#and they've been robbed multiple times

[dyad-dragon]

A friendly reminder that if you see urban exploration videos with "abandoned" houses that are in suspiciously good condition with "everything left behind" it's probably not abandoned and the "explorers" are just breaking and entering and ransacking the place for views :):):)

[plutoswritingplanet]

Taking What's Not Yours (Dracule Mihawk x Reader)

a/n: soooooo, there is this pirate warlooooord. basically, i've watched the live action show on Netflix and immediately had to commit a one shot.

Warnings: Pure Smut (i had to get it out of my system), Wall Donging, Use of Alcohol, Stealing, Plotting, Lollygagging, inappropriate use of that cunty cross necklace.

Summary: A misguided attempt at impressing your friend lands you in a very peculiar situation. (cross-posted on AO3)

   The bar buzzed with the energy of drunken people. Your throat still burned with the after-taste of the cheapest rum the establishment had to offer, and for a second you've become deeply worried about losing your eyesight, as faint notes of straight methanol registers in your brain. Then, the pleasant buzz hits your nerves like a suffocating blanket, and in one moment you sense all your troubles drifting away. And there has been quite a lot of troubles on your mind lately.

Mainly, the Marines, their presence an annoying nuisance. By no means were you a pirate, no. You searched for freedom in different ways, such as stealing as much, and as often as you could. Money was the driving force of your life, but you'd be lying, if you said it was the only pleasure you seek. The thrill of the chase, of finding that perfect little trinket you can grab, and your victim would be non the wiser. The euphoria of creating distractions in one place, so you can strike like a viper in another. It made your blood boil with excitement incomparable to anything else. 

On top of that, besides the occasional confrontation, the Marines simply couldn't identify you. All it took, was a bandana around the lower half of your face, and suddenly you were able to march into a bar, such as this, filled with Marines, and no one would notice. Your eyes fall onto a rather skinny one, the belt of his too big uniform is digging into his waist, betraying how little there actually is of him. He looks back at you, smiles, and joins a group of his friends at one of the tables. You reciprocate the smile with a glint in your eye. The poor bastard doesn't know it was you, who stole an antique photo of his grandma right from his breast pocket. 

In your defense, the small frame was made of gold. And damned pretty at that. It fetched you a pretty price too, one you were currently drinking away, waiting for your friend to join you in your efforts of landing under the table by the end of the night. 

You barely manage to go through one fourth of the bottle, when they arrive, smile on their face and hair wild from running through the streets. It all goes downhill from there, as stories and alcohol flow freely between the two of you. It's a welcomed distraction from the gray reality of life, a small ray of sunshine in this murky town. They tell you about the latest heist they've pulled, eyes sparkling in the dim light, as they recount a particularly risky part of their daring escape. You snort into your glass, shake your head.

- See, that's where we're different. - you counter, leaning back into your chair - For me, it's all about stealth. In and out, so they won't know when they've been robbed. 

Your friend giggles to themselves. The drink in their glass splashes slightly, as they place it forcefully on the table. 

- You really think you're that good, huh? - they challenge, and already, you can feel the tingling sensation of excitement at the tips of your fingers. 

- I know so. 

They furrow their brows, turning towards the crowd currently hounding the bartender. There's a mischievous smirk playing around on their lips, as they turn their attention back to you.

- So, if I were to choose any person here, and told you to steal from them unnoticed, you'd do it?

The absolute gall of this question. Of course, you would. Hell, you'd do it multiple times, until this whole bar was filled with people suddenly missing their belongings. Because nothing compared to the thrill of reaching into someone else's pocket unnoticed.

- You know what? - your eyes run across the gathered crowd, smirk playing around on your lips, as you've spotted your chosen victim. - See that guy in the black coat? The one with the big ass hat. I bet I can get that fancy necklace off of him, in like, three minutes tops. 

As you speak, your friend follows your gaze through the Marines, and the pirates, and all the in-betweens. But when their eyes finally land on your target, they freeze in their spot, before rather rudely grabbing your shirt at the collar. Then, so fast, the world starts to spin in front of your eyes, they yank you under the table. Your stomach lurches with protest at the sudden movement. You give your friend a confused shake of your head. 

- Do you have any idea, who you're talking about? - they whisper-yell, eyes wide and clearly terrified. 

- What, about the hat guy?

Apparently you've said it too loud, because your friend nearly launches themselves at you. 

- That's Dracule fucking Mihawk.

From the way they've said the man's name, you gather, it should be at least familiar to you. Unfortunately, you can't say you know much of the world outside of the town, so your confused expression deepens. 

- He's like, the biggest deal - Your friend continues, their grip on your shirt loosening slightly - Like, children read stories about him and shit.

- I didn't - you shrug, before rising slightly up, so you can peek from above the table. 

The hat man has turned his back to you, his stature rather impressing, as he towers over everyone in the establishment. Your eyes follow the dark lapels of his coat, thief senses greedily gliding over the handle of his sword secured to his back. It's reminiscent of a cross, with gigantic, shiny gems nearly tempting you to do something unwise. Your friend tugs you back down, and your chin scratches on the rough surface of the table.

- What is he, like, a missionary? - you ask, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

- What?

- You know, the cross and all that...

- What kind of missionaries have you been seeing?

Fair point, you think, before risking another peek, against your friend's efforts to pull you down.

 The man, Mihawk, takes a long swing from a flagon filled with something you can't really identify. You watch almost greedily, as his Adam's apple moves, when he swallows his drink. Then, your eyes drift to the necklace, nestled on his exposed chest. Gold, real gold, you can see it from here. Another cross, albeit, much simpler, than what he had on his back. A week of drinks, and fancy ones at that flash before your eyes. 

- Don't even think about it - your friend warns, finally giving up, and letting go of your shirt. 

Your eyes stay fixated on your prize. If you could just see where the clasp of the necklace is...

- Think about what...? - your voice betrays you, and you wet your lips with your tongue in concentration.

- He'll kill you - your friend warns - Like, actually kill you. This is not a man you should fuck with.

At that, you finally tear away, your eyes meeting your friends, a sea of mischief swirling in them.

- Who said anything about fucking? - you say with a wink, and before your friend can say anything else, you rise from your seat.

Taking the half-empty bottle of rum in one, smooth movement, you begin to make your way towards the bar, adding a stumble and a drunken giggle for good measure. The previous ungodly ammounts of liquor circulating your body definitely help with the impression, but you're pleasantly surprised, that your head stays relatively clear. Although, if your target is truly as powerful and dangerous, as your friend makes him out to be, then perhaps you really lost your mind for good. Best not to dwell on it though. 

The man barely spares you a glance, as you collide with the bar right next to him, arm brushing against his in a deliberate movement. You make sure to press your chest against the countertop, before waving at the bartender a bit too enthusiastically. The leftover liquor in your bottle sloshes out, landing straight onto the man's chest and lap. At that, he finally moves, annoyance clear in his rigid posture. Traces of liquid fall all the way from his collarbones to the belt buckle of his trousers.  

The truly magnificent performance of a drunken, apologetic girl you gave at that moment, would ensure you the entry to the most prestigious acting schools. Your eyes widen comically, as you follow the trajectory of your drink. He barely flinches, as his entire front becomes covered in alcohol, but he does react, as soon as you start apologizing, a lot, your voice quivering as if you're about to burst out crying. 

Don't look up, you remind yourself, as your body moves closer to his. You pull down the sleeve of your shirt and reach towards him, trying to dry some of the liquor off his skin. For the split second you manage to make contact, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. He's incredibly warm, his skin pulled taut against prominent muscles. Then, your sleeve reaches the golden necklace.

His arm immediately shoots out, grabbing you by the wrist and nearly shoving you off. It was enough, though. That short moment of contact revealed more than you've bargained for.  

- Leave - you truly flinch at the sound of his gravely voice, no acting needed - You've embarrassed yourself quite enough, woman.

Your head nods fervently, hair jumping around your face. He releases your wrist, and you mutter another string of "I'm so sorry, sir". Then, you throw in a sniffle, for good measure, but your treacherous eyes drift upwards, desperate to catch a glimpse of the man's face, as you're only inches from him. Yellow envelops you in an instant, a piercing, unrelenting gaze, which breaks through all your defenses. Your gaze hardens in an instant, challenge rising in your posture like its second nature. One of the man's prominent eyebrows shoot upwards ever so slightly, and you know it's your time to exit the stage. 

So you bow your head again and slip past him as quickly, as you physically can. His golden gaze follows you, the feeling of his eyes at the back of your neck makes your shoulders tense. With a stumble, this one not rehearsed, you push past the gathered patrons, until you reach the doors to the restrooms, nearly falling through them, in your haste to remove yourself from this strange situation. 

Your body collides with the row of basins, as you lean forward to try and catch your breath. Your heart is thrumming in your chest, the sound of blood rushing through your ears deafening. It's fear, you're aware. You've never been so close to being exposed, no one has ever seen straight through you, and so quickly at that. Chills run the length of your spine with such force you physically cringe. 

And then, something else starts to brew in the pit of your stomach. Something that starts at the tips of your fingers, spreading upwards, until it settles in your chest. The magnetic pull of excitement, the danger of a new challenge. Your brain feels hot inside your skull, as you gather all the information you managed to pull out. 

The necklace is heavy, but strangely, not as heavy, as solid gold would be. The clasp is sturdy, but small. You could feel it, with how the strap tightened, when you pulled at it. And one more thing. As you tried to "dry" it, the body of the necklace shifted slightly, so you could see the clasp peeking over the man's shoulder. You were almost entirely sure it was one of those old-timey ones. The one, where two halves fit together, incredibly easy to open. 

God, you really are going to pull this off. You hype yourself up, in front of the mirror, jumping from leg to leg, like a sportsman ready to fight for their team. Easy. Quiet. In and out. You've done it a thousand times, why would this one be different? After this rather pathetic pep talk, you make up your mind. Splashing some water onto your face, you give yourself one last look in the mirror, determination filling your eyes to the brim. 

And then, you're out, the door to the bathroom swings behind you, as you easily blend into the crowd of rowdy patrons. He's almost impossible to miss amongst the ruckus, with his straight posture and that damned hat. There is a plan forming in your head, as you stalk towards him. The unfortunate waiter, with a tray filled with tall beer glasses walks towards you, and with ease, you slide your leg to the side, making him trip right onto the floor. 

