on the ground. Shattering.

“Ooooh and we’ve suffered our first casualty already. Of course Kid caused it and OF COURSE Usopp reacted,” Killer commented.

“Yeah this is going to set him back a little but not by much, Killer. The rule of thumb is to have your eggs and butter be at room temperature so they incorporate with the ingredients better. Having to use colder eggs means his batter could come out denser than he intends,” Sanji lit a cigarette. “Oh I meant to ask, can I smoke in here?”

“It’s fine, we smoke in the house all the time,” Kid left the table and the suspicious sound of bubbling water could be heard, followed by a billow of smoke.

While Usopp rushed around Bubblegum to retrieve new eggs, Franky was fast at work setting his ingredients in order to start baking. Bubblegum was lightly dancing on his feet as he read over the written recipe they had been provided.

“We gave them base cake mix recipes so they have to decide a flavor combination on their own, which can really make or break a cake’s standing with the crowd,” Sanji piped up after taking a few drags.

“If I was given a bad cake, I’d take it personally,” Kid said menacingly, drumming his metal prosthetic fingers on the table.

“Yeah yeah the threatening and torturing, we’ve all heard it,” Killer waved him off. “Sanji, how did you make your cakes? Explain so our viewers can learn the proper way.”

While Sanji explained the intricacies of the art of baking, Bubblegum, Usopp, and Franky were hurriedly working on their creations.

Franky was whistling as he quickly mixed his ingredients, pouring the thin batter into the pans and popping them into the oven. He looked confident, with the box of butter left unopened and parchment paper forgotten. Things one would normally use to grease a baking pan and protect batter from sticking.

Bubblegum was pouring his cake batter in the pans before he froze, a worried look on his face. Looking between the oven and his station, he quickly opened a can of dulce de leche and drizzled it directly into the batter, using a fork to mix it evenly.

Usopp, in an effort to save time, was throwing all his ingredients into the bowl and mixing them together. The batter was looking a little liquidly as he stepped in place to channel his nervousness.

“While the cake is baking, you should work on your buttercream frosting, a key point in the process to keep the cake moist while you decorate. It also serves as a binding agent for folding fondant over it. We gave the contenders pre-made fondant and modeling chocolate because I have some compassion. Drape the fondant over the cake, smooth it out, and trim at the edges. For a regular cake you can mainly use buttercream, but I would recommend it for shapes like the meat cake because it can help it maintain some structure, if it’s balanced just right. Too much weight can cause it to fall off or make a dent in your cake.”

“Modeling chocolate is great for decorations and requires a less refined hand compared to buttercream calligraphy. I would knead and mold the chocolate to be a straw hat, the bone leg coming from the meat of the cake, or maybe something cute like little balloons and party hats as cake toppers,” Sanji chuckled.

“I’m going to make some predictions,” Killer folded his hands, “Franky’s cake will get stuck to the pan, Bubblegum’s cake might come out crumbled based on how hard he was forking his pan, and I’m a leeeettle concerned about salmonella from Usopp’s cake.”

“If it looks and smells fine, I’ll eat it,” Kid chipped in.

With two minutes left on the timer, Killer reminded the bakers to put their cakes under the frosted cake covers when the timer hit zero seconds.

The three judges rose to their feet as they counted down the last 10 seconds.

“3…2…1…present your cakes!”

The three contenders lifted their respective covers for both camera’s that were now hovering between all 6 men as they stood at the kitchen island.

It was…hard…to stifle the giggles and laughter coming from Killer and Sanji, while Kid looked more or less baffled with the results.

Franky’s cake was well structured like the tier cake Sanji had made, if only a little flatter and less attractive. Franky was good at making things, but not so much with decorating - at least not when it comes to cakes. His cake was layered with fondant that slightly ruffled at the edges, and his buttercream handwriting wasn’t the best. His chocolate balloons were perfectly spherical but missing their strings, so they were actually more like colorful balls.

Usopp’s cake was much, much smaller than all five cakes. His station was a mess of puddles and crumbled cake, suggesting his cakes had cooked too thin and fell apart easily. To compensate for the small stature, Usopp made an effort to recreate the meat shaped cake. It certainly looked like a meat. The cake was the same color as Sanji’s, the straw hat looked fairly decent, unfortunately it - along with the molded chocolate bone - weighed too much and fell off the side.

Bubblegum’s cake was a combination of both. He had made the tier cake, and added the straw hat and a mini-meat sized cake as the toppers for his cake. Instead of buttercream lettering, a single candle stood between the toppers.

“I don’t actually know how old he is,” the tattooed man said sheepishly.

Kid was about to say something when Killer stopped him, “Its taste testing time. Cut off a slice from each cake and we’ll let you know if it’s acceptable to give to the birthday boy…man… Is he still a teenager or in his twenties?” he whipped his head to Sanji.

Sanji lit another cigarette, “He’s a kid at heart.”

“Good enough! Let’s take a bite.”

Starting with Franky’s cake, Kid and Sanji’s faces immediately crinkled as Killer went off camera to eat his piece.

“The…the flavor,” the redhead choked out.

“It’s…certainly a unique choice but I’m not sure I can place it,” Sanji looked at Franky.

“It’s cola flavored,” the mechanic gave the camera a thumbs up.

“It certainly is,” Killer responded as he grabbed bottled water for himself, Kid and Sanji. “Your cake had us in the first half. It looked like it could be trusted, and while the cola in itself isn’t a baaaad flavor, just…when it’s in my mouth, I feel like my taste buds are screaming, ‘that shouldn’t be cake!!’”

The judges nodded in agreement before moving on to Usopp’s cake. Only this time, Killer didn’t step away to taste it.

“Usopp, your cake is somehow cooked in some layers but not in others and I’m struggling to understand how that’s possible,” Killer nudged the cake around the plate.

Sanji agreed, “You know my policy on not wasting food but I don’t think I can defend this one. Your creative skills shine wherever you take them, the cake definitely looked edible.”

Kid was the only one who ate his portion, “Can barely taste the flavor,” he shrugged, biting into the chocolate straw hat.

Moving on to the final cake, the judges tasted the generous slice presented to them.

Sanji started, “Bubblegum, I don’t know you that well but I can tell, you can make a cake on the fly. I liked your last ditch effort to flavor this cake with the caramel drizzle and it gives your cake a nice texture, especially where the cake is a little dry. Your decorations are pleasant to look at, you even went the extra mile by combining both my examples into one!”

Killer came back to the kitchen island, “He’s an overachiever, that’s our Bubbs. I even like how he made the straw hat out of rice krispie treat covered with thin layers of buttercream.

“Suck up,” Kid rolled his eyes as he finished the plate, “But its a good cake BG. You make me proud. I don’t really love fondant so I appreciate you topping the cake with frosting and leaving the fake crap to the meat topper.”

“The meat is also made of rice krispie treat,” Bubblegum chirped.

“Work smarter not harder, that’s m’boy.”

“It time to declare which cakes are acceptable to bring over for Luffy’s party,” Killer announced. The three judges took a few minutes to themselves to discuss the cakes.

Lining up in front of their contenders, Killer addressed them and the live audience at the same time, “We saw some struggles, we saw some personal challenges, and most importantly, we saw growth. Whether or not that helps you make better cake in the future is not really my problem but I hope you at least take away something meaningful from this.”

Usopp nervously giggled.

“The cakes that are acceptable—“

Killer didn’t finish his sentence, cut off as someone shouting throughout the house could be heard.

“SAAAAAANJJIIIIII? WHERE AAARRE YOOOUUUUU?” the person with a tune in his voice was coming closer to the kitchen, “C’mooonn!!! We can’t start the party without you!! Are you hiding my cake here? I promise I won’t take a bite out if it and cover it up like last time.”

The kitchen occupants were silently moving towards the backyard sliding glass door, hoping to make a clean escape. Their hopes quickly blown away as the kitchen door handle turned.

Monkey D. Luffy walked through the door, multiple cone hats sat over his trademark straw hat.

The last words the audience heard: “HOLY CRAP FIVE CAKES?!?!?!”

Before the live stream suddenly cut to black, a rabid Luffy sprinted towards the judges and contenders as they screamed in fear.

Read on Wattpad | Read on AO3

[afrikakorpsmaedel]

AUGUST 22, 1939: The Obersalzburg Speech

“Decision to attack Poland was arrived at in spring. Originally there was fear that because of the political constellation we would have to strike at the same time against England, France, Russia and Poland. This risk too we should have had to take. Goring had demonstrated to us that his Four-Year Plan is a failure and that we are at the end of our strength, if we do not achieve victory in a coming war.

