#binks and bottles

[punxsutawneyfilth]

Literally who in the water bottle industry is pulling the strings to make a new random ass overpriced brand of water bottle the new thing people shit their pants for, every 12-18 months like clockwork

[dxxdhood]

drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship

wc: 3.3k

a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.

No surprise that Wade wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite– that goes for among the heroes he’s worked with and throughout his life in general. He’s – to put it in the kindest way anyone’s ever told him – fucking annoying. Oh, he’s more than aware that he’s a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsive– a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse. 

Look, having a rough start in life isn’t uncommon and he’s sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but he’s grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that he’s had it tough over the years.

He’s still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but he’s still making it by, day by day.

But, well, it’s still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned – or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into – whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.

That was until you came along. So, obviously you’re crazy hot – he’s gotta get that out of the way first – but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wade’s experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you weren’t always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control – your words – was basically winning on easy mode.

But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequent– only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental health– who knew?

And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually he’d be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.

So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.

…

“So, glad that’s over, huh?” Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. “Speaking of over, you wanna come?”

“Over?” you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. “Right after we took on a whole crime ring?”

“Well, what a better time to unwind, am I right?”

“Oh?” you raise your eyebrows. “We’re unwinding?”

It’s small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, “Well, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.”

You hum, pretending to consider it, “Depends, you got a holo Charizard?”

And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. “You insult me.”

The two of you enter his apartment not long after you’re dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, you’d assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?

Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.

You’ve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally he’s always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that you’re seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants – awfully warm for this weather – you’re struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.

Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Nice sweats, green looks good on you.”

Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, “I’ve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder – could this thing be more flattering?”

He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.

He’s a bit tall, so the sweatpants don’t go all the way down to his ankles, but Wade’s wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodie’s easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.

But obviously Wade’s hands are scarred– he’s a mercenary. He’s handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You weren’t expecting his skin to be baby-smooth. 

What’s interesting to you is why he’d go through all the trouble to hide it.

Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and – how could you forget this one – his Deadpool mask is still on.

Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesn’t want to take his mask off with you, he doesn’t have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. He’s more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.

Wade’s been fiddling with the remote while you’ve been – hopefully – subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.

“We’re watching The Princess Bride? I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He bats his eyes – at least, you think he does, given the mask– and speaks in a sweet voice “Why, me? Oh please, I know romance. I’m not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the first–”

His back straightens out like he’s been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.

“Hang-out.”

Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you can’t just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.

“Mmm, just a hang out?” you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. You’ve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours – which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you – but never in a context like this.

He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.

Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.

“You want this to be a date?” he says, flat.

“Why, thank you for asking, dear sir,” you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. “Yes, Wade, I like you.”

“I–” he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.

Wade doesn’t say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like he’s more than out of his element. 

“That’s why you invited me over, right?” you try and help him out. “You feel the same, too.”

And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. There’s barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesn’t take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.

His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like it’s on fire. He’s constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible. 

It’s making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, voice rough.

“You’re telling me,” Wade coughs out. “We could’ve been doing that this whole time?”

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

And although you can’t see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until you’re both standing right in front of his bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.

“Yes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” you pause to give him a second to think. “I can’t see you at all like this.”

“What if – and you're just going to have to trust me on this one – you’d prefer it this way,” Wade’s voice is light, but it feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

“And why’s that?”

Not like you’d be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, “Huh? Oh, I– uh…”

“Look, if you’re worried about how I’m going to react to you having a bunch of scars– don’t. I don’t mind,” the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. “I figured it out. You’re not sneaky.”

“You say that, but…”

“Wade, I don’t care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesn’t bother me.”

Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, “Look, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here – really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job – but you don’t have to force yourself, I–”

“Wade, you either confront your insecurities head on or I’m not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person who’s going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?”

No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. You’re about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans. “You’re so hot when you're putting people in their place.”

Your lips curl into a shaky smile, “Yeah, what else do you think is hot?”

And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.

…

It’s actually happening. No fucking way he didn’t dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possible–  a big ask.

“Bossing anyone – everyone, especially me – around. You using your abilities–” you reach over and find Wade’s hand before running your fingers up his arm. “Shit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when I’m there.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “When you get to watch, or?”

“When I get to feel.”

Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wade’s nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respond– for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.

“You got a thing for pain, Wilson?”

He chuckles, “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. “It’ll be great for me.”

You hum, “Alright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you don’t like something, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, though you probably can’t see it. “And, same goes for you.”

“What a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.”

He’s blushing something furious and he’s never been more grateful for the dark, “Anything for you.”

Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but he’s really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat. 

Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.

You’re not saying anything. That’s– a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.

You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.

“There,” you say. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. There’s a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?”

“No!” he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.

“Good, seems like you’re learning.”

You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.

He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.

While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.

Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, “You’re so hot, I’m not forgiving you for hiding for so long.”

Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.

“From now on, I get to hear you, okay?” you say and Wade nods rapidly.

You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, “I’m going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay–” he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. It’s a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the background– almost like the sensation of being choked except it’s affecting his entire body. Wade feels like there’s a weight pinning down each of his limbs and it’s so freeing– so relaxing.

He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.

“How is it?” you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, it’s  powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.

“It’s good– so good, I–” he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs. 

“Not sure, umm, a little more–”

And he doesn’t know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but he’s willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like he’s not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.

From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. It’s a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.

“I’m gonna–” he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.

As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what he’s been wanting to say since he met you.

“Thank–”

You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up. 

[hannahbarberra162]

Backwards, In Heels (Imagine Dancing with Zoro, SFW, x Reader, Fluff)

SFW fluff with Zoro. Watched Rent again recently, had a thought.