It creates enough of a distraction for you to smoothly move behind your target, and as he looks over at the screaming crowd, you hand makes its way behind the collar of his coat. With the warmth of his skin just under your fingertips, you touch the clasp of the necklace. It unravels immediately, sliding off of his neck, where, just out of his vision, your other hand waits. The cross lands in your palm just as the man realizes what is happening.

His entire body jerks in your direction, large hands immediately flying towards the gigantic sword on his back. Thankfully, you're faster. Fingers squeeze around the smaller cross, and suddenly all pretense is gone, as you bolt back to the restrooms. You don't stop to check if the man is pursuing you, a flurry of emotions chasing you out of the establishment. Excitement, yes, of course, but mostly impossible to explain fear. In that moment you know, you can't get caught if you want your life to continue. 

So, you barrel through the doors to the restroom and immediately jump onto one of the basins. Your hands make quick work opening the small window just below the ceiling, its lock coming undone under the prying of your lockpick. Night air floods the bathroom with the crisp smell of the harbour. Putting all your concentration into athletics, you jump through the small opening, squeezing through. Your shirt catches onto the lock and tears with the force of your body. You land on your face, right into the cobbled street below.  Only then do you risk taking the time, and looking around, eyes scanning the dark, as your breath quickens. 

Nothing. A dog is barking somewhere, and even from the outside you can hear the sounds of the patrons screaming over each other. For a split second you wonder, if one of the voices belongs to your target, but decide against it. He didn't seem the type to raise his voice. Perhaps that was one of the things, which unsettled you about him. 

Tossing the necklace a couple of times in your hand, you observe as the gold shines in the light coming from the lanterns strung out around the city. There, right under the lower half of the cross, you could see a tiny groove. As if it was meant to be unscrewed or something of the sort. Deciding against hanging around in the ark alley right outside the bar, you put the necklace around your neck.

You manage to take about five steps, before some force grabs onto the back of your shirt. A hand twists itself into the torn material, and yanks you back so fast, and so hard, you completely loose balance. The brick wall of the lower part of the bar greets you with sharp pain, the impact knocking the wind out of your lungs. Stars swim in front of your eyes and your stomach twists and turns, as a sudden wave of nausea overcomes you. 

Then, all you see is yellow. 

He's here, arm pressed right under your chin with unwavering strength, his golden eyes bearing into you, watching you struggle against him. The smell of smoke, seawater and wine engulfs you whole, and suddenly the weight of the stolen necklace on your chest becomes unbearable. It's getting harder and harder to breathe. If you thought you were scared of the strange man before, now you're downright terrified. 

- Not many people would dare to steal from me - his voice is steady, almost bored, but your ears pick up on the subtle tone of curiosity - Let alone do so successfully.

Perhaps it's the alcohol in your system, or perhaps your ego has grown much too big, but you almost feel as if the man is impressed. 

- Tell me, what is your name? - his arm digs a bit further into your skin before retracting ever so slightly, not enough to choke you, but enough to remind you, that he could do so very easily. 

Your tongue darts out to wet you lips, and you will yourself to sound even a fraction less scared than you truly felt.

- I'm nobody - you whisper fervently - I'm nothing. It was a stupid joke, I'm so sorry.

His eyes scan your face, taking in your disheveled hair, the way your eyebrows scrunch together, the way your lips tremble. His gaze slides further down to your panicked pulse running rampant, catching slightly at your heaving chest, before snapping back up. Freezing chills run up and down your body, and your legs kick out slightly, trying to find better footing, to regain some control over the situation. He gives you no such chance, as his arm pushes your neck further into the wall, and as your breath leaves you, your body starts to struggle. 

- Nobody. Nothing. And yet you've managed to steal from me - something akin to subdued mirth flashes in his golden irises - If only for a moment. 

His other hand rises and your heart stops in your chest, as you feel the tips of his fingers tracing the line of the necklace, from the juncture between your neck and your arm, sliding lower. There is no mistaking the small gasp leaving your lips, when he reaches the heavy cross nestled right on top of your breasts. He taps the goden piece once, twice, before grasping it firmly and giving it a hard yank. The clasp at the back digs painfully into your skin before it gives out, snapping and falling right into his hand. 

- You're a curious little thief - his voice lowers, as he inclines his head to look at you closer - For that reason, I'll let you live, this one time. The world needs some chaos, after all.  

You expect him to move away, give you space to breathe and disapear into the night. Yet, none of you make a move. Your body stays pinned to the wall, the bricks spreading cold throughout your back. He never retreats, standing firmly in his place, as his arm still presses itself into the crook of your neck. Finally, you risk enough to get a good look at him, from the silky black hair, the perfectly trimmed facial hair and the elegant dip of his collar bones. And, oh, his pupils are dilated. For the first time, you discover a change in his unrelenting gaze. 

The gold retracts, giving way to the swallowing blackness of his pupil, as his eyebrows furrow in confusion at the situation at hand. You'd be confused too, if you didn't feel the tell-tale buzzing forming in your guts, low in your stomach. Your tongue darts out again, wetting your lips, and with undeniable satisfaction you watch his gaze flicker downwards. 

- Is there something else you want? - his eyes snap back up at the husky tone of your voice, and you give him just a tiny ghost of a smirk.

He recoils immediately, albeit, never taking the arm off of your body.

- I am not some teenage boy who can't control his urges - he sounds almost offended, as he straightens himself, and fixes you with a stern glare. 

Too bad. His previous slip-up has already filled your head with devious ideas, which in turn, sparked a sudden flame of confidence. So, with a self-assured smile, you lean back, finally finding your footing, only to raise one of your legs, purposefully running your calf the length of his thigh. His breath hitches ever so slightly, evident more by the movement of his Adam's apple, than any sound. Then, you reach your prize, your knee knocking into something that could only be described as a sizeable erection.

- My research says otherwise, sir. - you counter with a pointed look, and the man before you freezes in his spot. 

Time seems to slow down and stretch like taffy, as the man continues to stare at you, thoughts running through his head. Oh, how much you'd give to know them all. Will he kill you, you wonder as your eyes dart around the small creases forming on his forehead. Will he kiss you, his lips are parted and invitingly plush. Will there be more, your eyes follow the lines of muscles exposed under his unbuttoned coat. 

At first you don't even notice, when he had taken his arm back. That is until you feel him take a firm grab of the back of your head, gathering the roots of your hair in his grasp. There is no denying the choked whine that escapes you, as he cranes your head back, nor is there a point denying the groan he gives out at your reaction. 

An unspoken understanding blooms between the two of you, both of you suddenly knowing exactly how this encounter will end. For your part, you were more than excited, breathing heavily, as your mind became foggy from the feeling of his fingers in your hair. And if his darkened eyes and slight blush dusting the highest points of his cheekbones were any indication, you seemed to have similar effect on the man. 

- For all the research you seem to be doing - your brain feels hot and heavy in your skull, as you try to shift your focus onto his words, and not the way his lips curled into something akin of a smirk - There's one thing you didn't bother to check, did you?

All you can do is stare at him blankly. his other hand starts to toy with the necklace, turning it in his palm. 

- Have you checked, if my necklace is made of gold? - he asks matter-of-factly, tilting his head to the side. 

Your mouth opens and closes, no words coming out, as you continue to stare with growing confusion. Then, a glint of a golden cross catches your attention, as the man moves it higher for you to see. 

- Did you check it? - he accentuates his words, and you shiver under his intense gaze.

You shake your head no, and your neck feels as if it's made of lead.

- Use your words, thief.

- No

You don't recognize your voice, so meek and small. 

Then, all thoughts leave your head, because he lifts the lover tip of the cross and places it on top of your lower lip, pressing slightly, and watching with fascination as the cold metal creates a small indent in the plush flesh. 

- Check it.

Again, your brain seems to be moving in slow motion, but when it catches on, a glint of mischief swirls in your eyes. You open your mouth, let the necklace land on your lower teeth, and then, craning your neck, you bite down, like a good thief that you are. 

It's gold alright. Albeit, the part currently between your teeth seems to be hollowed out. Your brows knit for a second, as this new information registers in your mind. So you were right before, the small indent is meant to separate one piece of the necklace from the other. 

With a slowly blooming smirk, you let your tongue dart out swirling over the metal. The man's eyes widen ever so slightly, and he pulls back at the necklace. With some fight, you let it go, but not before giving it another lick, this one much more suggestive and pointed. 

- You're a devil of a woman - Mihawk breathes, before untangling his other hand from your hair. 

Both hands now, he grips the necklace, and your mouth runs dry at the sight of his fingers smearing your saliva onto the metal. And then he pulls. Your heartbeat momentarily quickens, as your eyes register another form of metal glistening in the dim light. 

A knife. Small but incredibly sharp, your body starts to shiver but it's not out of fear. He drops the other part of the necklace into his pocket, and gathers the front of your shirt into a tight grip. Your breath hitches, as you feel the tip of the knife slide up under your clothes. It scratches a path from your navel, up to your collarbones, and as the material bunches, the man suddenly yanks the blade upwards. Your entire body jumps from the wall, and your squeak of surprise is accompanied by the loud tearing of your shirt's material. 

You fall back against the bricks, and Mihawk leans onto his heels as if he's appreciating an art piece.

- Now we match - you manage to breathe out.

He humms, deep in his chest, and as suddenly as he just tore your clothes off, he dives towards you, open mouth landing right between your breasts.

The moan he wretches from you would be embarrassing if you could only bring yourself to care. But you can't, not when his hot tongue traces patterns all across your stomach, stopping to swirl around each one of your nipples. Like a man starved, he drinks you in, hands pushing and pulling against your hips in a rythmn, that feels more and more like a promise of what's to come. 

Your hands flail at your sides, desperate to find any sort of purchase. Fingernails scarpe against the bricked wall, as Mihawk's stubble tickles a path from your collar bones and up your throat, stopping for a moment, to give a few nips to the skin just below your ear. Another whine is wrenched from you, as the man places an open mouthed kiss to the scrape your previous encounter with the surface of the table has left on your skin. Then, finally, he pulls back for just a moment, drinking in the sight of your heaving chest and the redness which has engulfed your entire face.

- Beautiful - he concludes in the same, steady tone, as if he's stating an obvious fact, not paying a compliment.