Since the autumn of 1938 and since I have realised that Japan will not go with us unconditionally and that Mussolini is endangered by that nitwit of a King and the treacherous scoundrel of a Crown Prince, I decided to go with Stalin. After all there are only three great statesmen in the world, Stalin, I and Mussolini. Mussolini is the weakest, for he has been able to break the power neither of the crown nor of the Church. Stalin and 1 are the only ones who visualise the future. So in a few weeks hence I shall stretch out my hand to Stalin at the common German-Russian frontier and with him undertake to re-distribute the world.

Our strength lies in our quickness and in our brutality; Genghis Khan has sent millions of women and children into death knowingly and with a light heart. History sees in him only the great founder of States. As to what the weak Western European civilisation asserts about me, that is of no account. I have given the command and I shall shoot everyone who utters one word of criticism, for the goal to be obtained in the war is not that of reaching certain lines but of physically demolishing the opponent. And so for the present only in the East 1 have put my death-head formations' in place with the command relentlessly and without compassion to send into death many women and children of Polish origin and language. Only thus we can gain the living space [lebensraum] that we need. Who after all is today speaking about the destruction of the Armenians?

Colonel-General von Brauchitsch has promised me to bring the war against Poland to a close within a few weeks. Had he reported to me that he needs two years or even only one year, I should not have given the command to march and should have allied myself temporarily with England instead of Russia for we cannot conduct a long war. To be sure a new situation has arisen. I experienced those poor worms Daladier and Chamberlain in Munich. They will be too cowardly to attack. They won't go beyond a blockade. Against that we have our autarchy and the Russian raw materials.

Poland will be depopulated and settled with Germans. My pact with the Poles was merely conceived of as a gaining of time. As for the rest, gentlemen, the fate of Russia will be exactly the same as 1 am now going through with in the case of Poland. After Stalin's death-he is a very sick man-we will break the Soviet Union. Then there will begin the dawn of the German rule of the earth.

The little States cannot scare me. After Kemal's [i.e. Ataturk] death Turkey is governed by cretins and half idiots. Carol of Roumania is through and through the corrupt slave of his sexual instincts. The King of Belgium and the Nordic kings are soft jumping jacks who are dependent upon the good digestions of their over-eating and tired peoples.

We shall have to take into the bargain the defection of Japan. I save Japan a full year's time. The Emperor is a counterpart to the last Czar - weak, cowardly, undecided. May he become a victim of the revolution. My going together with Japan never was popular. We shall continue to create disturbances in the Far East and in Arabia. Let us think as "gentlemen" and let us see in these peoples at best lacquered half maniacs who are anxious to experience the whip.

The opportunity is as favourable as never before. 1 have but one worry, namely that Chamberlain or some other such pig of a fellow (Saukerl) will come at the last moment with proposals or with ratting (Umfall). He will fly down the stairs, even if I shall personally have to trample on his belly in the eyes of the photographers.

No, it is too late for this. The attack upon and the destruction of Poland begins Saturday early. 1 shall let a few companies in Polish uniform attack in Upper Silesia or in the Protectorate. Whether the world believes it is quite indifferent (scheissegal). The world believes only in success.

For you, gentlemen, fame and honour are beginning as they have not since centuries. Be hard, be without mercy, act more quickly and brutally than the others. The citizens of Western Europe must tremble with horror. That is the most human way of conducting a war. For it scares the others off.

The new method of conducting war corresponds to the new drawing of the frontiers. A war extending from Reval, Lublin, Kaschau to the mouth of the Danube. The rest will be given to the Russians. Ribbentrop has orders to make every offer and to accept every demand. In the West I reserve to myself the right to determine the strategically best line. Here one will be able to work with Protectorate regions, such as Holland, Belgium and French Lorraine.

And now, on to the enemy, in Warsaw we will celebrate our reunion.”

I do not support or condone the actions of the Nazi Party

[grailfinders]

Grailfinders #331: Taigong Wang

today on Grailfinders we’re making Jiang Ziya, a.k.a. Jiang Shang, a.k.a. Lu Shang, a.k.a. Master Shangfu, a.k.a. Taikoubou, a.k.a. Taigong Wang. almost as numerous as his aliases are his accomplishments, such as ousting the daji from China, defeating the shang dynasty, and even creating quite a few gods through the power of being a really cool dude.

thankfully his build is slightly less complicated than his biography- he’s a Beast Master Ranger for a shape-shifting mount, and a Drunken Master Monk to blend strategy with a god-slashing whip- and also that cool “step on their head” attack.

check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

next up: it’s like someone stuck Artoria and Siegfried in a conceptual blender

Ancestry & Background

Taigong Wang is a Human, giving him +1 Dexterity and Wisdom, as well as proficiency in Acrobatics. you also get a feat of your choice here, but we’ll talk about that after we go over his background.

we’ve done plenty of tacticians before, but most of those guys weren’t running around with secrets from ancient mage societies, so we’re calling Shangfu a Mage of High Sorcery here, in part because of his investiture and secret magics, and in part because we need this background for a later feat. this gives you proficiency in Arcana and History, as well as the Initiate of High Sorcery feat- we’re grabbing the Lunitari version of the feat for Feather Fall and Longstrider- yes you’re a monk and that makes these spells mostly useless, but you don’t start as one, and multiclassing makes your speed and falling a little weaker than a full monk. you also get the True Strike cantrip to be all tactical and gain advantage on your next melee attack, but after six seconds of thinking you’ll realize the real tactical move was just to attack twice.

that being said it’s called the investiture of the gods for a reason, so we need to get a little godly. coming back around to your human feat, you’re also a Scion of the Outer Planes, specifically the good ones. this gives you resistance to radiant damage (making you an even better pick to fight gods), and you can cast Sacred Flame at will. I don’t think fire is part of your kit, but you’re practically a caster anyway, it’s fine.

Ability Scores

your Wisdom needs to be number 1, that’s how you know clever tactics like “don’t fuck up your government” and “don’t hire people who are bad at their job for your army”. I know it’s easy to clown on that now, but somebody had to figure it out the first time, right? second is Intelligence- if we didn’t need monk stuff and a horse you’d probably be a wizard, but you’re still smart regardless. your Dexterity is also pretty high because you don’t wear armor and use a whip. both of those make me question the “genius tactician” thing a bit, but they clearly work for you. this does mean your Constitution isn’t particularly high, but you don’t need HP if you don’t get hit. your Strength is neutral since we just don’t need it for the build, and we’re dumping Charisma. you’re so untrustworthy Fou gets merlin vibes from you. yikes.

Class Levels

1. Ranger 1: sadly, we need ranger levels first and foremost both to get your whip proficiency and so your background makes sense, but on the plus side at least you can have celestials as your Favored Enemy, giving you advantage to track them down and recall information about them. you put a lot of gods in heaven to begin with, it would be awkward if you forgot their names after all that.

you’re also a Deft Explorer, but before I go into that- you’re proficient with Strength and Dexterity saves, as well as Athletics, Perception, and Insight. the reason I bring this up is because the first part of deft explorer makes you Canny in one skill, such as Insight, doubling your proficiency bonus with it.

2. Ranger 2: second level rangers get a fighting style, and obviously we’re grabbing Duelist for a +2 bonus to one-handed attacks. whips are bad, but now it’s better. slightly.

also, you learn Spells that you cast using your wisdom, like Ensnaring Strike for a sick whip trick, forcing the next person you whip to make a strength save or become restrained for up to a minute. while trapped, they also take damage from the whip digging into them! if you’re worried about wasting damage on a long-term spell like that, you can instead use Hunter’s Mark, adding damage to your whip for up to an hour, plus you have advantage to track the target down if they flee. you also get a chance to move the spell over to another target after the current one dies, so it’s pretty economical!

3. Monk 1: okay, we’ve got the basics of whipping down, let’s get the rest of your fighting style. as a monk you gain Unarmored Defense, adding your wisdom score to your AC as long as you’re not wearing armor or a shield. I don’t care how sick the drip is, it’s not armor.

you also learn some Martial Arts, so now your whole body is a deadly weapon. you can use your dexterity instead of strength to attack with monk weapons or your fists, and if you use your action to attack with the aforementioned weapons you can make an unarmed strike as a bonus action. on top of that, your monk weapons and fists also do a minimum of a d4 of damage, and that amount will only go up as you level up. your whip isn’t a monk weapon yet, but give it a second- besides, it doesn’t gain much from martial arts at the moment anyway.

