#Two guilds one cause

[fujii-draws]

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

[moongothic]

Tbh I wanna see crocodile fight someone so we can see how strong he is because the last time he’s gotten in a real fight was in marineford. Does crocodile have haki? Does he need it at all to survive the new world? Like with most of the relevant pirates knowing haki, retroactively or otherwise, it’s kinda hard to gauge what he’s capable of

Anon I am so sorry I'm gonna go slightly off-topic/become deranged because I've been thinking about writing a whole ass post about this very subject and now you just gave me an excuse to word vomit incoherently instead. So I'm just gonna do that. I'm so sorry

(Hey won't you look at that I actually came back and edited this so it's vaguely legible and there's like a proper point to my thesis lmao)

Also I am. So sorry. For how obscenely long this got. Holy shit I have no idea how this happened I am so sorry

I can not put into words just how badly I want to see this man have an actual, proper 1-v-1 fight with someone. Oda, for the love of god let him fuck up someone, please, I c̵͍͛r̶̢͠a̴͕̾v̷̠͆ḛ̶̐ ̸̤͝t̷̟̋h̷̳̓ḙ̵̀ ̷̱͌b̶͓͑l̸̦̚ô̶̠ȯ̸͇d̴̲̕

No for real though, the one, true, proper 1v1 we ever saw Crocodile have WAS with fucking Luffy and like, to be fair they did fight three times, but still, during Summit War? Sure we see him exchange a few blows but it's never a proper 1v1 because we keep on cutting from one thing to another and the opponents keep on changing etc. So there was no time for a proper battle with anyone

So out of principle alone I want to see him have a proper fight with someone (who isn't a Strawhat preferably) at least once before the series ends (though honestly if we could have more than just one fight scene with Crocodile I would not complain at all, but I might be asking too much at that point)

But also yes. I want to know Croc's actual Power Level in the story right now (and I don't mean that in a powerscaling-kinda way, just in a "I want my husband to look cool because it's what he deserves" kinda way)

Like. The Crocodile we've seen in the past absolutely under no circumstances deserves the fucking unit of a bounty he has on his head right now. And I mean, to be fair Buggy doesn't deserve his gigantic bounty either, canonically the numbers don't matter or mean THAT MUCH-- They just reflect what the WG thinks a person is worth, not the true level of threat the person actually poses But also. Croc's bounty has literally gotten like 24 times bigger from his OG pre-Shichibukai era bounty. To be fair, according to trivia his OG bounty would've at least doubled had the WG known about Baroque Works, but his current bounty would still be like 12 times bigger than before. And god fucking knows Crocodile does not fucking deserve a bounty this fucking big if he hasn't gotten any more powerful since Alabasta. No amount of hanging around with Mihawk and running evil organizations should beef up his bounty that much

So surely, he must've gotten more powerful since we last saw him action, right? Surely? Somehow?

But indeed, how?

And that's where we kinda get to the interesting part, don't we? We have no idea what Croc's been up to for the past two years. Like whatever he's been doing, surely it's been better than spending a decade sitting on his ass and barely ever lifting a muscle when overpowering rando pirates attacking Alabasta with his Logia powers, right. Like surely being in the New World alone would be enough to make him break a sweat for a change

But then like, the only two times we have seen Croc post-timeskip (pre-Cross Guild) he has been just sitting around reading the news (to be fair, the scenes were also about him catching the news about Luffy, it's not like he can't do anything else outside of those scenes). So like. I feel kind of conflicted, like on one hand to get stronger then surely he must've been working out or something. But also I do kind of mentally associate Training Arcs with much younger characters, and Crocodile is quite middle aged, like is he even allowed to go through a training arc anymore?? Especially when he's like a such a Proper Gentleman, it's so hard to imagine him to go back to the basics or anything

But also?? How else would he get stronger?? Like?? Maybe there really was?? AN OLD MAN TRAINING ARC??

But also, to be fair

Crocodile did make a big point about how he "keeps on honing and developing his Devil Fruit skills instead of stagnating like some other losers" back when he and Luffy had their first match. So I really would love it if Oda kept that actually true for the character, I'd love to see him actually whip out some new tricks, techniques and attacks instead of us seeing Sables again for the 839423th time

And really he can't really whip out new attacks if he hasn't at least tried to come up with new tricks (and preferably tried them out)

But that was just the basics right, Croc's Devil Fruit capabilities

Then there's the whole mystery of Crocodile's Haki Status. A whooole different can of worms. Considdering how the only actual damage he seemed to take during the entirety of Summit War was because of Jozu's Haki, and the fact that even fucking Blackbeard can use Haki now, it'd feel deranged if he doesn't have any kind of Haki capabilities. Like everybody knows Haki is going to be Croc's persona kryptonite, including Croc himself! And Haki Mastery really is The Thing that decides whether a pirate crew can actually make it or not in the New World (Kaidou made a specific point about that too). So surely, considdering Croc's supposed to be A Smart Boy and all, he knows he'll need to actually figure out how to use Haki if he doesn't want to lose another limb, right. Like surely he's figured that shit out, right???

Now people have been speculating for years if both Crocodile AND Moria used to be Haki users who lost their Haki after getting their asses kicked in the New World. Which, in theory would make sense, since Haki is essentially just willpower, and getting crushed the way they did would give them good in-universe reasons to why they didn't use the ability, as their traumas could translate to them losing their wills. But also it is willpower, that's not really a tangible thing you can really lose, and the idea of "Haki loss" isn't actually canon (yet at least). So although it's great fanon, we can't assume it's true. Like just as an example, we know Hancock can supposedly use Conqueror's Haki but we've never actually seen her demonstrate the ability

And to be fair to Croc (and Moria), the concept of Haki didn't really start to get Truly Solidified in the story until post-War, so expecting Alabasta!Croc to use it a whole decade earlier in real world time would be ridiculous since Oda hadn't figured out the system yet.

And while that is 100% true and fair.

Thing is. Although extremely vague, I do think Oda had been slowly starting to build the IDEA of Haki already in Alabasta. Like we know the concept gets properly introduced during the Skypiea Saga where Blackbeard both namedrops it and we get to see Observation Haki in action, under the name Mantra. But already in Alabasta, when Zoro is trying to figure out how to cut steel (to defeat Daz), that whole "breath of things" and hyper-awareness he gains when near death... I'm not the first one to point out how much that sounds like rudamentary Haki. And like, yes, on paper the idea of the battle was that Zoro became strong enough to cut steel. But also, learning to use Haki would be what would allow anyone to cut through a Devi Fruit ability like that. The same applies to Luffy's final attack on Crocodile too, his punch destroying the sand blade that before would've sliced his entire hand in half before is poetic on its own, but makes even more in-universe sense if you considder the possilibity Luffy might have subconciously been using Haki at the very end, his sheer willpower allowing him to punch Croc.

The reason I'm pointing all that out is that I kinda wonder if we might've gotten hints at Crocodile having not just Haki, but fucking Conqueror's Haki in Alabasta

This is based on two things:

First, Crocodile's pet bananawani. Yes, he could just be Really Good with animals and that would be adorable on its own. But we know Conqueror's can be used to intimidate and tame animals, including really fierce beasts. Keeping in mind that bananawani are meant to be one of the few species of animals that prey on Sea Kings, IDK, if you told me the reason Crocodile was able to tame them and keep them as pets thanks to Conqueror's, I would believe you. It's nothing solid, there's no proof one way or another, but it would make sense in-universe, it is plausible.

Second, this scene.

Does that blast of Ominous Air/Energy on the third page not remind you of one of those Conqueror's Haki shockwaves?

Of course, considdering Luffy was able to knock out Bon-chan with his untrained, uncontrolled Conqueror's in Impel Down (though to be fair, in the Impel Down scene Bon-chan was in rough condition anyways), if Crocodile was displaying his Haki here, either

A) Shit's real fucking weak or

B) He must've intentionally "kept it down" in this scene just to make sure his agents didn't actually pass out on the spot

But of course, if Croc had fullblown Conqueror's that he was able to control that well, you'd think he might've actually used it to subdue weaker enemies at some point or something (though, again, Hancock also supposedly has it and we haven't seen her use it, and if we had seen him use it on Luffy or something then the story really would've ended in Alabasta). So if that really was Conqueror's, I'd personally maybe rather lean on it being weak as hell (especially if Haki Loss was canon) over him having perfect control over it

Of course, just because that ominous blast of air in hindsight might resemble a weak ass Conqueror's Haki Blast, it doesn't mean that's what it was. Just like with the Bananawani example, there's nothing solid here to go off of, it's just plausible

(Also just for clarity's sake, Crocodile doesn't need Conqueror's Haki. I just think there could be evidence to suggest it if you overthink it just right)

All of this to say

Regardless of what Croc's Haki Status was during Alabasta and Summit War, the fact is that the dude really does kind of need Haki just to survive in the current storyline. So if he can't use ANY KIND OF HAKI, I'm just gonna be speechless. Like Luffy could kill him by just farting on him at that point Not to mention I'd actually love to see the Haki Loss-concept explored in the canon. Like either have it debunked, or somehow confirm it's a thing and show off what a horrifying threat Crocodile can be when he's actually putting his everything into a fight (same for Moria btw, if all he has to protect rn is Perona I'd love to see him go apeship and use Haki to protect her)

BUT THEN THERE'S A WHOLE DIFFERENT DIRECTION WE COULD GO WITH CROCODILE'S POWER LEVEL

OH DID YOU THINK I WAS FUCKING DONE WITH THIS POST? NO, WE'RE STILL FUCKING GOING MAN

So I've seen a lot people speculate about Logia Awakenings and what they could be like. Most people seem to agree on the theory that Punk Hazard being the way it is could be a result of two awakened Logias (namely Akainu and Aokiji) clashing. Similarly that Enies Lobby could be where an Awakened Light Fruit did a thing in the distant past, causing the eternal daytime on the island

I'm not sure I'm entirely convinced that's what Logia Awakenings will be like (some people have also suggested Enel's Final Form was a Logia Awakening, which I kinda doubt but okay), it's a neat idea in any case, we'll just have to wait and see what Oda has cooking for us

Regardless. On a mere narrative level, if they're even possible then I think it'd be cool as hell if Crocodile could act as an introduction to Logia Awakenings and what they're actually like. Because, depending on the role the bastard is going to take going forward, it could prepare us and Luffy for what's to come with Akainu (the real threat)

And again, depending on his role in the story, I think he could be an actual candidate for someone who could deserve to be Awakened-- like the whole Awakening State is sliiightly OP, and Logias are also kind of OP by default. So between OG Croc being kinda weak as hell (by current standards), but also him being an experienced pirate who's known his abilities for god knows how many decades... IDK I think he could deserve The Honors, y'know?

Like compare him to someone like Sabo or Blackbeard who got their Logias only recently and are still learning to use their abilities (more or less). If either of those fuckers somehow Awakened their Logias before Sir Fucking Crocodile I'd be kinda pissed off y'know?

The Admirals are kinda OP to begin with anyways too, I kinda just don't want Smoker to get The Honor of being the first on-screen Awakened Logia either, and really that would leave us with like... Ceasar and Enel as our only remaining options

And Dragon, if he does have a Wind Logia (which remains to be seen)

So. Yeah. If Logia Awakenings can be a thing, I think Crocodile could be the perfect guy to actually introduce them in the story (depending what his role will be).

All of this nonsense to say

Mr Oda, please, I would like to see Sir Crocodile in action pwease

And I want to know what the hell that weird spike thing was

Mr Oda please, I wish to see the Husband and see what kind of tricks he can do now after all these years, please allow him to commit a murder or two or three

[the-tired-commander]

I am utterly obsessed with this beast

(featuring @astralarias and @orrianreaper)

[agentravensong]

three observations / thoughts from reading the editorial notes in my new physical copy of Hamlet (the pelican edition, edited by a. r. braunmuller):

1. There's this bit from Act 2 Scene 2 where Hamlet is telling Ros and Guil about how he's depressed, how all the beautiful things in the world mean nothing to him. The thing that stuck out to me on this flip-through was the highlighted line and associated footnote below:

If we go with what is "traditionally supposed" as canon, then, it makes this line one of the most direct fourth-wall breaks in the whole show (that isn't a narrative device i.e. the soliloquies), because it implies that Hamlet sees the literal ceiling of the theater the play is being performed in.

You could just say that the golden fire refers to the real stars and such, making the "roof" metaphorical... but that's less fun.

2. There are a lot of bird allusions and metaphors in this play. Not just the “special providence in the fall of a sparrow” line that seems to haunt me specifically, but a lot of times that people are compared to birds.

marcellus calling for hamlet like how a falconer would apparently call a hawk in act 1 scene 5 when he's left on the battlements after the ghost disappears ("Illo ho ho, my lord!")

woodcocks (foolish birds) caught in springs (traps) (see polonius in act 1 scene 3 (talking about hamlet or ophelia, i think?), and laertes once he starts dying)

knowing a hawk from a handsaw, a spy from a true friend (act 2 scene 2) (according to the book "handsaw" is also supposed to sound like "hernshaw", a type of heron)

"it cannot be but i am pigeon-livered" (also act 2 scene 2)

cladius' limed soul (act 3 scene 4), "limed" apparently referencing birdlime, a gluey material used to snare birds

osric, the "lapwing" who "runs away with the shell on his head", comparing him to a freshly hatched baby bird

and at least one or two more that are currently slipping my mind.

