#yes I am still very salty about that

[khalaris]

Ein Albtraum weckt Bibi.

Diese Fic habe ich geschrieben, um mit der letzten Folge klarzukommen. "Bauernsterben" fühlt sich an wie ein Albtraum, und deswegen ist es hier auch einer.

[suckinitup]

gets up on my little stage with my secret little four followers blog and turns off reblogs. i think that a lot of current mcyt/mcyt fandom rn would be defending anne rice literally suing fanfic writers who shipped her characters. creators do not have a say in fan works or fan spaces for a REASON. they dont get to say what we make just like we dont get to say what they make. if we dont like their work we can avoid it just like if they dont like ours they can avoid it- UNLESS. someone else. decides to shove it in their face. can you fucking imagine. youve got this one story trope that you absolutely hate or that makes you really uncomfortable and this one jackass keeps showing it off to you. and that is somehow the norm for some of these fandoms??? i have seen elder fans cringe away in HORROR at the concept of how involved mcyt creators are in their fanbases. i grew up writing fics plastered with "I DONT OWN THIS" disclaimers on a website that, straight up, Did Not Allow You to post about certain works by certain authors. if an author didn't want you to create any fanwork, you Were Not Allowed. Doesn't that sound familiar. stories are built on top of other stories on top of other stories on top of other stories. it doesn't matter if someone creates something that grosses you out- all those authors who were disgusted by the queer shipping of their characters were ABSOLUTELY grossed out. the point isn't protecting the creators from others' creations the point is to take inspiration from something you love and to MAKE !!

[exhausticat]

ITS MY BOY HARVEY!!!!!!

“Stop by my place if you ever need a confidential check-up.”

my jaw dropped the first time he said that to me. where did that rizz come from?!

aaaand with this, there's one bachelor left for the series! Thank you for the love on the series so far. You can take a look at the whole thing here.

After the bachelor's are done, which bachelorette would you like to posterize? o:

[the-iron-queen]

Me: venting about my dysmorphia and dysphoria (which i didn't specifically mention but includes severe height dysphoria)

Someone three minutes later in my asks: How tall are you?

Like. Seriously? Today is just cursed.

[baekuras]

Sometimes I think I like my coworkers as people but then they go gossip about a dude with long hair, whine about jobless people receiving THEIR MONEY (taxes) so they get paid for doing nothing, a homeless man owning 1 nice jacket he paid for in cash, someone being too fat to fit into our chairs, trans people existing and misgendering them afterwards even when they already said what they're pronouns are(especially funny after the 'oh no idc/am fine w/ trans ppl-just curious and don't understand it fully but i am fine w/ them no problems there'-chats), about gay men being too flamboyant bc that other gay man isn't, about us paying for inmates' wages (again-taxes, also where do you think your money is going into eventually anyway? our wages are also paid for by other ppl-money is supposed to move around??), about how there were so many covid regulations and suddenly there is nothing about it so that means it was all a hoax and not that covid is still there and killing but it'd be too expensive to keep up quarantine so it was faded out despite still being on going

sometimes it's really fucking hard to like people when you fundamentally disagree with how they want other people to be treated or what they get mad about

[wonderjanga]

We Thought You Died?!

Billy became a hero in 1959, and he was a hit. He was extremely popular. Captain Marvel was a beloved hero. As for the Squadron of Justice? They were beloved too. They, plus Captain Marvel were the superheroes of that time. They were the flipping blueprint for being a hero, especially Captain Marvel. Then the bubble formed in 62, and they just disappeared off the face of the earth and everyone thought he died.

Then, out of nowhere, they just reappeared.

News channel: *showing a clip of Marvel*

Grandson: *tugs on Grandma’s sleeve* “Grandma, that looks like the hero guy the teacher are making us learn about.”

Grandma: “Amazing. He looks just like the real thing.”

Yeah… People didn’t really believe it at first. Though, to be fair, all the Fawcett heroes have been gone for over sixty years.

Old Man: “It’s disrespectful is it what is. Just because you have the same powers doesn’t mean you can dress up as a dead hero.”

Old Woman: “ I just feel bad for the families. To see someone dress up as your dead husband or wife and then go around pretending to be them? Disgraceful.”

It was then the Justice League got involved. They really couldn’t have these people running around like this. Not only that, but some of the imposters are lethal. Not to mention that there are people in the Justice League who used to know the Fawcett heroes. They were friends with them for Christ’s sake. So that’s why unanimously, they went and confronted these guys.

Supes: *hovering over Fawcett*

Marvel: *helps a cat out of a tree and sees him so he flies up*

Supes: *disapproving look* “I hope you know that if you’re trying to be a her—”

Marvel: “Oh my gods, your suit is awesome!”

Supes: “Thank you…?

Marvel: “Are you a new hero? What’s your name? Are you from Fawcett or are you gonna join us here?”

Supes: *computing, still stuck on the first question*

Meanwhile, Flash and Minuteman were arguing which then somehow spiraled into them getting tacos. Batman and Robin, and Mister Scarlet and Pinky are just fighting. And Bulletgirl and Wonder Woman had a civil conversation that actually got them a lot of information.

After sorting out the entire misunderstanding that they were all imposters, things thankfully got lighter.

Marvel: “Oh my gods, Jay, you’re an old man! What happened to your long luscious locks of beautiful brown hair?”

Barry: *holding back a laugh* “Long luscious locks?”

Jay: “Okay, it was not long, luscious, or beautiful. He just insists on calling it that to embarrass me.”

Marvel: “But it’s true! Or it was true.”

Jay: “No it wasn’t. I had perfectly average hair, thank you very much.”

Yeah, Billy met up with some of his old friends, and they were all ecstatic to see their eight feet tall, golden retriever who just wanted to make the world a better place.

Marvel: “So your not an hero anymore? Then what happened to the JSA?”

Alan Scott (First Green Lantern): “We disbanded…”

Marvel: “WHAT? Why?”

Alan: “Well, we were getting old. We needed to retire.”

Marvel: “Oh yeah.” *sounds a little bummed*

Alan: “I mean, there’s now this thing called the Justice League? Wildcat joined them. So did Mr. Terrific.”

Marvel: “That sounds like a ripoff of you guys!”

He joins anyways. So do the other Fawcett heroes cause they might as well. That’s when things go down hill once more because the JL are forced to remember that a couple Fawcett heroes, mostly Spy Smasher, kill people.

Batman and Spy Smasher: *tied up the Joker after beating up his goons*

Spy Smasher (SS): “Alright, let’s get out of here.” *pulls out a gun and puts it to the Joker’s forehead*

Batman: “What are you doing?”

SS: “I’m ending this…?” *cocks his gun*

Batman: *slaps the gun away* “No, you’re not. He’s going back to Arkham.”

SS: *pulls another gun out* “Yes, I am. Are you seriously telling me you don’t want to permanently end this guy? I’ve heard people call him a terrorist.”

The two then duked it out and the Joker still went back to Arkham anyways. Spy Smasher was so salty, not that literally anyone could blame him.

Marvel: “Wait, so people don’t kill villains anymore?”

SS: *sitting next to him, bandaged*

Wildcat: “Nope. Nowadays, you got to turn them into the police and let them break out again. I know it’s stupid.”

Marvel: “But what about the mass murderers? What about the Black Adams or the Captain Nazis? People who have done messed up stuff?”

Wildcat: “To jail they go. Why do you care anyways? It’s not like you killed any of your villains.”

Marvel: “Well, I didn’t, but I gotta ask because Smasher is trying so hard not to physically claw off his own skin at the thought of these guys just breaking back out.”

Safe to say, getting used to the modern world, took some getting used to for everyone. As for Billy, he chills with the gang at the old folks home, reminiscing about times as if he’s aged with them.

Also, like, genuinely, their disappearance would show up in top ten unsolved mysteries vids because genuinely, they just disappeared with no trace.

Billy also doesn’t know what to think of the many memorials he finds of himself and the other Fawcett heroes around the country.

[hitomisuzuya]

it may just be me but i feel like scara would love a s/o who fully submits to him both in the bedroom and out of the bedroom ( ._.) ...