Zoro x GN Reader

WC: ~850

TW: none, Zoro does a smooch <3

Brook’s hauntingly beautiful music floated over the deck as the moonlight shone bright on the cloudless night. You, Zoro, and Brook were the only ones awake, enjoying the gentle breeze and the pleasant atmosphere. Zoro was on watch duty, Brook slept very little and you had always been a night owl. The three of you comprised the late night crew, occasionally joined by Luffy, Robin, or Jinbei. But most often the three of you spent the late night hours in companionable silence as Brook played his violin. It was some of your favorite time aboard the Sunny and you cherished the time you got to spend with Zoro especially. The two of you had something unnamed happening between you, seemingly each waiting for the other to make the first move. You were standing in the crows nest next to each other, leaning against the open window and watching the night sky.

“I almost wish Sanji was here,” you lamented, swaying to the music Brook was playing. Zoro scoffed, taking the bottle of alcohol back from you. The two of you had a secret bottle you shared on pleasant nights, just to make the time even sweeter.

“Why would you want the ero-cook here? He'd just -”

“Ah, don't start. I didn't mean anything by it. I just feel like dancing and he's good at it,” you remarked. Sanji and Zoro fought non stop but it was a simple fact that Sanji was an elegant dancer. You'd tried to get Zoro to dance with you at different bars before the crew had been separated but he'd steadfastly refused, saying that he didn't dance. You never once had seen him so much as tap a foot while Sanji twirled you along the dancefloor. 

“Tch. I can dance,” Zoro scoffed, not looking at you. Your eyebrows shot up.

“What do you mean you can dance? You've been holding out on me this whole time, Roronoa?” you teased. You didn't think he meant it, he just didn't want to acknowledge that there were things Sanji was superior to him at besides cooking.

“No, Mihawk taught me. Said swordfighting is a dance and that I lacked grace and rhythm,” Zoro said while grimacing, taking a swig of alcohol. “Bink’s sake” continued to lilt in the moonlight illuminated room as Zoro turned to face you. He was a little flushed but it wasn't from the alcohol.

“He wouldn't train me until I could dance. It was weeks of just dance class - worst time of my life,” Zoro lamented. You laughed softly, wishing you had been there to see it.

“I can only imagine what dance class with Mihawk was like,” you said, putting your hand on his shoulder like you were setting up for a waltz. Zoro grunted but before you could decline he put his hand on the small of your back and grabbed your free hand in his own. Now you were the one flushing as Zoro pressed your body into his own. 

“If you wanted to dance, all you had to do was ask,” Zoro said, his face now close to your own. And as Brooks music continued to play, Zoro took a step forward, leading you in a waltz. He led you with ease as you allowed him to push and pull you around the crow’s nest in time to the music. He spun you and brought you back and kept you moving along the floor like he’d been dancing his whole life. 

It didn’t surprise you that being in command came easily to Zoro, the way he fought translated perfectly to his grace on the dance floor. The two of you were able to dance together seamlessly as you stared into his eyes, feet forgotten as you tried to commit this incredible moment to memory. You weren’t going to bring it up to the crew, this would be your secret to keep.

All too soon, Brook’s song ended and the Skeleton did not pick up his bow any further. Zoro spun you away from him then gave you a bow at the waist, which made you giggle.

“Thank you for granting me the pleasure of this dance,” Zoro said formally while bowing. You could almost see Mihawk forcing him to say the specific words that were so different from the way Zoro usually spoke.

“The pleasure is all mine Zoro,” you said softly, returning to him and kissing him on the cheek. Zoro was still flushed but took the opportunity to put his hand behind your head to pull you closer. He leaned down and kissed you, the taste of alcohol still on his tongue. You sighed and opened your mouth to deepen the kiss, your Swordsman finally back within your arms.

~

“By the way, I was wondering. If Mihawk trained you to dance, who was your partner?” you asked, sitting in Zoro’s lap in the crow’s nest, his strong arms wrapped around you.

“He was. Sometimes Perona, but she didn’t usually want to,” Zoro said with a grimace.

“So who led?”

“He did of course.”

“So you learned -”

“Backwards. In heels.”

@mfreedomstuff I finally remembered!

[bookhobbit]

Because I enjoyed the Obi-Wan show so much, we are watching the prequel films sort of in bits. This is fascinating sociologically, because, being five years old when the first one came out, I remember the marketing hype around them quite well.

I never actually saw them because at that time my mother felt that anything featuring Magic that was not Overtly Christian was probably evil. However, one time, I think when my mom was getting her hysterectomy, we went over to a fellow church member's house for the weekend and her younger boy (Stuart) (my enemy) (annoying) (rude) was watching the films. Because my mother disapproved of it, and because my enemy liked it, and above all because it looked so fucking BORING, I did not watch. My impression at the time was that it was mostly people talking in measured tones to each other in large rooms. I also remembered an interminable racing scene with sand, and Jar Jar Binks greeting Anakin. I thought these two things were all part of one impossibly long movie for basically until this weekend.

Anyways, my main takeaway so far is that Darth Maul sure was on a lot of lunch boxes and water bottles relative to his screentime in the trilogy as a whole.