Now, I’m relatively new to analyzing Shakespeare's works in this depth, so maybe this is a trademark in all his stuff, or maybe it was just common at the time; maybe it isn’t meant to be a pattern.

But amongst all those lines, I read this (part of Hamlet talking to Horatio after the play-within-a-play, leading up to him bragging to Horatio that he could definitely get a whole share in an actors' company):

And, given how meta Hamlet is as a play (see section 1/3 of this post)… perhaps this line, as unemphasized as it is, is meant to re-contextualize the rest of those bird references as pointing out / reminding us that all the characters are actors? Both in the literal meta sense and also the thematic “every character is playing a role for others and engaging in varying levels of deceit” sense?

Again, it’s possible I’m giving this more weight than it’s due because of my lack of context, but. It’s an interesting possibility, at least.

3. Okay, this last one is just funny. Remember when Laertes and Claudius are just beginning to brainstorm how they’ll eliminate Hamlet in the last scene of Act 4, and Claudius alludes to some skill of Laertes’ (fencing) that someone else has been spreading the word about? Do you remember who that someone was?

Well, the thing about this noted excellent horse-rider is…

Obviously, the only conclusion to draw from this is that the guy talking up Laertes’ fencing prowess is the literal Grim Reaper, setting things in motion for the fated fatal duel, and neither Claudius nor Laertes had the thought that taking such inspiration from a guy named as such might lead to an unfavorable end. Good job, you two.

[perenlop]

I like the drama the “someone has to stay” great glacier arc brings but man it’s very distracting how they never even address anyone you may have recruited to paradise after the fact

[troonwolf]

one thing that does annoy me about the Gw2 story is how after the plot reveal of the dragons being necessary to the planet happens, everyone starts acting like this was an obvious fact that everyone just knew, and that the commander is an idiot for killing two dragons. nevermind the fact he wasn’t even the person leading the attack in the first case, and only took over the lead in the second case because their command structure fell apart.

also kind of irritating because I like Trahearne but it’s another example of how while he’s alive, he gets all the praise for everything you do, and then when he’s dead you get all the blame for everything he did. people even start calling you things like “leader of the pact” and “commander of the pact” even though you were never the leader, aren’t in the pact anymore, and actually rejected taking over command a few episodes ago.

and it would be one thing if the game was self-aware about it, but it seems to genuinely want you to think that the dragon plot reveal was an obvious fact that you just ignored. like everyone in Elona seems to be aware of how all this works and you’re mocked on several occasions for killing the dragons, but for years before this point no one had a fucking clue and Taimi was the one to figure it out. so if it wasn’t for you and your guild, people still wouldn’t be aware of this

[chisatowo]

Screaming and crying as I give up my pmd randomizer save with a dialga and celebi as my starters because I forgot to change the settings from default and I'm not puting myself through that

[fans4wga]

26 July update from WGA's Chris Keyser

From the WGA: With SAG-AFTRA now on strike and new levels of solidarity across all Hollywood unions, we are witnessing the spectacular failure of the AMPTP’s negotiating strategy. In this video, WGA Negotiating Committee Co-Chair Chris Keyser lays out what this moment means and how we move forward. To learn more about the WGA strike, visit https://www.wgastrike.org.

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Fellow members of the WGA East and West. It's been a while since our last video and quite a bit has happened in the meantime. So on behalf of the negotiating committee and leadership, I wanted to give you an update on where we are and what the near future at least is likely to bring.

We've been walking side by side on picket lines in New York and Los Angeles for a little over 12 weeks now. Only now we're joined by thousands upon thousands of members of SAG-AFTRA who, like us, have finally had enough.

This is the endpoint and the fruit of the AMPTP’s game plan. For 11 weeks, they negotiated with everyone but us. They claimed it was just practicality, that they could only do one thing at a time, which is not normally a point of pride. But events have made clear what we knew from the start: that not only was it a strategy, it was their only strategy. Negotiate a deal with a single guild and impose that deal on every other guild and union in Hollywood, whether it addresses the needs of those unions or not, all with the implicit threat: if you want more, strike for it.

Wow. It’s their 2007-8 playbook applied to 2023 as if nothing has changed, as if the accumulation of economic insults and injuries inflicted on us over the past decade would be borne in perpetual silence, as if the giant of labor had not awakened. But it has. And you only need to look as far as the front gates of every studio in LA and New York to see the evidence.

Two unions on strike willing to exercise their power, despite the pain, to ensure their members get the contract they deserve. For us, that means addressing the relentless mistreatment of screenwriters, which has only been exacerbated by the move to streaming; the continued denial of full MBA protection to comedy variety and other appendix A writers when they work in streaming; and the self-destructive unsustainable dismantling of the process by which episodic television is made and episodic television writers are paid.

It means addressing the existential threat of AI and the insufficiency of streaming residual formulas, including the need for transparency and a success-based component. All of these will need to be addressed for there to be a deal because in this strike it is our power and not their pattern that matters, not their strategy. Their strategy has failed them. Now they're in the midst of a streaming war with each other, an admittedly difficult transition. And as they face the future, their interests and business models could not be more different from Disney to Sony to Netflix to Amazon.

We root for their success, all of them. They root for each other's failure. We are the creative ammunition through which they will succeed. They are each other's apex predators. And yet, in a singular shared dedication to denying labor, they have shackled themselves together in what increasingly seems like a mutual suicide pact, as the 2023-24 broadcast season and the 2024-25 movie schedule and its streaming shows disappear, melt away week by week.

So what does this mean? What does it mean going forward? How do you play chess against an opponent who insists on screaming checkmate at every move regardless of how the board looks and the game is going?

You stay firm, you stay resolved, because our cause is no less existential than when we started and our leverage is increasing every day. Alone we withheld our labor with the support of our union siblings and the Teamsters and IATSE and the Crafts, we were able to delay the vast majority of production. Now with SAG-AFTRA on strike, those few studio projects that remained have also shut down. And it's not just the obvious delays. If this strike drags on, it's the actors with conflicting obligations and the directors and the double-booked studio facilities and release date chaos that the companies must now also contend with. Some of their most valuable product could well be delayed for years.

Add to that, no promotion of movies or television shows and famous faces on the picket lines and social media speaking directly to their customers. For the tech companies and the mega corporations, that should be their nightmare scenario: WGA and SAG-AFTRA side by side. Our bargaining agenda may not be identical, but our cause is the same. Our army of labor, defending labor has increased 17-fold in the past two weeks alone.

Even so, even with all this wind at our backs this negotiation won't happen overnight. It's not because the negotiations themselves are so complex. Once the companies fully engage, it could go very quickly, but because their strategy of many decades has just fallen apart and they didn't see it coming, and it's going to take them a minute to regroup, 'cause the companies have things to work out internally, and saying no to labor in unison is a lot easier than saying yes. So either together or separately, as their divergent interests might suggest, they will come back to us, despite their understandable concern about how they've navigated this transition to streaming, which is on their heads and not ours; and their worries about costs and their worries about Wall Street; despite this being a season of doom and gloom, none of them are walking away from the riches of this business, and certainly not over the equitable minimum compensation to writers.

They didn't get the deal they wanted; that's fine, it happens all the time. They're not taking their ball and going home over it. And since we know they come from union families themselves, and since they've denied that “even-in-Hollywood-you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me” ugliness of threatening to starve us out and leave us homeless (which we assume they understand also means making our children homeless,) they will come back to us. Although I will say they took a long time to deny that statement, longer than I would have had it been ascribed to me.

But what does it matter? You can starve a labor force slowly or quickly. The effect is the same. It's not like day rates for comedy variety writers and endless free drafts for screenwriters in exchange for a single paid one in four-week mini-rooms isn't cruelty. It's just cruelty written in contract language instead of a press quote.

So what can we expect from the companies as all of this plays itself out? They will try to convince Wall Street that taking a strike, prolonging it unnecessarily, losing their content stream in the process—that all of that is just smart business and no reason for investor concern. We will be talking to Wall Street too, and reminding them that for all these companies, all of 'em including Netflix, the bill, the price for making nothing, will eventually come due. And Wall Street is listening already. Here's Michael Pachter, managing director of equity research at Wedbush on Yahoo Finance the other day: “I think the studios are completely wrong on this one. Content is their lifeblood. They're feeling really foolish about this."

Wall Street isn't the only one listening. We've been talking to union pension funds too about the risks the companies are taking. We talked to CalPERS, the largest public pension plan in the country, talked about the loss of programming and the cost to the industry, and we heard strong support from its board for our struggle and the promise that the companies will be hearing from them, from CalPERS, and demanding answers on behalf of its 2 million members.

To us, of course, they will continue to plead temporary poverty, but we know the drill. These companies support billions into the streaming wars and taken short-term losses these past three years, because they know that to the winner will go the spoils. We're patient, will they share that with us when the time comes? What are the chances?

Since 2017, the last time the studios negotiated with us outside of COVID, the big six companies alone have made $150 billion in profits off our work, while they slashed our pay and degraded our working conditions. Maybe if they had shared a tiny piece of that then, made $1 billion or so less, this year wouldn't seem so costly. As it is, there is no iron law that these companies are entitled to record profits every year, and it isn't some great travesty if their shareholders or their CEOs get a slightly smaller slice of the massive profits we helped create if some balance is restored.

Look, no one denies that corporations exist to make a profit and no one wants our employers to be profitable more than we do, but the singular pursuit of corporate profits to the exclusion of their social and human cost is a real problem in this country—it’s a real problem. A corporation's bottom line is not the same as the world’s, and there is nothing in our studio's bottom lines today that accounts for the quality of our lives or for our dignity, for the comfort of our retirement or the security of our families. Their numbers have no conscience, but the people who report them as victories ought to.

In their refusal to recognize that, these companies have also extracted an awful price, which is laid at their feet and for which they are responsible. Losses to the economies of New York and Los Angeles and everywhere that film and television are made, terrible losses that mount every day, thousands of people out of work; not just us, all the crews, the crafts, the janitors, the drivers, the businesses that thrive when Hollywood thrives, the restaurants, the stores—for what? For nothing. So they could avoid coming to the table to negotiate the deal they will one day give us. Measured today that is the painfully mixed legacy of our employers, weighed against every beautiful piece of work we have made with them.

And if history is a guide, they have only temporary stewardship over a kind of national trust, which is Hollywood. Our story, our sometimes conscience, our public conversation, our diversion of the worst and best of times, our greatest export, the repository of our imagination. They have some obligation to more than just their shareholders to behave accordingly.

Unfortunately, it seems big tech, mega corporations, and some of the people who run them, as the saying goes know the price of everything and the value of nothing. So they have built a business model that no longer works for human beings who cannot be paid minimum for 10 to 20 weeks a year and make a career out of that, be paid for one draft of a screenplay that demands a year of labor, be paid a few episodic fees for a show about which to take years to decide be paid a daily rate.

And now we have a first glimpse of what they offered our actor colleagues. We are not 170,000 Willy Lomans to be used and then discarded. We know what the companies believe they have the power to do. We know what they think machines can do and do without any of us. Oh yeah, we've seen the writing on the wall and it's plagiarized.

The thing is this: the difference between what you CAN do and what you SHOULD do is the greatest single difference in the world. Knowing that is the only real protection we have against a dystopian future. And if the companies sometimes forget that, writers will do it for them.

I can't know exactly how long it will take this revolutionary moment, and you've heard again and again what is happening today has not happened in 63 years, but I know that's not always how it feels, revolutionary and defining, even though we celebrate that on picket lines together, which is the right thing to do. That's not always how it feels when you go home at night. I know how tough this is: to strike, to hold the line. I know it gets tougher every day even with SAG-AFTRA marching beside us, how hard it is to face the uncertainty of when it will end, when we'll get back to work, how we'll pay the bills. I know it's hardest for those who've just gotten started, for those for whom the world opens doors more reluctantly, battled their whole life just to get here; but hard too for those struggling to maintain their long careers, who find work tougher and tougher to come by, or those with families with children or parents to take care of.

These companies understand the cruelty of what they're doing. It's their plan to starve us just a little, to exact as much pain as they can so that we wish more for the pain to end than for the better life we dreamed up. That we're more afraid of the uncertainty of the present than the certain devastation of the future. It's societally acceptable economic torture inflicted by management on labor every day, then blamed on labor for daring to fight back, for refusing to be complicit in its own mistreatment.