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. blowjob. facesitting. masturbation. praise. degradation. collar and leash for funsies.

i am super high and horny, so uh, yeah 😳 scara would absolutely love this. especially fatui scara. and i just really wanted to write oral.

you oozed submission for him from practically every pore. and what made it so intoxicating for scaramouche is that you chose to be so subservient of your own free will.

both in and the bedroom and out of the bedroom. you are subservient to him in public as well. and in a very intimate way, and physical way. if scaramouche beckoned you to his lap, you automatically went to him. straddling him and wrapping your arms around his neck, nuzzling your cheek into it.

if he put his hand in your hair, tugging your head back slightly in demand of a kiss, you immediately obliged. shivering from the sensation of having your hair slightly tugged on as you tilted your head up to receive his kiss.

you choose to be this way. scaramouche's dominance was a comforting blanket for you bask in, you didn't have to think about anything.

nothing other than pleasing him.

you are right where scaramouche liked you best, where you thought was a deserving place for you. on your knees, your head resting in his lap. his hand stroked appreciatively through your hair, like he would a pet.

you sighed softly, looking up at him as you nuzzled your cheek lovingly against his thigh. your utter submission to him made his cock pulse and throb. "adorable," he said shakily as your cheek rubbed against his growing erection.

stroking a hand through your hair again, his cheeks flushed seeing you already moving your head towards his cock before he could start guiding it. you automatically knew what he wanted.

you unbuttoned his shorts, nuzzling your cheek against his cock. taking his cock out, you wrapped your hand around it, kitten licking stripes up and down. your fingers stroked so lovingly down the side of his cock you weren't licking or sucking on.

doing your upmost to make sure he felt good. seeing you rub your thighs together stretched his ego. you were getting wet just from tending to his cock with your tongue. it turned you on to submit to him. even better if you reached between your legs, stroking your pussy and edging yourself to show much you enjoying yourself. enjoying sucking him off, worshipping his cock with your mouth.

scaramouche lifted your head slightly, pushing his leaking cockhead against your lips. he delighted in smearing precum on your lips, your tongue prodding in the slit.

your mouth obediently opened for his cock, muffling a moan on it as he bullied it into your mouth. you immediately relaxed into his tightening grip on your hair. he guided your head, his hips jerking as he pumped his cock in and out of your mouth. "good girl," he groaned, "you know your place."

the wet sucking noises of your mouth mingled with scaramouche's moans. you were happy to surrender all control to him, letting him use your mouth as a flesh light to get off. you choked when he wanted you to, muffling moans as he pushed into your throat. your throat spasming around his cock until cum ribboned salty into your mouth.

"good girls deserve a treat, yes?" he cooed in an almost condescending way down at you. you swallowed with his cock still in your mouth, earning you an affectionate pet on your hair. your cheeks dusted with adoration at his tone, your clit swollen and throbbing between your legs.

scaramouche still showed his dominance over you, even while he was underneath you. a carefully chosen collar is fastened around your neck, the leash attached to it was wrapped around his hand. your pussy hovered above his mouth, your hands holding onto the headboard for leverage.

you moaned softly feeling him tug on the leash, his tongue teasing and lapping at your throbbing clit until soft whimpers tinged your moans. you needily rubbed and grinded your pussy on his tongue, your legs shaking as you eagerly sought the sweet friction his tongue provided.

"what a needy pet slut i have," he moaned into your cunt, latching his lips around your clit. your reward was getting to cream on his tongue for sucking him so obediently. your pussy clenched around nothing hearing his degradation.

"please, my master!" you cried out, one hand pinching and rolling one of your nipples between the pads of your fingers. you grinded on his mouth, your hand tightening on the headboard to hold yourself up. "put your tongue inside of me!"

the desperate whimper you let out only made scaramouche harder. smacking a hand on your ass, he swirled his tongue inside of you. "greedy whore," he moaned huskily, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sopping pussy.

he jacked himself off, getting off on your desperation to cum on his tongue as he worked your pussy over. a perfect and submissive fuck toy for him to enjoy.

his precious darling.

[kiwismitten]

Tired words | Wriothesley x GN!reader

Angst/comfort: Being the frontlines for the whole country’s fate can really make a man lose sleep. After the events that took place, and the sudden return of his lover he’s very snippy.

spoilers: main fontaine archon quest!

CW: yelling , reader almost ded , wriothesley kinda ooc (let me know if i missed anything!)

words: 1751

The halls of the Fortress of Meropide have never felt colder as you make your way to your boyfriend’s office. The events of the days before fresh in everyone’s mind. The incident in Poisson only a few days before your return.

You were on an academic trip to Sumeru, learning about the herbal medicines and picking up some fruits and herbs to bring back to Fontaine. As soon as the steam bird articles showed up at your host home’s door the night of the incident, you apologized and began packing your bags. You’ve never moved with such haste. Of course you know about the prophecy, and Wriothesley had told you before he didn’t even know if he was Fontainian and joked a ton about getting turned into water alongside everyone else. You personally, just weren’t willing to let him take that chance.

The rushed trip back still felt like it took twice as long as the venture there. Jogging through the city with your bag still on your back, listening to depressing conversations from the other citizens about their impending fate. Frantically, you reach the Fortress entrance, and make your way down.

That’s how you ended up standing outside your boyfriend’s office, anxiety coursing through your body. Even the fortress was in disarray. Your soft knocks on the door earn no response, so you slowly push the heavy doors open with a loud creek.

“Darling?” Your voice echos through the bottom floor, your eyes gazing over everything before landing on the strange staircase going further down that you never noticed before.You drop your bags at the door before cautiously venturing down. “Wriothesley?”

A strong hand grabs your shoulder from behind you making you gasp.

“What are you doing?” He looks exhausted, his tone of voice far from the playful, carefree Wriothesley you’ve grown attached to. Sounding closer to how he addresses inmates. Heat fills your torso with joy, seeing he’s okay, and you fling yourself at him wrapping your arms around him.

“You’re okay…” His normal scowl doesn’t leave his face. Different again since his face normally softens at your contact.

“Yes, yes I’m okay what are you doing here.” He says the bags under his eyes more pronounced than normal, sparking worry in your brain.

“I heard what happened in Poisson, and I left early,” You stood in front of him staring up at his towering figure. He sighs, wiping his face with his wrapped hand. His exhaustion seemed to be weighing on him harder at your statement.

“Why.. did you have to come back now?” he pinched the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb. Your joy falters at his display.

“What do you mean darling..” Your arms fall to your sides. He stares at your form, his eyes piercing through you.

“I mean I thought with you away I'd have one less thing to worry about,” Venom laces his words. “Especially coming to the fortress during times like this, I thought I’d finally be able to focus on the prophecy, but now with you here you’ll need me to be with you so often.” Your heart jumps to your throat. He’s never been so cold to you. Has he always seen being with you as a chore, or is it just the high stress of the current situation. The emotions thick in the air make it difficult to think rationally. The salty air filling your lungs feels heavy and overwhelming.

“I’ll get out of the way.. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Glancing down at your feet.

“Well I am. Now please, I have very important matters to get to.” He pushes past you mumbling under his breath. Stunned in silence, soft tears well in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Slowly, you made your way out of the fortress to stay at a small hotel.

You stayed at the hotel for the night, before the news of an archon going on trial reaches you in the morning. News travels fast in Fontaine, especially when there’s always a journalist creeping in the background. Deciding that staying and rotting in a hotel isn’t how you want to spend your first full day home, and you take a short stroll through the bustling streets. It’s as if no one really minds their impending fate. After reaching the opera epiclese you sit at one of the benches by the fountain. Staring into the water you smile remembering all the times you and Wriothesley sat at the near by benches eating together after his work. How you would lean your head on his shoulder listening to the soft roar of water as it cycles through, but if you were to melt into the sea now, it would be knowing that he brushed you away for being worried about him. A sigh escapes your lips as you continue your stroll, and eventually it gets interrupted by a crowd of people trickling out of the opera house. Gossiping amongst themselves about the archon, and not even batting an eye at the soft patter of rain on pavement.

The rain starts to pick up at an alarming rate, making people rush off under trees, and any form of cover they could find. A somber look rises to your face. “Is this it?” You take a seat on your normal bench, getting soaked in the pelting rain feeling the rain pool at your feet closing your eyes and letting the joyful memories flow through you.

All you really remember is the feeling of water picking you up. Floating through with a peaceful look on your face.Then a graceful arm wrapping around you and bringing you up, and you were suddenly in the air able to breath once again before everything went black.

Waking up in the fortress is never really a heart-warming experience. Especially when it’s in the cold clinical setting of the infirmary. The blurry metallic ceiling is the first thing you see, the bronze color only familiar to the fortress, so you’re immediately aware of where you are. You try to sit up, only to get pushed down by the smaller head nurse.

“Y/N be careful please, you’ve been out for a whole day you’re still healing.” Sigewinne frets over you holding her sticker covered clipboard.

“I feel fine,” You sit up in your bed, feeling the exhaustion hit you. You look around the other beds full of inmates. “I just need some food in me, and I’ll be right as rain.” a smile sheepishly crosses your face at the small joke. Sigewinne frowns and huffs as you pick at the various vital trackers attached to you. She helps a bit and takes out your IV.