It works on you all the same, and with a gasp, you lurch forward, your lips forcefully colliding with his. The kiss is deep and filled with passion you're not sure you've ever felt in your entire life. As his mouth and tongue work the insides of yours, you feel him slide his hand from your hips to the front, fingers pulling with urgency at the laces of your breeches. You can only pray, that there's no one taking a midnight stroll through the streets, as another loud moan escapes you. He does his best to swallow it, but something tells you he takes immense pride in the reactions you give him, as his efforts at keeping you quiet are haphazard at best.

Then, after finally winning the battle with your lacing, his hand pushes itself into your undergarments. Your head smacks back against the wall, when he begins to touch you where you need him the most. Expert fingers find your bundle of nerves in an instant, but before you get too carried away, one of your arms encircles his wrist.

Mihawk tilts his head, an unspoken question clear in his golden gaze.

- No time - you pant out, and for a moment worry, he doesn't quite register your words, with the way his focus shifts immediately to your swollen lips - No time, just... Just fuck me, Mihawk.

That seems to reach him just fine, because as soon as the words leave you, his arms shoot out towards his pants. He makes quick work of the massive belt buckle, and with impatient hands yanks his erection out of his underwear. You'd lie, if you said the view didn't worry you just a little bit. But excitement was your drug of choice, and right now you felt as if you could explode at any given moment. With shaky hands, you try to shimmy out of your pants. Seeing your rather clumsy efforts, Mihawk stops you. 

With half-lidded eyes you watch him kneel down in front of you, gently pulling your breeches down, before lifting each of your feet, so you could step out of them. 

- I think I like seeing you like this - you comment, as he leans forward to kiss the space under your right knee. 

- The view from here is also quite spectacular - he counters, kissing up your thigh and making you gasp, as his stubble presses into the mound of flesh just below your stomach. 

Still, there is no time, so you reach down towards his shoulder, and pull him up. 

- Please - you whisper against his lips, and who is he, to deny a lady in need. 

Lifting one of your legs in a tight grip, finally, his hips snap up, filling you to the brim. Your muscles tense, as you try to accommodate his size. To his credit, he stays still, face pressed into the crook of your neck, where you can feel his strained breath. Finally, you let yourself relax. tapping him on the shoulder, to let him know he can continue. 

And continue he does, slowly at first, dragging your body from the wall every time he retracts, only to come back in with an agonizing pace. You don't really know who's more frustrated at that point, because as soon, as you try to wriggle your hips more, to force him to pick up the pace, all resolve seems to dissapear. His hand grips your thigh even harder, enough to leave a reminder for the later days. The other tangles itself into your hair, pulling at the strands. And then he truly puts in work, hips snapping in a punishing pace that makes your back scrape against the brick wall. You hide your face in his coat, inhaling his scent and praying that the thick material will be sufficient at muffling your moans of pleasure. 

There's pressure, building steadily in your guts, and it doesn't take you long, to feel the band snap somewhere deep inside you. Your muscles tense and your eyes roll back, as you begin to shudder in his grasp, knees giving out completely, so only his own strength is saving you from colliding with the floor. Soon, he follows with a low grunt, nearly toppling over, when his own release hits him. 

His arm holds you close to him, as he uses the other one to steady himself against the wall. Both of you are panting heavily, none of you ready to move just yet. You rest your cheek against his chest, and feel him press his face to the top of your head, inhaling your scent as if this wasn't just a quick dalliance in a dark alley. 

- You should get back to your friend - Mihawk's voice is muffled by your hair - They must be dreading all the atrocities I could've bestowed upon you.

You laugh breathlessly, finally pushing him back and appreciating the flush on his cheeks, and the way his hair has flown out of place from under that impressive hat.

- Yes, those atrocities have been very great indeed. 

***

Your friend sits alone at the same table you've left them. Their head is hidden in their hands, and three empty bottles litter the space before them. It seems they have already started to mourn your untimely death. 

The inside of the bar has quieted down, as the closing hours began to loom over the patrons, a few stragglers still hanging around the bar, sowly finishing their respective drinks. 

Unceremoniously, you sit down right in front of your friend, wincing ever so slightly at the discomfort still lingering in your muscles, kicking their leg under the table and watching them nearly jump out of their seat with fright. 

- You... - their eyes have a difficulty focusing on your face, but when they do, it's like the heavens have opened before them. - You're alive!

Your eyes are glowing, and your face is still blushed from your previous encounter. You lean forward with a brilliant smile, hands slapping onto the wooden table.

- So - you can't help but laugh - About fucking with him...

[vonev]

Zombie apocalypse with Simon Riley

Sum: You finally meet your hot neighbor; albeit all it took was an apocalyptic disaster.

Oh my God, what the fuck?

“—reports states that an infectious zombie-like virus has begun to spread amongst multiple areas in the city—”

“—Please seek the nearest hazard shelter in your local area—”

A fucking zombie virus breakout is happening, in front of your lunch.

You'd never thought the national emergency alarms would ever blare during your lifespan, but you're here, a spoon full of egg drop soup in hand sitting across your TV and your mouth hung open as all your devices deafens the entire living room.

The telenovela you were watching was just getting so good too.

Immediately shooting your hand out to fetch your phone, scrambling for the national notification, horror dawns on you.

The fucking breakout is in my city.

Isn't it so lovely? On a random Tuesday afternoon in the middle of an approaching autumn.

What is it that they do in those zombie shows again...? Oh yeah, run.

Wait—no, no. Pack your shit then run.

So you did. Your feet working the fastest they've ever been scattering toward your bedroom to dig out the ancient duffel bag you've not touched in eons. Shoving essentials in there: tampons, pads, your Kindle (because God forbid an apocalypse stops you from finishing a book) and a couple of other things you think you'd need...a thong is one of them, right?

The loud alarms never stops, it only adds to your increasing anxiety threatening to bubble over and spill all over the floor; you didn't think they'd go on for so long, but they do, and honestly they sound fucking terrifying.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Think—

Wallet, passport (in case you wanted to fly over to Milan, you know.), all the money you had was stored inside the bank; speaking of, you wonder if anyone had started robbing stores yet after the alarms sounded.

Nope, can't think about that right now, because the more time you waste, the higher of a chance you'd end up having your face bitten off by some freaks—zombie or not. So you scramble once again, head full of doubts and worry; good thing you kept refraining yourself from ever getting a pet because holy shit having to sprint with a massive fluff ball in your arm would be the last thing you'd want to do.

Just then, screams started filling your ears; an indication that you spent too much time dwindling.

Looking down you scoff at your casual wear: a tank top that exposed too much and sweatpants. Making your way out along your bedroom you snatched a jacket you promised yourself you'd wash last week.

Good thing you didn't, I guess.

Stepping foot into the living room once more, your eyes dart around in a hurry, practically running into the kitchenette to grab canned foods and your leftovers from yesterday. It's just a sandwich, but it'll hopefully last until whenever you can finally eat again. You repeated the same conundrum with your bathroom, frantically pushing things aside with more things to make space for other things.

Alright, you think, that should be everything...

You even got that first-aid kit you bought from Amazon months ago, thinking that someday you'll need it.

Always trust your instincts.

With that, you waste no time scurrying to the front door, fitting yourself into a comfortable pair of shoes then fetching your keys from the bowl above the accent table you probably spent too much money on (they looked really cute) and inserting it into the lock, cursing yourself when you kept missing the keyhole. Eventually, you got it, and with too much brute force, you threw the door open and stepped out into the hall.

You wince from the loud banging sound of the door you pushed; to your right, your neighbor's door opens as you walk out.

Tilting your head, you see the neighbor casually fixing his shoes with absolutely no care regarding the current situation, a bag slung over his broad shoulder in contrast to you desperately holding onto your heavy duffel bag.

What the fuck is his deal? How is he so...calm?

You didn't realize it 'till now, but said neighbor turns his head toward you, and it's as if a lightbulb flare up in your head.

Oh.

He stares at you, unmoving with his hand still on the doorknob.

It's the hot neighbor.

What was his name again? Sam...Samuel...no, Semen...wait, definitely not.

Whatever. You'll call him Semen in your head, because you can't be bothered standing there to recall his name. Not while he's staring at you so intently, either—like you owed him something.

God, is he a sight to look at; full brows with lips looking so kissable with a cute pout, blonde strands covers his front as though he'd just woken up from the best nap of his life, the faint yet noticeable scars littered across his face so perfectly. Tall, mysterious and muscles that threatened the seams of the too-tight shirt he wore. Is he even aware? 

And his eyes.

You can't even begin to mention the amount of times you'd shamefully indulged yourself with those eyes of his in your mind—sometimes, you dream of them too. Who could blame you though? Yeah, you definitely feel normal about him. You barely interacted with him, only ever seeing him the rare times he'd come home. You assumed he's ex-military or a military personnel on leave since he's been back home more than usual in the recent months. You wouldn't know, though, considering the most words you said to him was "hi" when he moved into his flat a year ago. That, and you're generally kinda afraid of strangers.

"D'ya have a staring problem?"

Right. You can't just stare at someone and not say anything, that's creepy.

"No," you shuffle on your feet a little. "Do you?"

He scoffs with a small shake of his head and closes the door behind him before walking away to the lift. Your brows furrowed, lips pursed, slung your duffel bag over your shoulder and chased after him. You both stood in front of the lift for a good (incredibly awkward) minute before the familiar ding sounded. Once inside the lift, you can't help but feel the unspoken tension rise as the two of you stood close to each other.

You swear he had his eyes on you for a moment, but you don't dare to call him out.

"...you come ‘round often?"

He snaps his gaze to you instantly.

Great. Your mouth has no filter whatsoever. Mentally slapping yourself, you open your mouth to whisper an apology; he beats you to it, though, a soft chuckle from him and it strikes into your heart like a stake.

"I live—lived here," crossing his arms, his eyes softened a little. "Just got discharged from the military a couple of months ago."

Bingo.

Silently patting your back in your head as you nod at his response and humming. "That's cool, what did you do for the military?" it may have been too much to pry, but it doesn't hurt; plus, it's pretty much the end of the world as you speak.

He stood there, completely rigid from top to bottom. The silence was deafening this time around, so much so that when the lift sounded once more with a loud ding, it made you flinch.

"What didn't I do for the military?"

That's...

"...is that rhetorical?" None of you walked out of the lift, just standing there in each other’s company. Oddly, you don’t mind it.