[incorrectstarwarslegendsquotes]

Anakin Skywalker, after slaughtering all the younglings: I did get blood on me, but don't worry, there was a bottle of Febreeze on the ship so I sprayed that on the stain. Tag Greenley: First of all, what the fuck. Bink Otauna: Febreeze isn't... used for that? Tag Greenley: Second of all, hold on. Bink Otauna: It's not a Tide To Go!! Tag Greenley: GET YOU SOME TIDE TO GO

[crystalcatgamer]

Binks' Sake

Silly drabble about the Roger Pirates during a party night! I'm a sucker for their dynamic tbh and I'm trying out writing kid Shanks

It's a party on the Oro Jackson. Shanks tries to steal a bottle, but Rayleigh grabs him by the scruff and tosses him to another part of the party with significantly less alcohol available. A glance shows Buggy talking to Gaban with exaggerated hand gestures, probably complaining about something. Captain’s busy challenging someone to a drinking battle and the crew’s swinging the festivities right up to the max. Someone pulls out a violin, and the first few notes of a long-familiar song cuts through the noise flawlessly. In a heartbeat, people are throwing their arms around each other and swaying to the tune of Binks' Sake, drunkenly belting out the lyrics. Some are harmonizing, some are not, and some are off-key but no one cares because it’s fun as hell. Shanks ducks a swipe for him to join in with a laugh, calling a retort over his shoulder at their terrible tune, which earns him a fist shaken at him in mock-outrage. He makes another pass at someone’s beer mug, but it's yanked out of his reach before he can touch it, and he sulks away to laughter.

[elimaybeafish]

So I don’t even watch jojo but I know about stands and there whole thing with being named after songs and all

Any ways I made some with friends a while ago here they are

Eternal horizons: a dog stuffy in angel outfit with X eyes and a 3 mouth. And a Demon red with X eyes and www mouth - ability when happy can create anything. And when mad can destroy anything. New ability per emotion. Stand amplifies emotion dramatically. Translated name devil and angel

Ordinary life: 1/2 old stuffy 1/2 hyper realistic lion - What every the user thinks is normal or ordinary becomes normal. Translated name scuffed animal

Invisible: - . Translated name is transparent metal

Digital silence: abstracted + siren head - Frequency control. Translated name artificial noise

Union Dixie: Eagle in captin America suit - Strength is equal to the user pride in America. Translated name captin eagle

Peppers: a bunch of pepper plants around the user - the user is aware that they are in a fictional world. They can see all past and future events they are aware of everything in there unvirse. Translated name chili’s

Binks brew: a skeleton that has a pirate hat and a bottle of alcohol. If the user drinks any amount alcohol it will summon a party. Translated name Jolly Roger

crucified

: the nearest religious item becomes the stand - this stand invokes gods will. Translated name on a cross or gods will

[curlyhairednerd]

Circé, Bink’s Brew, and Rosé

Buggy heard her before he ever saw her.

Gather up all of the crew!

He was being led back to a ship by this Roger guy and his first mate Rayleigh. He could hear someone singing loudly as he approached.

It’s time to ship out Bink’s Brew!

“Cece’s at it again!” Roger laughed. “She’ll never stop singing that song.”

“I tried, but it’s her favorite.” Rayleigh sighed. “At least she got her mother’s singing voice.”

Buggy’s eyes went wide when he saw her. The girl with long blonde hair had a younger red head by the hands and was spinning around the deck with him. Her purple eyes landed on him and fixed him in place.

Sea winds blow, to where who knows?

The waves will be our guide!

The next thing Buggy knew, he had been dragged into her dance, replacing the red head.

O’er across the ocean’s tide

Rays of sunshine far and wide

Crocodile watched in amusement as she sang. Ever since she found her devil fruit, even her songs were enchanting to listen to. The entire bar was singing along and so caught up in the mood that no one noticed she was robbing them all.

Birds they sing of cheerful things

In circles passing by!

Circé laughed as she took a seat by him. “Throat too dry with sand?” She asked.

“I’m not stupid enough to let you rob me again.” He grunted, still bitter about the last.

“Hey I made it up to you by giving you a golden hook!” Circé pouted, turning back to the crowd. “How can someone not sing along to this?”

Bid farewell to Weaver’s town

Say so long to port renowned

Crocodile smiled into his ale as he heard her softly sing along with the drunken crowd. He’d throw her a bone this once.

Sing a song, it won’t be long

Before we’re casting off!

Mihawk wondered how he got here. Trapped in a party led by Shanks and Circé, two of the biggest drunken fools he had ever met. Oh right, because Circé was pregnant and someone had to make sure she wasn’t going to get drunk. And she didn’t trust Shanks so that’s why he came.

Cross the gold and silver seas

A salty breeze puts us at ease!

“Whew!” Circé laughed as she took a seat. “I haven’t had this much fun all year! You were right Shanks, you throw the best parties!”

“And my new niece or nephew deserved the best welcoming party!” Shanks cheered. “I still can’t believe you of all people are going to be a mother! How did that even happen!?”

Mihawk watched in confusion as Circé’s eyes widened, and wondered why she so desperately grabbed a cup to shove in Shank’s hands. “Who cares why?!” Circé laughed. “Just worry about how you’re gonna be my babysitter!”

“What was that about?” Mihawk asked his friend as they watched Circé return to the party.

Day and Night

To our delight

The voyage never ends!

Circé rocked her baby as she paced around deck. “I appreciate you helping me out so much.”

“It’s no problem.” Tom assured her.

“I know you’re busy with the train.” Circé continued. “I just need help making sure her crib and dresser don’t slide around.”

“You just have a seat honey and let the boys take care of things.” Kokoro said, handing Circé a bottle. “They’ll have your ship baby proofed before the day ends.”

Circé nodded and took a seat. Roselyn was starting to get fussy so Circé began to sing.

Gather up all of the crew,

it’s time to ship out Bink’s Brew!

Circé noticed that the younger of Tom’s kids, Cutty Flam was giving her odd looks as she held her baby. She wondered why until she remembered what Tom had told her. Cutty’s parents were pirates who abandoned him. He was probably wondering if she’d do the same with Roselyn.

Pirates we, eternally, are challenging the sea!