“Just like his grace said you would,” you tense at the mention of him forcing a smile. “Just stay here he said to grab him as soon as you’re awake.” Eyes widening, you wait for her to leave before pulling the sheets off of yourself and rushing out of the infirmary. Your vision still blurry from the lack of food. Rushing through the halls, you stop at the canteen, smiling at Bran who waves you over.

“Ah y/n here for your welfare meal?” He smiles softly at your tired form before turning behind him to grab one of the nicer meals. “Courtesy of his grace, eat up.” You slip behind one of the many boxes before sitting on the floor and opening the delicious meal.

Wriothesley walks ahead of Sigewinne his heavy steps unmistakable. When he reaches the infirmary and sees your bed empty he curses under his breath. Sigewinne sighs pouting.

“I did ask her to stay your grace, but they did act weird when I mentioned I was fetching you,” Irritated he walks out, going immediately to the gardes who rat you out immediately.

Too immersed in your delicious food you don’t even notice the heavy steps approaching the canteen.

“What can I do for you your grace,” You stop mid-chew peeking out from the top of the box.

“Have you seen y/n I’m looking for them,” his voice has the carefree energy that you missed so much. His eyes dart around the canteen before meeting yours behind the box where you duck under again. “Ah, never mind, bran.” his heavy steps approach the box, his shadow looming over as you pop back up looking at your hands. He places a heavy hand on your head.

“Wriothesley,” you say breathlessly, tears threatening to fall again. At the break of your voice, he scoops you into his arms his long strides carrying you to his office. He wraps his arms around you as you feel small water droplets fall onto your clothes.

“y/n..” his voice cracks. You’ve never seen him break down like this, he’s the strong one, the one that never lets his strength falter. “I was so scared, i’m so sorry, I should’ve never said any of that shit to you, I was so stressed out after the fortress almost collapsed to the prophecy. I wasn’t getting enough sleep I was exhausted and I took it out on you. I’m so fucking sorry.” Seeing him crumble on top of you was heart-wrenching. His rambling spilling through his lips as his eyes dart across your face. “When Clorinde brought you onto the ship I just wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, I tried everything but you felt so cold..” He buries his face in your neck.

“I’m okay Wrio, I don’t know what happened but, I’m here I’m fine,” You wrap your arms loosely around his torso. “Honestly I thought I was gonna die with you angry at me, but now I’m here. Getting pushed away hurt, but we’re both okay,” You mumble into his chest.

“I’ll never speak to you like that again, I don’t think I could ever live with myself knowing you left this world with me angry at you when I had no right to be. All you wanted was to make sure I was okay,” He pulls away and holds your face in his hands. “You’re my whole world and I should’ve held that in the front of my mind this whole time. I don’t think I can say sorry enough my love.” His sharp eyes now soft as he leans in to place a soft caring kiss on your lips.

“We’ll be okay,” you melt into his touch, letting him hold you close

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Long Snake Moan 4

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your boss gives you a task you’re not prepared for.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Yes, please, he should be waiting,” you confirm and hang up the phone.  

You’re still in a daze. You barely remember getting to your desk or dialing the call. You’re functioning on habit alone as your mind reels. 

“Ahem,” the throat clear makes you wince and you look up at Loki as he looms on the other side of your monitor. 

You sit up straight and fix the screen, adjusting it so you can see. He tuts and grabs it again, stopping you from sinking into your work. That’s how you deal with things. You just ignore them. 

“What?” You look at him. 

“What?” He echoes.  

“Why are you still here? You have the...” you can’t even say it. You’re married. Somehow.  

“I’ve every right to stay close to my wife.” 

“Ooh, don’t say that,” you shake your head. 

“Pardon?” His brows tweak. 

“Don’t say it out loud. That word. Wife--” You suck in air and hold it in your chest. You shudder as you let it out slowly. 

“You should be flattered. I am a god. You are... minuscule, even for a Midgardian,” he slithers. 

“So why did you do that?” Your voice peaks. 

He snickers. “Well, let’s not get off to such a rough start. There are things still to tend to. As I have it, your marital traditions require a band?” 

He leans in to look over the monitor as your fingers flutter nervously by your keyboard. You follow his gaze and find a large green emerald mounted on a golden band. Where the heck did that come from? You raise your hand and try to wrench it off. It’s stuck! 

“It cannot be undone as easily that,” he taunts. “So, in my research, you are not so dissimilar to Asgardians in the way of marriage, however, I don’t think you’d be fond of a blood sacrifice so I’ll spare you that.” He laughs as you blanch at him. You’re annoyed at how amused he is. “Though the matter of consummation...” 

“Alright, no,” you stand and wave your hands. “No, no. I’m working. I’m busy.” Your voice is brittle and salty in your throat. You sweep around the desk and shoo him, “you need to go, alright? I have work to do and this is insane. So please, leave.” 

He catches you by the wrists as he faces you. You gulp at the iron in his grip. You tug but he doesn’t even flinch. You stare at his pale fingers. He feels like ice. 

“Loki, sir, later when I’m done we can discuss--” 

“I preferred when you called me a prince. Yes. Proper titles. ‘My Prince,’" he sneers. 

You sniff and squirm against his grasp, “my prince, please, will you go? I can’t handle this right now.” 

His lip curls as his green eyes blaze down at you. Is he angry? Entertained? Annoyed? 

“You needn’t be so scandalized. I am perfectly attractive. I am an exceptional choice in mate. By any standard in this universe, I am coveted. Don’t pretend that heart isn’t skipping a beat at my very touch,” he drawls. 

“Yes, it’s a condition. I’ve had it checked. They said it’s nothing to worry about,” you babble dumbly. You know he doesn’t mean that but you really can’t deal with his true implication. 

“We have to seal this union or I have no case for my residence--” 

“Got it. I get it. I understand,” you ramble. “But right now is not the time for that--” 

“There’s an office right there--” 

“Not now,” you repeat. “Loki,” you rip your hands free as his hold on you slackens. “I need to finish my work here and to be honest, I could use a little time to process this.” You turn away and stride back around the desk to face him from the other side. “I should have everything wrapped up at six and then we can figure things out.” 

You sit but your chair is higher than you expect. You blink and he’s gone. No, he’s below you. You writhe in his lap as he wraps an arm around your middle. You push on his elbow and squeal. 

“What are you doing?” You whine and kick your legs. 

“Well, darling, you sat in my lap. It’s rather forward of you,” he laughs. 

“Stop, stop!” You shove his arm helplessly. “I’m begging you to just--” 

“Oh, I knew you would beg--” 

“Enough!” You yell and stomp his foot. You get free and throw yourself off of him. You hit the desk and spin in the small space between you. You puff out as your adrenaline pumps behind your ears.  

You put your hands out, speechless. You can’t think. It’s all a scramble. You clap your palms together and twine your fingers. Then you cup your hands and cover your mouth. 

“Darling, you are dramatic,” he muses. 

You finally untangle your fingers and throw up your arms. You shake your head and turn to storm off. You don’t look back. You are going to hide in the bathroom until the world doesn’t feel so shaky. 

[lovelywritinglady]

Crocodile Tears pt.1

Crocodile xfem!reader

In which you and your husband,Crocodile, get into an argument and it spirals out of control.

Heavy angst, hurt with no comfort, usage of bitch, Set a little before Alabasta. Could be split into more parts if requested.

You were so tired of being put last. Nearly a decade spent with this man. All of the work you put into this relationship. All of the broken promises. All of the times he was late or completely forgot about your plans together. Normally you’re a very patient woman and had always been sympathetic of your husbands time. But not today. Too many damn anniversaries missed and you were now fed up. You decided to confront your husband on his bullshit and demand a solid reason for being late to your own anniversary dinner that you had spent hours perfecting.

You walked straight into his office that was located in the basement of your shared casino. You didn’t bother knocking as whatever he was doing was no where near as important as him missing your anniversary dinner. His head shot up at the sound of someone barging in. Crocodile gave confused and angry look before softening it ever so slightly at the sight of you. He sighed looking at you as you’d told before him. He could tell that whatever you were mad about was completely his fault.

“Yes my dear?” He asked giving very little of his attention as he continued writing on his documents.

“You know why I’m here.” You spat crossing your arms.

“What is it now?” He sighed

“Don’t you know what day it is?” You questioned harshly tired of his forgetfulness.

“No idea, but I’m very busy right now, I’ll deal with you later.” Crocodile bit back now giving you attention.

“It’s our fucking anniversary!” You yelled as frustrated tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I’ll make it up to you later. Right now I’m in the middle of something important. You can damn well wait.” He snapped slamming his hand down.

“Am I really not that important to you?” You cried as your body trembled.