Here's how I know that's not going to work. Not with us, not with the writers, because we haven't come all this way, fought to have these careers in the first place, all the adversity, and marched together for all these months, only to let it slip away on our watch—because there is no point in rushing back to jobs that may not be there in a year or two anyway. Because the business, as the companies have twisted it, is now untenable, unsurvivable for so many of us, because even success is not enough to keep going, because this guild is younger than it's ever been and more diverse. And this young diverse membership knows from hard personal experience the system is broken and that it will not be fixed unless they fix it. And those of us who came before them will not let them down, because we and the writer's guild are the beneficiaries of all those who came before us who gave up everything for us.

Like the writers of 1960, the year I was born, who struck for 22 weeks and who gave away all the TV residuals for all the movies they had ever written so that we could have a health insurance and pension plan and residuals from that date forward. $15 billion flowed to writers and their benefit plans because of that sacrifice. Because writers are brave, because now it's our turn.

So what's our job? Even as we welcome SAG-AFTRA to our side, we are still responsible for our own deal, and so we must remain focused and diligent. We must continue to march, picket signs in hand. But we should also remember this and with pride, that before there was SAG-AFTRA, before even the Teamsters and IATSE and the laborers and the electrical workers and the musicians and the plasterers came to our side, there was the writers. Alone then, we looked at the blank page and began to imagine the future. With no net but each other we typed the words, what if?

And then we took a step into the darkness and found that it was light. And then we were joined by the crews and the drivers and the actors. The actors got a bit more fanfare when they showed up, but that's okay, we wrote the script. The WGA, still small, not alone anymore after all these decades. Hollywood labor has finally linked arms and found its voice, and that voice says enough. There is no road to longterm prosperity that burns a path through your own workforce. We are not your enemies. We are not merely a cost to be borne. We are your partners and your greatest asset. And we are, as you acknowledge yourselves, irreplaceable, but by accident or design and it doesn't really matter anymore, the business you are running no longer works for those who work for you.

What is the point in continuing to deny that? Why deny it when everyone else in the business to a person tells you it's true? Do you think it's a coincidence that two unions are on strike against you for the first time since Eisenhower was president? You can't exactly accuse us of being quick on the trigger. The effect has a cause, it has a cause. And there is no profit in insisting on the answers to the past for the questions of the future.

But if you want instead to invest in something that will reap you fortunes, I have a tip. And if you are visionaries, envision a solution, not a stalemate. Because this isn't a war we're in, it's a negotiation, it's just a negotiation. There is no face-saving here for either side, because there is no winner or loser. It's just a deal. And when you come to remember that again we will be here as we have been here all along.

And at this point with 170,000 writers and actors aligned against your intransigence, that is as generous as I can be, as close to an olive branch as I can offer. But if you insist instead on the same threatening rhetoric, on saying you would rather starve us than pay us, I would remind you of this: You are fighting for a dollar, we are fighting for survival. We are fighting for our home: writing is where we live, and we will defend that home with a bravery and stamina and ferocity that you will come to understand someday, which is why you cannot break us. You cannot outlast us, you cannot.

And not just because we have the will, because we have power. Nothing in this business happens until we start to write. And we will not start to write until we are paid.

Union now. Union forever.

[idkfitememate]

Pt. 1 , Pt. 2(You are here!), Pt. 3

So… you may have head but Razor.

BUT IT WAS IN SELF DEFENSE YOU SWEAR!

He just, POPPED UP outta NOWHERE! How else were you supposed to react?! By not attacking on sight???

So now here we are. With a knocked out Razor on the grassy floor as you and your family of churls and slimes stand over him.

Huh.

You had no fucking clue what you were supposed to do now. Do you… drag him out of the forest? Find a wolf from his pack??

Maybe not the last one cause wolves eat boars…

Anyway.

Dragging him out means that you’d have contact with other characters and you were NOT prepared for that. I mean, at this point you had built such a strong connection with the mobs around you that you kinda forgot about the characters?

You also had to focus on the fact that you were a boar now. Not a human. For survival.

You are now something that poofs into meat after it dies.

So as you stared, you failed to notice a rustling of bushes behind you, but when another human form rose from them…

You ended up kicking Bennett in the head via hind legs.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

So, apparently churls enjoyed the average human sacrifice every once and a while. Which is fair cause sometimes you gotta let off a little steam, you know?

But not like this.

The two were tied to a rather long stick over a fire as churls of every type danced around while singing.

You simply sat your fine boar ass in the grass looking a little less than pleased at the situation.

As they continued to roast the preteens over an open fire like chestnuts, you finally realized that “Holy shit they are actually cooking them I need to stop that-“.

And stop that you did!

By spitting up the equivalent of a lake onto their fire.

…Cool.

As water logged churls stood by in shock, you began to nibble at the startlingly strong vines wrapped around the duo.

And by gods those were strong vines.

But your jaws were stronger.

And now you have two children at your feet, drenched and still somehow passed out Jesus it’s been a few hours how hard did you hit them?-

And now you had no clue what to do. Right back at the same dilemma that made you hesitate to save them. Wtf do you do with them now???

Your hesitation was apparently apparent as you felt a had rake through your fur. Looking back you noticed a hilichurl petting you softly, gently directing you towards an opening in the forest.

Allowing it to guide you, you found that a couple adventurers from the guild calling out for Bennet.

Fuck.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Now they were tied to a tree deeper in the forest. Only difference is that they were now awake.

And thrashing about.

And maybe a bit sacred.

You sat on your haunches in front of them as they thrashed against their bindings. Something you noticed was that they weren’t using their visions.

…Weird.

Anyway as you continued to stare at them and them at you are they pulled against the vines, you noted that Bennett had stopped and was now just staring at you.

He was opening his mouth.

Holy shit was he gonna speak to you?

“Hey there little guy..?”

HOLY SHIT BENNETT SPOKE TO YOU-

“W-would you be a good little boar and get help?.. or something?.. please?”

Your only response was a snort, then you turned to Razor. You wanted to see if he’d have anything to say.

(Not that that was gonna change anything you’d still help them-)

“Uhh… Good boar? Friendly boar? Boar smell weird… boar help Bennet and Razor??”

Yep you loved them.

Giving a small squeal, you finally made up your mind. This was enough human interaction for a while, so you’d find a wolf, bring it back and then let it guide them to the Wolvendom in order to drop them off with Razor’s pack.

While you stood triumphantly with small sparkles surrounding you, the two boys sweat dropped at the sight of a somehow smug boar?

Boars can’t move their faces like that, can they?

Bennett hesitated… can they?

Coughing and shaking his head, Bennett finally noticed you were walking away and the hardcore growling Razor was doing.

“Hey! W-where are ya going little guy?” He called out.

You just turned, snorted, then continued on your way.

“W-wait!”

“Stupid weird smelling boar…”

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Trotting across hills and avoiding the odd traveler as best you could, you finally found yourself at the Wolvendom. Shaking off your nerves, you head inside.

You slowly made your way through the grass, acutely aware of all the wolves surrounding you. Letting out little huffs you found yourself in a clearing.

A clearing….

Wait….

OH SHIT-

“Hello little one.”

ANDRIUS YOU FORGOT ABOUT ANDRIUS-

“What is a small boar like you doing here where it is not safe?”

His voice had a teasing tone to it, which confused you. This was the literal Wolf of the North, the man who embodied wolves. An actual GOD of the pack. Why wasn’t he hunting you down on sight???

Your confusion was plastered on your face, causing the wolf to chuckle.

“As a creature connected to Teyvat, did you not expect me to realize when The Creator stands before me? My head bows to you, O Mighty One.”

And now a kneeling Andirus was in front of you, as well as seemingly every wolf in the forest.

… So they weren’t going to eat you. Nice to know.

As you tried to communicate with the large blue and white wolf what you needed, only small squeals and oinks made it out. God this was pissing you off. With the churls, they just seemed to know! While it would be nice to talk with someone, you hadn’t needed to for a long while. This was bullshit! Now you’re getting pissed off!-

“Breath my Lord. Have you forgotten?”

Forgotten what? Huh?-

“It seems you have, the boar is not your only form. Any beast that has its soul connected to the heart of Teyvat. Every creature, every animal, they are you children. You have taken the forms of all as you encompass all. Try taking the form of a wolf and speak to me.”

He was acting like a god damn tutorial. Which… was actually fairly needed in this time of… well, need.

So you could do other animals huh? Let’s just see about this. Focusing all your willpower into it, your skin began to shift and turn, fur growing longer… slowly you transformed…

Into a fucked up half boar half wolf abomination.

AND JESUS DID IT HURT-

Loud whines and whimpers mixed with loud squeals and barks left you maw as you hopped around, before forcing yourself back into your now more favored form, a boar.

Yeah never again. You’d rather struggle.

Sighing and placing ‘shapeshifting’ on the back burner for now, you simply walked forward and grabbed some of the larger wolves fur in your mouth in order to drag him. Staring down he let out a small chuckle (He can chuckle???) and began to walk forward, allowing you to trot in front of him.

“Of course my Lord, lead the way.”

Thank the gods he had nothing to say about that mishap. (Maybe he was scared of you smiting him… hehe…)

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Keeping a brisk pace, your small form had finally found itself in front of the two boys once more. It seemed as though they had tired themselves out from struggling, but we’re still awake. And Bennett’s eyes lit up upon see you. As they should.

“Hey there little guy! Did you get h-h- OH MY BABRBATOS!-“

Andrius, in all his glory, walked behind you as you sat there with a somehow even smugger expression than before. A large abundance of wolves had taken their place behind him, looking like a sea of grays and blacks.

“H-h-h-h-h-“ You’ve broken Bennett, now to check on Razor.

…The poor wolf boy also looked shocked.

You slid your tusks under the vines and pulled, snapping them off and allowing the boys to fall to the grassy floor. And then two hilichurls gave them their visions.

Oh. So that’s why they weren’t using them-

You watched as Razor nudged at Andrius and a few other wolves before turning to you.

He was walking towards you…

His hand outreached towards you…

And he rested it gently on your head.

You nuzzled in to his hand as small happy tears began to run down your cheeks. You basically rammed your head into his palm, sucking up all his attention. He seemed shocked, then happily began to rub both his hands into you, a small smile on his face.

Bennett watched with in astonishment, before grinning and laughing, rubbing your back with his hands. And h o l y s h i t did it feel good.

Hell, even Andrius began to nuzzle you.

At some point the petting stopped - which made you sad you will admit - but as you watched them walk off you felt pretty good about yourself because like, you just helped some characters! Even if you were the reason they were in trouble in the first place…

But that’s not the important part!

The important part is now you had some friends! And they were pretty neat.

But now you had to figure out how the fuck to deal with your newfound ‘shapeshifting’ powers… May God have mercy on all vision holders.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Omake~~ A Boar and two Boys walk into a bar~~

“Is this the onE NO IT IS NOT RUN RAZOR-“

Ever since that day, Razor and Bennett have been trying to find that weird boar that both kidnapped then released them.

The reason they had been out that day was because it was Razor’s turn to hunt for his pack. Sure, wolves hunt in groups but Razor ironically enjoyed hunting alone, but Bennett was always welcome.

Razor had seen the boar, saying that it had “smelled weird”, whatever that meant, and began to follow it. Of course, Bennett lost him for a moment but when he found him, he was met with the back hooves of a boar.

And the rest was history.

When they went around trying to tell the tale of the boar that had summoned Andrius, the people of Mondstate thought it was just that.

A tall tale.

The only person who seemed mildly interested was the bard Venti, but that was quickly shut down when he started trying to figure out rhymes and how to make a song out of it.

So they decided to find it on their own.

“Bennett need to stop running up to boars. Razor will smell weird boar.” Razor had grabbed onto Bennetts shirt while saying that.

“But the faster we find it, the faster we can show it off!” Bennett argued.

The two began to bicker in the field they had been searching in, it was near where the forest they had found the boar in, and the field was currently occupied by boars so common sense dictated that it should be out and about, grazing away.

Of course, you don’t follow their stupid mortal logic.

“Do… do you hear that, Razor?”

“Yeah. Sounds like pig in sky.”

“Well pigs can’t fly so-“

“DUCK!-“

Razor forced Bennett’s head down, pushing them both to the ground as four wild winds whipped around them. A large dragon and a hawk flew by as an equally large lion and wolf speed past.

“The four winds…” Bennett whispered.

Razor sniffed the air.

“AND WEIRD SMELLING BOAR!”

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

WHOOOOO WHOOOO IM RIDING A DRAGOOOONNNNNNNNNNN-

Today was a good day for you.

Thank you to all who’ve enjoyed Boar!Creator so far! My inbox is always open for requests and what to do with Boar!Creator! Have a good day/night!<3 ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚

(P.S. if you want to be tagged, don’t be scared to ask! I’m still getting used to Tumblr, so please let me know if I do it wrong! The same goes if you want to be removed!~ ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა)

(P.S.S. would anyone be interested in hearing about my Genshin OC’s/My personal Genshin AU ໒꒰ྀི ∩ ⸝⸝ ∩ ꒱ྀིა?)