4. Monk 2: now that the second is up, second level monks can make their whip a Dedicated Weapon, so you can call it a monk weapon all you want after an hour of prep work. you also get Unarmored Movement, so you’re faster than everyone, and your Ki makes you even faster by letting you dash as a bonus action by spending some. you can also spend it to attack twice, dodge, or disengage as a bonus action, and your ki pool recharges every short rest.

5. Monk 3: at third level, this game finally becomes a party as you become a Drunken Master- you don’t actually have to be drunk for this, but you do have to act like it. that’s why you have proficiency with Performance and brewer’s supplies so you can pick for yourself.

that being said, beer doesn’t win every fight, so you get actual features too- your Drunken Technique means that every time you use a flurry of blows (the two attacks as a bonus action from last level) you also disengage, and your movement speed increases by 10’ to boot. maneuvering is always a big part of tactics, so anything that makes it easier for you to get where you want to go is just good strategy.

you can also Deflect Missiles now, reducing damage from incoming archers and even throwing the arrow back if you nullify the damage and spend ki.

6. Monk 4: fourth level monks get their first Ability Score Increase, so increase that Dexterity for better dodging and more accurate attacks. you can also Slow Fall now for reduced fall damage, so fighting Nikitich isn’t quite as bad an idea as before.

7. Monk 5: fifth level is huge for monks, if you’re the kind of person to like hitting things. your martial arts improve to deal d6s, you get an Extra Attack each action, and you can turn any attack into a Stunning Strike- force a constitution save on someone, or they get stunned for a round, giving advantage to everyone trying to hit them and keeping them from retaliating. “don’t get hit” is also pretty sage advice. of course, all this still requires you to hit someone- thankfully you can use Focused Aim by spending ki to add to your attack rolls. it’s a huge ki sink, but sometimes defeating an enemy now is more important than saving materials for later. I know, strategy, in the strategist build, wild right?

8. Monk 6: sixth level monks get Ki-Empowered Strikes, so now your unarmed attacks are magical and can overcome resistances to bludgeoning damage. it’s a shame this doesn’t apply to your whip as well, but I feel like any kind of god-chastising whip is more of a quest item than something you should just have. don’t worry though, by the end of this build your whip will be strong enough to chastise a lot of things, even if it isn’t a legendary weapon.

that being said, your Tipsy Sway is a pretty cool consolation prize- you can leap to your feet from prone for just 5’ of movement, and you can spend a ki point to redirect attacks that miss you into hitting another creature. I’m pretty sure that’s more Sun Tzu than Taigong, but the smartest people know when someone else had a good idea.

9. Monk 7: seventh level monks get Evasion, improving the damage reduction from dexterity saves. now you’re practically immune to fireballs, so fighting Nikitich is almost starting to look like a good idea!

you also have a Stillness of the Mind that lets you shut down any effects that are charming or frightening you. you don’t have a choleric temper, so enemies will not be irritating you much. wait, no, that’s still Sun Tzu, sorry.

10. Monk 8: I think we’re about at the point where you hit your third ascension, but before then we’re getting another ASI and making you an Adept of the Red Robes. first, this gives you access to a second level spell that you can cast for free once a day. for this build we’re grabbing Dragon’s Breath for your mount later, but if you want to help Guda and company when you first meet up you could grab Levitate instead. right now you can only cast it via this feat, but you can use second level spell slots to cast it like a normal spell once we get those.

thankfully, that’s not the only thing this feat does. you can also restore magical balance whenever you make an attack or check, turning your roll into a roll of ten, up to proficiency times per day. your strategy might not always work, but at least it will never fail.

11. Ranger 3: I think we’re doing good on the whip, but we’re not quite godly enough yet. heading back to ranger at least lets you hunt them down easier with Primeval Awareness- you can spend a spell slot to detect celestials within a mile of you, as well as various other kinds of extraplanar monsters. that means it should work pretty well against Koyanskaya too- or at least it would if she hadn’t surrounded herself with all other sorts of monsters.

you’re also a Beast Master now, which means you can summon a shape-shifting Primal Companion to pal around with. none of them can technically be ridden, but tbf you don’t look super comfortable on that tapir anyway. you and your companion both move on your turn, but the only way to make your animal do anything but dodge requires you to spend your bonus action telling it what to do. or for you to get knocked out. nobody said good strategies are easy to pull off.

you can spend spell slots to resummon a dead companion, or wait until you finish a long rest to summon one for free.

on top of that, you get another spell- since we’re not getting true flight, I hope grabbing Zephyr Strike will make up for that somewhat. for a minute you get free disengaging, and you can end the spell early to get advantage on a weapon attack and deal extra damage if it hits. on top of that, your walking speed increases by 30’ that round, letting you blast yourself a truly silly amount of distance.

12. Ranger 4: fourth level rangers get another ASI, and it’s finally time for you to become a Righteous Heritor. that increases your Dexterity score by one, and you can protect your allies by spending your reaction to reduce any incoming damage for them, up to proficiency times a day.

I’m not actually expecting anyone playing this build to have to come up with clever strategies all the time; having a couple “whoops we fucked up” buttons that undo damage is just as good.

13. Ranger 5: fifth level would be a dead level for you, but thankfully rangers get second level spells! it’s still not flying, but Gust of Wind can knock people around with air, so it’s the closest we’re getting. (plus if you gust someone off a cliff they’re technically flying… downward… for a short period of time…)

14. Ranger 6: sixth level rangers get another favored enemy, and if Daji isn’t a celestial she’s probably an Aberration. you don’t get any new additions to the feature, but it works on twice as many monsters. what is new this time around is your new Deft Explorer feature, Roving. you get a small boost in movement speed, and you have a climbing and swimming speed now. have you seen Chinese mountains? honestly it would probably be easier to just run straight up them.

15. Monk 9: ninth level monks can run straight up them thanks to your Unarmored Movement Improvement- as long as your turn ends on solid, flat ground, you can run over water or up walls. you might think this makes the last level of ranger useless, but having a climbing speed should make it easier to latch onto the cliff face in-between turns so you don’t just fall all the way back down. clever thinking like that’s why you’re a strategist.

16. Monk 10: tenth level monks have a Purity of Body that makes you immune to disease or poison. as far as I’m aware, Taigong Wang never got sick or poisoned in the Investiture of the Gods, and that book’s 100 chapters long. this is mostly because I never read the thing, but still.

17. Monk 11: eleventh level monks get d8s for their martial arts, but more importantly you have a Drunkard’s Luck- or possibly a drunkard’s strategy. whenever you’d have to make an attack, save, or check at disadvantage, you can spend two ki points to cancel it. this also works on rolls where your advantage and disadvantage cancel each other out, which is extra fun. combine this with your magical balance, and now your plans should never fail.

18. Monk 12: we had to spend so many ASIs on feats that one of our stats is still odd, so this last one will be no different. the Slasher feat will even out your Dexterity, but it also reduces a targets speed when they take slashing damage from your whip, and critical hits force disadvantage on that creatures attack rolls for a turn. crits are luck-based, but luck is just strategy you’re too humble to claim ownership of.

19. Monk 13: our penultimate level gives you a Tongue of the Sun and Moon, letting you speak and understand all languages. if you get a couple hundred gods into heaven, you can skip your duolingo practice, those are the rules.

20. Monk 14: the real reason we stuck with monk for so long, our final level gives you a Diamond Soul, granting you proficiency on all saving throws, and even if you fail one, you can spend a ki point to reroll it. having to maintain concentration on hunter’s mark is the worst part of being a ranger, and now that shackle is lifted. go forth, and slap things with slightly more damage than usual.

Pros & Cons

Pros:

Hunter’s Mark is always a fantastic spell to have on a monk due to how many attacks you get each turn. monks already do decent damage, and when you have your mark up you can put some serious pain on people. being able to almost constantly have the thing active since you’ll never drop concentration is also a nice bonus of the build.

speaking of, you almost never fail at anything. you can give yourself advantage, ignore disadvantage, and even fudge your roll a couple times a day. some call it luck, but if it came from a build you chose to use, that’s strategy. and Taigong Wang is a damn good strategist.

whip monks are also great, it’s a shame the last one we built was like, Cursed Arm. you’re already ridiculously fast, and by using a reach weapon you can attack enemies and bolt without needing to disengage, then run out of their reach so they can’t even attempt to retaliate. it’s not quite flight, but it’s up there in terms of good strategy.