“No, you’re not! Now I’ll deal with you later!” He yelled

“No fuck that, why am I not important to you? After all I’ve done. I love you why can’t you ever prioritize me!” You exclaimed balling your fists to your sides.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a nagging bitch, maybe I would. Now leave I have more important things to do then bitch with you. Get out!” He furiously yelled standing up out of his chair as he gave you a look of pure hatred.

You stood there trembling in fear as your tears stopped as your hands were now shaking. Crocodile noticed the look of fear in your eyes but was too mad at you to even care. You couldn’t move, however, a hand touched your shoulder. You moved with it still too stunned to react as it led you out of your husbands office and into the long carpeted hallway and then into the Casino that was owned by both you and your husband. Soon enough, you were outside and now were alone as the figure left you alone in the dark

You looked out into the pitch black sky as you came back to your senses. A furious son left your body as you sunk to your knees. You cried and cried until your body felt numb and your eyes felt raw from the salty tears that left them. You then hugged your now cold body as your rocked yourself trying to give yourself some comfort. After a few more moments, you slowly picked yourself up off the ground and walked to the shared home that you and crocodile lived in together that was about a five minute walk from the Casino.

There you grabbed the first suitcase that you could get your hands on and filled it with as much of your personal belongings as you could fit not caring too much about your fancy clothes and trinkets. Once you were done, you took a good look at the outfit that you were still wearing and promptly took it off and replaced it with more comfortable clothes.

You had no pleads of what to do but you knew you needed to leave. Too long had Crocodile forgotten about your needs. Too long had he put you last. Too long have you stayed with someone that didn’t love you the way you loved them. Too long had you given him everything while he gave you nothing. You were done and tired of his half assed apologies and broken promises. So, you made a phone call to the harbor. The transponder snail ring for a while and you were scared that because of the hour, they wouldn’t pick up.

“Yes, hello miss how may I help you?” The transponder snail finally spoke.

“Yes, hi, I’d like to book at ticket to the first ship that will go to Dressrosa.

“Dressrosa? Well you’ll have to take multiple ships to go there but we can get you on a ship that will take you to the next available island that has a ship that goes there. Is that alright?” The teller spoke

“Yes that should be fine.” You spoke doing your best to sound normal as your voice was still sore from crying. “When is the first available ship?” You asked

“At 6 in the morning.” They responded

“I’ll take it.” You replied quickly.

“Alrighty, I’ll see you then. I’d like to let you know that it’s firsts come first serve here so be sure to arrive early to get a good seat.” They told you kindly.

“Thank you, have a good night.” You said

“I will, you too miss.” They responded

And with that you hung up the transponder snail. You signed hanging you head before standing up straight and focusing on the task at hand. You decided to go into the shared safe that you and your husband had in your room and put as much cash as you could in your suitcase and one of the purses that you decided to take. It was a lot and you just hopped that you wouldn’t be robbed as that money would help you with the next step in your life. You then grabbed a piece of paper from your side table drawer and a blue inked pen and wrote a small good bye letter to Crocodile.

My dear husband,

You might not care about any of this but I need to let you know my feelings.

I love you and even as I write this letter I love you. And despite my burning love for you, I cannot stay in this loveless marriage any longer. You have proven time and time again that I am not an important aspect of your life and I’d rather leave than be a hindrance to you or the empire you are trying to build.

With all my love,

Y/n L/n

Once you were done and with your suitcase in hand you walked all the way to the harbor. When you arrived you promptly purchased a ticket not caring about where you sat. As you walked onto the boat, you looked back at the vast desert that you once called home smiling bitterly at the events of last night.

“The ship is now departing. I repeat the ship is now departing.” A voice called out

“Goodbye my darling.” You whispered into the wind as the ship left the harbor.

Meanwhile…

“Where the hell is she!” Crocodile yelled in a furious rage as he walked into your shared bedroom some of the maids were cleaning.

“Sorry sir, we were asleep when the mistress came in.” One of the maids spoke meekly as she was scared of Crocodile.

“Daz, find her!” Crocodile barked

“Yes sir.” Daz Bones responded as he immediately left to find you.

Crocodile was furious, confused, and guilty. He knew he fucked up. He was so stressed about all of the work that had to be done and the news about a bunch of rookie pirates finding out his identity that he snapped and completely disregarded your anniversary. His mind was scrambled and his heart was aching for his sweet wife who now is nowhere to be seen.

“Umm… Sir.” Another maid spoke quietly

“What!” He snapped looking at her with pure fury.

“Sorry sir but we found this on the side table.” She spoke quickly handing him your letter.

He read it silently as he took in each word and sentence that you had written out just for him to read. His heart broke but the sudden realization of how much of a shitty husband dawned on him. And unfortunately for him, too late. Now you were gone, his sweet wife, his love.

“I’ll find you y/n.” He whispered before waking out of your shared bedroom determined to find you no matter the cost.

Thank you so much for reading!💜

Please feel free to like, comment, request, and reblog

Click here to see what I’m write for and HERE for my master list.

• I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L

Part 1 Part 2

[klttn]

sensitive bunny!reader x valentino where he needs to learn to be softer with the little bunny <3

- 🧸🫧

𐙚 ⋆˚ 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝓂𝑒 ⋆ ｡ ྀི

— 𝜗𝜚 valentino x f!reader

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 summary : val gets shouted at by his sensitive little bunny and asks her to teach him how to be gentle. nsfw. degrading. name calling. crying. dacryhilia. val is manipulative. bunny!reader. this is extremely toxic.

valentino thought he was the perfect boyfriend. the boyfriend of you’re dreams. how could he not be? he was rich, powerful and oh so very — sexually —experienced. and fuck did you love that. but he made you cry more than he gave you butterflies and he slapped you more than he touched you softly. yes that part was enticing, especially to your cunt. but you also just craved him treating you like the little baby conejita he told you were, his soft bunny to hold and take care of. hell, you wouldn’t care if he abused you as long as he babied you. you couldn’t stand being called his slut when you knew that’s all he told everyone at work. you didn’t want be just another one of his whores. a bitch to breed and discard.

part of you wondered if he even knew how cruel he was to you. if he knew that you cried over him so often, never pleasure filled or love intoxicated.

he didn’t.

he treat you like this because that’s all he knew. was it right? no. but it pained your heart either way that he genuinely thought he was treating you right. and it did his too when you broke down at feet, kneeling, broken sobs begging him to just stop.

“conejita, i don’t understand. why’re you being like this baby?” all his multiple arms surrounded your vision — and body. “you usually love it when i tell you how much of a whore you are for me.” a sob broke through, your arms held tightly to your chest no matter how badly you wanted to let him take control and just succumb to his touch.

“i am not a whore.”

valentino scoffed a little at that, his voice still smooth as honey as he condescendingly spoke to you. “conejita, yes you are.” he sighed, hating how the tears rolling down you face was from him and wasn’t anything pleasurable. “you’re my little slut and you always have been.”

you flinched in his grasp when he said that. small, salty droplets sliding down onto val. “then why do you call me your girlfriend, why do you say i’m so special when i’m just a whore to you like everyone else?” your voice was weak but crystal clear, the broken sobs only inching there way through a little bit. “the only difference is i can leave of my own free will, or can i? we both know you’re not above hurting and forcing people to do things they don’t want.” low blow. even if val deserved it.

his heart dropped, his touch receding in disgust at the venom laced on his pretty bunny’s lips. did she really think so low of me when it came to her? “bunny…” for the first time in your life val sounded.. soft? his confidence fleeting just like is hold on you did. “there is a difference. i love you, i don’t love those other whores.”

it was as if a knife was thrown right into your chest. he loved you. did he really? your voice was barely above a shy whisper as you spoke, sobs muffled now but your eyes still brimmed with tears unshed. “then why do you hurt me so much? why do you treat me like i’m nothing but replaceable?”

“i thought you liked it when i hurt you baby? when i slap you and be rough with you, you told me you liked that.” val sounded hurt, confusion evident. but he never was very smart. “there’s only one bunny for me and she’s right here and all mine.”

“im not-“ your voice trailed off a touch. “im not talking about sex.” you whispered, fully ignoring the last half of his words.