Tag list: @genshin-impacts-me , @resident-cryptid

I apologize to anyone else who wanted to be tagged, Tumblr is beating my ass rn and not letting me tag anyone else! Sorry again!-

[lollobarcollomanonmollo]

women artists that you should know about!!

-Judith Leyster (Dutch, 1609-1660)

During her life her works were highly recognized, but she got forgotten after her death and rediscovered in the 19th century. In her paintings could be identified the acronym "JL", asually followed by a star, she was the first woman to be inserted in the Guild of St. Luke, the guild Haarlem's artists.

-Artemisia Gentileschi (Italian, 1593-1656)

"... Si è talmente appraticata che posso osar de dire che hoggi non ci sia pare a lei, havendo fatto opere che forse i principali maestri di questa professione non arrivano al suo sapere". This is how the father Orazio talked about his nineteen year old daughter to the Medici's court in Florence.

In 1611, Artemisia got raped, and she had to Undergo a humiliating trial, just to marry so that she could "Restore one's reputation" , according to the morality of the time. Only after a few years Artemisia managed to regain her value, in Florence, in Rome, in Naples and even in England, her oldest surviving work is "Susanna and the elders".

-Elisabeth Louise Vigèe Le Brun (French, 1755-1842)

She was a potrait artists who created herself a name during the Ancien Règime, serving as the potrait painting of the Queen of France Marie Antoinette, she painted 600 portraits and 200 landscapes in the course of her life.

-Augusta Savage (Afro-American, 1892-1962)

Augusta started making figures when she was a child, which most of them were small animals made out of red clay of her hometown, she kept model claying, and during 1919, at the Palm Beach County Fair, she won $25 prize and ribbon for most original exhibit. After completing her studies, Savage worked in Manhattan steam laundries to support her family along with herself. After a violent stalking made by Joe Gould that lasted for two decades, the stalker died in 1957 after getting lobotomized. In 2004, a public high school, Augusta Fells Savage Institute of Visual Arts, in Baltimore, opened.

-Marie Ellenrieder (German,1791-1863)

She was known for her portraits and religious paintings. During a two years long stay in Rome, she met some Nazarenes (group of early 19th century German romantic painters who wanted to revive spirituality in art),after becoming a student of Friedrich Overbeck and after being heavily influenced by a friend, she began painting religious image, getting heavily inspired by the Italian renaissance, more specifically by the artist Raphael. In 1829, she became a court painter to Grand Duchess Sophie of Baden.

-Berthe Marie Pauline Morisot (French,1841-1893)

Morisot studied at the Louvre, where she met Edouard Manet, which became her friend and professor. During 1874 she participated at her first Impressionist exhibition, and in 1892 sets up her own solo exhibition.

-Edmonia Lewis or also called "wildfire" (mixed African-American and Native American 1844-1907)

Edmonia was born in Upstate New York but she worked for most of her career in Rome, Italy. She was the first ever African American and Native American sculptor to achieve national and international fame, she began to gain prominence in the USA during the Civil Ware. She was the first black woman artist who has participated and has been recognized to any extent by the American artistic mainstream. She Also in on Molefi Kete Asante's list of 100 Greatest African Americans.

-Marie Gulliemine Benoist (French, 1768-1826)

Daughter of a civil servant, Marie was A pupil of Jaques-Louis David, whose she shared the revolutionary ideas with, painting innovative works that have caused whose revolutionary ideals he shared, painting innovative works that caused discussion. She opened a school for young girl artists, but the marriage with the banker Benoist and the political career Of the husband had slowly had effect on her artistic career, forcing her to stop painting. Her most famous work is Potrait of Madeline, which six years before slavery was abolished, so that painting became a simbol for women's emancipation and black people's rights.

-Lavinia Fontana (Italian, 1552-1614)

She is remembered for being the first woman artist to paint an altarpiece and for painting the first female nude by a woman (Minerva in the act of dressing), commissioned by Scipione Borghese.

-Elisabetta Sirani. (Italian, 1698-1665)

Her admirable artistic skills, that would vary from painting, drawing and engraving, permitted her, in 1660, to enter in the National Academy of S. Luca, making her work as s professor. After two years she replaced her father in his work of his Artistic workshop, turning it into an art schools for girls, becoming the first woman in Europe to have a girls' school of painting, like Artemisia Gentileschi, she represent female characters as strong and proud, mainly drawn from Greek and Roman stories. (ex. Timoclea Kills The Captain of Alexander the Great, 1659).

[kitten4sannie]

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ/ᴏʀɢᴀꜱᴍ ᴅᴇɴɪᴀʟ ➠ ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ

pairing: vampire lord! seonghwa x human! reader (fem) feat. a two second cameo from vampire! san

genre: abo, kinda historical (think guilded era vibe but vampires and humans coexisting kinda), smut

summary: you decide to play with your master’s feelings during the annual masquerade ball held between vampires and occasionally their human counterparts.

w.c: 2.5k

warnings: alcohol usage, mentions of blood, general vampirism/hierarchies, dom! seonghwa, bratty! reader fucks around and finds out, dirty talk, ownership kink, exhibitionism/voyeurism, praise/degradation, possessiveness, pet names/name calling, manhandling, blood drinking, groping, rough blowjob, spit mentions, fingering, orgasm denial, facial, cum eating, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, l bombs

a/n: im obsessed with the idea of criminally insane cunty vampires so i sat hunched over like a damn shrimp and typed up a storm tyvm. also !!! this fic is dedicated to my dear friend orion @pluvialorion ilysmmmm ughh i hope you enjoy >< <33

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ʙɪᴛᴇ ᴍᴇ ʙʏ ᴇɴʜʏᴘᴇɴ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

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ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

“Those two are always up to something, I swear. It’s so  troublesome,” one old age vampire muttered, complaining about you and your vampire Master to the person standing besides her outside of the ballroom circle. She adjusted her masquerade mask, put off by the sight of you downing a glass full of expensive wine. “Why the council ever decided to allow humans to attend our annual blood balls is beyond me.” 

“They always cause a scene,” the other old age vampire agreed, turning his head to watch as you whimsically made your way across the dance floor in your heavy laced dress, taking the hand of any vampire that wanted to dance with you, while your Master watched from the side with growing annoyance. “It’s unsightly.” 

“Yes, it’s completely inappropriate, the way they act like they’re the main characters inside some overdone fictional novel,” she scoffed, the vampiress getting herself worked up over nothing, her fingers clenching around her own wine glass filled with a blood blend. 

“You hit the nail on the head,” the man nodded, one hand on his hip, the other tilting his wine glass back to drink down its bloody contents, watching you trade one dance partner for another, surprised that you were letting a new age vampire get so handsy with you. “Oh, here we go.” 

Seonghwa reached up to brush at his flowy raven hair in a frustrated manner, his furrowed brows and scrunched-up face not doing much to dispel your current goal in pissing off your Master in hopes that he would chase you across the castle grounds and fuck you into oblivion. “You’re asking for it, little lamb…” he mumbled to himself, the bright red hue in his eyes growing brighter by the second. 

“I didn’t realize you were interested in me, Miss Y/N. Care to forget about your sour, old age counterpart over there and spend the night with me?” the charming, feline-like vampire you were using whispered into your ear, holding your body impossibly close to his as you both slowly rotated together in timed circles according to the flow of the orchestra music that was playing throughout the large ballroom. 

“Oh, Mr. Choi, try not to puff out your chest just yet,” you murmured back with faux pity, clasping your fingers around his cheeks, feeling his fingers inch closer and closer to your ass, able to feel the fiery gaze of your lover from afar. “You’re simply a puppet for my amusement.”

The vampire scoffed, still finding it inside himself to twirl you around and bring you back into his arms, his fingers clasping around your waist a little tighter than before, clearly irritated. “That’s quite rude of you, human. You could’ve lied.” 

“Does it matter? I’m not trying to impress you,” you huffed, eyeing Seonghwa out of the corner of your vision, noticing the way he clutched the edge of the aged mahogany table being used to showcase various blood-filled desserts. Just as the vampire was about to speak up, you shook your head, silencing him. “Just hurry up and grab my ass, will you? And grab it hard. I want Seonghwa to–Oh!”

The peeved vampire did indeed get a handful, his fingers sinking deep into your squishy flesh through your dress, leaning over your shoulder to make eye contact with Seonghwa, who was fuming, still having the gall to stick his tongue out at him. 

An intoxicating mix of anger and arousal coursed through Seonghwa to the point that it all spilled out of him at once, resulting in a short, aggressive shout, the other patrons looking over their own shoulders to see what was going on. Sadly, they weren’t very surprised to watch him lift up the side of the heavy dessert table and toss it across the room with a frightening amount of ease, narrowly missing the heads of the orchestra members. 

You let go of San who quickly scampered away, not wanting to feel the vampire lord’s intense wrath. You, however, took pride in seeing the way your lover was seething, how he pierced you with his dark crimson eyes and delightfully suffocating pheromones alone, his white, elongated fangs already on display for you, knowing he wished he could just sink them directly into the most delicate parts of your body. 

“Why are you so angry, my love?” you called out to him with faux naivety, giving him a pout, motioning to the mess that had spilled onto the sheer marble floor. “You ruined all those lovely desserts.” 

“And almost took the head off of a violin player, but I digress,” the older vampire from before murmured to her friend, the both of them chortling softly to themselves. 

“Oh, you know what you’ve done, darling,” Seonghwa tsked from across the room, taking slow, deliberate steps in your direction, his high-heeled shoes clacking lightly against the pristine floor, most of the other patrons stepping out of his way. “I have a question for you. Do you know what happens to pretty things that disobey their Masters?” 

You brought your hand up to lift off your masquerade mask just in time for Seonghwa to stand directly in front of you, his lean, elegant frame towering over yours. “I’m unaware of the answer, dearest. Do pray tell.” Your face twisted into something that could only be described as smug. Seonghwa wanted to wipe that expression off your face and turn it into something more worthwhile — flushed, contorted with a lovely mix of pain and pleasure, and painted in his cum.

“They get punished, my sweet. So, I suggest you hike up that lovely dress I bought you and get to running.” 

࿏࿏࿏

There was something so exhilarating about having the love of your life chase after you, knocking over furniture and pushing other vampires out of the way just to get his hands on you. You would look back occasionally, catching glimpses of the hazy blood-lust in Seonghwa’s eyes, resulting in a fresh wave of slick between your thighs. 

Somewhere along the line, you had ended up in the castle garden, your bare feet hitting the soft grass, having lost your heels during your chaotic trek there. Panting softly, your breath hitting the cold night air, you realized you were surrounded by chipping marble statues of vampires of the past, a maze of blood-red roses covered in thorns surrounding a sleek stone gazebo, and thousands of constellations sitting in the dark sky above you. 

“Caught you, little lamb…” you heard in a deep, gravelly voice, shivers making their way up your spine. Seonghwa took slow steps near you, finding it amusing how you trapped yourself in a corner, his entire being pulsing with sexually-charged aggression. “But you wanted this, didn’t you? You want me to have my way with you, don’t you, sweetheart?”  

Rather than replying verbally, you simply held up the front of your dress, showing off your plump, slicked-up cunt for his viewing pleasure, your lips twisted up into a perverted smile, lust practically emanating from your form. “What do you think, my love? Does my wet cunt give you any hints?” 

Before you knew it, Seonghwa had you pinned to the side of the gazebo, one hand on your shoulder to keep you still with his immense strength and the other underneath your hiked-up skirt, fucking you deep with two agile fingers, not concerned with the occasional passerby, some of them slowing down to witness the titillating sight of a vampire lord punishing his human counterpart.

“I can feel you squeezing around my fingers, sweet. Is my poor little lamb already falling apart for me?” he asked with faux pity against your neck, sucking your soft flesh into his mouth to leave a mark, piercing them lightly with his fangs. “Is it because anyone can come by and see the way I have my hand up your skirt and hear the pretty little moans that you’re making for your darling?”

“N-ooo, it’s because it’s you, Seonghwa,” you sighed out softly, a familiar heaviness filling your core until your legs went wobbly, moaning from the feeling of Seonghwa gulping down just enough of your life source to make you pleasantly dizzy, his fingers still slipping in and out of your leaking cunt.

“Mm, it’s a pity though. I wish San knew just how quick I can make your pretty cunt leak all these juices onto me,” he purred against your soft skin, slurping your arousal from his fingers before cupping his palm onto your hot cunt, lightly moving it over your clit, knowing he was pleasuring you just enough to make you squirm, but aware that your much-needed orgasm had faded away due to his control.

He brought his still dripping fingers up to your mouth, pleased that you obediently sucked your own slick off of them, his gaze flitting between your lips and love-struck eyes. “He’ll never see you like this. See the way you need me in every possible way I can have you…”

“It’s only for you to see, my love,” you replied lovingly, pressing your lips onto his, drawing Seonghwa into you like a moth to a blazing flame.