Cons:

you can do a lot, but most of that a lot lands in your bonus action, forcing you to choose between most monk abilities. ranger spells, or actually using your beast. variety tends to be a better build goal than just doing one thing well, but it will mean you have to actually think about what you want to do and when.

we also grab a lot of feats, so your overall stat total is lower than most people’s. it’s not a huge issue, but it does mean you’re squishier than I’d like and your spells aren’t powerful.

Beast Master. just. beast master. literally any other ranger subclass would have been a more useful pick, but we needed a shapeshifting buddy. you can’t even ride on him- at least, not comfortably. your tapir will almost certainly die in one round if you take it into a fight, and even trying to use it in combat blocks you from using a ton of your monk abilities.

[serknighted]

Hey there, hello! Welcome to tumblr! Please tell me about your OC, I'd love to know about them! As much as you feel like writing down!💖

Thank you for the ask :D!

So I have... a few OCs for Fallout (This isn't even all the Fallout characters I have, just some of the ones I write about the most). The one I probably focus on the most though is the first one, on the left. His name is William S. Moore (although we'll just be calling him Moore, since that's what he prefers to go by). I might make more posts for the other three (plus the ones who don't have full references yet) in the future! But for now... I wanna talk about my little guy...

(pictured: a young Nora and Liam Moore)

William Shepard Moore, Sole Survivor of Vault 111, Sad Widowed Father of Several

(Pre-war)

Born the 9th of September of 2033, Moore's family originates from Ireland-- however, they quickly relocated to America to seek better opportunities for their only son, and so the family moves from Europe to Massachusetts. Moore always showed prowess more for history & literature than science, always being fascinated by world history, and more importantly, law. Being raised in a world with a constant fear of Communism, he sought to understand politics and the government that seemingly caused nothing but fear and panic in his family & friends. Despite how gifted he was, he was quite the trouble-maker, and his father believed that enlisting in the army would whip him into shape, just as it had done for him. Graduating at 18 in 2051, Moore decided to take his father's advice, and enlisted in the army.

His behavior was relatively clean while enlisted, and it wasn't until a war-time injury occurred two years later, with shards of grenade shrapnel made its way right near his right eye, that Moore found himself in dire trouble. While he lived and escaped the injury relatively unscathed vision-wise in the end, he was given a nasty facial scar, and the treatments and surgeries were plentiful and painful. Luckily for him, though, the nurse who took care of him most often was another soldier named Nora. When he was inevitably [honorably] discharged to rehabilitate from the injury, he promptly enrolled in college, deciding to study American Law. When he found out that Nora had enrolled in the same college as him, he jumped at the opportunity to try and befriend her, and throughout their long college years, they fell in love, and eventually got married after both got their masters in their respective fields.

Moore had a comfortable life as a lawyer; he was happy with Nora, with plenty of money to spare. Although the two of them believed they would likely never have the family they wanted due to Nora's chronic illnesses, it was discovered that Nora was pregnant with their first and only son-- a miracle baby, to say the least. Such a miracle inspired Moore to finally pursue something he had dreamed of for years, which was running for Mayor of Boston. He believed he could make the world better for his son, and he had already worked so hard on what he would do if he were to run, so he decided to run for office in 2076, just a year before the bombs fell. Although he had many supporters behind his back, his detractors were many; it had become exceptionally clear through media leaks that Moore had not been given the most mentally stable of minds, and many believed his PTSD made him entirely unfit for office; some using it as ammo to fire at his more left-leaning values. Moore was already exceptionally shy, but this treatment made him regress into his shell-- he forced upon himself a "perfect political persona," of sorts, completely repressing anything undesirable, and causing him to become more toxic in his own views of his masculinity. He would never get to see if this strategy worked, as the bombs fell before election day.

(pictured: post-war Moore)

(post-war)

Moore's story has many themes; it is him finding who he is while trying to survive the wasteland, and just as importantly, trying to find the family that he had lost so many centuries ago. The Wasteland of the Commonwealth is a ravenous, unloving beast, but while it may be cruel, there are some hidden good-sides to its chaos.

The first few months out of the vault were a kind of hell that Moore cannot even remember. He actually has no recollection of the time he spent in Diamond City or Goodneighbor, much to the dismay of Hancock. No one (including Moore) knows how he survived so long by himself, given the intense dissociative episodes from the new trauma of losing his entire family, and the Commonwealth itself being a never-ending reminder of the battlefield. The only reason he found his footing was because he had managed to accidentally stumble into Goodneighbor; the kindness of the residents to take him in and nurse him back to health while he was in his absent, half-dead state is one he can't remember, but still appreciates. Hancock was the one who paid out of pocket for the stranger to receive treatment ("no one is dyin' in my town. Not if I can help it.").

He befriends Preston Garvey afterwards, and the small group begin rebuilding what they can as they try to help Moore find his son. Moore takes quite well to the role of a leader of the Minutemen; he didn't think he would, but it makes him feel a bit better knowing he has people to back him up. It takes him many, many months to begin tracking down leads for where the Institute and his son might be, and he makes a few unlikely friends along the way... mainly the Mayor that took care of him way back when.

Moore is bad at forgetting, and hates remembering. He only travels constantly because he feels the need to be away from things that remind him of a life he no longer has. Nothing hurts more than the loss of his wife. Nora was more than the world to him; she took care of him, and he dedicated his life to her in return. Sanctuary reminded him of her, the songs on the radio about love, the giant Hubflowers that bloomed her favorite color... He hated remembering her, because he hated that he could never have her, again. His strong, fiery, extroverted wife, with a passion for ridiculous clothes, a girl who always spoke her mind.

...It sounds a little familiar, huh?

He didn't really realize this with Hancock, at first. He just thought he enjoyed the company, enjoyed not being alone... but when he did realize, it was initially so painful that he sent John home, much to the despair of seemingly both of them. So many things about their relationship was deeply painful. He had so far buried the idea of being queer, the idea of being vulnerable around someone, the idea of being himself... that he had forgotten what it was like to be happy with his life.

It takes him a while to really unpack this. To realize how much he'd accidentally fucked over his friendship with a man who had gone out of his gosh-darned way to take care of him... Just like Nora did. It's a lot to deal with the realization that you don't like the person you made, but it's a start. He realizes how much he actually cares about the people around him, the society he's helping foster... and that if he doesn't tell them now, he may never be able to, tomorrow.

While he falls in love both literally with someone and with the community he swears to protect, he finds the Institute, and his son. The son who terrorizes everything he now loves. It's hard for Moore to bear; the baby his Nora was so, so excited to love, is now telling him to his face that he cared little about the lives of his own parents. And despite how much it pains him, he can't let go. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), the world had already decided for Shaun to go, and so Moore spent his time learning about the facility around him as he watched his only flesh and blood pass.

Taking up the role of the Director, Moore is uninterested in "destroying" the Institute; there is too much good being done here to slaughter so many innocent people. He essentially tells the boards, "we cannot keep torturing the people on the surface, and if you don't discontinue these unnecessary projects my son started, I will be more forceful," and with some... helpful suggestion from the Railroad and his now much-larger Minutemen army, he successfully turns the Institute into a place of proper medical study and aid for the surface. In return, he stages a false explosion on the surface; the people of the Commonwealth now truly believe the Institute is gone, and with the boogeyman dealt with, the Institute could operate in relative peace, with the silent safety-net of the Minutemen army (given they honored their side of the deal: no more synths, more research in cultivation and medical science).

(pictured: post-story Moore)

Nowadays, Moore serves as a kind of Governor for the top-half of the Commonwealth, controlling most of the Greater Boston Area and above. He is romanced with Hancock (obviously), and spends most his time dealing with legal Government work, as well as trying to keep peace between his land and the land that the Gunners and Rust Devils claim. Although he's not perfect, he's learned what he's here for, and has found more peace and love within himself that he did not have before the war. He's also cybernetically-enhanced; thanks to an "accident" regarding laser rifles, his left eye was amputated and replaced with a prosthetic (formerly synth) eye, and he also has similar life-extension technology that Kellogg used to use. He tries to live a quieter life with his synth son Shaun and his partner John with the rest of his friends, but God knows that Plot Shenanigans love striking.

That's all the major information on Moore!! If you actually read this entire post, thank you! I appreciate it. And thank you for the ask again! I was honestly procrastinating on posting him for a while despite how much I absolutely adore him ;_; .

[gemsofgreece]

Christos Davelis

The Brigand Captain

Christos Davelis, who is mostly known as Λήσταρχος Νταβέλης (Lístarchos Davélis, Brigand Captain Davelis) in Greece, was a notorious bandit who was active in the regions of Attica and Boeotia in the mids of the 19th century. Although he died young, his life reminds of fictional literature, so much that he became a folk hero of sorts in the collective Greek memory, despite not really possessing heroic virtues.