“then what? he dipped himself back down to you, his arm wrapping around you in a possessive hook, ignoring the flinches and small protests falling from your lips. “please conejita, tell me what, i can’t stand to see you like this and it not be because of my cock.”

your bunny nose twitched and sniffled involuntarily, soft ears coward further into your hair, your gaze refusing to meet his as you looked at your knees, still kneeling. “you’re mean to me n- i don’t like it.” you huffed in frustration but you still sounded to weak, “i just- i don’t wanna be the same as all the other girls you sleep with.”

vals eyes widened in shock as you spoke, he didn’t mean to make you cry. for once. these types of relationships were what he was used to, not real but built on sex and control and whilst you still loved him in control of you, you were just a sensitive baby after all. “other girls? conejita, you’re so stupid.” you show him a glare at the word. “baby, im sorry but you are, i haven’t fucked anyone but you for months. now im not one for monogamy but why would i fuck anyone else when i have my pretty little girl who lets me do whatever i want to her?” he smirked at the last part, knowing you’d react. and you did.

a small blush crept up your cheeks, eyes still glassy but now innocently wide and staring straight up at val like a lost puppy. “you haven’t, really?” val nodded, pointy teeth being shown as he smiled down at you. “but- your job, it-“

“requires me to direct porn, not to star in it.” val sighed, kissing his teeth and looking around the room. “conejita, look at me.” there was no room for arguing. his finger hooked under your chin lifting your face to meet his towering gaze. “you look so pretty like this, little bunny.” his fingers traced the tears bleeding down your face. “can you do something for me?” you nodded weakly. tension so think it could cut diamonds.

“teach me.” the words fell from val’s lips so delicately, you could pass out from the soft tone in his voice.

“wha- what do you mean?”

“i don’t know how to love you right, teach me.” he traced his hands down your face, touch somehow rough for such a gentle notion. “teach me how to love you, kiss you, hold you, teach me how to be yours like you are mine.” you arched into his touch everywhere his fingertips trailed, chasing the way it felt to have him like this.

“like this-“ your resolve was starting to fade. “need you to be soft with me, please, val jus- please don’t hurt me.”

“you just need to be my baby bun, don’t you? not my whore but my precious girl?” his voice had the same addicting honey to it without the poison and this was so much better. you nodded your head, tears now falling from the relief and need for more of this.

“can- can you hold me?” it sounded pathetic but you didn’t care. val wordlessly hooked two of his arms underneath your thighs, his other two still trailing your body, small bruises forming on your knees from the harsh floor. he stalked over to the large bed, satin sheets and silk covered it, sitting atop the pillows at the height of the bed. the hands on your body softly moving you, forcing your legs into a straddle and coercing your neck to dip into his collarbones, before wrapping around you and drowning your senses in only him.

“like this?” his thumb ran over your floppy ear, stroking the fur then and revelling in the small whimper of submission that raked through you. you nodded your head, nuzzling further into him. “good girl.” you nuzzled more, getting impossibly closer.

valentino sighed in frustration at himself. “you’re so cute, little conejita. so adorable. all i want to do is protect you like this.” you clung to him as if he would disappear or return to his mean words and harsh grip if you didn’t savour it.

several minutes passed before he pulled you out of the crook of his neck by your hair, it was a hard pull but the way his hands were caressing where he yanked and the look in his eyes had you melting. “my sensitive little girl,” val’s thumb traced over your bottom lip, your mouth quickly enveloping his thumb before he could move it, sucking softly, innocent eyes staring up at him. “i fucking love you conejita. don’t ever forget that or question it ever again.” you whined in agreement, sending vibrations over his thumb. the same thumb that now rubbed over your tongue in such an addicting way.

“is this all you wanted, baby? fuck, i don’t have to hurt you to get you exactly how i want you, do i? i don’t have to slap you into submission because you’re already my obedient little bun.” you nodded, rolling your hips slowly. val didn’t need teaching on how to treat you like this. he just needed to realise you were his without having to be mean to you to prove that. “this is more addicting than when you’re fighting me.” he groaned, pushing up into your hips and losing himself a little in the wet heat of your mouth. tears brimmed in your eyes from the sting of him pushing his fingers down your throat and the overwhelming scenario happenening. his is all you wanted. needed. and it was better than you could’ve ever imagined.

you pulled off his thumb with a pop, panting cutely as you caught your breath. “i need more, please — closer.” you begged, the tears that had brimmed now spilling for the millionth time that night. “please don’t stop treating me like this.” val swore in that moment he didn’t deserve you. his lips crashed into yours, long tongue twisting around yours, controlling and guiding your kiss, enveloping your mouth in the heat of his. small whines of bliss made their way into the kiss before val could pull back, your tongues still connecting with a string of spit.

“is this okay conejita?” his roaming hands going under your clothes but still so soft in comparison o anything you’d felt from him before. a breathy ‘yes’ left your lips and the tears were still pouring. “so pretty when you cry, baby, so pretty.” you felt his fingers carding through the soft locks atop your head. “youre just a little bunny that needs taking care of aren’t you? not a slut, just my pretty girl. just needing to be treat like the most precious thing in the world?” you were crying harder now, frantically nodding and pathetically grinding into him now.

“guess what, conejita. that’s what you are to me.” his accent thick and raw. “and ill kill anyone who dares hurt you — even myself if you asked me to for what i’ve done to you.” you could tell he was losing composure. “how could anyone possibly hurt such a pretty little thing like you?” the question was rhetorical but his voice drew out the most lewd reactions from you, bunny instincts causing the need to rub your face into his chest.

his hands dragged you back to look at him again, drinking you in, zoning into your wet and messy face, “shit, cry for me conejita, ill lick all your tears away.”

and he did just that for the rest of the night as he took his time absolutely cherishing and worshipping his baby bun. only laying a hand on you if you begged for it. and he found he liked that much better. you willingly being pathetic for him was much more enticing than him forcing it.

[utilitycaster]

Daggerheart Character Build thoughts!

I am actually out at work and haven't checked the version that's since come out, but I did participate in the character build beta, and the NDA is officially lifted, so here's my thoughts from that! It's definitely limited since I just made a L1 character and didn't go through gameplay, though I surmise about some aspects of gameplay.

Overall, it clearly seems to be made by people who love a lot of things about D&D 5e but wanted both more flexibility and more simplicity, which is difficult. I think they succeed.

To that end, it takes away some of the crunchier aspects (precise positioning, exact amounts of gold) and I think for some people that will be a problem, and that's valid, but ultimately this game wants to both allow for interesting mechanics in and out of combat while also not being terribly math/map/resource management heavy. It is a hard line to walk; most systems either go hard crunch or go entirely gooey.

The dice mechanic (2d12, Hope and Fear system) is fantastic; look it up but I think it handles mixed successes more gracefully and interestingly than a lot of games.

The playtest was not super clear on armor and evasion choices (or indeed what evasion means; it seems to be sort of initiative but sort of dex save, or maybe more like the Pathfinder/old school D&D varying ACs by scenario?). It was much, MUCH clearer than D&D on weapon choices (part of why I play casters? Weapon rules in D&D are annoying and poorly explained and many people rightfully ignore them) so I'm hoping this becomes clear when there's a full guide rather than just the character creation info.

The character creation questions by class were fantastic and in general, and this is a theme, this feels like it guides people towards collaboration. FWIW I feel like D&D has that information, but the way it's presented is very much as flavor text rather than a thing you should be doing. Daggerheart makes this a much more core part of creation. The Experience mechanic is particularly clear: you better be working with your GM and really thinking about background, rather than slapping it on as a mechanic.

The other side of character creation questions is that it really encourages engagement with the class, which is something I've talked about. I think either subversion for the sake of subversion, or picking a class for the mechanics and aesthetic but not the fundamental concept, will be much harder to justify in Daggerheart, and I think that's a good thing because when people do that, their characters tend to be weaker.

The downtime is designed for you to write hurt/comfort fanfic about and this is a compliment. There are a number of mechanics that reward RP, particularly one of the healing mechanics under the Splendor track. I feel like a weakness of D&D is that when you try to reward RP it's really nebulous because there's not actually a ton of space to put that - you can give inspiration, but, for example, the empathy domain Matt homebrewed actually feels kind of off because it's based on such fuzzy concepts amid mechanics that are usually more rigid. Daggerheart comes off as much cleaner yet still RP-focused, and I'm excited to see it in action.

A judgement of Candela and I suppose Daggerheart might be that it's designed for actual play. I've mentioned before that I know people who are super into the crunch and combat and numbers of TTRPGs and are less story-oriented, and again, that's valid, but actual play is just storytelling using a ttrpg and so yes, a game that encourages RP while also having mechanics to support that and influence it is an extremely good goal. I am not an actual player, but I do like D&D games with a good plot and not just Go Kill Monsters, and I want to play this. (I also have some real salty thoughts about how if you modify an existing game for AP purposes that's staggering genius apparently, but if you make your own game how dare you but that's another post).

And now, the classes/subclasses. I am going to sort of use D&D language to describe them because that's a point of reference most people reading this will understand, but they are not one-to-one. A couple notes: everyone can use weapons and armor. HP is not totally clear to me but it seems to be threshold based - everyone has the same HP to start but people have different thresholds and armor, so the tank classes have the same amount of HP but are much harder to actually do damage to.