You shared a series of frenzied, heated kisses that consisted too much of tongue, teeth, and fangs, your hand slipping into Seonghwa’s loosened satin trousers to swiftly jerk him off, his abundant pre-cum squishing in between your closed fingers, your quick, unrelenting grip causing him to wobble a bit, the thick edges of his heeled shoes sinking further into the grass below. “Feels so good, doesn’t it, Hwa? You’re so hard for me, throbbing, leaking so much…”

“Fuck–I need you, darling, need you bare for me, need your pretty mouth around my cock,”Seonghwa groaned out onto your lips, nipping at it enough to get a small taste of iron on his own crimson stained ones. Without a word, he tore your dress from your body, pearls falling from your broken necklace and landing around your feet. You gasped. He clasped his hands around your corseted waist, bringing your face near your neck, his lips just barely touching your skin. “On your knees, my love.” 

You melted to the floor, reaching up to hold onto his hips, watching his cock spring out once his pants past his v-line, eventually holding it in front of your drooling mouth. You studied him, your eyes traveling up his shiny, curved length to his pronounced pink head, sticking your tongue out to catch a drop of his pre-cum on your tongue. “It’s so pretty, Hwa…”

“I know it is, sweetheart. Now, open up,” he exhaled softly, slipping his slender fingers into your soft hair to clutch the sides of your head, plugging your mouth up with his thick cock. 

Seonghwa fucked your face so quickly, so sloppily, so desperately, he reached his end in a matter of minutes, bringing you down onto his cock until your nose pressed into his pelvis, feeling your throat contracting around him. “Fuck, you drive me mad, darling…I’m already about to cum….”

It was when he was able to smell the endless slick that dripped out of your needy cunt, that Seonghwa pulled out, rubbing his cockhead across your lips and smearing his pre-cum across your face, ruining the perfect state of your makeup. “You look so pretty, my love, but I know how to make you look even more divine for me…”

“Enlighten me, my dear,” you sighed lovingly, licking the warm saltiness from your lips.

“Watch closely. This is all for you, darling…” Seonghwa gazed down at you with his crimson, hooded eyes, his chest rising and lowering with shallow breaths, using his closed hand to milk his flushed cock, seemingly endless splashes of cum landing onto your face. “Mm, what do you think San would think of you now, little lamb? Think of your lovely face painted with my cum?” 

“He’d think I was a mess,” you mused, licking the bitter milkiness from your swollen lips, opening your mouth to take one last spurt of cum onto your tongue when Seonghwa moaned wantonly, his fingers squeezing near the pinkish tip. “He’d know I’m yours.” 

“My mess, my beautiful darling. Of course he’d know you’re mine. All mine,” Seonghwa sighed dreamily, lowering himself to his knees to pull you in for a deep kiss, your tongues and lips meeting with fervent need. 

“You think he’d enjoy watching you fuck me into ecstasy?” you asked in between heavy breaths and kisses, hooking your thighs around his bare waist, slipping your hands onto the bare skin of his chest past his loose blouse, your fingers grazing his nipples. 

“I’d take off his head, before I’d let him watch the way your cunt stretches open for me,” Seonghwa groaned, groping down your body, rubbing two fingers against your slippery folds, his fangs returning to your neck, this time indulging his instincts and slipping inside you, resulting in soft throes of pleasure from the both of you. “Speaking of, your little cunt needs my cock, doesn’t it? Is that why you’re so wet?” 

“Yes, please, I can’t stand being empty any longer, my love,” you whined to him, your squelching cunt already beginning to clench around his thrusting fingers, wishing his cock was filling you up instead. 

“You won’t be able to cum with just my fingers, will you, darling? Because your lovely body is only accustomed to my cock, isn’t it? Made for it, hm?” Seonghwa continued to tease you with his words, curling his digits inside you, resulting in increasingly heavy moans from his one and only, encouraging him to fuck you faster with them. “Fuck, you’re clenching so hard around me, darling. You’re so good for me…”

“Oh–my god, so close…” 

“Yeah? You want to spill your cum all over me, Y/N? Make a mess of me?” Seonghwa encouraged breathily, his forehead pressed to yours, pressing his lips against yours in between moans. 

“Y–esss…” 

Just as you were about to cum, you were suddenly filled with a devastatingly empty feeling, realizing he had pulled his fingers out and brought them to his mouth, sucking your vast amounts of slick off of them. “N-no, please, Seonghwa, I want to cum…!”

“You’ll have to cum on my cock, sweetheart. Now, be good and take it,” he replied softly, his voice devoid of pity, the ridged edge of his cock hooking onto your clit and making you jolt, before he slipped inside you inch by inch, sending you back into a pleasurable fog. “I’ll breed you until you’re full for me.” 

“So full, I’m so full, darling.” You hooked your arms around his neck, holding him impossibly close, his lips already attached to your neck again, shuddering against him as he drank down your life-source, his cock offering your cunt a delicious stretch each time he pounded into you. “So good, Hwa, it feels so good…” 

“Because we were made for each other, my love, our souls always intertwined, forever, you’ll always be mine,” Seonghwa reminded you in between pants and soft moans, his raven hair already plastered to his forehead with sweat, love and admiration seeping its way through his lust-struck gaze, kneading his hands into your thighs, your warm, sopping-wet cunt enveloping his cock so tightly, he couldn’t keep himself from unloading wave after wave of his hot cum inside you, so deeply it reached your womb. “Fuck, you’re milking my cock, darling, just take it all, take it all for me…”

You couldn’t say anything, only letting out a near soundless whine, clutching the back of Seonghwa’s head, never breaking eye contact as you experienced what could only be described as pure bliss, your bodies and hearts melting together. “I love you, Seonghwa, so much,” you finally got out, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I love you too, Y/N, more than you’ll ever know,” he replied just as softly, barely caressing your face, like he was afraid you would shatter into a thousand pieces and fall away from his grasp. Seonghwa was completely flushed, his long raven hair now a mess, sticking to his sweaty face, his plush lips a deep red. “Now do you see what you do to me, darling?”

You nuzzled into him, your heart beating against his quiet one, the cool night breeze gracing your warm, joined skin, knowing you wouldn’t have it any other way. “I think I have an idea.”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[fanaticsnail]

My Favorite

(Image Source: Artist: Inpolariis)

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 5,114

Summary: Sir Crocodile has founded a league of highly trained assassins named "The Choirs" - all coded after the nine choirs of angelic influences. You are his favorite: his prized "Seraphim" who's ferocious brutality is only outmatched by your incredible beauty. Not truly knowing if your affection is all an act to continue being paid a wage in berry, he has not made a move of his own aside from calling upon you to sit on his knee of an evening, and have you utter praises into his ear. It is only when the two other members of the Cross-Guild begin flirting does he find his limit being tested. Will he bend, or will he break?

Themes: Boss!Crocodile x Assassin!Reader, lap princess, Croc is in love with you, begrudgingly in love, mutual pining, “I don’t want to fix him, I want to make him worse”, wealth, Cross-Guild dynamics, partial Buggy x Reader, partial Mihawk x Reader, sign language, afab!reader.

Notes: This fic is dedicated to the wonderful @discordantwritings who wrote a beautiful Benn Beckman fic recently. I had to return the favor with some Cross-Guild content, although it became quickly a Sir Crocodile fic. Based on this prompt, because it has a hold over my very soul.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine @cinnbar-bun @writingmysanity @gingernut1314

The broad right hand of the brutish Sir Crocodile massaged his temples beneath his thumb and index finger. He began rotating them in an attempt to rid the swelling migraine caused by the crackled whines pouring from the lips of his clown companion. Barely paying attention to the whinging words strung into messy sentences, his ears pricked and spine tingled at the knowledge there was another presence within the hollow chambers of the Cross-Guild meeting space. 

Bringing his hand away from his temple, his smirk broke the displeased position of his lips, as his eyes rose to meet with the yellow hue of the gaze of the swordsman. Mihawk narrowed his eyes, no longer processing Buggy’s words as he attempted to locate the source responsible for the expression change of the larger gentleman in front of him. 

“-And I wasn’t the one responsible for that screw up, so I shouldn’t be the one paying for it. Really it should go to the one with the most berry. Who was it again? Between the reptile and the hawk, who has the most-.” Buggy’s voice halted as the shadows split to reveal your presence, stalking closer to the largest man in the room with an aura of silent danger. 

Mihawk reached for the hilt of Yoru, ready to strike your approaching silhouette: armored and cloaked in the darkest black to blend within smoke and shadow. Your hood concealed your face, your facial mask shieling all but the intensity of your eyes smeared in darkened war paint. You made no sound; no tap, no whisper as you wordlessly approached Sir Crocodile.

“Returned so soon, my Seraphim,” his voice purred, leaning back in his chair while placing a thick cigar between his teeth, “Did all go according to plan?” You wordlessly bent your knee, bowing your head to the large gentleman to whom you entrusted your implicit loyalty. His smile drew further up his scarred face, the purple hue of his eyes dancing with a dangerous twinkle at your wordless confirmation. 

“Good,” his voice praised you, reaching for his lighter lying atop the table. You rose to your feet, quickly reaching for the golden object, flicking open the lid and igniting the flint to spark its flame. Sir Crocodile leant forward, holding his eyes firmly on yours as your concentration was fixed on the task of lighting the tip of his cigar. 

He narrowed his eyes, noticing a small smear of red atop the darkened warpaint and streaking down your face mask and onto your leather breastplate. He sighed, reaching into his left hand breast pocket and fishing out a silver handkerchief and passed it to you within his index and middle fingers. 

“Is it yours?” he asked, gesturing to the blood congealed and spattered against your uniform. 

“No, sir,” you whispered with no vocal tone depicted within your silence. He hummed in response, narrowing his eyes as he scanned your body further. 

“Are you unharmed and unmarked?” he asked, his left brow raising in question. You stiffened your shoulders, arching your chin within the air and confirmed with a simple utterance of: “Yes, sir.” 

“Very good, my Seraphim,” he complimented further, inhaling a deep lungful of the nicotine laden cigar smoke, exhaling through his nose. Buggy did not know what to make of this interaction, feeling completely and utterly ignored as Mihawk and Sir Crocodile’s eyes and attention remained fixed on your statuesque figure clad in cloak, leather and dark plated armor. 

Leaning forward, Sir Crocodile ushered you to stoop forward to receive the next whisper of a command parting from his lips for your ears alone.

“I have laid out a new uniform for you to wear,” he uttered intimately, reaching up his left hand with his golden hook threatening to touch your shoulder. “See to it you are bathed, perfumed and clad in the ensemble within the hour,” the tip of his hook brushed with the rivets of your shoulder plate, dragging down your bicep to the inner crevice of your elbow, “And I will have you sat as my trophy upon my knee for the evening, my Seraphim.” 

At that final utterance, he withdrew his hook from your arm and focussed once more on your eyes now depicting a darkness within usually withheld for victims beneath your concealed daggers. 

Bowing to your boss, eyes now closed, you rose from your deep and respectful stoop and paid no mind to glance at the other two members of the meeting space. If Sir Crocodile found no reason to introduce you to these men, you did not deem them important enough to care who they were. Silence followed you as you trailed outside of the room, resubmerging yourself within the shadows and hastily making your way to the suite gifted to you by your boss.

“Baroque Works employee, Crocodile?” Mihawk uttered, his eyes fixed on the exit you withdrew from. 

“A thing of the past, Hawk,” His smirk not leaving his face for each deep inhale of his cigar, “I no longer put my faith in an amassment of bounty hunters to get their hands dirty for my berry.” He took the butt of his cigar from his teeth and pushed the ignited end against the glass tray with his thumb. “No, my faith is no longer spread to the many, but to the few.” 

“How many o’ them you got?” Buggy’s nasally voice chimed in, his brow furrowing and lips curling back in an uneasy smile, “Like twenty or thirty?”

“I have nine,” he confessed, eyes now bored with the conversation and lip curling down into an arrogant snarl, “And that one,” he gestured to the door with his chin, “Is my favorite.”

“Why?” Buggy asked, his voice cracking in a small apprehensive whine at the end of his question, “What does that one do that the others don’t?” Sir Crocodile’s lips curled into a darkened grin, his teeth revealed in the light. 

“You will see.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

After bathing and cleaning yourself of the debris and carnage of the last assignment, you glanced at yourself in your large, ornate mirror. Looking over the new uniform set aside by your boss as it clung to your body, you couldn’t help the pull of a shy smile at the corner of your lips.

Of all of “The Choirs” founded and financed by Sir Crocodile, it was no illusion that you were absolutely and without a doubt his favorite. Your titles held your specialist skills as covert assassins within your roles; each skilled with a unique ability to complete your tasks to the utmost quality. 

Principalitie, Archangel, and Angel were charged with gathering information and relaying it from a great distance. They were to look like civilians; innocent and coy with the ability to blend into a crowd seamlessly. 

The Devil-Fruit users; Dominion, Virtue, and Power, were charged with carrying out tyrannical punishment and wrath without care for the casualties they caused under the utterance of a single command from your hook-handed leader. 