He shrugs, getting out of the tiny space—and you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in your breath when you finally exhaled through your teeth.

I guess I have my answer.

It doesn’t take long for you to catch up, nor for the two of you to realize what an utter mess the outside world had become when he opens the door.

People roamed about, running ‘round and tripping over each other and on top of each other, cooperating on wreaking absolute havoc on the streets. Lots of screaming, too much of it, in fact. Jogging down the stairs, someone almost bumps into your side, but not before he pulls them back with a frown on his face that had the poor guy screeching and scrambling away from his grip.

Oh, now come to think of it—

—“Hey what’s your n—“

A hoard of groans catches your attention, cutting your words short; you turn toward the source, squinting at the scene from afar. A group of people started dashing toward your way, their faces an evident blur of confusion, surprise and horror. It would make sense, because as they slowly get closer and closer, a giant figure gradually appears in your vision—and it looks fucking disfigured—like the textbook embodiment of an eldritch creature. Sure enough, it breaks out into a sprint, chasing down its next victim; pulling the back of an unfortunate businessman’s suit and it flung the man over its head. You can hear the poor man’s scream echo in your mind as you watch his body fall right into the creature’s mouth; next thing you know, his head snaps off in its jaw.

Your blood runs cold, the shock from seeing such a sight sends an unnerving terror through every nerve; your breathing gets heavier, beads of sweat breaking out from your skin—yet you can’t take your eyes off of it. Ever watched a car crash? Yeah, exactly that.

“Uh oh.”

You don’t know what to do; years and years of medical training in school hadn’t exactly prepared you for this situation, even if some of the things you’ve seen are horror beyond comprehension. Your body doesn’t cooperate with your commands no matter how hard you try; they’re stuck to the ground like glue, and as the horrid looking creature slowly bolts toward your way, the way you’ve become a mere spectator to your body should concern you, but your eyes are transfixed on that thing—

—it wasn’t until someone roughly tug your forearm that you realized you almost fucking killed yourself by standing still too long.

“Fuck, come on, let’s go.”

You should’ve probably questioned why he’s remained so calm despite the calamity surrounding him. It’s an admirable trait, really, a part of you wants to thank him profusely for not leaving you behind; in the span of time you spaced out, he could’ve easily gotten away in a fleet—like a gust of the wind, and you wouldn’t have noticed nor would you have blamed him. So much for being medically trained. 

He ran, and you trailed right behind him. Even during such a dire moment of your life, you have to try your hardest to not get distracted with the way his muscles contract as he swiftly moves along with the breeze. No time for thirsting, you stare at his arms, how they effortlessly flex with each step, Okay, maybe a little bit of thirsting.

You’ve no idea how long you both ran; doing your best to dodge every obstacle lunged into your face, but with the soreness slowly creeping up your soles, you wonder if you could keep up—Semen, on the other hand, is doing just fine. Just keep pushing, after all, how hard is it to run forever? Super fucking hard apparently; unfortunate for you, the conveniently placed fallen pipe on the ground became your nemesis as you missed a jump and fall on your fucking face. Your duffel bag cushioning only your left arm, body absorbing all the impact from the fall.

Ouch! wouldn’t even describe the pain you were feeling. You might have a broken nose because it sure fucking feels like it. 

Semen immediately halts, his head snaps back as if his gut instinct told him you stumbled and fell. He’d be correct; attempting to get on your elbows can only get you so far, your adrenaline runs out too quickly—and suddenly it feels as though your body has been lit on fire. Well, you’re being dramatic, but your ankle sure doesn’t feel fine like it did a minute ago. You try to stand up, and Semen crouches down in front of you with his hands extending out to help you up; but the harder he pulls the worse you cry out. When you try to move your right ankle it just fucking hurts like a bitch. 

This is it, you think; your breath coming out haggard and harsh, I’m gonna fucking die. 

“Just—go, just go, I think I sprained my ankle,” holding back furious tears, you sniffle. “Leave me and run, it’s okay.” God, was it ever this hard to let someone go? Even if the selfish part of you wants him to stay. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath, people and vehicles running by your bodies and their cries fill the void in your head—not their fault they prioritize their lives over yours—but it still stings your eyes to think about. People really do show their true colors in the most desperate times.

He reaches over, and you almost swatted his arms away—his stern gaze told you to stop, and you did.

Flipping you over in an instant, his arms hook under your back and knees, hoisting you into his arms as though you weighed nothing. In a feat of panic, you push against his chest; you can’t stress how much you’d rather not be the reason he’s held back and be killed for it. He sends you a final warning look; a stare so chilling it had you reeling back your arms into your chest and obediently lay against his.  

Impressively, he maneuvers around everyone else with ease, dodging and zig-zagging, only bumping a few shoulders here and there. Worry clouds your head; what if he trips? Or better yet, what if he realized you’re not much of use and dumped you on the streets? It’s absurd you’d even have the luxury to overthink while he’s busting his ass to save both of your lifes—how the fuck are you supposed to make up to that? You can’t bake him your infamous croissants (you’ve mastered the craft), you doubt appliances are as convenient in the wild as it is in homes—you hope he’ll find a place to hide soon; he can’t run infinitely. 

Maybe you should stop thinking too much useless shit and start strategizing instead.

Okay, it should be easy; your eyes frantically search the surrounding area: the alleyway? No, way too risky. Run into one of the homes? Still risky, and those nasty creatures were breaking into them from what you saw last. Fuck, you wish you’d bought that expensive ass car few weeks ago when it was on sale, then again, who knew you would require it so soon? Wait, did he have a car? You don’t think so, his designated parking slot has been empty since forever.

As he kept sprinting on, you noticed more and more of those zombies started pouring in from multiple angles—it would be harder and harder to avoid their attacks; you try not to dwell on the gruesome sights of people being mauled down the streets. Out of nowhere, a mangled arm lunged at you, though he swerved just in time to avoid; you didn’t even have time to register what occurred until you blinked again. 

“Was that—holy fuck,” your body involuntarily shivers at how close you were to dying right then; all his efforts would’ve gone to waste. It served as a reminder that death is now only a mere hand reach; one wrong breath and say bye-bye to your life. 

Mortality is such a fragile thing.

At least you don’t have a family making you worry to death about, just good ol’ you—always been you.

Does he? Eyes drifting over to his face, you trace the scars on his neck with an invisible hand. You’d have to play 21 questions with him later, if there’s a later. Seeing how things are moving, you’re slowly coming to terms with the concept of death; for some odd reason, you just know he’d keep you alive as long as he can—you will too, with him. God, you grunt, this feels so sappy. You have to constantly remind yourself that you’ve known your neighbor properly for less than an hour; don’t get too attached. It only ever comes back to bite your ass.

In your peripheral you notice a sluggish zombie digging into the driver’s side of a sizable car through the broken window—blood splatters the inside of the car’s windshield as the zombie dives further in. The car is alive, tugging at his shirt, you hastily gesture toward the spot with a shaky finger. Peering up, you don’t miss the way his brows knit together and how his lips are pulled into a thin line—he understood soon afterward; and switched his path to match the direction of the vehicle. 

He’d have to fight with the obscene thing for it, but it’s worth a try, even with you in his arms.

Approaching it, he doesn’t hesitate to kick a leg up to hook it under the weighted zombie and throw him down to the biting asphalt; just as it was about to spring up—he stomps a leg over its head without a hitch. Oh my fucking God, excuse your blasphemy, that’s the brain matter. You would know how a human’s brain looked; with countless hours spent plastering your head onto your textbook about How To Surgically Remove a Brain for Dummies the image practically tattooed itself on your mind. It’s never a good view, the textbooks can’t accurately reinvent the feeling of disgusting sliminess into their pages after all. 

Your knight in shining armor doesn’t prolong his luck; throwing the driver’s door open, he ducked his head into the driver’s seat (not before chucking the dead body laid in the seat out), sliding you into the passenger side; you have to awkwardly make fit for yourself in the seat as he rushed into his side and pressed down on the brake, slamming his door closed. There was no time to relax, though, upon seeing him toy with the car, people started piling over the trunk, clawing at the metal slate with their bloodied nails as more zombies lurked closer—few unlucky numbers were dragged away from the car, leaving a myriad of gory handprints behind on the trunk. 

He grits his teeth, he holds an arm out in front of you; confused, you turned to him as he slammed down on the acceleration. 

“Oof—” That’ll knock the wind out of you.

It’s proven to be challenging for him to drive down a road filled with civilians; but soon enough, people started parting ways for him and a few other vehicles to pass through, afraid of being hit by a car. 

“Buckle up, love.”

Huh? Love? 

On the outside, you’re as calm and cool as you can be: you know, in a zombie apocalypse with your handsome neighbor driving you to (hopefully) safety; the inside…it feels as though your heart soared into the sky—you know it wasn’t meant to be flirtatious, but damn it, a girl can dream. Scrambling your hands to reach for the seatbelt, you grimaced at the sight of gooey matter dotting its material, you buckled up anyway; better safe than sorry. And because he asked so nicely, your heart flutters once more.

He drove on for quite a while, managing to duck and swerve others on the road (albeit with a lot of trouble) and eventually reaching the highways—not that it was far, but you’ve never exactly drove, or been outside your little area. Why would you need to? Everything you’d ever need was there: a delicious shawarma shop across from your flat, embroidery store…in case you needed some embroidering done, a family-owned Indian restaurant that served the best naan and dal—point is, you’ve pretty much got everything covered in your small area.

But why do you feel like you’re missing something…

…your fucking duffel bag. 

Everything was in there—your ID’s, necessities, your fucking family photo back when you were a baby; it all holds importance to you one way or another—

—and they’re gone.

Slumped against your seat, you hadn’t even realized your shoulders started convulsing until teardrops fell on your curled fists in your lap. How could you be so fucking careless? Tilting your head down, your hands fly up to rub away stray tears that can’t seem to stop falling from your eyes regardless of your effort; you hope he hasn’t noticed (he did, eyes squinting in worry and unsure) because you seem pretty fucking pathetic right now. 

(He doesn’t mind, he’s more worried your tears will drown the both of you before getting to the motel)

“We’re,” for some reason, words get caught in his throat—congealed, like an immovable lump—watching you silently sob to yourself from the side. "We're going to a motel."