With the waves to rest our heads

Ship beneath as our beds

Rosé felt… odd as she listened to Brook’s play. “What is this song?” She asked.

“Bink’s brew.” Robin explained. “It’s a very popular sea shanty.”

Hoisted high, upon the mast, our Jolly Roger flies!

Somewhere in the endless sky

Stormy winds are blowing wide

“I know this song…” Rosé said quietly.

“Course you do.” Franky said. “I’ve heard plenty of pirates singing it back in Water 7.”

“No, that’s not it.” She insisted. “But I can’t remember.”

Waves are dancing

Evening comes

It’s time to sound the drums!

“Please tell me more.” Rosé begged.

But steady men and never fear!

Tomorrow’s skies are always clear!

“Bink’s Brew.” Shakky sighed nostalgically. “Your mother’s favorite song.”

“She told us that she was even making it your lullaby.” Rayleigh said. “We could never get her to stop singing it.”

So pound your feet

And clap your hands

Till sunny days return!

“It’s my favorite song and I hate it more than anything else.” Buggy the Clown told her. “Because she always looked so happy singing it and I will never hear her sing it again.”

Gather up all of the crew

It’s time to ship out Bink’s Brew

“That bitch got me so drunk and relaxed I didn’t notice she stole my hook right off my hand!” Crocodile scowled. “And I never paid her back for that!”

Wave goodbye, but don’t you cry

Our memories remain!

Shanks sighed. “Cece was always the life of the party, and nothing made her more exciting than that song. If I had known that was the last party we’d have, I’d have done so much more.”

Our days are but a passing dream

Everlasting though they seem

“Circé was an… unusual woman.” Mihawk mused. “You didn’t get a lot of female pirates of her caliber back then. You could say she inspired a generation. She had a lovely voice.”

Beneath the moon we’ll meet again

The waves our lullaby!

“Damn I wish I knew it was you.” Franky was beating himself up badly now that he knew the truth. “Maybe Iceberg and I could’ve helped you when you first came to Water 7.”

“I was a baby, why would you recognize me as a ten year old?” Rosé comforted.

After all is said and done

You’ll end up a skeleton

“Your mother sounds wonderful.” Crossette sighed. “I wish we could’ve met her.”

“Grandfather said that she wanted to be buried on Raftel.” Rosé said. “When we get there, I’m going to make sure she has a grave.”

So spread your tale

From dawn til dusk

Upon these foamy seas!!

[technofinch]

Okay! Mulligan time!

The crew found themselves on a tiny escape ship with two dead xenomorphs, three live xenomorph eggs, and fifty colonists in cryosleep. The nearest inhabited colony six hours away and run by Weyland-Yutani, the very company that they've stolen from and are attempting to avoid. No plan, no options, no way out.

We have Mulligan, our captain, incredibly traumatized former alcoholic who has already located the ship's bar. Miranda, the psychologist, who is so over dealing with every part of this situation and would very much like to go back to her well-paid and safe job. Mr Cuddles, her trained therapy/guard dog. Karina, the disgraced scientist who finally got proof of the alien life she was looking for only to realize how dangerous they truly are. Bink O'Heron, the space marine, who wears a landmine strapped to his chest and is itching to reenlist and go far away from here. And the NPCs - Jack, engineer and first mate; Reed, the other space marine; and Julio, the mysterious surgeon & ex-marine.

Immediately Mulligan gets into a fight with Miranda about how to deal with the xeno eggs. She wants to destroy them, he wants to keep them for leverage/cash. Karina sides with Mulligan, Miranda turns on her & starts psychoanalyzing her & being generally a dick (this is a theme with Miranda, she's the worst and we love her for it). More fighting ensues. Mulligan reveals his plan for dealing with the situation, which is to claim full responsibility for stealing the ship & everything else and say that he threatened the rest of the crew into compliance.

"Wow. You're really stupid." -Miranda

Miranda tries to take the gun out of his hands but it slides across the floor & gets wedged under a panel. Mulligan is not amused. Miranda starts ordering people around, so Mulligan takes his leave and goes to the kitchen, with Mr Cuddles following to keep an eye on him. He tries to bribe the dog with beef jerky before pulling out the liquor, but it doesn't work and the dog alerts Miranda.

She's well past the point of having any interest in dealing with any of his bullshit, so she leaves him to wallow in his misery (with mr cuddles babysitting) and alerts the rest of the crew that the captain is drinking on the clock.

Mulligan asks to talk to Reed, and gives him a message to pass on to Jameson (the former crew member who turned out to be Mulligan's son) about a storage locker on New Constantinople with various photos and family effects and such from Mulligan's mother.

"Reed, I was never going to be a good father. I'm just trying to be a decent son." -Mulligan

Julio overhears and takes it as an opportunity to impart wisdom about fatherhood, Reed takes the opportunity to "borrow" the bottle from Mulligan. Miranda and Julio get into another spat (they REALLY don't like each other), Jack gets involved, it's a whole thing.

MEANWHILE, IN THE SCIENCE LAB...

Karina has locked herself in the science lab with the two xenomorph corpses, one of which is still partially embedded in a human corpse, with Bink standing guard at the door.

"Uh…. everything alright in there?" "…please don't tell me you fucked with the eggs." -Bink

After too many concerningly wet noises and silence, Bink summoned the rest of the crew for help.

Miranda was able to make contact with Karina and bust down the door after Bink gave up, gave her his rifle, and went to take a nap. She found Karina & the lab covered in chemical burns from improperly dissecting the xenomorphs. Acid blood, yay <3

Everyone scrambles into action to deal with All That, except Mulligan (who saw the desecrated corpse of the guy he shot and Is Having A Bad Time About It) and Bink (who's just a sleepy boy) who retreat to the corporate suite and crack into a bottle of whiskey together.