Cherubim and Ophanim, the two of the higher in the chain of command, followed your explicit instruction in covert operations taken either together or separately. They were your trusted confidants, you could even call them your friends if it were not too bold to say so. 

You, his ‘Seraphim’, were silent and embraced by shadows with such flawless success that it was rumored you were born in them. You were lethal with your daggers, your skill with a blade a sight to behold before life was drained from your intended target. The last thing they saw as their breath was claimed by your hand, was the ferocity in your blown pupils and lengthy eyelashes beneath the dark warpaint smeared atop your eyelids. 

Glancing over your features once more, the pale white of the dress held stark contrast to the dark armor you adorned almost an hour prior. While your armor kept all of your features hidden to the world around you, the anonymity shielding you from emphasis on your features; this dress left little to the imagination. 

The deep hook of the backless dress clung low to your hips in an ovular shape, bodice dipping down to above your navel with a thin band of fabric dancing above your cleavage to suture the bust shut with barely any support. The length of the dress halted little below your hip bone on the left-hand side, the right hand side down to the ball of your ankle to allow for the straps of your gold heels to be revealed with each step you took against the floor. 

Your mind begins to wander the longer you stare at yourself in the mirror. This was the most provocative and scandalous item your boss had ever asked you to don. You almost allowed yourself to rush to the conclusion that your boss harbored more than simple favoritism for you, you assumed you were wearing this ensemble to impress a guest with your presence on his lap. 

Silence was nearly impossible with the gold-dipped base of your heeled shoes. Each step you took after exiting your suite echoed in a foreign clack that you were unaccustomed to creating with your foot-falls. 

Immediately upon entering the large celebratory area of Sir Crocodiles casino, you scanned the perimeter of the room for your boss to begin your new role for the night: the princess sitting upon his knee and doting on him with small caresses and whispers of praise within his ear. This was not a role you were exposed to often, but one you did well enough for him to continue asking for you after the first night you played it. 

You would be lying to yourself if you said you did not harbor affection for your boss. Nothing ever transpired between you after you had finished this role for the nights he asked you to fulfill. No brush of lips meeting yours, no writhing while sprawled out beneath him against the green fuzz of the gamblers table. He would bow his head in gratitude to you, his eyes blinking shut out of respect, and dismissing you without a further word. 

Adoration, respect, loyalty, and your wage is what bound you to that man. At each moment he spent with you on his lap, or performing a deadly task for him, your desire grew. You knew, without a semblance of a doubt, that you would cast aside your wage with an instant for the luxury of remaining by his side. You loved him, and it was the only thing that truly frightened you.

After concluding your brief scan of the room, you noticed Sir Crocodile was yet to make an appearance to darken the tables with his brutish figure. However, you smiled upon meeting the eyes of ‘Ophanim’ dressed in a simple waiter's uniform, with her sleeves rolled to her elbows and shaking a steel container filled with ice, syrups and hard liquor. She shot you a wink, gesturing with her chin to wait with her at the bar. 

An honest smile sprung to your lips as you grasped the barstool within your hands, taking a seat atop it and hooking your left knee over your right; the slit of your dress revealing the entirety of your left leg to your thigh. 

Immediately as you began to open your mouth to converse with your fellow “Choir” about her latest mission, your eyes were thrust into an amassment of lengthy cerulean hair. The person seemed to ignore you as their voice informed your friend of his order of a fruit-forward and harsh liquor cocktail with an insane amount of complex ingredients. The products he asked for sounded as if it would split and separate, with the immediate souring of creamy liquid with the acidic elements. 

Grimacing with your lips curled in disgust, the individual turned to meet your disapproving gaze: his eyes widening and breath hitching in his throat. A large, rotund red nose lay central to his features, his dark vest cinching his waist beneath a white shirt and dark trousers. He looked as if he was not comfortable wearing the assortment, as if it was a mask he was given to wear akin to your arrangement set aside by your boss. 

“You are fucking gorgeous,” he stumbled over his words, the syllables falling from his lips quicker than he could silence them within. Immediately your grimace upturned into a smile, forcing a laugh to flee from you at his unbridled compliment. You arched your left brow up, leaning in close to the individual in front of you and tightening his dark tie with your right hand. 

“You are very easy to look at, yourself,” you purred in return, assuming your flirtatious role with ease. You darted your gaze between his two teal eyes, a coy smile now pursing your lips together innocently, “And who might you be, bright eyes?” Your question had his heart swelling, his cheeks filling with a boyish fluster. 

“B-Buggy,” he wheezed, gulping back his words and grunting out a small cough to mask his uneasiness. “Captain Buggy D Clown,” he attempted to meet his elbow atop the bar, missing the polished wood entirely and instead stumbling under the uneven distribution of his weight. As air met his elbow with the heel of his palm capturing his chin, he flew his head down and met it against the wood with a harsh thump. 

Wincing in empathy, you immediately reached forward and claimed his cheeks within your palms and raised him back up to his former stature. You brushed his shoulders, readjusted his collar and checked over the rising swell atop his left temple. 

“Honey, can we get some ice please?” you asked your colleague who attempted to halt her laugh behind her palm, nodding as she retrieved the frosty cubes and placed them within a checkered tea towel. She passed it to you and shook her head, you nodding your thanks at her for the object and immediately reaching for the blunt-force trauma the blue-haired clown brought upon himself. 

“Are you alright Captain Buggy?” You asked him, holding your hand against the towel and pressing it firmly against the rising bruise. He clasped his left hand around your right, leaning into the touch you were providing him and closing his eyes. 

“I like the way your tongue makes my name sound,” he confessed in a breathy gasp. You again found yourself laughing at his words, the melodic ring of your voice stirring something dangerous within the purple hues of Sir Crocodile’s eyes. He continued watching your interaction with Buggy from his place darkening the threshold of the entrance to his casino. 

“What happened, Clown?” A voice called behind him, the curve of a pale shirt clinging to the back of a dark-haired individual you could barely see. Buggy apprehensively turned away from you and lulled his head towards the man with a snarling expression. 

“It’s her fault,” he gestured to you with his thumb, “She was sittin’ on that chair all innocent-like, as if she doesn’t look like walking sex.” 

“Hardly walking if she’s sitting,” the man called over in a bored and disinterested tone, without sparing so much as a glance in your direction. You found him intriguing, but you decided to match his energy and remain aloof to his comments yourself. 

Turning away from the two men beside you, you began moving your hands in a flurry of wordless gestures to your coworker as discreetly as you could.

‘Where is he?” you asked her, watching her hands flicker in response as she continued to attempt to uphold her own persona as bartender.

“Approaching slowly,” she managed to signal to you, before she placed a glass of wine in front of the broody aloof gentleman beside the clown. The corner of his lips ticked at the corner, a whisper of gratitude depicted on his face as he turned to face you with the crystal glass rising upwards. 

The small widening of his honey-coloured eyes told you all you needed to know within his gaze. Your head cocked to the side, your eyes wide and feigning innocence to the best of your abilities. 

“My, my,” he commented, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body from your decorated toes to the follicles of your styled hair, “I do see why you would be the cause for such a stumble.” He expertly brushed the blue-haired man away from you, extending his right hand forward to seek out your own and collecting your four fingers within his grip. 

He raised your hand to his lips, his mustache tickling the knobbed joints of your knuckles before his lips brushed against your flesh. Your eyes turned sultry, not once either of you breaking your eye contact against one another. 

Unable to control the rapidity of the thump within his chest and the dry lump forming in his throat, Sir Crocodile began a stalking approach towards you. How dare they fawn over you. You: his favorite of his Choirs. His angelic muse and harbinger of brutality. 

He knew you would make heads turn with the uniform he laid out for you, but he did not anticipate the primal urge swelling beneath him to pull you into himself and shield you away from their eyes. He wanted you all for himself, in any capacity you were willing to give it to him. He didn’t care that you were paid berry to serve him, it felt real enough for him.

“Dracule Mihawk,” he uttered against your flesh, withdrawing from his stoop and arching his back to puff his barely shielded chest to you, “And you are, my darling?” Before you could answer with your name, you felt a warm graze dancing up your spine. His breath tickled against your skin, tingling your spine beneath his lips as they pressed intent and longing to your flesh. 

On any other occasion, you may have been alarmed by such attention from an individual without seeing their face. The cologne dancing with the whisper of his last cigar floated with each kiss against your skin, informing you exactly who was giving you such a touch. 

He had never offered you this unbridled affection in the past, not allowing himself to give into his craving for you, and you not willing to test your place serving under him. This touch felt natural, his lips continuing to press into you, as you continued to hold your gaze on the eyes of the dark-haired man in front of you. 

Sir Crocodile’s lips found your left shoulder, his purple eyes pulling the swordsman’s attention away from you to meet with your boss as he continued to map his lips up your neck to your jaw. His left forearm circled around your front, the golden hook firmly secured against his wrist collecting your chin beneath the smooth surface. He turned your attention away from Mihawk to look into his eyes through lowered eyelashes. 

He leant forward, drawing your lips against his by the gentle tilt of his hook against your chin. Darting his tongue out to stroke yours, his nose brushed against your own as he circled his jaw to deepen the embrace. Your hands clutched the base of the stool you were sat atop to anchor yourself down for fear of floating to the roof. The hum of his lips in joy had a small moan pull from your lips the longer he was joined against you. 

You felt his right hand brush against your bicep, curling his firm grip around it as he pushed his chest flush with your own with a gentle turn of your body. He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes immediately falling to your rapidly swelling and kiss-bruised lips, slightly smudged paint falling below the perimeter of your bottom lip. Tapping your chin with his hook, your eyes darted from your own gaze against his lips to meet with his purple eyes. 

“My Seraphim,” the rumble of his voice and the small smirk of his lips had your attention hyper fixed and hanging on his every word. You held your gaze firmly affixed to his, watching as he turned away from you and greeted the men in front of you with the nod of his head and the small utterance of their names.

“Mihawk,” the rumble of his voice rubbing within his throat had your spine tingle with anticipation, “Buggy.” He turned back to meet your orbs that had not yet broken from his face, but raked your gaze over his face with half-lidded lashes. Your eyes continued to float in a daze against his lips and flittering back up to meet his gaze. 

He extended his right hand in a gesture for you to take it, you reacting immediately by placing your hand within his larger palm to encircle his digits around it. You allowed him to pull you away from your former position atop the barstool, your heels clicking against the floor as he escorted you to the desired table for the night. Now in the shroud of seclusion, he leaned down and uttered a small apology in your ear. 

“Forgive me,” he began, taking his seat within the plush armchair and patting his left knee with his right. Without hesitation, you gracefully placed yourself atop his thigh with the small flick of your hair, crossing your left knee over your right and arching your back. 

“What sins am I forgiving, sir?” you asked him, feeling the dangerous caress of his hook brushing against your spine and collecting a small portion of your hair within its curvature. Your boss took in a deep breath through his nose, expanding his broad chest beneath his suit jacket. His exhale had a small quake to it, his eyes closing as he basked under your attention.

You reached your hands and began to dance your fingertips against the hem of his collar. Although this was a routine you had practiced with him over man a night on his lap, this touch felt almost forbidden as his brows furrowed. 

“I should not have kissed you like that,” he uttered in a voice below a hushed whisper, “You deserve better than something so public. I desire you-... -for you to be treated as a seraphim I know you to be.” His vocal catch had your attention completely focussed on every word, your body leaning itself further as your hands halted their movement. 

“I am not a seraphim, sir,” your lips were now almost brushing with the shell of his ear, your hypnotic perfume, intoxicating and mesmerizing the larger gentleman the longer your presence remained atop his lap. He angled his head away from you, exposing the side of his neck to reveal the rapidity of his heartbeat displayed against his pulse. 

“And what are you, if not a seraphim,” he whispered darkly, allowing to be disarmed by your presence as he leant into your touch, yet away from the descent of your lips upon his ear. 

“I am your seraphim,” you confessed as your lips grazed against the sensitive flesh of his cheek, his dark hair tickling against your eyes. 

Sir Crocodile was glad he had withdrawn you to a secluded portion of his casino at this moment. He truly did not desire for the other two members of the Cross-Guild to notice how much of a grip you truly had around his heart, but refused to break away from your display of unrestrained physical affection. He knit his brows together, furthering their descent down his face as he processed your words.

“Because I pay you to be,” he uttered, leaning away from your touch and forcing the mask of his arrogance back onto his features. He dropped the hook from your hair, reaching his right hand into his left breast pocket to locate a thick cigar and his golden lighter. Placing the bitten end between his teeth and clamping down on it, he drew the flame up to his lips and attempted to ignite the end. 

“I will return my wage to you,” you uttered quietly after swiping the golden lighter from his hand and reigniting the flame, “I have no need for it when you take care of me so well.” His eyes held an aloof boredom to his expression, refusing to meet with your face as you lit his cigar for him. 