He shouldn’t care; he doesn’t know why he does, especially since you’re still a stranger (that he saved, again, he’s not sure why) he coincidentally shared a hallway with for about a year; he barely knew you, either, only knowing you by name because he had seen it stamped on a few mails that fell from your mailbox. He also knows that you bake, a lot, often times the smell would traverse through the small cracks underneath his door and reach his senses—he’d debate knocking on your door each time, he wouldn’t know what to say though: “I smelled your baking, they smell amazing, can I take the whole thing?” or “‘Aye you’re actually kinda fuckin’ cute.” 

Yeah, he’s not too good at conversing with strangers either, especially a cute one like you.

And now that you’re sitting right next to him, shoulders no longer heaving as he keeps driving down the vast highway, he’s not so sure what the next move should be. A couple of quick glances let him know that somewhere along the way, you had fallen asleep, head lolled against the window, your chest rising and falling with a silent rhythm. The sun is setting, the warm glow casts down on your figure—you look like an angel.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, of course—but deep down, he knows he’ll keep that image of you and engrave it into the back of his head.

And he knows just the place to take you to.

[zerokurokawa]

Could you possibly make a bonten!Sanzu x partnerincrime!Reader ?

Whenever I think of Sanzu I immediately think of a heist or a bank robbing of sorts so could you do Sanzu and reader leaving in a getaway car shortly after a heist whilst still feeling the adrenaline rush from nearly escaping a shootout?

I also feel like Sanzu would get a little sentimental with reader since they've been by his side for such a long time. I feel like he would somewhat question Readers loyalty after the adrenaline wears off too so since it's so bizarre for someone to dedicate their life to him yk?

Also I don't know if you heard this song but LOYALTY. FEAT. RIHANNA. by Kendrick Lamar is where I got most of my inspiration for this ask

Loyalty | Bonten!Sanzu x Reader (Partner In Crime)

It was the heist of a century that you and Sanzu had pulled off. You two were assigned to take down and rob a local up and coming rival gang in the area that threatened Bonten and their reputation. 

"Take everything. Money, drugs, everything..." Mikey's words would ring through your head as you held a gun to the rivals head as Sanzu packed everything up in multiple duffle bags and carried them out the car. You both had tied up and duck taped everybody's mouth shut, killing one guy just to make a statement. Once Sanzu finished packing, you both left in a hurry, pure adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

In the back of the car, Sanzu turns to you with a wild expression on his face. 

"We did it, just us, again!" He smiled and took out some pills from his pocket. You were still aware of his drug addiction and knew that he had a problem. You tried to convince him to stop, but he wouldn't. He loved trouble, even if it was reeling and passing out within his own mind. 

He was taking the pain pills to calm his nerves. You knew what he was doing. He would offer you one, but you declined. 

"Sanzu..." You let out a whisper as you were trying to catch your breath from what just happened. You were currently trying to wrap your head around the fact that you had just taken down another rival gang and stole all of their stuff while going ninety miles per hour down the highway back to headquarters. 

___________________________________________________________________________

It had been about an hour since you reached Bonten's headquarters and given report back to Mikey. You both were dismissed, leaving you two alone in the commons room while Sanzu looked through all of the drugs that were stolen. He then looked up at you with sudden grievance on his face, seeming to of been thinking about something. 

"Y/n..." He said, leaning over the table of set between you both, "You'd never leave of betray me, right?" He tilted his head, scars illuminating in the light as he let off a sadistic smile. 

"Of course not..." You trailed off. You loved Sanzu. You needed him in your life, which is why you were so worried about his batshit attitude and his addiction to copious amounts of drugs. 

"I need you by my side. No matter what, promise me you'll always be by me." He stood up, moving to sit next to you. His suit was dirty as his pink hair was stained with the blood of the rivals. 

"I will never leave you, or Bonten. You have my loyalty forever." You reassured him. He then placed his hand on your knee, leaning his head on your shoulder at your words. He was at your mercy. He was always super protective over you on missions as well; always making sure to watch your back and even jumped in front of a bullet for you at one point. You've done the same, but yet, here he is, questioning your loyalty again. 

"I just can't lose you." He nuzzled his head into your neck. This wasn't odd for Sanzu. He would always get sentimental after extreme missions like this. Even though you two weren't a couple, you could tell that Sanzu felt something for you that he felt for nobody else. You weren't quite sure what it was, but you felt the same thing. You couldn't lose him either. 

"I would never leave you, nor would I ever let anybody hurt you." You lifted his face which was now inches away from your own. His eyes were droopy and dilated from all of the narcotics he had taken.  

"I'm sorry, I just... can't help but to question it sometimes - your loyalty to me, I mean." He said in a whisper. You could feel his breath on your own as he began to slowly fade away into sleepiness. 

You held him close, wrapping your arms around him and letting him lay on your chest, "I would never..." 

"I know. You mean everything to me, y/n." 

There's not telling what was running through his system right now, and you knew that he was fucked up in some way. Still, you knew that his words ran true. 

(A/N: Still feeling sick, but getting better. I hope you enjoy <3)

[000marie198]

Okay so, the prospect of dragons becoming 'softer' and 'less strong' and 'pet-like' due to living with vikings for a few years is so messed up!

This is partially due to how Toothless was characterized in THW. His character in Httyd 1 & 2 + GotNF +RoB/DoB + RTTE + other short movies is leagues different from THW Toothless. And amongst the common reasons theorized for this is dragons having become 'softer spoiled pets' due to 'being away from the wild'. And I hate it!

These dragons, especially the ones who have riders, are canonically stronger, faster, smarter and stealthier than any wild dragons due to all the experience they gained over the years. The dragons of Berk, particularly the gang's dragons, have travelled tremendous distances in single flights, fought battles with armadas and hunters and submarines and entire flocks and practically giants, been to habitats far and wide where wild ones don't dare venture, been through so much, have had near death experiences countless times and came out of those stronger than before. Heck they've even planned and strategized before! They have sharper instincts, faster reflexes, higher endurance and stamina than the wild ones who live in their own habitats. These guys have experienced and survived going through all kinds of habitats. I really doubt that the gang's dragons, the first and last line of defence, the researcher assists, the protectors and best friends of the most competent group on the island would get soft just like that.

AND! And, each of these dragons, Toothless, Meatlug, Hookfang, Stormfly, Barf and Belch, they were becoming smarter and smarter by the day. Toothless in the first movie was intelligent, curious, kind, stealthy, elegant, scary, dangerous, adorable, protective, strong. And he remained as such throughout the series. Why turn him into a... A senseless dog?! Where did his grace, his speed, his stealth and intelligence and protectiveness and loyalty go? That was NOT Toothless. Why was my boy treated like a silly pet and nothing else? Did they just up and forget everything he did throughout the course of the franchise? Toothless whose first thing to do when he got a controllable tailfin was go out to find Hiccup's lost helmet that fell in the ocean and then he broke that tailfin because he valued and treasured this friendship over potentially distancing freedom, Toothless who had defeated and befriended multiple feral dragons without being able to fly, Toothless who ate an eel to keep his best friend safe, Toothless who played possum to fool the outcast guards and escape on his own, Toothless who was willing to drown because he couldn't leave Hiccup alone, Toothless who broke the most Intense mind control hold of the Bewilderbeast because the bond he had with Hiccup was stronger. Are we talking about the same Toothless even?

Gah, I just despise that last movie for so many reasons. I might've given it grace marks if it was just the theme being sad but everything in it was wrong and messed up and illogical.

[punkeropercyjackson]

A key part Zutarians and Kataang antis always miss of the feminism in character's Katara is that her rebellion and noncomformity don't involve a man.Fullstop.Yeah,Z/K is a misogynistic ship and K/A is a feminist ship but that's because of how Katara is written,not how Zuko or Aang are written.Women who're attracted to men should be allowed to date whatever man they want without being shamed but when it comes to woman characters,they need to exist on their own and not as props to male characters

Which Katara does,most of all her anarchism!Katara nonstops speaks out,helps the oppressed and does anti-imperalist actions and also forms her own girlhood by refusing to exist into the traditionalist,gender essentialist view of female identity the world has but proudly being feminine and not letting herself not be seen as completely like a girl(trans-coding imo but i already elaborated on that).Katara is a rebel because she's a punk native girl,NOT because of her taste in men.Girlhood is not defined by boyhood and saying so is not only sexist but also lesbophobic and aspecphobic as it erases lesbians and aroace women and can even dive into transmisogyny with how biology and gender as intersections are treated

No Kataang wouldn't have equaled canon Zutara because Katara's not a bicycle.She didn't sell out by marrying Aang and having kids with him because she still did all that shit and continued to do all that shit until she got too old to and even then she was praised as the best Waterbending Master ever and treated with no less respect than anyone else in The Gaang in Lok and most of the comics and the Aang in regards to to their fam allegations say a lot about y'all-Nobody hates Katara more than Zuko ass kissers who accuse her of being nothing but a doormat to her own husband she grew best friends with literally just because she settled down with him and make violating ass comments about her sex life because she dared to have multiple kids and they can't come to any conclusion other than she's a breeding machine like a bunch of conservative slut-shaming freaks.And their motivation behind this is her husband is a genocide survivor of an asian race that's not glamorized by the west so they think the only way he could ever view women is and i quote 'human incubators' because he's a depraved savage unlike precious classy japanese boyfriend they've always wanted Zuzu uwu

Nah,fuck that-Fuck your tropes,fuck your symbolism,fuck your gentrification of Katara.She's Master Katara,not the Fire Lady and being anti Zutara because she's brown is about as racist as not wanting black fem characters to date white supremacists.She's also The Painted Lady and that was her vigilante persona to do activism to help out a Fire Nation colonized community so look in a mirror when you say other ships rob Katara of her culture.It's Zutaras,it's ALWAYS been Zutaras.You can't be 'robbed' of something you were never only offered but told multiple times you were never getting.Zuko dosen't want Katara either,he views her as a child and that's how she wants to be seen,Dadko is Zuko's thing for breaking the cycle of abuse and healing his inner child and Momtara is silencing Katara to make her Zuko's.Little Miss Punk Tactics dosen't need a man to empower her and loving a man you dubbed not ideal enough dosen't erase her being a revolutionary.She can want girlhood and not fit into the box.Katara can do both.The sea does not like to be restrained

[isa-ghost]

some qphil and pomme hcs 🥹? i was thinking abt the rescue we were robbed of

Okay bear with me, I didn't get to see her a lot because I didn't watch most POVs she was on so these might not be spicy and deep or smth, they'll mostly be silly or surface level stuff. 😭

Phil headcanons masterlist

He thinks she's one of, if not THE most brilliant egg. Pomme's mind is something else /pos. He'd love to sit down and pick her brain sometime as one big brain to another (though he'd never admit he's big brain).