Once the acid is dealt with & Julio has stabilized Karina, Miranda goes and collects Mulligan's gun & the bomb Karina made earlier (don't worry about it) then finds a quiet place to type away on her spipad (space ipad (that she also uses to spy on people))

By this point, Mulligan has passed out. He's taking a lil nap. It's the first time he's slept in several days. Don't worry about it <3

Miranda goes to check in with Karina, where they establish that there is still no plan for how to survive upon landing at the spaceship, but Miranda seems..... suspiciously optimistic.

"I never expect mercy from W-Y. I expect them to know how much I'm worth." - Miranda

After their conversation, Karina (who is still in massive amounts of main and a non-zero amount of high on pain meds) gets on her personal comms and sends an encrypted message offering to sell her research to get safe passage for all of us. Including the fact that it was based on xenomorphs... She did get an answer, however, from someone taking her up on the offer. Or claiming to, anyway..

We arrive at the habitation ring and dock. Jack, Julio and Reed take defensive positions. Mulligan is still asleep. We're immediately greeted by a crew of corporate guards with pulse rifles.

"FORMER CREW OF THE OPHELIA YOU ARE UNDER ARREST BY ORDER OF HEAD MANAGER DUMOIS FOR THE KIDNAPPING OF MIRANDA KESTRA AND THE DOGNAPPING OF HER ASSISTANT MR. CUDDLES, LAY DOWN ALL YOUR WEAPONS AND APPROACH THE DOOR WITH YOUR HANDS UP, DR. KESTRA PLEASE APPROACH THE DOOR WITH YOUR ASSISTANT AND ALLOW US IN."

Miranda walks casually over to the door and opens it. She hands over the guns she's collected, and makes her way with her dog into the protective circle of soldiers. Who are still pointing their guns at the rest of us.

At this point Mulligan stumbles into the scene, still half drunk, and immediately gives up. Karina is apoplectic with rage at Miranda's betrayal, the rest of the crew are still in defensive positions. The scientist Karina contacted eventually steps in. It's one of her old professors, though none of us but her are aware of this. He's able to take custody of Karina and up to one other person to go with her as a guard/negotiator given the fact that Karina is... still covered in chemical burns.

She's not happy about this, given that she was promised safe passage for the whole crew, but when there are 8 very scary people with guns, your options are very limited. She holds a gun to his head - then drops it, unable to go through with her threat. Mulligan urges her to take Bink, so she has some muscle and bc Bink doesn't need to be involved in the whole "arrest" situation, but they're running out of time and Karina can't make the choice. Julio tells Mulligan to go with her, and ends up physically dragging Mulligan over to the soldiers.

Mulligan resists Julio, sandbagging him and remaining firmly on the floor. "I'm not leaving my crew." "I'm not fucking leaving them, okay? I'm not going to run off like Reese did. This is my mess, I'm gonna fucking deal with it." Mulligan is still half-drunk and almost belligerent. He also very much does not have a plan.

Mulligan gets handcuffed, and he and Karina are led away from the ship, leaving the rest of the crew to the mercy of the Weyland-Yutani goon squad. As he's dragged off Mulligan calls out one last time for Jack, despite being too far away to hear any response.

Aaaaaand scene! tldr; Miranda sold out the rest of the crew and we all got Super arrested and will probably be put on trial, Mulligan & Karina have been separated from their friends, Miranda is no longer going to be a player character 😔 but! we'll be getting a fun new player character next session :D

[sonicasura]

Ok, hear me out. For the Mothzilla A.S.L crossover I had this idea that the brothers always carry a bottle of Sake with them in the grand line and the new world. At nearly every island they stop at the pour the bottle of Sake and pour the entire bottle on the island, as a sort of thanks

That is so sweet. Giving thanks to the fallen Kaiju who make up each island is honestly something the siblings would do. I also imagine them singing Bink's Sake too.

[docnomore]

Found Mr. Binks last night on my back porch between the treadmill and the lattice. It was getting late, all others had gone to bed. He cried at me but his eyes said something was amiss. I picked him up, he was limp and there was no recognition in his eyes. I carried him in and woke Mrs. Doc. His nose was very dry. I carried him to the cat’s drinking fountain and put his nose under a stream of water. No tongue action and no protest. He’s nearly a year and a half old. Still, I mixed up some baby formula in a baby bottle for puppies and while I couldn’t get him to suckle, he would lick and drink until exhaustion. We got up every few hours. He lay between us. His bowel and bladder cut loose, we put the towel used during feeding under him. Throughout the night, we’d get kicked and thwapped with his tail. His breathing was extremely shallow. He passed a couple hours ago. In the two years we’ve been here, Binks makes five we’ve lost. He is the only one who didn’t simply vanish. The others, we’d attributed to hawks, owls or coyotes. Struggling to not have suspicious thoughts like e.glycol poisoning. It all fits.

[batmasterson]

Frewer's Phrictionary of Daze & Babel

I’ve started pronouncing “Zebra” like a twat. “Twat”, also.

If you’re in the market for a good disposable fountain pen (and who isn’t these days?), I can definitely tell you I’ve tried a new one lately. Hold up. Thing is, right, I said to myself that I wanted to use up all this paper I have in the office so the trees will not have been sacrificed in vain. It’s noble of me, really. And while I love my fountain pens (and want to use them so that the celluloid and iridium wells will not have been tapped in vain), it’d be a bugger if one of these pricey ink-slingers got dropped in a wood chipper, say. Or an unfortunate amount of blood.