“And if my wealth was taken from me?” He questioned before inhaling the smoke from his cigar, exhaling it away from your face, “If I was to go to prison once more, what then?” Your eyes narrowed, your lip curling up to reveal your displeasure at the question.

“I would claw tooth and nail to free you from your confinement, sir,” you confessed, reaching your left hand forward and collecting his chin beneath your thumb and index finger, turning his jaw for his eyes to meet with yours once more, “And although living in luxury is a welcome experience, I would stand by you regardless.” His eyes depicted his craving for your words to be true, although not believing it yourself. 

He began to open his mouth to speak, silenced by your words cutting through the air like your daggers meeting with the jugular of your foe. 

“You have my loyalty, my blades, and my body at your disposal,” you leant forward further, darting your eyes between focusing on each of his. “Should you order me to jump, I will ask how high. Should you ask me to kneel, I will fall to my knees,” you continued, your grip holding more firmly against his chin, “Should you wordlessly aim your finger at an enemy, I would be a channel of your wrath as I claim their lives for you.” 

Allowing a few moments of thick silence to swell between you, you felt the scrape of his hook trailing itself against your spine, hovering over the soft point of your rib and pressing his point firmly into your flesh. 

“While your words are as beautiful as you are,” he whispered, looking down at the plunging neck of your dress and back up into your eyes, “They are as decorated by the impact of my wealth as your body is in that dress.” You narrowed your eyes at his comment, taking the expression as a challenge. 

Shrugging away from the point of his hook, you rose to your feet between his legs and slowly drew your hands up to the thin straps on your shoulders. You hooked your thumbs beneath the material and began to slowly slip the material over your shoulders and down your biceps. Sir Crocodile’s eyes widened, immediately reaching his right hand and left forearm to halt your hands from revealing more of your flesh to him. 

“What are you doing?” His growl should’ve had your actions stuttering in any other setting, but his rasp had your heart beating in desire in place of fear. 

“I have already informed you that I will be returning my wage to you,” you cocked your head to the side, arching your back towards him and looking down at him under your lustful expression, “Why not start with the dress you claim to despise so much.” The rise of his fluster depicted in his eyes at your words had a smirk drawing up to decorate your lips. 

“What has someone like me done to deserve such devotion from you, my seraphim?” he whispered, his right hand elevating the strap of your left shoulder and securing it firmly in its prior place. You followed suit with your right strap, securing it firmly against your shoulder and leaning further into his welcome embrace. 

He leant his torso closer to you, his broad forearms circling over your own with his fingertips brushing against your skin. You began to open your mouth, confessing your adoration for your boss further upon the tip of your tongue before crudely interrupted by the presence of the blue-haired clown followed behind by the broody gentleman from earlier.

“Are we playin’ cards yet, Croco?” Buggy’s voice hitched as he met with an intimate moment shared between you and Sir Crocodile. Your boss’ hands caressed your skin, pulling you against his torso as he aimed his disapproving gaze over your right shoulder. 

He growled at the interruption, his voice holding more feral animosity than he felt he should. You drew your hand up to claim his cheek in the palm of your right hand, looking down at him with your eyes holding your unspoken answer of lustful adoration at him. His breath hitched as his gaze met with yours, prompting his right hand to grasp the flesh of your back firmer within his spread fingertips. 

“I recall you having barely enough berry to survive the last time we played, Clown,” Mihawk’s aloof tone called from beside him. Neither you nor Sir Crocodile paid either man any mind, too wrapped up in the intimate moment you were sharing holding one another. 

You removed the cigar from Crocodile’s teeth in your left hand, stooping forward and claiming his lips beneath your own. Your nose brushed against his, the kiss as hastily departing in severance of the connection as it did in its descent. He arched his chin up, chasing your retreat with his eyes closed. 

“Shall I get the table ready, sir?” You asked him in a subtle whisper, relishing in the small hum of pleasure falling from the lips of your boss. His eyes split slowly open, remaining half-lidded as he lulled his head on his neck to glance at you. The silver mark splitting his face danced in the illuminance of the soft bar light, his striking features appearing more chiseled under its glow. 

“Please,” he spoke slowly, his tongue darting out and danced as the ‘L’ passed his lips. You raked his hair back over his scalp, replacing the fallen strands in their rightful place, while leaning down once more with a smirk.

“Right away, sir,” you purred at him while returning his cigar to his teeth, watching as he bit the tip with a small snarl. Turning and walking away to collect several items to place atop the green felt for your boss to engage in a game of cards with his two unlikely colleagues, eyes fixed on your back as you exited the secluded area.

“Who is she?” Buggy’s shocked voice cracked out the stuttered question also plaguing Mihawk’s mind. Sir Crocodile relaxed in his chair, inhaling the cigar smoke deeply into his lungs and holding it. Upon it exiting from his lungs, he confessed the place you held within his heart with the utterance of two words.

“My favorite.”

[the-writer-arrived]

Disciplinary Method

Synopsis: you cannot stand veritas ratio, just the sight of him (or his stupid statues) makes your blood boil and causes you to argue with him everytime. sick of your attitude towards him, dr ratio believes you deserve to be taught some discipline.

Character: dr ratio.

Warnings: afab!gn!reader; explicit smut; reader is a member of the intelligentsia guild; kind of brat taming; semi-public sex (you two fuck in an empty classroom); fingering; use of a bullet vibrator; rivals to lovers but not really?? more like fuck buddies? rivals that fuck each other?

A/N: don't look at me, i lost the battle against my demons and was forced to write this!!!

<<This work has sexual themes and is not suitable for minors. If you click on read more, I am not responsable for any discomfort you may feel reading this. You have been warned.>>

The Intelligentsia Guild is a place that welcomes people from all walks of life that have the desire to learn. You are fortunate enough to be one of their scholars and you love teaching, love seeing the spark of passion for knowledge in your students' eyes.

But it seems like not everyone in the Guild thinks the same as you.

"Fail. Get out of my sight!"

Those words are frequently said by Veritas Ratio, or Dr Ratio, your insufferable colleague.

The first time you met, he barely spared a glance at your direction and complained about the arrival of another 'simpleton'. Suffice to say that that was a declaration of war.

From that day onwards, whenever you two would cross paths in the hallways, one would throw a snarky comment which would prompt a jab from the other until it becomes a full out argument (you'd call it 'academic debate' but whatever).

What other people don't know is that most of those arguments between you two end up in a way that was quite unprofessional...

----------

"I can barely hear you. 0 points."

"Stop grading me, I'm not one of your stude- fuck!"

The harsh pull of your poor nipple interrupts your complaint.

You don't know how long you've been in this empty classroom, your pants and underwear hanging on your ankle while Veritas keeps you on his lap, your legs spread open as he tortures your chest from under your shirt with one hand and keeps teasing your folds with the other.

"You kept running that annoying mouth of yours the whole day to get on my nerves, but now you want to keep quiet?"

He makes another attempt to make you moan louder, this time pinching your sensitive clit, and he would have succeeded, if you hadn't bitten down your lip to stop the sound from escaping. The scholar clicks his tongue in annoyance at your stubborness.

"If that's how you want to play, be my guest. Let's see how far you can hold on with this."

Veritas' hand leaves your chest to grab something that makes your eyes go wide: a small, silver bullet vibrator.

"W-When did you get that? And why do you have it with you?!"

"Recently. I thought it would be a useful tool to teach a certain brat a lesson, but who knew the opportunity would present itself so soon." He presses down the button and the bullet starts to vibrate with a low hum.

He starts dragging it from your neck, the cool object feeling nice on your heated skin. Then, he goes to your inner thighs, tracing it ever so close to your needy pussy, but never touching it like you wanted.

"Will you stop playing around alre--Ah!"

Your words are once again interrupted, this time by your own gasp of surprise and the way your whole body shivered when the vibrator is suddenly on your clit. However, as quickly as it came, the stimulation is taken away a second later.

The anticipation and the desire to be touched properly are getting on your nerves, so you grab the hand holding the wretched toy to push it to where it should be, but the man simply turns it off.

"You're not getting what you want so easily. You either do as I say and be as loud as I want or you go back to teaching your next class unsatisfied. Surely even an idiot like you know what choice to make here?"

The look on his eyes tells you he's not bluffing. You've been a fool to doubt him once before and paid the price. Between letting the quality of your teaching drop because of sexual frustration and having your pride get hurt by obeying Veritas' words like some obedient dog, of course you'll choose the latter.

"...Fine."

"Good, it seems like you do have a working brain after all."

The insufferable man smirks, satisfied with your decision. He turns the toy back on and rubs languid circles around your clit, your essence helping the movements feel smoother. You grasp onto your shirt and his arm, doing your best to not muffle your shy sounds and lose this feeling.

"Better, but still not good enough."

"Ngh just... Just shut up, ah..."

Since you've been edged and teased for so long, it doesn't take long for your gasps and whines to become louder. You get closer to the edge, but there's still something missing.

"M-More... Need more..."

Dr Ratio doesn't miss your hole clenching pathetically over the tip of his fingers, your body showing what you truly desire. The asshole chuckles, reveling in the sight of you so pliable and obedient in his arms like that. If you didn't constantly get on his nerves, he'd consider you almost cute.

It's almost embarrassing how your cunt basically engulfs his two fingers with ease, your head thrown back to rest on his shoulder as you moan with abandon. You don't even care about your surroundings anymore, the intoxicating sensation of his long fingers pumping in and out of your drooling hole paired with the small vibrator rubbing on your clit making your brain melt.

You singing so beautifully right into Veritas' ear and the hypnotizing sight of your pussy leaking on his knuckles are both things he wants to engrave in his memories, to be able to recall them time and time again until the next time he has to discipline you.

"Please, please I want cum, please let me cum!"

Your sweet pleas go straight to his twitching dick and he hides his blushing cheeks on the crook of your neck, his voice coming out as a groan.

"Very well, you earned it. Come for me now."

Like an automatic response to his permission, your body convulses in his hold, tears running down the sides of your face and mouth hanged open with a hoarse chant of his name.

Veritas turns off the toy and slowly retreats his fingers, your legs still shaking a bit.

"See? That wasn't very hard, was it? If you had behaved yourself from the start, you would have had this much earlier."

"Oh fuck off... You made me cum using a vibrator, that's nothing to be cocky of. I do that all the time."

"And you call my name as well when you're alone?"

You blame your lack of a comeback at your foggy brain, choosing to whack his stupid face with the back of your hand.

Suddenly, you both hear a melody coming from below you. It's your phone, which had fallen out of your pants' pocket, the screen showing the alarm you set up: 10 minutes until your next class, which is on the opposite side of where you are.

"Oh shit, I'm going to be late- woah!"

If it weren't for Veritas holding you by the waist, you'd surely fall down, betrayed by your own weak legs. You've never climaxed so hard like you just did, but you'll never admit that to him, his ego is already too big without that knowledge.

After making sure you're stable enough to stand on your own, the scholar lets go of your waist and watches you quickly dress up and fix your appearance.

His eyes rest on your neck, wondering how would you react if he to left a mark there, in a place for everyone to see... But he knows he shouldn't indulge in such fantasies, that would cross the boundaries of your... dynamic and he'd hate to cause you this kind of distress.

Dr Ratio is brought back from his thoughts when you go to the door of the classroom and point an accusatory finger at him.

"This is the last time we're doing this, you hear me?!"

You leave before he could respond, but he just chuckles. You always say that after you two get frisky and it has never held any meaning, considering that it's never ended up being the last time for real. He secretly hopes it continues that way.

Now, he needs to deal with his own 'little' problem before he can leave and act as if nothing scandalous happened in this empty classroom...

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

red dr ratio banner (smut) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[bohbee]

Do you think you could do some genshin characters reacting to you flinching during a fight? 👉🏻👈🏻 Im not picky with which characters as long as Childe is included

Flinching During an Argument, Genshin.

Part 1?

Masterlist

Characters: Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Wanderer.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, misunderstandings, past abusive relationships, insecurities, yelling, blood (unrelated), potential harming.

Notes: There are some kinds of spoilers for The Wanderers but yeah >:). Sorry for not writing for a long time, there's been a lot of stressful things happening in my life right now but I'm trying to write more :). There will be more parts to this I just don't know when.

Childe (Tartaglia, Ajax)

The room which was usually filled with laughs and smiles now had a dark aura. Both occupants of the household argue with each other, in a fit of rage and hurt. "Ajax please just listen to me! I could've lost you!" You said, wiping the tears from your eyes, a shudder left your chest as your boyfriend's eyes darkened towards you. His boots took a step forward and he pointed his finger toward you.

"You always underestimate me!" A vein popped from his forehead, the air getting thick causing your heart to speed up. "Ajax I di-" He cut you off with a shout causing you to back up into the wall "No! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I SUFFERED THROUGH TO BE SEEN LIKE THAT"

He went to push the hair out of his eyes, his gloved hand swayed in front of your face causing you to cover your eyes, frightened of his next course of action. Your knees buckle slightly. Childe's movements came to a halt, and his annoyance quickly left, now filled with shock and pain.