His real name was Christos Natsios. His birthplace is not certain but it is believed he had some Arvanite-Vlach descent. Christos was initially a shepherd, just like most of his family. He took care of the flocks of a monastery in Mt Penteli. Someday, the abbot approached him and asked him to deliver a letter to a nun in Athens in full secrecy. Overcome with curiosity, Christos gave the letter to someone who could read it for him instead, as he was illiterate. Learning of the letter's contents, he decided to meet that nun himself and he became a frequent visitor of hers. The abbot found out and accused him of robbery. Christos was whipped and exiled to Euboea island.

There he fell in love with the daughter of a priest (he did appreciate the religious vibe apparently), although she was already betrothed to a prosperous shepherd. The shepherd seeked revenge and led Christos Natsios to the authorities claiming he was a deserter they were after, called Nastos. Christos failed to convince them his surname was different. He managed to flee though and he escaped to the mountains, under the alias Davelis.

There he joined the bandit gang of his uncle and soon he created his own, with which he was robbing travellers, shepherds and farmers who lived in Attica, Boeotia, Phthiotis and Euboea. One of his most notorious operations was the kidnapping of the French officer Berteau, who had come to Greece in order to convince the Greek government to not participate in the Crimean War by Russia's side (and against the Ottomans). This operation proved to be his most prolific as the Greek state paid him 30,000 drachmas in gold (an outrageous amount of money back then) to let the French man free.

His reputation grew bigger in 1855 when his gang was active near Marathon and Davelis used the Cave of Penteli as his lair. This cave is still said to have a haunting vibe about it and it is sometimes associated with stories of supernatural incidents.

The Cave of Davelis.

The most famous and decisive point in his life though was his affair with the Italian duchess Luisa Bacoli, who asked the gang's protection in order to visit Delphi safely. Davelis' right hand, Yannis Megas, fell in love with her and went mad when Bacoli responded to Davelis' advances instead. He left the gang, denounced his former lifestyle and joined the police, determined to hunt Davelis down.

This was not even the only duchess seduced by Davelis charms' who was said to have a soft and delicate face, despite his reputation and lifestyle. According to folklore, he also had an affair with the Duchess of Plaisance, Sophie de Marbois-Lebru and there was a tunnel connecting his cave all the way to her villa in Athens.

Sophie de Marbois-Lebrun, Duchess of Plaisance

Another legend was that Davelis often disguised himself and casually visited Athens, where he conversed in coffee shops with the locals.

Folk art of Davelis.

The police was humiliated often by Davelis , once being surprised by his gang in Menidi and being forced to hand him their weapons. This made the police (and Megas) even more determined to catch him. This finally happened in the summer of 1856, in a proper combat between Davelis' gang and the policemen. Seeing many of his men fall, Davelis offered to fight Megas in a one-to-one duel. Megas leaped furiously at him with a sword but Davelis managed to kill him first, using a gun. His victory didn't last. A policeman killed him with his sword, while Davelis was crying "ούτε ο Νταβέλης στα βουνά ούτε ο Μέγας στα παλάτια" (úte o Davélis sta vuná úte o Méghas sta palátia = "neither Davelis in the mountains nor Megas in the palaces"). His head was put on a stick and left in common view in Syntagma Square in Athens for several days, in the summer of 1856. The head is now kept in the Museum of Criminology in Athens but the access to it is restricted.

The Greek painter Nikephoros Lytras, just passing by, took a photograph of his head, and later took it to Munich where he would be working for a while. While there, he became friends with the German painter Gabriel Cornelius Von Max.

One day when the German artist was in Lytras’s studio rummaging through his files, he came across the portrait of Davelis’ head. He asked Lytras about the identity of his model: “He was the most terrible thief that Greece has ever known, a ruthless, ferocious man” – “And yet,” Von Max countered, “in this picture, I can see that this man met God at the moment of his death. You have the portrait there of a saint; a great saint.”

Lytras thought that Von Max was obviously deranged. “Since he interests you so much, the portrait is my gift to you.” Von Max took away the portrait and used it to paint his most famous work: ‘The Veil of Veronica’; reproduced millions of times.

Sources: x, x

[wolfchans]

My mum scolding one of our dogs for trying to eat a bug "why are you like this?? Why are you so bad behaved? *Whips out full government name of the dog* listen to me why are you like this"

And then I guess the dog tried to cute his way out of the scolding bc my mum was baby talking her about how cute she was

[mercurygray]

Random prompts: 82. (Sail) with Joan (& Dick and/or Kurt, if so moved?) Please and thank you!

I have no idea where 1890s Newport came from, but here we are.

It was sunny today, in Newport - too sunny for her mother, at that. Mrs. Warren had gone to bed with a headache and instructions to her two children not to be too loud in the house, as if Frank and Joan were still twelve, instead of twenty-seven, and needed instructions like that.

Frank and her cousin Warrey were taking the boat out today, with Lew and Mr. Winters, to get ready for the regatta at the end of the week. Kurt had laughed at that, down at the clubhouse - You couldn't get a better fourth, Warren? Has he ever even been on a boat?

But Lewis stood by him, and that meant her brother and cousin would, too. They liked Lew's friend, or seemed to, anyway - unlike Kurt, who only put up with Lewis because he couldn't afford not to. The Nixons were new money, sure enough, with government contracts for the Navy - but Richard Winters was no money at all.

A secretary at the firm, he was introduced as - a way for old Mr. Nixon to keep his son on a somewhat tighter leash down here in Newport. Met at college, as far as anyone was aware. Dressed well, and spoke well, when he had a mind to. A bright fellow, if a little somber - Mrs. Fish complained he put her numbers out, but everyone knew her numbers were a thing of the moment anyway and no one gave that any mind.

"He's a good fellow, Joanie, even if he hasn't any money," Lew had said, the other night after dinner, enjoying his cigar on the terrace under a full moon. The breeze coming in from the sea was brisk, and the other ladies were all back inside complaining of the cold, but Joan liked it outside. "And he likes you."

"Me?" She didn't know why she was surprised by it - she was used to being admired. Most of the men of her circle were quite vocal about it, the practices of their admiration almost passe - flowers and cards and loud endearments over tennis matches, promising like the knights of old to win this tournament or that contest. Quiet, unspoken longing was …something new, and there was something almost sacred in being someone's secret.

Trust Lewis to make a joke of it, though. "It may surprise Miss Warren to know that she's rather pretty in most lights."

"Lewis."

But he had his moments, Lewis did. "I'm being very serious, Joanie. He gets awful quiet when your name gets mentioned and then he won't meet anyone's eye. He'll make something of himself at the firm, I know he will- partner, surely, in a few years. He's respectable, honest, he doesn't gamble with his money or anyone else's, and once you put him on something he won't say die." Lewis looked at her and grinned. "He's a lot like you, in some respects. Unafraid to be better."

Unafraid - what a word! She shivered in the wind, watching the water of the bay. The wind was wild today, waves crashing up against the shore with tremendous power, the sunshine making as pretty a picture as a watercolorist could hope for. She hadn't brought her paints out today, though - she merely wanted to watch, to see.

Here they came now, around the point, sails brilliant against the sea, boating sweaters on and the wind whipping their hair, Warrey fair and sandy at the wheel, Frank and Lew dark-haired, and Mr. Winters, red-headed as a viking. Her heart seized a little on the sight.

"How do you like your chances, for the regatta?" She'd tried to change the subject as soon as possible.

"Well, Kurt's got a crackerjack boat and a couple of good fellows to handle it, but Frank and Warrey know their sailing and we're not such bad hands either. He'll try something showy, for the ladies, but we'll go for speed. And Dick's a competitive bastard - he loves to win. We'll be out all day for the practice, if he'll let us."

Joan smiled into the wind, feeling the fringes of her skirt beat back against her ankles, the handle of her parasol heavy and reassuring in her hand. She'd met them, this morning, before they'd gone down to the dock, her brother and cousin talking quickly between them about the tides and shoals and the need to consult a chart, Lewis ambling after them with his hands in his pockets. Collars present and correct, practically gleaming in boating whites. And Winters, loping slowly, tall and serious behind them all.

She intercepted him at the back door. Around them the house was quiet, save for a case clock striking somewhere upstairs. The maids were busy making beds and she could hear, down the hall, the muffled sounds of the cooks getting ready for luncheon. "Mr. Winters."

"Miss Warren."