So I picked up a Pilot Varsity from Maido, because those are just adorable. (Why didn’t I just put some of this frankly overwhelming collection of bottled inks into one of my many, many refillable cheap-ass Preppies or the like? Because I do want the ink mines depleted in vain. It’s a long story, or it will be, if I can get through this obstinate parenthetical.) The Varsity, though, had a thicker line than I really wanted for the type of notepads I’m secreting about my person. I decided to push the boat out a bit.

Lo, Jetpens! and the remarkably named Zebra Zensation. (This parenthetical, less obstinate, is to let you know that the review linked there is much more straightforward than this one. Which is not a review. Hold up.) I like the Zebra Sarasa gel pens, but I’ve had piss-poor experiences with the nasty office supply store cartridge Zebra fountain pens that have come my way. These looked pretty groovy, though, and I got one in black because it won’t reflect in the searchlight when I like to check a baseline pen performance. Reader, it wrote like a fucking charm of grace and precision. Lovely. Simple. You can take it anywhere. Click goes the cap. Bang go the words. Brilliant. I promptly lost the fucker within a week.

waning Gait and my bink keeps sacking up

It’s good to be alive though, innit? I ordered a second Zensation pen and Doctor Who is back on, again. Double meaning.

And hey, look at that! Someone’s just dropped of some Strange New Star Trek in my belfry. Too bad I’ve got so much “taking care of my life” going these days. Time, Fire, Mars, and Ahab!

Gallifrey One tickets still available

I don’t know. Who knows anything?

[mochimidnight]

I'm seeing a trend of people saying you're not allowed to dislike anything, which is just incondusive to fandom and analysis. Everyone has different experiences, biases, and certainly personal boundaries that shape their likes and dislikes. The point of a diverse audience is that no one will view a story or a character the same way. It's not a bad thing to evoke strong emotions, even negative ones, through a story. It's also healthier to process negativity through fiction than to bottle it up until it explodes. Ultimately hating Aziraphale or Crowley doesn't hurt anyone irl.

Authorial intent plays no part in this, as much as we love neil gaiman and terry pratchett. There are too many hated characters to list in media that were intended to be liked (cough Jarjar Binks). "Death of the Author" is a literary concept for a reason.

At the end of the day, Crowley and Aziraphale are nothing but dolls to be used to play pretend. Hating on real people would be an overreaction and a big NO but "a fictional character wouldn't like this" is just insane reasoning, especially considering the amount of angst this fandom is able to create.

Tl;dr disliking Crowley or Aziraphale or both is fine they're not real

i'd just like to remind everyone that while it's completely natural to have a favourite between crowley and aziraphale, neil and terry certainly put equal quantities of love into creating both of them, and intended for them both to be liked by us as the audience. we should recognise their character flaws and their mistakes, but it's not ideal to end up disliking one of them so much that the other appears perfect in comparison, because:

a) of the many intended take-aways from their story, coming to the conclusion that aziraphale is undeserving of crowley or vice versa is not one of them. the two people who thought up and wrote those characters with love and care and delight and laughter and a tinge of heartbreak would hope that this was not your overriding belief

and

b) crowley doesn't like anyone who dislikes aziraphale, and aziraphale certainly isn't fond of anyone who dislikes crowley. so if you want to be in their good books, too, bear that in mind

[cryptid-killjoy]

@orleans-jester orleans-jester Of course the inside would be totally ripped out and completely redone in the Laveau style. They’d never keep it like this. Just tear out the insides and the ‘skin’, break it down to the bare bones and then build it back up again. Even the process sounded so goddamn Laveau with all the macabre details. It felt really good just being able to relax with Flotsam again. Reminded Thomas of the old times when they would just plop on the couch together, watch some Top Gear, laugh at how stupid the men could be and have a couple of brews and some popcorn. The current view was much better than the television, no matter how HD they made the screens these days. Thomas had a pretty good read on Flotsam, or so he liked to think. He knew that mind was going, the gears turning, could swear sometimes he could see and smell the smoke that was being caused from everything moving too fast like a treadmill. That scene in Modern Times where Charlie Chaplin is working in the factory and gets sucked up into the machine, that’s how he pictured Flotsam’s brain sometimes. He might not always know exactly what was turning those gears, but he could see when they were turning. He knew about the nightmares. He still read over that journal, treating Valerie and Flotsam’s dreams as if they were his own. They had such a vivid imagination that they wrote them so beautifully and Thomas could picture it in his head like it was a movie. He’d sometimes get caught up in thinking about them, as if they really had been his. So he’d been extra affectionate at night lately, lots of kissing and cuddling and arm and back stroking until he fell into the darkness of his own sleep. To reassure him that no matter what happened, they were going to be safe because they had the stupid, foolish, cliche, cringeworthy power of love on their side and they were all still living because of it. All five of em here in this cabin. He’d wait for Flotsam to open up about this one. About why those gears were gearing to go. Trying to force Flotsam to talk was rougher than trying to get blood out of a stone, and he wasn’t going to go ruining their vacation over it. Besides - he looked happy right now. Well and truly excited for this experience that Thomas was planning. So he’d relax with his brew and their food and the ocean and the pups and watch his husband do a very dorky kung-fu lightsaber battle against the air, and love him all the more for it. - So the next morning came, as mornings often do, though the night had seemed particularly long for two reasons. Number one, Thomas was excited for the next day. That always made it seem like time was slowing down. Time goes faster when you’re having a good time, but goes slower when anticipating one. And the second reason was he was being more cautious about Flotsam’s nightmares. Trying to be more on the edge of sleep rather than falling down it in case he was needed for comfort, for calming down. But the morning came, and it seemed as if there was no dream to worry about. That felt like a very good omen for the day ahead. They had the morning routine down perfectly. The triplets were at the age where they could hold their own bottles, but obviously they were still watched, supervised, cuddled while they did so. Then there was the diaper feeding and getting them into their little outfits for the day. The squirmies were really kicking up though. Little legs kicking when they felt the fabric, like they wanted to be free. “That’s the swamps in em,” Thomas would say when Stark made it difficult to put his little pants on. Just for Flotsam, Thomas would dress in light clothing, doing his best to emulate a sort of Ewan McGregor vibe, grooming his gingery beard in the same style.