"Dove... I-" he started to speak, his hands gently grabbing yours, delicately not to strike for negative emotions in you. As he moved your defense, he winced at your fear-struck face, tears he caused painting your skin. "I would never... ever harm you... I'm so- so sorry" He opened his arms slowly, trying not to frighten you, offering for you to hug him, and you pounced into his grasp. Small sobs emitted from your throat, "I'm sorry- I just don't want to -hic- lose you, and I-" your rambling was cut off by a small hush from the ginger.

"I would never leave you... I was being unreasonable, let's just drop it for now, come on I'll take you to the bedroom."

The rest of the day was filled with soft hums, and both of you enjoyed each other's presence. "My dove?" Tartaglia's voice was soft, you looked up to meet his eyes questioning him. "C'mon let's go to a restaurant.... let me treat you?" He said, well more of asked... still not knowing how much you were willing to do. "Of course.... let's go."

Diluc

Nothing was different from today than any other day, you went on commissions and came home to your loving husband. However, the crimson irises begged to differ. "You need to stop being so reckless! You've come home yet again with a new bloodied bandage!" His tone was deep, filled with irritation and worry. Though, that didn't do much but annoy you. "Luc, please listen to me, love. This is a part of working for the Guild!"

His eyes shot toward yours, pure frustration filling his pupils. "Every. Day." He started, his body slowly getting up from where he was sitting. "I. Have. To. See. You. Get. Hurt." His body was slightly in front of you, a two-foot gap in between your bodies. "EVERY. DAMN. DAY.!" His booming voice shook the air, causing you to flinch and stumble onto the ground.

A few seconds of silence went by until he kneeled to where you fell. "I am deeply sorry, I- it was never my intention to frighten you, my love." His eyes were filled with shame and insecurity, his gloved hand reached out to you slowly. You softly grabbed it allowing him to pull you up and into a hug, watching for your injuries. "I'm sor-" you started but your husband shushed you "No need dear, I must be the one to apologize. I was being rash, just promise me that you'll be more careful?"

You nodded softly and hugged his torso a bit tighter, the both of you stood in the common room for a while before he broke away from the embrace. "Why don't you let me re-bandage your injuries and then after we can go for a walk?"

As the day continued on, the well-known couple could be seen walking down the paths of the outskirts of Monstadt. Hand in hand, soft delicate smiles painting both of their features.

Kaeya

Sadly, petty arguments with Kaeya always happened, it was all fine though. None of it really went far, that is until now. The two of you were in his office at the KOF building, snapping at each other. Snarky comments and shouts were heard throughout the whole building, though no one dared to enter not even Lisa nor Jean.

"You are being unreasonable!" you shouted at the blue-haired male who only scoffed back, he stood from his seat and turned his back away from you. "For the last time, now listen real closely and get it through your more than thick skull." He slowly turned towards you, his deep frustrated tone quickly shutting you up. "She was NOT flirting with me, just because you're insecure does not mean you get to PROJECT your feelings on me nor the poor lady who was being nice."

His words made you wince, stepping back in shock as you look up into his eyes with hurt, no more than hurt..... betrayal "oh." Your head bobbed in a quick nod as you went to leave the room. "W-wait.... (y/n) shit... I didn't mean-" he chased after you. The people in the city watched in shock which only rubbed the salt more in your wound.

You finally made it to your home, your boyfriend rushing in behind you. No words were spoken, his strong arms yanked you into a hug as you sobbed into his chest. "I....... I am so so sorry snowflake......" your loud cries pulled at his heart strings. After gathering your emotions, you went to respond, feeling guilty for the situation. "You were ri-" his soft lips slammed onto yours, effectively stopping your words. "Don't even think about finishing that sentence."

The two of you made an executive decision to take some time off together in which Jean more than happily approved of. The two of you were now in the amazing city of Sumeru, sitting together in the Grand Bazaar. Your head laying on his soft shoulder as both of you watch the amazing dancers.

Wanderer (Kuni)

You and the umbrella hat male were walking down a trail in the outskirts of Gandharva Ville, when suddenly a random root appeared from nowhere, which caused your body to fling forward into the ground. The Wanderer turned around slightly shocked, he laughed slightly and swung his hand to help you up. But the sudden motion frightened you and caused you to cower backwards. "I'm sorry!" you yelped out while closing your eyes, preparing for the hit that would never come.

Kuni looked at you shocked, no words left his mouth, he was truly stunned at the scene in front of him. You soon opened your eyes and looked to the side embarrassed, "I- uh- sorry heh, that's embarrassing.... well lets uh continue." You stood up and brushed your pants off and walked past your "new" boyfriend, expecting him to follow you. Though his next words, stopped your movements.

"What......" he paused before slightly hanging his head in shame "I know I used to... treat you unfairly....... just know that I am trying to get better." he muttered before walking to you and gripping the back of your shirt. "I don't want to lose nor hurt the one I love...." he mumbled before he slowly and awkwardly hugged you from behind.

"I know you are trying.... don't think I've given up on you Ku.... I trust you."

Over time, the two of you slowly dropped your walls with each other, becoming closer than ever. He was a completely different person than the one you used to date. Same face..... same body.... same soul..... just different purpose.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I hope this is good :), I love you guys... also dude why are genshin characters written so WELL gah damn!

[writingoddess1125]

Jessica Rabbit Effect pt. 4

So a lot of people have asked what if Crocodile & Mihawk found out about Buggys hot wife. So here we are!

Previous <<<

Support me on Ko-Fi

Masterlist <<

• Buggy would be dragging his feet and reluctant on letting you go.. Truthfully he wanted to keep you on his little island village were you could live in ignorance and bliss. (Cause he's possessive)

• However it seemed some things couldnt be helped-

• Especially after your kidnapping attempt. So he felt safer dragging you with him to the Cross Guild meeting-

• "I'm so nervous" You admit, stepping in land as he kept you close.

• "Don't be- You'll be fine. I promise nothing will happen" He stated confidently, you assuming because these men were his friends- (While Buggy ment he'd kill to make sure no one harmed you)

• Once inside you saw them- And you damn near were ready to run back to the ship..

• They looked so much scarier in person!

• Craning your head up to meet the two massive men- Your nerves now all over the place as they just seemed to stare down at you.

• Hard-

• Your hand instinctively squeezing Buggy for reassurance.

• "Croc, Hawk- This is my Wife (Y/N)" Buggy said calmly with a hint of irriation in his voice at having them meet you at all, keeping a secure hand on your waist as you smiled softly at the two infamous men, still a bit nervous.

• "It's lovely to meet you both"

• Sir Crocodile and Mihawk exchanged puzzled glances as they stood before Buggy's wife.

• Perplexed-

• This pretty women was Buggy's wife?- Sure they had both heard rumors that she was apparently attractive but they assumed this was just Buggy's dramatic words floating around.

• However you were actually gorgeous!?

• Crocodile muttered, "Lovely to meet you as well-" Migawk nodding in greeting to you.

• "I know its a bit short notice me coming here and all, vut I made you both some gifts as a gesture of kindness" You say so sweetly as you reach into your bag and pull out the nice gifts for both of them nicely wrapped in colored tissue paper. Mentally praying Buggy's information was correct.

• Both Guild Leaders took the gifts in question- Still assuming something about this was fishy as both slowly ripped the tissue paper to take a peak at what you'd made.

• You had made a beautiful silk orange gold puff tie for Sir Crocodile since Buggy kept saying he was wearing a 'scarf' as a tie (But you knew better that it's a Puff Tie and not a scarf)

• And for Sir Mihawk you made him a white ocean cotton button down with front frills, you didn't make it as dramatic as you typically made Buggys but it was a incredibly pretty and beautiful shirt that would be comforble to wear whenever.

• Both men stared at the gifts, like they were trying to figure out what sort of trickery this was.

• "You made these?" Mihawk questioned at first,

• "I'm a seamstress" You state calmly, a bit worried they wouldn't be interested. However smiled when Crocodile complemented your craft and the quality of the tie.

• Once inside the main meeting room, conversation flowed naturally, You chatting up both men so they could become familiar with you. Even telling them the story of how you and Buggy met all those years ago.

• "Are you wanted to married him?-" Crocodile mused, taking another drag of his cigar.

• "Of course! He's so sweet afterall" Buggy looked miffed by Crocodiles words and the fact you gushed so much-

• Mihawk was the most interested in you however, taking sips of wine as he looked over you calmly.

• "Would you reconsider your marriage for a more suitable option?-" He so bluntly asked which made you blink in total surprise.

• "HEY!" Buggy yelled, Wrapping a protective arm around you as he began to yell at Mihawk for daring to 'hit on' his lovely wife- His temper definitely getting the best of him.

• Buggy throwing a full on tantrum now as he pointed a finger at Mihawk and screamed at him. The yellow eyed man grabbing his sword in warning-

• You flushed in embrassment and patted Buggys arm gently to calm him down before he got chopped to bits. "No No- I'm very happy in my marriage and love my husband dearly. I wouldn't choose anyone else-"

• Buggy stopped his little tantrum and seemed to be soothed by your gentle hands and soft words.

• Both pirates respecting such a loyal trait and moving on from such conversations.

• Both Guild Leaders found you quite enjoyable- You had wonderful humor, great in terms of conversation and essentially made up for everything your husband lacked.

• Work did take place however, Buggy and the two men talking over strategies of wealth and gaining a greater sense of power between them all.

• They did however find it irritating they couldn't beat Buggy's ass like normal- Seeing how it would upset you and the man seemed to be practically glued to you.

• By the time for you and Buggy to retire, Maps, Plans and even money had been exchanged-

• As the meeting delved later. Food and Alcohol was served, which left you full and a bit tipsy. Leaning your head on Buggy's shoulder as you soon fell asleep against him.

• "(Y/N)? Buggy said softly, claiming his arm to properly secure you against him as he saw your sleeping form.

• "Seems it's time to go our separate ways" Migawk said calmly, having finished off 4 bottles of wine himself and not too far behind you in terms of sleep. Crocodile wiping his mouth of the crumbs with a napkin as he set his near finished cigar on a ash tray.

• "Yes.." Buggy said softly, scooping you up with care.

• "....Since my wife is asleep- I need to say this to you both"

• Buggy didn't look at the two of them just stroking your hair as you slept- "I will only speak this once... If you two hurt my wife or make her upset in any way- Death will be the kindest thing I can give to you"

• They had always know Buggy hid his true abilities and simply didn't take things seriously- But they saw you were his only button.

• His only weakness-

• No words were exchanged, but a silent agreement seemed to settle on the three men.

• You were off limits.

• Buggy carried you out of the meeting hall, taking you to his private quarters so you could rest properly. Already mentally mapping out changing you into your nice PJs-

• The two men left behind watching their peer leave with his prized wife. Crocodile muttered, "How did Buggy manage to snag such a pretty and sweet wife?"

• Mihawk, equally mystified nodding in agreement.

• "It's a mystery as profound as the Grand Line itself."

Extra!-

"I can't believe those dirty bastards got you to make them clothes!" Buggy yelled, stomping his foot dramatically as he watched you sew at a purple and gold vest which clearly would belong to Crocodile by the large size.

You sitting in your favorte chair, dressed in comforble clothes as you continued to work into the evening in the home you shared with your dramatic husband.

"I make all your clothes" Gesturing to his low riding pajama pants and socks he was currently sporting. He waved this off with a dramatic eye roll-

"That's different your my wife and I still pay for your time since it's important! and they shouldnt get it fre-"

"They are paying me Buggy Boo" You cut him off quickly, taking the winds from his sails as he stopped mid rant.

"Eh?" He said confused, not knowing what you were talking about. You reach into your vanity next to you and handed your husband the letter both men had slipped you when you'd first met them in the guikd hall.

"They have me a lump some for 5 peices of clothes for each of them. 2 pairs of trousers, 2 shirts and a special item for each. For Crocodile he wanted this vest Im working on- and for Mihawk to restore a coat he liked" You explained, Buggy raising a brow at this news as he opened the letter quickly and read over how much they offered for such peices.

....

"GAHH!-"

Buggy yelled as he fell to the ground foaming at the mouth at seeing the large number.

15,000,000 Beri for each man....

He couldn't complain-

Well not about the men paying you so handsomely but about having to become the grumpy delivery man for his wife once the clothes were finished.

When he went to the meeting handing his two peers the clothes they had specially bought from you in the nice boxes youd always packed everything in.

Both men quick to open them and look over their new purchased goodies. Mihawk immediately putting on the repaired coat after seeing its quality- which was better then when he bought it.

"Tell your wife I'd like to make another commission when she has free time- I'll pay double" Mihawk said smoothing out the coat and seeing the nice gold pattern on the sleeves and nice red satin insides of the inner coat.

Crocodile adjusting his orange Puff Tie and he nodded in agreement and went through his box with great satisfaction. "Same for me as well-"

"I fucking hate you both..."

[troonwolf]

this shit fixed me