It was the work of a moment - another secret just for them. She felt him inhale as she kissed him, his whole tall body tensing with the unknown, obviously holding himself back, his hands held patiently at his sides. (Kurt wouldn't have done that. Kurt would have taken the rest without asking.) "For luck," she said, pulling away. "There's another one in it for you if you beat him."

There was no need to say who 'he' was - Kurt, who never cared for new men. He always assumes, Kurt does, that the world will go his way, that he'll win. That I'm his, and I want - I want someone who tries. Someone relentless.

She didn't like to play with men, and she wasn't sure if this was playing, but there it was - the glitter in his eye. He likes to win - and I do, too. We're unafraid of it.

[grandmaster-anne]

Gyles Brandreth's Exclusive Extract Last Part

The Mail Plus | Published 27 November 2022

Just one example of the Queen’s pithily dry sense of humour, as revealed in GYLES BRANDRETH’s sparkling new biography. Here, in a final extract, he describes why — from pitch-perfect George Formby impressions to laughing at President Trump — she was ‘the best company in the world’

AT a polo match at Windsor, the actor Ian Ogilvy was in the refreshment tent when the Queen wandered in – ‘tweeds, headscarf, muddy wellington boots’.

When he was presented to her, to make conversation, the actor suddenly remembered the name of one of the horses she used to ride on ceremonial occasions.

‘I was wondering, ma’am – whatever happened to Burmese?’

‘Oh, my goodness,’ said the Queen, her face lighting up.  ‘Well, it’s funny you should ask, because I’ve just been to see her. She’s very old, of course, but she lives here at Windsor, in her own field just half a mile away.  

‘So I went into her field, you see, and she came trotting over, as always, because we know each other terribly well, of course – great old friends, in fact and I always take her a carrot or an apple or something – and I was just giving it to her, you see, when I heard this awful snorting and thumping noise and I looked up and there was this huge stallion charging at me! At full gallop!  

‘I had no idea what he was doing in Burmese’s field, but here he was, pounding towards me, and his eyes were all red and his ears were laid back and his enormous teeth were bared – just like this!’  

And here Ian Ogilvy claims to be one of the few of the late Queen’s subject to have seen Her Majesty ‘performing her homicidal horse routine’.  

‘And I knew without a shadow of doubt,’ the Queen continued, ‘that he was going to kill me so I ran, quite literally ran, as fast as I could to the gate and got out just seconds before he attacked me and – well, the fact is – you very nearly lost your sovereign’.

The fun of spending time with the Queen was finding out how much fun she was and discovering unexpected things about her. She really could sing ‘when I’m cleaning winders’ and the other songs George Formby sang to his banjolele when she was growing up during the war – and with Formby’s authentic Lancashire accent, too. (She was the Duke of Lancaster, after all.)   

Her fondness for practical jokes is well known, as when she wore a false ginger beard to greet Prince Philip on his return from a world tour – during which he’d been photographed sporting a full set of whiskers.

Those close to the Queen also speak of the many spot-on impressions she did (including an alarmingly accurate vocal recreation of Concorde coming in to land over Windsor Castle).

But it was her wry, dry, humorous way of looking at things that particularly struck me, and her appreciation of jokes.

Back when I was a Conservative MP, I know she was amused by the hand-written message sent to her daily from the Vice-Chamberlain – a member of the government whips’ office – whenever parliament was sitting.  

This ‘message’, as it’s known, was designed to give the Queen a flavour of the mood of the House of Commons – who was doing well, who wasn’t and how the wind was blowing. And in my day, the Vice-Chamberlain would also send Her Majesty some of my jokes.

It certainly amused her, for instance, when I told her that political correctness required that the Tory MP Sydney Chapman should properly be known these days as Sydney Personperson.

I once made the Queen laugh by telling her a story she claimed she had never heard before – but that both Tony Snowdon and the Lady Olivier (actress Joan Plowright) assured me is true.  

In the story, the Snowdons visit the Oliviers at their house in Brighton, and Lady Olivier and Princess Margaret are comparing notes on the progress of their baby boys. David Linley was born on November 3, 1961; Richard Olivier was born a month later, on December 3, 1961.  

Lady Olivier boasts that Richard has spoken his first word and she says she is ‘so pleased – and so is her husband – because Richard’s first word was “Dada”.’

Princess Margaret responds with the news that by happy coincidence, her little David had just spoken his first word.  

‘And what was it?’ asks Lady Olivier.

‘It was “chandelier”,’ says Princess Margaret proudly.

The Queen thought that very funny and reckoned it was possibly true, given the chandeliers that hang from the ceilings at Kensington Palace.  The nanny could have pointed it out to baby David in his cot, she said, and kept repeating, ‘chandelier!’

Thanks to my friendship with Prince Philip, I was often given privileged access to the Queen, to walk and talk with her as she went about her official duties. I also chatted with her at assorted private events and parties.

Her voice was softer, less artificial and less strangulated in conversation, than the voice we heard when she was opening Parliament or giving her Christmas Day broadcast.  

My conversations and small talk with her would all be recorded, on the day, in the diary I have been keeping since 1959. Over the years, I also talked to some of her friends and many of the people who worked with her. They, too, spoke fondly of her well-developed sense of humour.

Major-General Sir Sebastian Roberts, formerly Commanding Officer of the 1st Battalion of the Irish Guards and Major-General commanding the Household Division, told me his happiest memory of Her Majesty.  

Rehearsing for Trooping the Colour, the Queen’s Birthday Parade, and riding a new horse, a powerful charger of nineteen-and-a-half hands, he said the animal ran away with him, careering down the Mall at 40 miles per hour.  

Eventually, with a cry of ‘pull the effing reins ’til the bridle comes out of his arse’ from a sergeant-major ringing in his ears, the Major-General managed to bring the horse under control.  

Later in the day, Roberts recounted the tale to the Queen. ‘She laughed and laughed and laughed.   I’ve never seen her laugh so much,’ he said.

And while we’re on horsey stories, cast your mind back to the wedding in 1973 of Princess Anne to Mark Phillips, a key member of the British three-day-eventing team that had triumphed in the Olympics the previous year.

‘I shouldn’t wonder if their children are four-legged,’ the Queen is supposed to have remarked.

Like other members of her family, the Queen also enjoyed comic glitches when nothing quite went to plan.

The King’s goddaughter India Hicks recalled one of these as we sheltered under an umbrella on September 14 this year, watching the royal hearse bring the Queen’s body back to Buckingham Palace for the last time.

We were talking about how the Queen was on constant show – even in death – when she told me a hilarious story about the time her mother, Pamela Mountbatten, had been accompanying the Queen on her post-Coronation Commonwealth tour.  

They were in Tonga, in the South Pacific, and it was late at night. Pamela bumped into the Queen when they were both stumbling around the Governor’s house, or whatever it was, looking for the bathroom.  

When they found it, they turned on the light – only to discover that on the other side of the bathroom a second door was wide open and looking out on to the garden, where 400 men were sitting by their campfires staring at them.  

The following morning was a Sunday, and the royal party had been hoping for a lie-in. Instead, the Queen and Prince Philip were woken at dawn by four men at their bedroom door blowing nose flutes in their honour.

Given the weirdness of her life (imprisoned by her fate: destined to be monarch from the age of ten), the Queen seemed to me to be quite remarkably well-balanced, rounded, grounded and at ease with herself, the world and her place in it.

From the moment of her coronation onwards, for more than 70 years, Elizabeth II was the object of adulation. People bowed and curtseyed before her on a daily basis.  When she went on international tours, hundreds and thousands – on occasion, millions – turned out to cheer.  

‘It didn’t affect her at all,’ the Duke of Edinburgh said to me. ‘She never for a moment thought the cheering was for her personally.  It’s for the position she holds – it’s for the role she fulfils, it’s because she’s Queen.   

‘That’s all.  She knows that.  Her head hasn’t been turned by being Queen – not at all.  She’s quite normal.’

Throughout her reign, she took the possibility of being in the firing line in her stride. At Christmas 2021, when the Queen was 95, a masked and hooded intruder wielding a crossbow – a 20-year-old from Southampton, Jaswant Singh Chail – approached a police officer in the grounds of Windsor Castle and announced he had come ‘to kill the Queen’.  

He was arrested and charged under the 1842 Treason Act. When the Queen was told about the incident, she said to one of her team in the Windsor Covid ‘bubble’: ‘Yes, well, that would have put a dampner on Christmas, wouldn’t it?’

This year, just a few days before the Queen died, I went to see her old friend Prue Penn at her home in Scotland. She showed me, because I asked, photographs of Her Majesty and her family at Lady Penn’s ninetieth birthday party.  

To illustrate the Queen’s humility, Prue told me about a dinner she and her husband had given for the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh and a few friends in their house in London.   

‘I had made a carefully thought-out table plan which I forgot to take with me into the dining room,’ she explained.

 ‘Consequently, I got into a serious muddle over the placing of our guests.  Seeing my confusion, Her Majesty took over and in no time at all had made a very good job of it, sat down and said, “Lucky you weren’t giving an important dinner party”.’

Cracking up: The Queen and Prince Philip watching a presentation by recruits of Welsh Brigade in 1963

The Queen added, grinning, ‘We don’t mind who sits where – but I know a few ambassadors who might.’   

Prue said to me quickly: ‘You mustn’t put that last bit in your book,’ but I want to risk it because it illustrates the Queen’s impish sense of humour.  

As does another of Lady Penn’s stories…

‘On one occasion when the Queen was staying with us in Suffolk,’ she said, ‘we went for a walk along the banks of the river Alde. Below the 12th Century St. Botolph Iken Church, we met a woman walking her dog which happened to be a corgi.  

‘Her Majesty was a magnet to dogs, and it made straight for her. She bent down to stroke and talk to it. Seeing the affinity between them, the woman asked if she happened to be a corgi fan, too.

'She said that she was, whereupon the owner said, “Well, you and I are in good company because the Queen has them too”.  

'‘‘’Wasn’t that killing?” the Queen said as we walked away.'

Richard Griffin, a former Royal Protection Officer, tells a lovely story in a similar vein of a time when he was out walking with the Queen near Balmoral.

 ‘Whenever we met people on these walks, the Queen would always stop and say hello.  One day we met a couple of American tourists and it was clear from the moment we first stopped they hadn’t recognised her.  

‘After they had been chatting a while, the American said to Her Majesty, “And where do you live?”  

‘She said, “Well, I live in London, but I’ve got a holiday home just the other side of the hills”.’   

‘The tourist then asked the Queen how long she had been visiting the area, and she replied: ‘For over 80 years, since I was a little girl.’   

‘Well,’ said the American, ‘if you’ve been coming up here for 80 years, you must have met the Queen?’   

According to Griffin, ‘As quick as a flash, she said, “Well, I haven’t, but Dickie here meets her regularly”.   

‘So the American guy said to me, “You’ve met the Queen? What’s she like?”   

‘Because I was with her a long time and I knew I could pull her leg, I said, “She can be very cantankerous at times, but she’s got a lovely sense of humour.”’   

‘The American tourist proceeded to put his arm around the protection officer and gave his camera to the Queen, asking if she’d take a picture of them both.’

Labour PM James Callaghan maintained all his conversations with her were enjoyable.  ‘One of the great things about her,’ he said, ‘is that she always seems able to see the funny side of life.’  

On her Silver Jubilee in 1977, James Callaghan’s Cabinet presented the Queen with a silver coffee pot.

‘Oh!’ the Queen said to Callaghan, apparently delighted, ‘I’m so glad you haven’t repeated Mr Disraeli’s gift to Queen Victoria. He gave her a painting of himself.’

The Queen liked to tease Edward Heath, even after he was no longer prime minister. In 1992, at a gathering of foreign heads of government, she told her former Conservative premier, ‘You’re expendable now.’  

Some commentators interpreted the remark as a deliberate put-down.  She was simply being playful.

 On another occasion, as he came aboard the Royal Yacht Britannia, the Sovereign greeted Heath, mimicking a conductor, with the words, ‘Are you still waving your stick about?’

Not every prime minister relished the traditional Balmoral weekend, which took place every September.   Margaret Thatcher told me it really wasn’t her ‘cup of tea’.  She said she ‘dreaded’ the charades that she was expected to play after dinner at Balmoral.    

Long afterwards, the Queen, at a gathering of six of her prime ministers – including Mrs Thatcher – joked about ‘the party games which some of you have so nobly endured at Balmoral’ – but she nonetheless maintained the tradition.

According to Boris Johnson, the last prime minister the Queen got to know, the weekend there was fun. ‘There was a lot of laughter,’ he said, ‘a lot of laughter.’

In 2018, the Queen had to put up with Donald Trump striding ahead of her when he visited Windsor and inspected the Guard of Honour. Far from being offended, she was amused.

And that night, when the Queen saw herself on television, bobbing about behind him, she laughed out loud.

‘She really loved a good joke,’ recalled Major-General Sir Sebastian Roberts, who was Commander of the Household Division In April 1989 when Russia’s President Mikhail Gorbachev was coming on a state visit.

The communist leader was due to inspect a Guard of Honour at Windsor, and before the event Roberts received a call from Her Majesty.

‘What coats will the Coldstreamers be wearing, Sebastian?’ asked the Queen.  

‘Summer coats, Your Majesty, it’s almost mid-April,’ said Roberts.  

‘Could they wear their winter coats, Sebastian?’  

The Major-General told me: ‘So we scrambled to get the men out of their summer kit into their winter coats.

‘Gorby duly arrived at Windsor and was invited to inspect the Guard of Honour with the Duke of Edinburgh. Inspection done, Gorby said to the Queen – as every visitor always did after any Guard of Honour – “very impressive, marvellous uniforms”.

‘To which the Queen replied, with a twinkle in her eye, “Thank you, Mr President. They’re the Coldstream Guards. They got their bearskins from Napoleon at Waterloo and their greatcoats from you in the Crimea.”’

Once, I told the Queen I’d been to Dubai as a guest of the ruler, Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum, and that he had shown me around his famous Godolphin stables.

 ‘I envy you,’ she said. She knew the Sheikh well because of their shared love of racing.  

‘I went on my birthday,’ I said.  

‘Did he give you a present?’ she asked.  

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘but it wasn’t the white Rolls-Royce he had lent me for the week’.

‘What was it?’ she asked.   

‘It was something he said my wife would treasure.’  

The Queen looked at me wide-eyed: ‘Pearls?  Diamonds?’   

‘No,’ I said, ‘it was a small book of love poetry – poems written by the Sheikh himself and then translated into truly awful English by the retired British brigadier who worked as his ADC.’  

She laughed at that and told me she had received some ‘quite strange’ presents in her time, including all sorts of animals, from antelopes to zebra, and what she described as an ‘Aladdin’s cave’ of gems when she visited the Gulf states in 1979.  

‘Millions of pounds worth of jewellery and gold and silver,’ she said.  ‘I’m not sure what happened to it.  It’s probably locked up in a basement at the Foreign Office.’

Ask the Duke of Kent – now undeniably old and a bit unsteady on his feet – for his happiest, most vivid recollection of the Queen and he doesn’t hesitate.

‘She was just the best company,’ he said, smiling.  ‘So easy, so relaxed, so much fun.  When you were alone with her, when she was just being herself, she was simply the best company in the world.’

The Queen told me she had a soft spot for Rupert Bear. She remembered reading the Rupert annuals when she was a girl, and said Prince Charles loved Rupert, too.  

I told her that Rupert aficionados claim that Rupert isn’t a bear at all: he is a boy with a bear’s head.   

‘That can’t be right,’ she said, ‘Surely not.’  

‘Well,’ I said, ‘if you look at the pictures, you’ll see he’s got fingers on his hands and very human-looking feet.’  

‘I’m sorry you told me that,’ she said.  ‘Some things are best left unknown, don’t you think?’

Read Extract 1 Extract 2

[andrewtverylegitimateblog]

Tampopo (1985)

You have a particular memory that is deeply attached to a specific food. We all do. For better or worse it brings us back there. Our relationship with food is numerous. Food is: culture, class, indulgence, erotic, danger, comfort, memory. Juzo Itami's Tampopo is a film about food. Not particularly a reflection on food but rather the ways in which individuals are reflected by the food they eat.

Tampopo predominantly tells the story of a down on her luck ramen shop owner of the same name struggling to maintain herself and her son after the passing of her husband. One day her unwanted suitor and his accompanying unwanted gang of lackeys are making themselves a nuisance whereupon our rugged but kind hero, Goro, rides in on his truck and then casts the goons out from her shop. This is the story that makes up most of Tampopo. It is not however the only story Tampopo tells. Throughout the film various small segments are interspersed throughout which expand on and explore Japan and it's food culture. This is among my favorite segments.