All classes are built on a combination of a subclass and two domains. There are 9 classes and 9 domains. This technically means that if you wanted to fuck around and homebrew you could make up to 36 classes (27 additional) by just grabbing two domains that weren't otherwise combined, which is fun to consider for the potential. Anyway I cover the classes and briefly describe domains within them. You can take any domain card within your domain, regardless of subclass.

There are six stats. Presence, Instinct, Knowledge, and Strength map roughly to Charisma, Wisdom, Intelligence, and Strength. Dex is split into Agility and Finesse; Agility covers gross motor skills (jumping, most ranged weapons, "maneuvering") and Finesse finer ones (lockpicking and tinkering, though also it does cover hiding). The really big wins are first, no CON score, so you don't need to sink stat points into something that grants no skills but keeps you alive. The second one is that the "hybrid" classes spellcast from their physical stat. This is fucking fantastic. The thing about ranger or paladin or the spellcasting subclasses of rogue and fighter in D&D is that if you don't roll pretty well you're locked into the core stats and CON and nothing else. (This also doesn't have rolling for stats: you assign +2 to one stat, presumably your main, and then distribute two +1s, two 0s, and one -1.)

Your HP, Evasion, and Thresholds are set by class, and there's a core ability; the rest is all from the cards you take for subclass and domain.

Leveling up is very much based on taking more domain cards (abilities) but has a certain degree of flexibility. It's by chunks: in leveling up anywhere levels 2-4, you can, for example, increase your proficiency by +1 once, so if you wanted to do that at level 2 but your fellow player wanted to wait until level 4 and take something else at level 2 instead, they could. It allows for more min-maxing, but also everyone has the same level up rules and differs only in the abilities on the cards, which is very cool.

Bard: Grace (enchantment spells) and Codex (learned spellcaster stuff; the spells available are definitely arcane in vibes) based, Presence is your main stat. The two subclasses map roughly to lore-style stuff and eloquence. Core class ability is sort of like inspiration but not entirely. It's a bard; I like bards a lot, and this is very similar vibes-wise to your D&D bards. If you like D&D bards you will like this.

Druid: Sage (nature spells) and Arcana (raw magical power spellcaster stuff), Instinct is your spellcasting/main stat. The two subclasses are elemental but frankly cooler than circle of the moon, and a more healing/tranquility of nature focused one. I really think Marisha probably gave feedback on this one, because the elemental version is really strong. You do get beastform; it is quite similar to a D&D druid under a different system, as the bard, but the beastform options are, frankly, better and easier to understand.

Guardian: Valor (melee tank/damager) and Blade (damage). Strength based for the most part (Valor mechanics assume strength) though you could go for like, +2 Agility +1 Strength to start. This is barbarian but like. 20 times better. It is, fundamentally, a tank class, and it is very good at it, with one even more tank-focused subclass and one that is more about retaliatory damage. You do have a damage-halving ability once per day, but really guardian's questions are incredible. I think Travis and Ashley likely gave feedback. Also rage doesn't render you incapable of concentration as that doesn't seem to be a thing, so multiclassing seems way more possible (you are, I think, only allowed to do one multiclass, and not until you reach level 5 minimum, which I am in favor of). Yes, you can be a Bardian.

Ranger: This is what I built! It is based on Sage and Bone (movement around the field/dodging stuff) and it is Agility-based, including for spellcasting, which is a MASSIVE help (as is, again, the fact that CON isn't a thing.) The subclasses are basically being really good at navigation, or animal companion. Most importantly to me you can be a ranger with a longsword and you are not penalized; Bone works with either ranged weapons or melee.

Rogue: Midnight (stealth/disguise/assassination spells and skills) and Grace-based. Yes, rogue is by default a spellcaster, which does help a LOT with the vibes for me. One subclass is basically about having lots of connections (as a spy or criminal might) and the other is about magical slinking about. Hiding/sneak attack are also streamlined. I will admit I'm still more interested in…almost everything else, but I think it evened out a lot of rogue weaknesses.

Seraph: Splendor (healing/divine magic) and Valor. This is your Paladin equivalent. It is strength-based for casting, again making hybrid classes way less stressful. Questions for this area also incredible; you do have something not unlike a lay on hands pool as well. Your subclasses are being able to fly and do extra damage; or being able to make your melee weapon do ranged attacks and also some extra healing stuff, the latter of which is my favorite. Yasha vibes from this, honestly. Single downside is this is the only class where they recommend you dump Knowledge. I will not, and I never will. Now that I don't have to make sure CON is high? I am for REAL never giving myself less than a +1 Knowledge in this game.

Sorcerer: Arcana (raw nature of magic/elemental vibes) and Midnight based. Yes, sorcerers and rogues now share a vibe, for your convenient….less enthused feelings. Instinct-based, which intrigues me, and the core features are in fact really good. The two subclasses are either one that focuses on metamagic abilities, or one that is elemental based. I would play this for a long-running game, though it's not my favorite, and I can't say that for D&D sorcerer (except divine soul).

Warrior: Blade and Bone, and the recommended build is Agility but you could do a strength build. Fighter! One subclass is about doing damage and one is about the hope/fear mechanics core to the game that I have NOT talked much about. I will admit, the hybrid martials and Guardian are more interesting to me but you do have good battle knowledge.

Wizard: Codex and Splendor. Wizards can heal in this system; farewell, I will be doing nothing else (jk). Knowledge-based, and you can either go hardcore expertise in knowledge, or be a battle wizard.

Other scattered thoughts: healing is not as big a deal here; there is no pure cleric class! There is also no monk, warlock, or artificer. There is not a way to do monk as a weaponless class really though you might be able to flavor the glowing rings as a monk weapon and play a warrior. Wizard, meanwhile, with the right experiences and high finesse, would allow for some artificer flavor. Cleric and Warlock are the two tough ones and I will admit those are tricky; I feel like you'd have to multiclass (which you cannot do until level 5) between perhaps seraph and a caster class and you're still going to come off very paladin.

[carriesthewind]

This is why I'm so suspicious of campaigns (ether corporate or personal) to buy more "sustainable" products that rest on the argument that ok, fine, my individual purchase/use of this single product won't make much of an overall difference, but it will help show there's a market for sustainable products and the market/legislatures will respond in a meaningful way!

Because I've seen that same argument for decades now, and there has been no "market-based" substantial change. Fixing the planet doesn't just require me to handwash bloody underwear twice a day 8 days a month instead of just using plastic-wrapped pads; it requires fixing the entire system of production and transport of those products, whether they are specialized absorbent underwear or diva cups or pads or w/e. And even ignoring the theory, just looking at what has happened in practice? People buying more "sustainable" products hasn't created market/legislative pressure to create sustainable capitalism; it's created a market of companies trying to convince me that if I just buy their product, I'm doing my part to save the planet. (Pay no attention to the profits, production, and transportation chain behind the curtain.)

I feel like we don't talk enough about how the whole "capitalism is a democracy! vote with your dollar!" myth falls apart once you're dealing with a company that doesn't sell directly to individual consumers

Like say you want to boycott Norfolk Southern after the East Palestine disaster. Presumably you're not in the situation where you personally do business directly with Norfolk Southern, so that's not an option. Products don't have stickers telling you what freight company shipped them, two of the same product sitting right next to each other on the same shelf may well have been handled by two different companies and there's no way for you to tell. And in some cases companies like that may have monopolies on transporting certain goods in certain areas, so you couldn't make a different choice even if you knew. How could you possibly say that such a situation is "democratic" and decided on by consumers?

Capitalism enjoyers love to pretend that the whole economy is Tommy trading his apples for Mary's flowers in a mutually beneficial exchange and ignore 99% of the nuance in the economic system they claim to believe in

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 3

Hello! If you haven't seen it yet, I've got a set schedule for what story posts on what days now (as seen here) and this one as well as Well Met By Moonlight, Batshit Soulmates, and Never Hold Back Your Step... will still be posting just on rotation until I can finish some of my WIPs. (I may be stretching myself a bit thin having six going at the same time.)

In this one we have the concert. Eddie stumbles on something big and doesn't know how to deal with it all. And Uncle Wayne is bestest as always.

@emly03 @redfreckledwolf @itsall-taken @rozzieroos @mira-jadeamethyst

Part 1 Part 2

****

The day of the concert dawned abhorrently cheerful and bright. Not a cloud in the sky or any accidents that would prevent Eddie from having to take Dustin to this event. He wouldn’t deign to call it a concert. He had heard the album and seen their posters, but he refused to wander over to YouTube and watch videos of their concerts, interviews, their music videos.