He makes dad jokes about Chayanne making anything apple flavored/centric like "How could you cook Pomme like that D:" and it always gets him smacked by both Chay and Lullah.

And then he'll see Pomme and be like YOU'RE ALIVE :O!! and watches her scramble like ?!?!?! before dying laughing and explaining himself. Etoiles has started to get in on this, much to Pomme's dismay.

He makes so many apple-related dad jokes in general, he enjoys watching all the kids die inside too much when he makes them. He doesn't even LIKE dad jokes that much, he's just a shithead.

He actively encourages Pomme to "compete" with Richas in collecting dads

There have been multiple occasions where they've had a Moment of some sort with or without other people around and he's told Pomme how much of her parents he can see in her. He's talked about seeing Baghera, Etoiles, and Pierre.

Phil loves the way Pomme just kinda blends in with her parents. She's not a Mommy's Girl or a Daddy's Girl. If she's with Baghera she's a lot like her and that her is different than when she's with Etoiles and those are both different from when she's with Pierre. And so on. Phil finds it endearing that Pomme takes after each and every parent and how it really shows when she's with them individually.

The couple times she (usually also with Dapper or Richas) would come to Phil in the wake of big stressful things going on, it was because she knew of all the islanders, Phil is one of the ones who's no doubt seen the most in his lifetime. He Gets It. He'll be real and raw about it, he won't sugarcoat just because she's a little girl. He'll level with her, and that kind of insight and comfort is what she needs in those trying times.

I think if Phil was Pomme's parent then she would've pulled a Chayanne and personally beat Ender King's ass right out of his body. And she'd spend day and night beforehand painstakingly plotting a plan to ensure it goes right too.

My memory is fuzzy on Pomme's first day, but I remember Phil being on high alert while the French were getting on their feet and offering everything he could in order to help keep Pomme safe while they settled in. Pomme's never forgotten that. If there were ever a crisis that left all of the French AND Bad + their bases inaccessible or unsafe, she'd go straight to Phil next. She knows how much effort he puts into keeping his bases safe and secure, and she knows he has always dropped everything at any moment no matter what in order to prioritize the eggs.

God these two shake hands on the insomnia fr. The only reason Phil eventually passes out is bc of his weird universe transcending fuckery. He may willingly Go to sleep but his ass doesn't willingly Fall asleep if that makes sense. Brain too busy going 90 miles a minute.

Phil's never thought abt this but I am: Of all the eggs, I think Pomme is one of the ones who would survive the best in his Hardcore World. She'd lock the FUCK in.

And Phil would've seen that if we weren't robbed of the rescue. 😔 The rescue would've changed how Phil views Pomme in a positive way I think.

Because as of right now, he just feels awful that Pomme has to grow up and be mature so much faster. There are too many horrors, she just doesn't let herself be a kid. Chayanne does similar things but he at least still let's himself be a kid. It saddens Phil that Pomme seems to think she can't be, even if she wants to be. :(

If he wasn't afraid of an awful accident happening, he'd probably spar with her. She's the daughter of Etoiles, he has no doubt she's a lil fireball. But he only trusts himself to spar with Chayanne and Lullah. (I think I've said this somewhere already,, hm. Well at least I'm consistent LMAO)

[percybeloved]

Best "Friends"

Steve Harrington x Male Reader

Steve Harrington loves his bestfriend alot. Way more that a normal person would.

Grinding, Making Out, Slight Friends W Benefits

unedited

steve harrington had one of the bestest friends ever. it wasn't tommy or robin or even nancy. it was m/n l/n. the man that steve would talk to everyday. the man who hung out with him everytime he wasn't busy. the man who brought him lunch every day that he had to work.

m/n was awesome. he was honestly the closest friend that steve had. "friend". the friend that steve would hotbox with. the friend that steve would laugh with 24/7. the friend that steve would cry to when the nightmares got bad. the friend that steve would have grind against him in the video store parking lot every day after work.

m/n was most definitely just his "friend", right? that had steve thinking. did the average person want to pound their bestfriend from behind and watch him arch his back in the prettiest way possible? his brain was juggling through so many different questions so he went to the only person who could help.

"so, robin...." "yes, steve?" "metaphorically speaking-" she instantly turned around and gave him a playful glare. "please don't tell me its stupid" steve paused and looked her directly in her eye. "rob, im serious" she gave him a small giggle before telling him to continue.

"so one of my friends has been talking about having thoughts of "making love" to his best friend. is that normal?" robin looked at him with a competely surprised look on her face. "steve harrington, are you thinking about fucking m/n?" before he could answer, the bell on the door rang.

"speak of the devil" m/n walked in with a bag in his hand. "awww, are you gossiping about me steve?" m/n stood there, grinning. "i'm taking 30, robin" steve quickly dragged him to his car. they leaned against the car after throwing the bag aside. "stevie, can we do that thing again?" he whined as he began to play with steve's collar

"what thing, m/n?" he questioned as he grabbed the other man's waist. m/n bit his lip as he wrapped his arms around steve's neck. "the thing were its me and you and i'm grinding against you with your tounge down my throat" he grinned against steve's lips before kissing him.

they've kissed multiple times before but this felt different. more loving. they pulled back at the same time and got into the backseat of m/n's car. "can we try something different, baby?" 'baby' isn't something that you call a friend. but that's the last thing on steve's mind. he just wants m/n spread out in his bed.

steve rubs m/n's waist as he softly grinds against him. "what did you want to try, stevie?" he questioned the other man with a grin and a few kisses on the neck. the nickname made something in steve's stomach turn. he needed m/n so bad. "i want to take you back to my place after work, touch you, eat you out, fuck you"

m/n paused what he was doing to pull back and look into his eyes. it was almost as if steve came to the sudden realization that he said that. "i'm sorry, i made it awkwa-" he was almost instantly cut off with a kiss. "my place" with a smile, he opened the door and let steve out.

as soon as m/n pulled off, steve stood infront of the video store. he breathed in before he pushed the door open and was greeted by a staring robin. "so?" "so what, rob?" steve walled behind the counter and leaned against it. "so what happened?"

"i'm going to fuck m/n l/n"

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1106 - Initial Thoughts

And we are back

Things are looking dire, but somebody's on their way, ally or foe, it may not matter in the grand scheme, everyone needs off this island

Let's see how they get out of this one

Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release

Oda really has been hitting bangers with the cover page, this time Robin dressing a crocodile which works in multiple layers because 1. Robin <3 2. Robin with the thumbs up 3. Crocodile Surfer Dude 4. Reference to Robin and another Crocodile's past alliance and 5. Lacosta being a riff on the clothes brand Lacoste which has a crocodile on it (the logo used because René Lacoste's nickname) but also is loosely meaning 'the coast' in Spanish

But to the chapter, the Buster Call is raining fire on the Future Island

Luffy however stops being a little uncharacteristic, instant digestion and Gear Fifth back on the board, the marine grunts stood no chance

Luffy at least gave the courtesy of sending them flying off the island so they won't be burned to death

Back to the Bonney situation though, the Pacifista are ordered to kill all who are falling

'Shoot down this pathetic family' - choke to death why not Saturn?

Vegapunk however seems to have one more thing up his sleeve, having Atlas relay a message to Bonney

Bonney asks her father to stop shooting and help them escape

Bonney has higher authority over the pacifista! She has the army of Kumas!

The Mark IIIs are back on our side, thanks to Vegapunk's secret and admittedly selfish act of defiance, but one he knows will be costly

Saturn impales Vegapunk, though for someone who was all 'I'll know if you try to deceive me' he's been deceived thrice over

It's a pretty gnarly stab, but the heart is more on the other side so it might have just missed it, pierced lung for sure

Rough arc for Franky too; almost eaten by a mecha shark, his hero barely acknowledges him and tried to rob the crew, then there's more versions of his hero but they're all getting killed off, man didn't even get a chance to properly shine

Kizaru once again sticking to Saturn's orders, sending a flurry at the perpetually falling characters

Kuma's shot, while Atlas and Franky are grazed, Sanji given how he wasn't falling and was Sky Walking to Bonney has the positioning to block a hit with his foot

It clearly caused him some discomfort since all are shown in pain

Kizaru then goes for the close combat attack, ready to slice Bonney and Kuma down the middle in one fell swoop assuring her it'll be painless

But Luffy laughs back into the battle, giving Kizaru a giant hook punch

Luffy's DF also rubberized the ground, allowing for a safe, albeit bouncy landing

Bonney tends to Vegapunk as the ground shakes, the sound of the Drums echoing around the Buster Call, the sleeping giant stirs once more as Bonney recognizes the rhythm

She finally sees it, and connects the dots, as Vegapunk confirms that Luffy is Nika

Hearing that also causes Kuma himself to glance

But then, we see a very big ship, not one of a Blackbeard variety though

The Marines are scared, since the sailors are ones believed dead a hundred years prior

Dorry and Brogy have come! And are likely the 'they' from last chapter

And they've come to pick up Luffy, who they also know is the Sun God

Break next week but we can live with that one

When things are dire a small glimmer of hope reappears.

Luffy back in action for Round 2 is good and expected, we're just now gonna have to wait for Zoro to snap outta it and finish off Lucci like he should've done a while back, or at least explain why it's taken so long - like he already won but got lost or Hattori had a DF or Kaku also attacked or the Seraphim also attacked because they did kinda fall off given how they were defeated off-screen. Get Robin back on her feet and the Sunny safe, and also get Vegapunk and Kuma safe.

Bonney having higher authority on all the Pacifista is a good way out, albeit very drastic considering that it means the Navy's entire peacekeeping force is now under the whim of a 12 year old girl. And I must confess, while I enjoy it I can't deny that this twist was very similar to Tama turning the SMILE users against Kaido, small criticism though.

Dorry and Brogy coming is a surprise, but it definitely will help to bridge the arc from Egghead to Elbaf, given the giants' friendliness with Shanks and wasting of Kid's ship it can lead to some surprising dynamics down the line for the Land of Giants. Plus we can't rule out the Blackbeard ship still.