The Business Lunch

This segment follows a group of Japanese business men sitting down to a formal lunch together at an upscale French restaurant consisting of what appears to be a mixed group of high level executives, senior employees, and a junior employee at least half of their age which seems to be their whipping boy. As the waiter hands them their menus the executive and senior employees are taken aback, there is not a single word of Japanese on the entire page, not even a letter of katakana. Visible panic makes its way across their faces with one of them even falling victim to a twitch, only the junior employee seems to calmly but intently working his way through the menu. The oldest of the executives when first asked for his order claims he isn't very hungry and defers to another senior employee who orders the sole meuniere, consommé, and a Heineken (lightly grilled fish, broth, and beer). All the men after him place the same order, that is until the waiter arrives at the youngest employee. As he carefully reads the menu the most junior employee asks questions about every dish he intends to order and himself displays extensive and intimate knowledge of French cuisine and even the contemporary Parisian restaurant scene until finally deciding on the quenelles, escargot pastry, apple and walnut salad, all paired with Corton Charlemagne (a white wine). Each and every one of his superiors is left completely red in the face with embarrassment.

This scene puts on display and makes jest at so many of the common tropes of Japanese business. All business in this context is governed by appearance. European and by extension French cuisine serves as not something that these men necessarily want but feel inclined towards in order to maintain themselves as well informed and sophisticated. The silliest aspect of this is that the senior employee who sets down the order for the table and seems to have his order already memorized defaults on familiarity and orders a rough approximation of what one might presume he eats in his own time fairly frequently which is lightly grilled fish, a broth rich soup, and beer. The youngest employee at the table eschews the standard by placing on display his full skills as a gourmand as he orders, much to the chagrin of his senior who is so keenly aware of the embarrassment felt by himself and all the others at the table that he kicks his subordinate as he's ordering which in no ways deters him at all.

Food in this scene is remarked upon in the language of class and industrialism. French cuisine is not something that genuinely interests a majority of the business men present in this scene but rather functions as emblematic of a particular relationship between food and worldliness which they feel is a reflection of the makeup of their professional competence. I would like to try the quenelles.

I don't feel it's difficult to tell that this is one of my favorite films. I love Tampopo. There's so much I could say about nearly every part of this film and I didn't even discuss my favorite segment which was the Peking Duck Reverse Hustle. The only scenes which I skip over are the one in which the soft shell turtle is prepared and the pleasure of the shrimp. I love food. I love cooking. Throughout most of the break I've been struggling with a flu and have had little time to do much of what I hoped to. The day I decided to watch Tampopo with my roommate I was so set on cooking l I couldn't help myself. I decided on fried chicken sandwiches. I used a fairly simple recipe but made some general modifications according to my own tastes. In place of flour I used a mix of potato and corn starch because of how crispy my tonkatsu was with a similar mix and I added hot sauce to the dredge in order to add some kick. I didn't use enough oil so my chicken stuck quite a bit to the bottom and some pieces retained a few burnt marks and the oil darkened rather quickly. It was still quite good.

[xarrixii]

Chapter_12 : "Pyrokinetic Rehabilitation" ━━━━━━━━━━━━━

CW: suggested abuse, discrimination previous chapter | beginning | masterlist

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He’d only been trying to make breakfast cook faster so that Gabriel—his little brother—could make it to the school bus on time. Their parents hadn’t woken up yet, and neither of them knew that he had a registered license. Unfortunately, when they saw the gas burner on low and Harlow running around the place heating up blueberry waffles in his hands, it wasn’t the most exciting thing to them ever.

They’d most likely woken up to Harlow’s footsteps as he ran around helping Gabriel get ready. Unfortunate, the first few mute years of Gabriel’s life were spent learning to read wild gesticulation and facial expressions instead of sign language.

Harlow was the only one who had bothered trying.

Harlow was the only one in the hand binders.

It made trying to find all of Gabriel’s littered belongings a lot harder.

When Harlow and Gabriel’s parents saw Harlow heating up two blueberry waffles from small manipulation of the stove flame, they threw a fit. They screamed. Called the cops.

Get your filth out! Gabriel, turn off the burner.

With every inkling he had, he hoped to death Gabriel wouldn’t turn out pyrokinetic.

They’d called him a rampant, uncontrollable monster. It’d been their only excuse for why Harlow had been passed out cold by the time the cops arrived. He couldn’t tell if they were more annoyed by him or his parents after all these years.

So he’d spent five days with his hands bound.

For trying to cook waffles faster.

His fingers ached when he was finally cleared to leave the inappropriately named Pyrokinetic Rehabilitation and Misuse Clinic. Otherwise known as rehab. There was nothing rehabilitating about it. Most of its occupants hadn’t misused anything at all. It’s just a fancy way of saying We’re terrified of your ability to make us lack control at all times, so we’re going to lock you up.

It’s why he hadn’t ever bothered learning to control fire with his mind more than his hands. The moment it was known he could, they’d never send him back.

Dubbed, uncontrollable.

The cli-click of the heavy metal being taken off his outstretched hands was blissful. Shortly followed by the blood rushing back with its brittle needles.

“Alright,” the girl in the mostly fire-proof suit said, tired and exasperated. “Just follow up to the pharmacy, and you’ll be out of here again. Your hands are alright?”

“Yeah. Far from my first rodeo, Marthe.” Harlow stretches his fingers a few times, pulling his arms back to crack his knuckles before Marthe catches his wrist and he turns back to look.

“Stop coming back here, hey? Food tastes better from a fork.”

“Out of my hands.”

“That’s what the meds are for. And get that cut treated.” She lets go.

“I know.”

Harlow had stopped trying to tell people what was happening behind closed doors after the first few times. He bit his lip and approached the pharmacy locker. A glorified warehouse for kinetic suppressors. That also happened to make people that weren’t kinetic delirious. Government monitored like all shit.

Last time he’d touched one was the day Raiden had interrogated him. He’d freaked out. Summoned fire without wanting to. He couldn’t put out his own flame.

The clinic employee shoved another bottle into his hands. Sent him on his way. Fresh air blasted him in the face the moment he opened the door out. Ten minutes and a stop at the gas station on his way home later, he felt a tug on his arm and whipped around. He was shoved into the wall of a building’s alley, hand over his mouth.

Where the fuck have you been? flickered through his brain. Liam.

He mumbled over the hand with a disheveled grunt. Is there an issue?

I don’t care about whatever joke you think Cinder is at the moment. Where the hell have you been to go false radar for five fucking days?

Once again, is there an issue?

The guy holding him lets go and draws back their full-faced mask. Liam turns to look around before pulling Harlow off the wall. “You⸺ You can’t just ignore everyone and pretend you’re dead for five days. You work for Cinder now. Operatives going missing is a big fucking deal.”

“Reminder that I’m not Cinder’s operative. I’m still just some ex-rehab kid trying to weasel his way in to your precious kinetic haven.”

“Kid, I would let you in in a heartbeat. A pyrokinetic with any amount of control, ever, does wonders for the criminal industry. Fire is very good in a fight when you’re good at it.”

“And when you’re deemed a raging psychopath.”

“Where were you?”

“I was in rehab.”

“That’s a funny joke for someone like you. You might have needed it before, but you would not lose control over some nobody fuckwad. You proved that enough.”

The cut on Harlow’s hand suddenly seemed a lot more apparent as he turned and started home again. He heard Liam’s footsteps following close behind.

“Seriously, less bullshit. Where?”

“I told you, rehab.”

“If you’re not being honest with me⸺”

“My parents are severely kineticist and called the fucking cops on me because I made my little brother a waffle with my hand and a stove burner. Happy? Five days, for a little thing like that.”

The grim look he spotted on Liam’s face was enough to say he finally got the hint.

“What do you want?”

“You have to re-take your exam, don’t you?”

Harlow snickered. “Yeah, right. Sending me right back, are you.”

“It wasn’t my decree. Despite your accusations, I could really care less about what other people think about you. If you’re able to take the exam, I want you to take it. Cinder needs field operatives.”

“You sound like Raiden now. If they happened to support any of their mother’s antics.”

Liam only frowned. He could almost sense the notion being carried by thought. “You could do with some assertiveness, you know.”

“It’s called being a realist. It’s a bad option and a worse option.”

“Rehab cannot be that bad.”

Harlow was silent for the rest of the walk. Liam only spoke again when he set a hand on the front door to the penthouse lobby. “Wait, so, your PY rehab clinic has telepathic blocking methods?”

“That’s what my parents read they were paying the extra for, whatever it means. Enjoy the rest of your day, Liam. I’ll probably sleep at Cinder tonight.”

next chapter

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ▲ missing a content warning? let me know

pretty sure i've said it before, but i am very insensitive when it comes to putting warning labels on stuff. i'd appreciate the help on this chapter *especially*

this one is wild compared to chapter eleven