He didn’t want to be even more disappointed that they were all flash and no substance then he was sure he was going to be for the next two hours.

Dustin rolled his eyes when Eddie parked in the huge concert parking lot.

“You’re just salty because I like them as much as I like Corroded Coffin,” he huffed getting out the car. “You have to concede that Abaddon’s vocals are killer.”

Eddie scoffed. “Do not. I haven’t heard them live. Way too many artists use autotune too much these days.”

“You sound like that meme,” he sneered, “‘Old Man Yells at Cloud’.”

Eddie swatted at him playfully. “Am not.” Dustin raised his eyebrow skeptically and he threw his arms in the air. “I’m not. I am a very serious musician, Dusty. The last thing metal needs is some band that can’t write or even play their own instruments. This isn’t pop.”

“You are such an asshole,” he said and turned toward the entrance, leaving Eddie to jog to catch up with him.

Eddie sighed and put his arm around Dustin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I am being an asshole. I turned into the person I swore I would never be. Those shit for brains critics that hated Corroded Coffin when we first got on the scene. And that was wrong of me.”

Dustin sighed, too. “I just want you to like them too. They are so good if you’d just give them a chance.”

Eddie breathed out through his nose. “Yeah. I can at least give them that.”

They got to their seats and Eddie was a little impressed at Claudia Henderson’s Ticket Master foo. They weren’t front row, but they were only a couple of rows back so you could actually see the stage without having to strain their necks and smack dab in the center of the row.

Dustin would have the best time. And now it was up to Eddie not ruin it for the kid. Because yes, he was still a kid as far as Eddie was concerned. Twenty-one was so fucking young. That was how old most of the band was when they got their record deal, after all. They weren’t prepared for what came next, that’s for sure.

They got settled into their seats and Eddie watched as the rest of the crowd shuffled in. They were all about Dustin’s age with very few exceptions in either direction.

There seemed to be a color theme going on with the girls in the audience though. They were grouped in clumps of red, black, blue, or white. Which made sense if each band member stuck to a certain color palette.

Well he was about to find out, he supposed.

The lights dimmed. The crowd quieted down. The spotlight lit up the drumkit first. And Eddie knew that Gareth would be drooling over it. It was all black with black metal fittings. The kit seemed to collect light almost like a blackhole.

Then from the ceiling, a man dressed all in black being lowered onto the stage with large black raven wings on his back. He wore a black hooded coat over what, Eddie couldn’t tell. It was all black. The shirt, the pants, the boots. Even his mask was all black with even the eyes appearing closed. His feet touched the ground and the crowd went wild.

“Azrael!” the announcer called out.

Azrael settled on the throne and picked up black drum sticks.He counted time above his head and played a wicked solo to the adoring crowd’s absolute delight.

Dustin jumped up and down, screaming.

The spotlight moved to the right side of stage and the next band member descended from the ceiling. Large bat wings adorned his back and he was dressed in red leather fetish gear. Complete with tight leather pants that looked painted on and a matching harness highlighting his bare chest, peeking out from the red leather hooded coat.

His guitar was fucking gorgeous, though. A Warlock, much like Eddie’s own. It was custom painted red with black flames licking up the neck.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but it seemed he was the only one who thought the whole thing was over the top judging from the screams from the girls in the audience.

He didn’t just land gently on the stage like the drummer did, oh no. He fucking stomped onto the stage with a howl.

His wings, like the drummer’s ascended back into the rafters as the announcer shouted, “Asmodeus!”

And then Eddie really did roll his eyes. The demon of lust. Of course he was.

But seconds later Eddie’s jaw dropped to the floor as the man wailed on his guitar driving the crowd further into the frenzy.

Once he finished his solo the crowd quieted again and he could see why. Because just then, descending on gossamer wings that shimmered like starlight, was their bassist.

Everything about him was midnight blue and shimmering like the night. His mask was the face of the moon. He had his own hooded coat, but it was like the night sky, with some kind of crystal or gem sewn in to make the coat glimmer like stars.

His bass was something that Brian would have sold his own mother for and they were as thick as thieves. Eddie didn’t know much about basses considering his sweetheart was an electric guitar, but he could tell it wasn’t expensive but was perfect for his style. A style he showed off with gusto to the audience’s obvious delight.

“Astraeus!” the announcer cried.

Eddie decided that this one was his favorite. It played up the whole mysterious thing without the over the top flash of the guitarist or the sheer void of the drummer.

The audience hushed as the three members of the band began to play what was clearly the lead singer’s entrance music.

And holy fuck was Eddie screwed. This man was descending like a fucking angel sent from God, Jesus pose and all.

He was all in white with an opaque lace mask that had his mouth and chin cut out for him to sing. That surprised Eddie somewhat. He figured that the guy would have his whole face covered like everyone else in the band and that he could lip sync.

But nope. Apparently no one in this band did anything by halves.

The lead singer was wearing a sheer mesh crop top under the hooded floor length coats the whole band was wearing. Only his was white with a silk powder blue lining.

Eddie winced in sympathy. They must get boiling under the lights with those things on.

A few feet from the stage floor there was an explosive pop! And the feathers from his wings flew out into the crowd who was now screaming as if their life depended on the sheer volume coming out them. He looked over at Dustin who was no different.

When Eddie could see the stage again, this angel’s wings were now skeletal and gothic.

He landed in front of microphone whose stand had been decorated with a scarf in each of of the band members’ signature colors.

“Abbadon!” the announcer yelled for the final time.

And Eddie was in love. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Dustin must have seen his expression because he was suddenly tugging on Eddie’s arm and screaming, “I told you!!”

“Indy!” Abbadon growled, grabbing the mic. “Thank you so much for having us! Let’s get this started.”

Then he began to sing and yeah, Eddie knew that the guy had charm, but this was a whole new level of epic. He was enthralled.

He didn’t utter a fucking word for several songs. But then it happened. Eddie couldn’t believe it. He hurried to snap a picture to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

But there it was it in living color. He turned to Dustin to see if he saw it too, but the kid was too busy screaming and jumping up and down.

Eddie’s jaw fell.

That couldn’t be right, couldn’t it? That Dustin didn’t know? Eddie looked back up on stage and a lot of the puzzle pieces started slotting in place. His heart sank a little.

He shook his head to clear it of dark thoughts. He didn’t know the reason for any of this and leaping to conclusions would only get a shit ton of people hurt. Especially the boy next to him.

Eddie let the music wash over him. Let the magic of metal soothe his soul. Soon he was jumping up and down and headbanging with the rest of the crowd. Right hand flashing the devil’s horns, left hand out to steady himself he let himself enjoy the band’s stage presence.

****

To say that Eddie’s mind was fucking blown would be an understatement. He pestered Dustin all the way home with rapid fire questions. Where did the band tour last time? What was their schedule this time? Was it a six month tour or an eighteen month tour last time?

Dustin answered each question with growing excitement, thinking that Eddie had finally grown to love this band as much as he had.

Eddie on the other hand felt a growing sense of dread. Well... maybe dread was the wrong word. It was certainly a sinking feeling. One he really had to exam closely.

At least he could honestly say that he fell in love with the music before he found out his little secret.

And fuck what a secret it was.

He dropped Dustin off at home and drove out to the ranch that he had gifted to Wayne when Corroded Coffin first made it big. It was a beautiful, sprawled out home surrounded by acres of land and Eddie loved it even more than Wayne did.

Eddie stumbled through the door and was surprised to see Wayne drinking hot chocolate and reading a sports magazine in his expensive recliner. And yet, at the same time, not really that surprised.

“You do realize I’m no longer that fucked up kid with anger issues,” Eddie huffed on his way to the kitchen to grab a beer, “that were almost as bad as the troubles with the law, right?”

Wayne chuckled. “Maybe so. But you’re still my boy and I’ll keep worrying about you until the day I die.”

Eddie popped open the can of beer and sat down on the sofa. He leaned his head back on the back cushion with a heavy sigh.

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “What’s stewing around in that head of yours?”

Eddie slowly raised his head. “What would you do if you accidentally found out something about a friend that they were keeping from everyone they knew?”

Wayne set down his magazine. “That would depend on the secret. Is it hurting anyone?”

“Is what hurting anyone?” Eddie asked. “The secret?” Wayne nodded and Eddie frowned, really thinking about it.

“Maybe some feelings,” he said after a moment. “But it’s not dangerous like they committed a crime or anything. It’s not even about their sexuality.”

Wayne hummed thoughtfully. “And is it a big secret or a little one?”

Again Eddie was forced to think hard about what that meant. “I guess it depends on the person, but in my eyes it’s pretty big.”

The elder Munson nodded. “Do you feel hurt by this secret?”