But for now it looks like Luffy is set to fend off Kizaru, which still leaves Saturn to be dealt with, but it is looking more and more like the island may in fact survive the Buster Call.

[rei-ismyname]

Iceman Cometh - Bobby Drake Levels Up

As the youngest of the original five X-Men, Iceman was the class clown and the least powerful. Snowboy might have been a better name for him, though that would be a little mean. He definitely experienced growth and came into his own with his powers, but Bobby Drake was closeted for many years in more ways than one.

Snowboy and Iceman, side by side.

All-New X-Men is a great example of an additive retcon for Bobby, revealing that he is gay. His outing is not a model for how to treat queer people, but Marvel sucks at that so it's kinda to be expected. It was nonetheless a quite profound turning point for him and he grew as an X-Man and as a person. 2019's House of X revealed that he was an Omega Mutant of Temperature Manipulation (negative) while also finally defining the term - 'a mutant whose dominant power is deemed to register or reach an undefinable upper limit...' Basically Gods or elemental incarnations for their specific gift, and Iceman was no different.

Iceman terraforming Mars with the other Omegas in Planet-Size X-Men, described as 'creating ice sheets miles wide' - all the ice on Planet Arakko was created by Iceman - the very environment.

Bobby was having a blast in Marauders, taking names and kicking ass on the high seas. In issue 21 most of the Marauders + Emma Frost were flushed into space by a scoundrel trying to rob and kill them. He would have succeeded if not for Iceman's quick thinking, creating a small planetary body to shelter in after being airlocked. Iceman himself could survive space but this feat unlocked confidence we hadn't seen before from him, and something else...

Bobby Drake was truly becoming Iceman and internalising what Omega means. Not having to fear death played a part too but he was considering 'undefinable upper limit' when opportunity struck.

One fine afternoon FIN FANG FOOM smelt their aged Krakoan whiskey and acted as gigantic dragons that win galactic combat tournaments often do. The whole crew was terrified and made haste to GTFO. Sure, customers were waiting on their product, but generally dragons do as they please.

Bobby Drake would have been one of them but Iceman just saw a challenge. 'This isn't even my final form' - probably.

Freezing his gums and his initial attack didn't work, with the dragon smashing Bobby into shards. Fortunately that's barely an inconvenience and Iceman was not giving up. Yeah, get iced, idiot!

Still, Ice Pokémon are weak to Fire. Melting him was as effective as smashing him to pieces, so Bobby finally got serious. 'Get big and beat them down' beats even the hottest flame.

Sure, buddy. After a walloping, Triple F fired off some face-saving utterances and turned tail. The rest of the Marauders were gobsmacked and kinda scared, except for Christian Frost who said 'that's my boy.' He still wasn't feeling challenged though, so he went on a little trip...

... to Niffleheim to bare knuckle box Ice Giants. I feel a little sorry for them bc they were just kicking it in their home when this lunatic showed up and kicked all their asses. 'SEND THE ONES THAT FIGHT THOR!'

'WE ARE THE ONES WHO FIGHT THOR.' Yeah he beat the shit out of all the Ice Monsters in the Ice Realm easily. The ones that give Thor and Odin grief. They've invaded Asgard and Earth multiple times, though they might give the latter a miss in future. Tbh he found it unchallenging, but at least they know who's the king of Ice. ICEMAN, THAT'S WHO.

'What did you do today?'

'Pounded Fin Fang Foom til he fled then beat up the entirety of Niffleheim. Kinda slow, wbu?'

[toky502]

UNITALE (An alternate tale) Sans

Sans is a somewhat reckless and rude skeleton monster most of the time. But deep down, when you get to know him better, he's a pretty nice good guy who flirts with the ladies a bit. He always will do anything possible to protect his race and family. Sans loves to fight, always looks for a reason to measure his strength against someone who is strong since he likes complicated challenges. Even so sans has not killed any monster in his life. In his free time, sans relaxes in the trees and enjoys his freedom more than anyone since from his point of view he considers it something wonderful.

CURIOSITIES

* Sans along with papyrus are successful attempts at super soldiers.

* Sans in HITTALE is a decorated and very famous hero.

* Sans is a rather cautious and quick thief.

* No monster in HITTALE knows that sans has been stealing from other monsters or humans in other au's.

* The scarf that sans is wearing is stolen.

* Sans has a universal timer.

* Sans has been stealing from many humans and monsters throughout the au's.

* Sans's claustrophobia is due to a traumatic event that lasted about 3 weeks...

* Sans didn't like stealing at first but over time he liked the danger and adrenaline rush of stealing something that wasn't his to the point of considering it fun.

* Sans only steals things he likes.

* Sans's birthday is July 5.

* Sans likes compliments, diamonds, good food and cute gifts.

* Sans always distrusts everyone a bit in other au's as he first wants to confirm if they are harmless or hostile.

* Sans favorite food is fried chicken meatballs in celery sauce.

* Sans has a great resistance to alcohol since he doesn't get drunk easily, he would need at least 178 bottles of alcoholic beverage to be drunk.

* Most sans robbery victims don't know they've been robbed unless sans is caught or is very obvious in the robbery.

* Sans is very good at lying and even more so when he wants to avoid something.

* Sans has killed humans, but for some reason he doesn't absorb their souls.

* Sans possesses multiple physical and magical abilities.

* Sans has horrible body odor when he sweats.

* Sans always has a special cloth sack with him to steal.

* Sans is a dangerous driving cars, he will always end up crashing and destroying them in the process.

* Sans doesn't let anyone touch his sweatshirt except his brother, it's a very special piece of clothing for him.

* Sans hates being made fun of for his height, he reacts somewhat aggressively.

* Sans literally had no childhood as he was born an adult as an experiment of the monsters state just like his brother.

* Sans is heterosexual.

[weirdestcornelius]

AUGH i have THOUGHTS on frosty. genuinely shes one of the most tragic cometkids to me. like.

what do you mean she has tuc. what do you mean her wings are frozen and shell never fly again. what do you mean she has the same memory problems as polly. what do you mean she struggles to Feel things so she forces herself to be Happy. what do you mean SHE HAS TO FORCE HERSELF TO BE HAPPY????

she is a child. she had to be told she could never fly again- severing her one connection to her unicorn heritage. and she can't feel sad about it. she physically cant. her illness robbed that from her. she chooses to be happy. she chooses to Exclusively Feel Happiness.

i cant imagine she actually cares about anything anymore. her hobbies are all efforts to pantomime normalcy. her emotions are a cost she pays to be seen as pleasent to be around. they give her routine. or is it more about making her family happy? because thats something shes supposed to want?

shes a little kid. shes so young. maybe i only see her that way bc of how old i am but. fuck. shes 15. she is 15 years old. she makes me so so so sad

OH MY GOSH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SAYING THIS. THANK YOU SO MUCH.

Frosty is so important to me. I'm sorry if this is a bit personal but I kin them so much. I love her so much.

On their toyhouse, it specifically states that Frosty loved to fly as a younger kid. When Frosty wasn't even that OLD, they started having TUC symptoms and were diagnosed with it. Later their wings froze and he was told that he would never be able to fly, one of the things she enjoyed most. And like you said, they couldn't even be sad about it. Any emotion they feel is a conscious decision, their emotions aren't even natural.

Frosty is so special to me because they connect to my own fears. Because of my eye issues I've almost become blind multiple times. I can't even imagine losing my eyesight completely because of my love for art, but can you IMAGINE losing such an important bodily function (flying, since it was important to Frosty) at such a young age. And not being able to even feel anything about it. Imagine being Frosty. Imagine being the same as your other siblings, feeling emotions like other people, flying because of your unicorn heritage. And then one day your parents have to explain to you that you have a chronic illness that will NEVER be cured. That you'll never be able to fly or experience normal emotions again. One day you feel like any other kid your age does and the next you can't feel anything. You've been stripped of everything that made you who you are, your physical abilities, your emotions, and you can't even bring yourself to be sad about it because you're no longer mentally capable of feeling anything.

And it doesn't even stop there! Kc has said that Frosty's brain has suffered because of TUC as well, apparently they've even formed a sort of schizophrenia from it from just how COLD their brain is. Imagine having a chronic illness that is so bad that it's literally freezing your brain. Imagine having that at 15! A piece of art on Frosty's toyhouse shows how she's upset with Polly for giving their issues to her because Polly is the reason she hss TUC, not because she gained it through something. I want to see that explored.

I hope we also get Frosty content. I need more stuff about Frosty, Marco, Chem, and Cream.

[mitsua]

Ch. 2 | ๋ ࣭ ⭑—Misunderstanding

Warnings: mentions of rude costumers, cursing, threatening, explosions, robbery, reader getting harmed and falsely accused Genre: angst Series: Boku No Hero Academia Y/N's . . . GN! Words' count: 0.68k

Previous chapter Series' list

The end of the month came and you were running out of money, due to paying, for a bitchy customer who you've accidentaly spilled some coffee on, a brand new pair of shoes.

"It was literally one fucking drop." You argued with him after almost ten minutes of going back and forth about it. Getting more and more desperate to just leave them alone already.

They ended up threatening you to either pay them to get new ones "as those won't ever be the same again" like they said, or they'd talk with your boss to fire you.

"Again? In the bank? Seriously?". There's been a short circuite apparently caused by a villains' assault plan. Alarms had gone off, the little light it came from those red, palpitating bulbs barely helped to make visible where you were going to hide while the heroes saved your day one more time.

As you were about to reach for a door, which was oddly familiar from the distance, a wrong step made you fall infront of the people in charge of waiting for the heroes and announce their partners.

You went to rub your knee silently, but felt a pair of arms quickly grab yours from behind to prevent you from moving any further.

"A silent group?" You asked internally since no one said nothing until you felt a sharp thing carress softly your neck.

An explosion broke down the bank's principle door, that's when you finally heard those villains shout, alarming their companions to get ready to go away.

Unfortunately for them, this time the student heroes weren't alone, as the reports the U.A. received said there were multiple people and only their not qualificated servants could not handle.

The man holding your arms shifted to grab your wrists with one hand and took the knife from the other who ran, to still make clear you were on danger.

Sweat was dripping from your forehead, mind going thousands of miles per hour. Was this your time to get a normal sleep? To dream and never wake up? "Fucking finall-"

Just as you were finishing to whisper this words to yourself, you saw a flash go barely above your head to the man behind you and heard the knife being dropped.

Letting a breath escape from your mouth, you crumbled in the loud crashes and shouting everyone was doing when fighting for their lives in this now absolutely mess of a bank.

You held your hands on your ears to quiet at least one decibel, crying for this to end. It was clear there were still more villains than heroes. That's why they've lasted more than twenty minutes fighting.

Just as you were opening once again your eyes, you saw a bag with money being thrown your way, so conveniently. The adrenaline from the moment made you reach immediately for it. Was this some luck in your life?

No, you missed it again.

You missed when two more groups of heroes came in view and specifically one blonde guy just saw you as a desperate person robbing.

"LET THAT BAG DOWN AND COME HERE IMMEDIATELY!" He shouted, making explosions with his hands to go your way, or more like flying your way.

"No, no, you don't understand!". You begged silently compared to his raised voice.

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND?! WHAT WOULD I HAVE TO UNDERSTAND?! YOU'RE ONE OF THEM!" He accused, grabbing harshly your arm, causing you to whince and drop the bag. Being dragged out of the mess to a police car were a policemen already waiting with quirk-cancelling cuffs.

"Please no! This is a misunderstanding! Thi-This was not-It was not my intention, really-"

"SHUT UP. YOU'LL TELL THAT TO WHOEVER WANTS TO LISTEN!". He finished letting go of your now bruised arm, making you lose your balance and hit a police car's front.

Tears blurred almost everything around you. Barely distinguishing the young man with green hair, seemingly harmed, approaching the now considered by you "far beyond idiot blonde" screaming desperately to let you go and that you had nothing to do with this.

Next chapter

All writings' rights reserved © 2024 Mitsua. (Credit to the respective owners of the tagged anime character.) ⌇ my navigation!

[eisforeidolon]

https://www.tumblr.com/eisforeidolon/734571018525540352/some-people-in-this-fandom-have-absurd-projection

I love how it’s hellers and AAs always throwing a fit because someone does Barn Scene (or adjacent) ops with J2, claiming Jensen is traumatized over the death of fictional character, when they are the ones who over-step boundaries with Jensen and Jared, the actual people, like posing with them"gutted" shirt with Jared, or trying to force Jensen into destiel poses with Misha, or wearing things in ops like shirts that say, "Jensen Ackles is my baby daddy."

J2 know the barn scene is very meaningful for many fans and they've said it was for them, too. And from some accounts, they’ll even chose that pose when someone asks then to do whatever they want. They clearly aren’t bothered. Meanwhile, you can see Jensen death stare when he’s asked to get too intimate with Misha or a fan in ops, and we’ve heard accounts of him altering the asked for position enough that the fan is not getting exactly what they wanted (because it was crossing a line).

Crying or getting faux outraged about fans joking about the barn scene is ridiculous, especially since Jensen himself mimed joking about the rebar going through Dean on the first Gold Panel he and Jared did when cons came back after COVID (Denver 2021). Jensen grabbing his shirt and pulling it out as if he’d been impaled, and laughing after, is not the action of someone who is "traumatized." Being annoyed by the manner in which his character died and being in a "glass cage of emotion" Rob Burgundy style over it are two very different things.

People need to learn the difference between being annoyed over real-life overstepping of people’s boundaries (or at least common courtesy) and simply projecting their own outrage onto an actor because they don’t like a pose (especially based off of a joke the actor themselves made). People in this fandom need to grow the F up.

Also, I get that I’m not totally free of projecting either when I see Jensen looking "dead inside" during a heller op, but my observation is also based off of him specifically saying he and Misha have been asked to do things that are crossing the line (and he literally just mentioned that again on the Hawaii main panel last weekend). Barn op outrage is purely based off of fan's own emotional reaction over disliking that Dean died and/or the fact that he loved Sam more than anyone else.

Exactly.

Jensen has said he's proud of the barn scene, multiple times. Jensen has joked about the rebar specifically, multiple times, while laughing. Sure, Jensen has said multiple times he was taken aback by Dean dying the initial pitch - and every single one of those times he also said he was talked around by people he respected the opinions of! Jensen has said he doesn't see D/C as part of Dean's story, multiple times. Jensen has specifically cited things fans have asked for in ops with Misha as being uncomfortable, multiple times. The most he's ever given them is variations on 'interpret what you want, we don't have to agree on what's important about SPN'.

When we read into Jensen's expressions in ops, we're not just projecting what we want to believe he thinks. We're considering the totality of what he's said - not cherry-picking only the bits we like or deciding he must actually think the exact fucking opposite of what he's said because we do.

Also? When we ask him (and Jared) to act out a scene literally straight out of the canon that they played huge parts in creating the specifics of even beyond acting? We're respecting them as people and professional actors. In a way shit like those creepy t-shirts, like treating them as posable blow-up dolls, like wanting them to act out fanfic, like paying them to hold signs and insisting it means something about them personally, like insisting they don't understand their own show and their own acting as well as some randos on the internet do? Never ever fucking does.

[doortotomorrow]

Memori AU / High School Reunion : It was just about the worst thing Murphy could possibly hear before their graduation. He had worked himself half to death doing everything he possibly could to raise his GPA to earn his ticket to one of Polis' colleges, applied anywhere and everywhere he could think of, and by some miracle managed to get accepted into one...only to be told by Emori, his highschool sweetheart, she wouldn't be going to Polis with him, having been accepted into her dream college in Sanctum Hills.

The news was a devastating, near lethal blow to Murphy, robbing him of the ability to breathe. All of his meticulous planning for his life after high school, dreaming of moving in with Emori and starting the next chapter together were dashed in an instant. Emori brought up the notion of continuing their relationship long distance, and initially, they maintained a steady flow of contact until their texts became briefer and the time of delivery went from every day to every other day to weeks, then months as their lives got busier and more demanding of their time. There was no official goodbye text ending their relationship...it just petered out into empty, radio silence.

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

Years later, an invitation to their high school reunion slides into his e-mails, and out of complete and utter boredom, Murphy finally accepts the invite after saying no on these multiple times in the past. When he gets there, he runs into all the old familiar faces, breaking the ice with some bog standard small talk: "where do you work?", "how's the family?", "did you see [insert blockbuster movie title here]?". Murphy, beginning to think coming to this thing was a wash, starts fishing his keys out of his pocket, but then his ears catch the most wonderful sound in the world: Emori's laughter.

For a while, he just stands there watching Emori saying her hellos as she apologizes for being late to the party, looking like she stepped out of a high end fashion magazine. The years had been more than kind to her, treating Emori with the utmost care, his heart aching at the noticeably vacant spot next to him and wishing Emori would come and fill it. Finding his voice again, he calls out her name, hope leaping high in his chest when she throws a beaming smile in his direction.

In mere minutes, it's like they've never been apart, picking up right where they left off, talking all the way until last call at the open bar. They end the night promising each other to meet at Emori's hotel suite to continue reconnecting. It's there where Murphy, feeling as bashful as he did in high school when he did this the first time, asks Emori out to dinner. Maybe a happily ever after was still in the cards for them yet.

[vixletserenity]

Although Celeste had made it obvious that she would be shifting her focus onto the upcoming exam for her music course, that wasn't the only thing on her mind.

Perhaps this John man knew, she wouldn't entirely know.

She had called her representative for the Paldean Parliament about addressing them all in the next session; which ironically or coincidentally was right after getting out of her quarantine.

The woman had told her that part of the discussions would be about the Crater; to which she somehow was able to squeeze Celeste having time on the floor.

When that time arrived, Celeste was dressed in the usual dress suit she had worn when sitting in these sessions. She walked up to the speaking podium, her body language being bitter as her mouth opened to speak.

"I would like to announce that I will be stepping down from the position given to me as the expert and top researcher of Area Zero."

There were voices all over the room from all the adults in the room. Some were panicking at this and telling off at her before Celeste put her hand up to continue speaking.

She only had a certain amount of time on the floor, and she was not going to waste it by this backtalking.

"I will no longer be your pawn in order to gain power in the international fields. And I no longer tolerate the pathetic attempt to make me; one of the few initial people who knew of Professor Turo's passing, into Paldea's Regional Professor by force.

The Academy here promotes the students to choose whatever path they want; to find their own Treasure. And yet, the adults here in this very room are so selfish and power hungry that they want to steal that away from one who moved to this region after her family was given enough sympathy by the isolationist government to give refugee status during the Great Freeze years ago."

There were more voices of protest. They're growing. Saying how disrespectful she was being until Celeste slammed her hands the hardest she could on the podium.

"I'M NOT FINISHED YET! BE SILENT AND STOP INTERUPTTING THE TIME I HAVE BEEN GIVEN TO SPEAK TO ANY OF YOU!" She yelled; her voice echoing across the chambers and quieting almost everyone in an instant.

"My childhood was robbed from me by a person who should be there to protect me, yet he chose to hurt me for selfish and petty reasons. And now that's happening all over again by the people who should've known how damaging to the mind it is to see and experience what I have!

I refuse to let that happen ever again! Even if I have very little time to still be considered a child in some people's eyes, I choose to take that and finally live for myself! Just as what the teachers and Director have wished for students like myself!

You know enough about the Crater through everything I've done and the clearance you've given Ms. Briar at Blueberry Academy. There's nothing more you need to know about down there! Leave it alone and pay attention to the people that you should be serving as public servants!

To the youth you've abandoned for so long to the point that they've had to take the pain they've felt into their own hands because the literal adults in the room failed them in multiple and severe degrees!

It is time to bring this era of conquesting the Great Crater much like the ancient emperor whose kingdom came to a demise for his own greedy desires and keeping it secret from the public to an end! The people of Paldea and the rest of the world deserves to know what this oh so sacred and all knowing governing body has been doing while the region's systems were degrading beyond recognition."

She took a deep breath in and out as the timer started to indicate that there wasn't much time left for her.

"As my parting words...I will say this. Think more about the consequences of what you all have done in the perspective of fifty years; even a century from now looking back at these events in hindsight!

The mysteries have been solved; it's futile now to only think about them. Use what time we have on this planet to think on how all this will impact those yet to come and people like me who will have to live and fix what problems you create.

For the future will not always be in fully your hands to control; whether you like it or not."

Without another comment, Celeste got off the podium and walked out of the chambers quietly and calmly. She's done what she needed to do.

And is now in full control of what she wants her future to be.