Course Clopin didn’t approve of Piper being used for anything, not by the government especially, and not to do stupid little favors. But this? This didn’t count as a stupid little favor. When he’d hear about it later, he’d order a JarJar Binks costume, just so that he could be huffy and say ‘How wuude’ that they didn’t invite him. Also, as long as Piper was happy to do it, there was no problem-o. Thomas didn’t ask for anything, because he didn’t really have anything. Star Wars wasn’t his jam, and he was always much more amused watching Flotsam and the twins and Scout get into their lightsaber battles than joining in. Still, he’d have fun trying to be like Obi-Wan for the day.

Kids packed - because honestly that felt like it took longer than any diaper bag - and they were ready to go down to the docks where they would take a boat up to the island. And a B-E-A-UTIFUL day, as Thomas would do in the Bruce Almighty voice, doin a very dad thing of standing outside of the cottage door once they were all out, do a stretch, hands on his hips, and look up at the sky. Looking blue and clear -a rare one for these parts of the world. But just all the more fucking perfect. Another good omen. Nothing bad was going to happen today. Then he picked up the two car seats that were on either side and carried them to the car, smelling the air. Even that, somehow, was green. It just had that earthy smell around it that reminded him of their own Lothlorien. It was a comfort to know that no matter which continent they were on, there was always going to be a place with that smell. He chuckled over at Flotsam and fastened the babes into the backseat. “It’s the deep breath before the plunge,” He quoted Lord of the Rings, of course, as he got into the drivers seat. He didn’t have the wealth of Star Wars quotes that Flotsam had, so he decided to be a little shit and use one from his own franchise. Though he was trying to get in the Star Wars Spirit. As soon as he started up the car, he loaded up the Imperial March on his phone so it played through the speakers as they drove away from the cottage.

Down to the docks, which were busy today, given how nice a day it was. People wanting to go out on boar tours, or just to have a nice day of it, going out on fishing. They weren’t taking a big boat out there, it was just a small ferry, fifteen people. And their little family took up five spaces on their own, though with the stroller, it gave them quite a bit of sitting room. Normally babies or small children weren’t allowed but Thomas handed over a bit of extra cash for them to look the other way about some very well behaved babies that they’d be carrying.

“I did a bit of light reading last night,” Thomas said, once they were situated on the ferry, under the open air, heading towards the strange shaped islands. “It’s 670 steps up to the old monastaries, near where they filmed. So if it comes down to it, I’ll carry you on my shoulders and you can hold the triplets,” He said to Flotsam with a teasing grin.

Flotsam would already sit around the cottage rental by the ocean imagining it different even though it wasn't theirs just because it was so not him, his mind always in artist mode and seeing the potential in angles, space, shapes, and areas with his own ideas. He couldn't help himself. His brain was always creating.

The way Thomas saw his mind wasn't entirely wrong. It was always chugging away full steam ahead on a track that never ends in one way or another. Having Thomas know his every dream was strangest form of intimacy considering they were sort of thing a person usually didn't have to tell another soul if they want to. Considering the Laveau eyes it was one of the few places beside their own thoughts a person had true privacy. So, sharing them all freely made him feel completely ripped or bore open for the other whether it was silly dreams or not because those personal ones like that came, and he was always truthful. It was also strange to get affection for it as an adult as if they needed consoling over their nightmares. They were annoyances harbored in the soul, just a dream he usually bottled up like everything else. That's how Flotsam had always treated them. He wasn't scared of them or too worked up. That was more of what was often behind the quiet brood. He figured somehow psychologically even involuntarily it was one more way he punished himself otherwise his mind would let it all go. Therefore, he must deserve it. It would stop when he paid his debt. However, once he started getting that extra affection he liked it. Thomas always knew just to do even if Flotsam didn't know he needed it.

Flotsam was truly excited from the moment something Star Wars was mentioned. It might not have been Middle Earth, but it was pretty damn cool. It was one more reason why he liked the mando staffs, they reminded more of wizard staffs. Flo was all about kung fu fighting with a Gandalf staff in his hands. High-yah. He was pretty sure someone would say he desecrated the tool by putting a parasol on one end, but he's a rebel like that. Not that it was easily seen wrapped in black leather to appear like a long handled hand grip section to keep it closed in place while down.

Thomas was looking hot as fuck as in his Obi-like attire. Flotsam was totally weak for it, beard and all. Even if Star Wars wasn't his favorite jam Flo sure hoped he was still going to have fun. Flotsam kinda wanted him stoked him too or why bother? Brain spiral. He wanted to do something they'd both enjoy and thought they were. Kind of why Flo was so stoked.

"What's that saying? Can take a kid out the swamp, but can't take the swamp out of the kid? Something like that." Flo laughed. "Atta boy." He kept praising Stark like it was a good thing.

Flo would smirk back as Thomas quoted back, always quoting. Flo would hardly give him demerits for Gandalf quoting. Flo has a habit of mix and matching his fan bases. One of Flo's favorite things to do is make up his own lines while watching the movies. For example: whenever the guy from Kim Convienience shows up as a fighter pilot Flo will shout out something in that guy's accent from the other show, "This star destroya is only-a for da gay." - Which is a mix of a line from a funny episode where his character was upset about pride day and was trying to give discounts only to gay people in his store. Everything was 'only for da gay.' Flo consistently mocks everything about Star Wars all while watching it in comparison to how he watches Lotr in complete reverence every single time.

Flotsam grew a sinister Grinch smile when he heard that Vader March hit his ears. "Oh yeah." He flipped the hood of his cloak up feeling the vibe.

Flo was getting used to money being handed under tables to get what they wanted instead of threats. Oh how life had changed. What a world. It had gotten to a point of it hardly being a thought anymore. What was a thought was seeing they were going to get on a boat again. Just that alone kept Flo happy. "I'm starting to feel like I have my own personal matelot, Mr. Laveau... and it's sexy." Though Flo had to laugh a little. "I sort of feel like I'm on The SS Minnow right now and we're about to get lost at sea like on Gilligan's Island. If we do get stranded with this group of people, for the record, we're the sexy ones.... and l'm like Ginger, only the rock star instead movie star and everyone's disappointed because I'm taken."

Then Thomas started teasing him about how many steps had to be climbed. "Oh, you think I can't make it huh? Challenge accepted."

He kept trying to seem all Jedi serious as he trekked, but somehow he kept slipping more into one liner goofball side of Star Wars and kept grinning and laughing instead. He was focused on the physicality of it but he was no Scout. Lanky and strong sure, but age and illness had deteriorated the guy just a wee bit. He was winded sooner than he might have been in his glory days. It was going to be a refuses to give up on it walk. He'd have to slow down and take his time, really pace himself.

Honestly, it was only when he slowed down he got to take it all in. He looked out and sat on the steps a moment to really take the place in.

The monasteries weren't really the biggest part of the hype to Flo. It was more about the scenes when Luke Skywalker was in hiding with so much turmoil in his heart. That was relatable. Running away. Isolating in a beautiful land that meant something meaningful to him to keep peace in the universe elsewhere. Flotsam liked this place the more he thought about it. It was Skywalker's sanctuary very much like his own little Lothlorien in New Zealand. The very thought made him breathe the air in deeper. He felt a kindred way with it's nature in these thoughts connecting with it through the storytelling. It started to put a very peaceful look on his face.

"What do you think we'll see when we get to the top?" He asked honestly unsure considering he hadn't looked through any tourist information. "Can you see the northern lights from here too? I read you can see them at a place called Malin Head here which I had on my list. It had old country scenery like this around it. I just thought it'd be cool to see the lights together, but even cooler from the Jedi Temple." And yes, of course he would continue to call them Jedi temples even if they were monasteries of a different sort.

[caffeinatedrey-blog]

me: you just gotta grow up, ya know? There comes a point where you have to move forward and leave your childhood behind, and that’s fine. I’m an adult now

someone: hey you should take those Star Wars sheets you have on your twin bed to the Goodwill

me:

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine being held as collateral on the Moby Dick

Author's note: this was requested by @spritofthesea thanks for the request! ⭑♡ˊ⌒(⭒ᵔ દ ᵔ⭒)ノ ｡･:◃*⭑ ༘

After Shanks and whitebeard work out the logistics of a joint expedition

Whitebeard: alright, now for the trade.

Shanks: *excitedly lifts his hand* I pick Marco!

Marco: *fuming* Keep dreaming!

Whitebeard: I'm offering Vista

Shanks: ugh fine, I offer (y/n) *gently pushes you forward*

You: *gawks back at him in shock*

Whitebeard: *shakes his head* you're so cruel to your rookies, alright let's get sailing.

Shanks: bye (y/n) *sprints back to the red force*

You: Captain!

Whitebeard: Sorry little one, it's a pirate tradition between pirates when we work together on expeditions that involve lots of treasure and trouble. Ace, you get the rookie.

Ace: got it pops

You: hey kid

Ace: I'm older than you, don't call me "kid"

You: *laughs* no you're not, but sure thing sport.

The evening during what was basically a feast

You and Ace: *leaning on each other and loudly singing Bink's Sake while dancing on a table*

the crowd: *throwing bottle lids at you and laughing*

You: *accidentally knocks over Marco's mug of beer*oop sorry there bud.

Marco: come 'ere you *pulls you into his lap and starts to tickle you*

You: Nooo! Have mercy!

Ace: I'll save you, have no fear.

Marco: *scoops you up in his arms and runs around the galley*

Ace: *chasing after the two of you laughing* I'm gonna get ya!

Marco: no, (y/n) is my captive! *jumps over a table and runs out the door*

Whitebeard: *stunned watching all of you because he hasn't seen his boys this lively in a long time*

Around midnight

You: *half asleep on the floor of the galley*

Marco: come one (y/n), it's time for bed *shakes your shoulder*

You: *rolls over and grumbles at him*

Marco: come one (y/n), it's time for bed *pulls on your arm to encourage you to sit up*

Izou: *smiles as you remind how of him and his sister with Oden*

You: *clings to the support beam next to you and whines* nooo

Marco: *wraps his arms around you and starts to pull* beddy-bye-time!

You: noooo!

Marco: I'm going to keep pulling until you let go.

You: But then you'll hurt me and then Shanks'll get mad at you.

Marco: .... *lets you go and sighs* I'll go get Shanks.

Ten minutes later

Shanks: sweetheart *shakes your shoulder and squats down next to you* it's time for bed.

You: I'm too tired to move

Izou: I'll start tickling you

You: *lets go of the post*

Shanks: *scoops you up in his arm and carries you out of the room*

Marco: that one is a handful

Shanks: they're pretty great *gives you a kiss on your forehead and tucks your head under his chin*

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