“Yeah, yeah. I guess I do.” He bowed his head and let out a shuddering breath.

“Is there a reason you think he wouldn’t have told you?” Wayne pressed.

“Of course no–” Eddie stopped as his brain caught up to his mouth. “Shit.”

Wayne raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Eddie admitted shyly. “There’s a pretty good reason why he wouldn’t have told me. And now I feel like the shit friend.”

Wayne stood up and pulled Eddie into a big hug. “Maybe so, but you have the time to course correct and show this friend that you are worthy of his secret.”

Eddie nodded. “Thanks, Uncle Wayne,” he mumbled into Wayne’s neck.

“I’m just glad I could help.”

****

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @yikes-a-bee @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @y4r3luv @cryptid-system @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

[kvothe-kingkiller]

I'm not the best writer when it comes to writing convincing essays or whatever, but I'm going to give this a go because it's something that I've thought for a long time that I've never seen anyone really acknowledge unless I bring it up first. (also I am sick and don't really want to do much editing here, just rambles, so good luck)

I think that when most (not all, but most) people get salty about 'modern art', they are not salty about the things people think they are salty about. When they say "this isn't art", theres an important bit that they're not articulating. What I think most of them mean is "this isn't art that should be in a museum." "this isn't art that should cost this much" "this isn't art that should be getting this kind of recognition". And there is a huge difference between that and just saying "this isn't art"

Firstly, all of the arguments about why modern art is in fact art straight up....don't apply. They don't address the problem, they don't answer the question. This isn't really anyone's fault per se, given that it is addressing the literal statement, it's just I think most people aren't actually thinking that literal statement.

So then what do they really mean? Like I said, I think they're trying to articulate why they're frustrated that this art is in a museum when "they could do it". So when you say "okay then, you do it" that doesn't address the core issue, which is "but why is this getting recognition for it, and I would get none" because yes, unless they are famous, they would get Zero recognition for it. Nobody would be lining up to buy their art, no one would ask to put it in a museum. Best place they can hope to have this displayed is a fridge door.

When you look at a piece of fine art, most can see the amount of effort put into it. They see how much training it took to get there, they see how much time it took to put those strokes on that canvas and they can go "yeah, that took skill, that took effort, not everyone can do that. it deserves recognition". And a lot of modern art does take skill, it's just skill that isn't easily noticeable to the average viewer, such as rothko's color fields, they do take a lot of skill and effort, you just can't see it if you don't know. But a lot of modern art that people complain about isn't something that has skill that's not recognized, it just requires very little technical skill at all (not a condemnation, btw).

When you're talking about something 'anyone can do' that piece's value is often not a recognition of skill, or even of the message, it's a recognition of a name. It's similar to having a gucci bag because it's a gucci bag, not because you care remotely about the bag. Yes, art isn't displayed because of how much effort went into it, but it's a huge industry that many many people are making money through from sheer name recognition alone.

Like that one painting of that one artist's (I forget which artist and my cursory google isnt finding it, but also its just an example) where it got replicated and sold to a bunch of people for a large amount of money so they could all have something that had a small chance of being a genuine painting by the artist, that's an excellent example of the fact that a lot of the gallery-level art world is Entirely about the name, not about the piece itself. If someone just made that painting but didn't say it could be from the artist, then who cares?

If you go to ringo starr's art website (https://www.ringostarrart.com/) then you can see that some of his work, especially his older work, is of that category of stuff that many people would say "I could do that" to. For instance, these two? 1,400 and 6,000 pounds respectively for a PRINT of these from his website

....okay this one I kinda enjoy.

but still. 2,000 pounds for a print.

All of this is possible because he's ringo fucking starr, he can sell his paintings for whatever he wants. If I tried to sell those for that much, I'd be laughed out of the room. All of it is just clout, it's just how big your name is and how much you can use that as leverage.

This is not to say that other forms of art don't also have this issue, they do, especially with people devaluing creative works so much today. But you could probably get a few commissions if you sell realistic art or do commissions of people's characters, while you Cannot get any money trying to sell stuff like ringos art unless you already have an audience who will buy it.

This does somewhat lead into a discussion of how art curators pick which artists are 'good' somewhat arbitrarily, but that's a whole other post.

Doing art for 'yourself' vs for other people or money is also a whole other post, one which I've actually seen quite a lot on here. But suffice to say if your response to all of this is 'just make art for yourself! Why do you need recognition?' then maybe go find some of those posts. It's not bad to want recognition, and it's not bad to question why that guy is getting much more recognition for the exact same thing you're doing just because he has a bunch of rich friends who are able to host fancy parties and go 'hmm. yes this is good art.' (not that all modern artists had rich friends, but they did almost all get Extremely lucky in some shape or another that led to them now being widely accepted as good artists).

You cannot make a living off modern art unless you're well known, and if you happen to be well known already, you could likely make a living off modern art without having any experience, and that's what a lot of people hate about modern art, even if they don't articulate it. While some would, most wouldn't say "my five year old could do that" to someone's personal piece that they made themselves and hung up in their home, or that their friend made and gave to them. They say that about the pieces bought for thousands of dollars or millions of dollars.

And I don't want people to think that I do hate modern art, I don't (though this is tumblr, so I'm pissing on the poor just by writing this). I don't hate any of the famous modern artists, I don't think modern art isn't art. I do hate the industry that says their art is suddenly worth something just because some rich fuckers somewhere decided they should be, and anything I tried to do in a similar vein, original or not, would be better suited to sit in a coffee shop and continuously marked down and never sold.

So next time you say "so why don't you make it", maybe ask yourself if you would buy it.

[jintaka-hane]

It's my birthday!!!! 🎉🥳

Yesssss! Another turn of the globe! 🌎 And I want to celebrate it with you all. 🪩 I want to gift everyone here (and myself 🙆🏻) a fic with my three favorite things in the world:

bratty reader ✅

enemies to lovers ✅

and Eustass fucking Captain Kid ✅

Life hasn’t let me finish it in time for today, but at least I can share the beginning because, honestly, I can’t keep it to myself!! 🦾❤️

Summary: You are a prisoner aboard the Victoria Punk. You have found and hidden a treasure that Kid's pirates were searching for, and with the intention of interrogating you, they keep you chained in the ship's brig until you confess its location. Poor Kid. He has no idea who he’s playing with. And he’s going to end up getting burned, obsessed with a very different treasure. Notes: very much NSFW (not now, but will), bratty reader, Kid does not what to do with you, Kid is obsessed, you have experience manipulating men, cocky Kid, even cockier reader, provocation, seduction, poor self control, short tempered Kid, the tables turn, he is wrapped around your finger.

Your eyes snap open and you blink a few times, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

In one corner, a lantern casts a soft glow on the wooden floor and walls. The smell of brandy is strong, probably coming from a nearby wine cellar, and mixes with the salty, humid atmosphere. And there's a soft wood creaking with each gentle, rhythmic sway of the room.

You’re on a ship. 

A metallic clink cuts through the quiet as you try to move your hands, and your gaze drops down to your dirty forearms, following the length of a heavy chain secured around your sore wrists. The chain crisscrosses, ending in iron rings anchored firmly to the wall.

Yes. You are in the ship’s brig.

You chuckle wryly, shaking your head in amusement. This again, huh? What debt had you racked up this time? Or who’d you try to swipe from that actually managed to catch you? You’ve been in plenty of cells before, but not this one. 

The bitter, metallic taste of blood lingers in your mouth, and you flick your tongue to wipe away a small trickle the corner of your lip. Smirking, you recall flashes of what went down a few hours ago. That blonde brute in the mask, pinning you to the ground with that burnt-up tree trunk of an arm. The tall idiot dressed like a cockroach in fishnets, kicking you square in the face.

Amateurs. You grin to yourself, thinking about how they held back. Clearly, they had no idea what you’d been through before. These rookies didn’t even come close to the worst of it.

The iron lock of the cell door creaks open and the silhouette of an imposing man is outlined against the light. You squint, trying to make out your captor’s identity beneath the dim lantern glow. The hulking figure looms at the entrance, arms and chest bulging with intimidating muscles straining against an unbuttoned black shirt. His wild red hair spikes upward like a flame, and beneath a pair of studded leather goggles, sharp orange eyes glint over a crooked, broken nose.

Eustass Captain Kid, you think immediately.

Alright, so maybe your captor isn’t the idiot you were expecting... but still, you don’t flinch an inch. Your survival instinct kicks in, and your brain starts working to assess the level of threat you’re facing. With a single glance, you study his attitude, stance and outfit, and it doesn’t take long for you to reach your verdict. Arrogant and cocky. With those ridiculous yellow pants with purple frills screaming overconfidence.

Nothing you can’t handle.

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid <3