#black triangles

[iceycloversart]

cat & bear go to the aquarium

heres my design concepts/ref sheet if anyone is interested :D

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Who is this sassy lost child?

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[fangirls-just-want-to-have-fun]

Brennan is just fucking with us at this point because what do you mean in the the span of less than twenty minutes he both made the conscious decision to have Evan snuggle with Sam (and thus that ENTIRE scene) and then also dropped the line "There are things that are so worth protecting that they are worth killing for." I know he knows DAMN WELL

[shetheabsolute]

— Fruit for thought

(Sinners, 2000s era au)

Stack × Original character (Imaan Irie Miller)

Pilot, "Flashback to us" (next)

Seven Years Ago

Imaan’s living room glowed warm like late afternoon honey. A floor lamp draped in orange scarf fabric cast little swirls of color onto the walls. The whole place smelled like patchouli and something sweet simmering from the kitchen. The stereo in the corner hummed low with a scratched-up Lauryn Hill CD, track five: "I Used to Love Him."

Stack was posted up on her couch, one arm lazily draped across the back, legs stretched out like he paid rent there. He didn’t. But he looked too at home. That was his thing—always lookin’ like he belonged even where he didn’t.

Imaan sat near him, cross-legged on the floor, braiding her hair in the mirror propped on the coffee table and laughing at something he said—real soft, one of those breathy, mmm-you-a-fool laughs. She was only one braid in, an oversized tee with the collar slipping off her shoulder, and her shorts had hiked up way past her thighs, not that she cared. Her house, her heat, her rules. Stack? He was watching her with everything she did it.

“Mani,” he lingered, voice just above the music, “if I knew you had all this peace out here, I woulda stopped messin’ with them city girls a long time ago.”

She paused to glance over at him. “I don't like my peace being followed by chaos, Stack.”

"Oh, word? Okay then. Be liked that," He smiled, eyes lazy with that flirtation he always carried like a second skin. “You ever think ‘bout movin’ back to Jamaica?”

“Mm, I dunno,” she mused, fingers twisting. “Only when Mississippi start feeling like it don’ want me here.”

“..I want you here,” he almost cooed the words out. Made Imaan’s insides churn just the way she loved.

She turned away to hide her grin. “You want everything that got a heartbeat.”

“Damn that was cold,” he said, pressing his hand to chest dramatically. “And, that ain’t true.”

“Oh it ain't?” she teased, standing now, walking over slow with the braid half-done, end flying out wild. “You mean tell me you don’ still got Mary tucked way in your back pocket?”

Stack leaned forward, grinning. “Why you steady bringin’ up old stuff?”

“Boy, you know damn well that ain’t old,” she said, slipping between his legs to stand over him, “especially if it’s still in rotation.”

He looked up at her, that dimple pressing deep into his cheek. “You jealous?”

“No,” she said, matter-of-fact. “I’m territorial with my peace, not my options.”

He laughed, his head shaking. “Why you always gotta have a mouth?”

“Cause you always come through my house playing.”

The song switched to “Ex-Factor.” Her hips circle a little with the intro. Slow and teasing without her meaning to do it. That bass always did something to her. Maybe he noticed. Probably did becasue before she knew it his hands ghosted up to her waist, fingers curling against her skin. And she didn’t stop him.

“Imaan,” he called, voice dipped in something sticky. Like he didn’t already have her attention.

She looked down at him, face unreadable. He slowly moved to pull her in closer—like he didn’t want to scare the feeling away if it was real this time. His breath brushed against her mouth and her lips parted, just slightly. One more inch and he woulda tasted h—

A hand raises, single finger pressed to his lips, stopping him right there in his tracks.

“You still messin’ with that white girl?”

Stack blinked, caught off guard. “You know, she not really whi—”

“Whatever she is,” Imaan interrupted, tilting her head down, eyes locked onto his, “if she still on your hip...”

She leaned in, lips so close he could taste the candy on her breath.

“…then you ain’t gettin’ none…”

Her finger slid from his lips down to the underside of his chin, shifting his head up. Then she paused, mouth resting over his, breath warm against him.

“…of this.”

And just like that, she pulled away, smooth and sure, shifting to sit back down on the floor like she didn’t just leave him breathless.

“You messed up for that,” Stack groaned and fell back onto the cushions, dragging a hand down his face.

She smirked over her shoulder. “Told you ion do second.”

【Present Day】

Folks call her Bag Lady.

Not outta spite or mockery—no. It was just how things worked round here. If you lived far off the gravel roads and came to town dressed like Erykah Badu meets thrifted Dior, carrying a red fishnet bag stuffed with poem books, personal grown fruit, and a single carved wooden pipe? You got a name. Became a story.

But Imaan never minded.

The south had a lot brewing in it. It had home written in its air, soul, people–new and old, it had culture. It is the culture. It might not have looked like much to outsiders, especially in the new millennium. Just a stretch of open sky, faded paint on wood porches, and dust that clung to shoes like secrets. But to Imaan, Mississippi had become her quiet place. Her new beginning. Even if it never stopped whispering about her.

She moved to the States from Mandeville, Jamaica when she was eighteen—alone, carrying little but a suitcase, her mother’s anklet, and a purse slung low over her shoulder. That was when people around town started calling her bag lady, half-joking, half-afraid. She didn’t bother correcting them either. She liked to let people talk.

Imaan lived by herself on the countryside. A pretty but worn two-story, off-white house with metal gates surrounding the border and a funny sign on the entrance that let people know she wasn’t someone to be scare of. Wild grass wrapped around the porch, and wind chimes she made from colored glass bottles and metal spoons danced on her window ledge. Imaan kept to herself. Smoked her weed in the morning with tea, read romance paperbacks with dog-eared pages, and grew fruit to sale. Her eyes were soft brown, framed by lashes too perfect to fake, and her skin glowed with the kind of care that comes from loving yourself in private.

Back in the day, there use to be Stack.

They talked sometimes. Not often, but enough to linger in each other’s memory. She liked that he didn't always try to impress her. Sometimes he’d catch her outside while she was watering her herbs or walking back from Bo Chow’s store with her fishnet bag heavy with meat or soap.

He’d lean up on her porch rail, shirt clinging to his sweat, and say something like, "You always smell like sumn sweet, Mani." Or "let me buy you a drink tonight." He was slick that way.

She never let him touch her for too long, though. They may have had their silences, their glances, but she wouldn’t cross that line—not when she knew he had Mary, even if no one else knew for sure. Imaan wasn’t about to play second fiddle to nobody.

So when the twins dipped for Chicago, she knew he wasn’t gonna say goodbye. No letter. No call. Just gone. But still Imaan stood on her porch for a while the next morning, watching the empty road like it owed her something.

Then seven years passed.

People forgot how close Imaan and Stack might’ve been. Or maybe they just didn’t care. Imaan stayed quiet, laid back, kept to her routines like clockwork. But some day's, when she was alone, she still thought about him. Wondered if he was okay. If he still thought about her the way she did him.

She hated that she cared so much. Cared about everything with her heart, not her head. It was cruel when she felt that way about the man who had left her high and dry. Life was fucking cruel.

But that was just how things went. Win some, lose some.

masterlist

[zosan-secondchances]

Dear Pudding-chan,

I wish you'd come back.

I don't blame you for what happened.

I'm sorry I hurt you. I won't run again.

Please.

I need my Marimo back.

[jam3sacaster]

“Don’t waste your time with him.” PT 1.

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by my sweet heart anon 🫶🏽 / Your uncle, Freddie Jones, introduces you to his new business partners, and you end up wishing he didn’t…

18+ FANFIC / SMUTTY, angsty, hot, in love. Longer than usual so I apologise and hope you don’t take a nap halfway through. Reader character aged 21. As always, request what you wanna see in my asks 💋

Desperate to escape the exhausting bustle of London, it had been agreed some weeks ago that you were to stay at your uncle, Freddie Jones’, Manor House in Rutshire. He had mentioned, vaguely, over the phone about his new business idea and that your expertise in marketing would provide a real asset. Pulling into the extravagant driveway at 8am sharp, you slam your car door shut and pull three substantial cases from the boot. “Darlin!” The familiar accent chimed as your moustached uncle threw open his front door, walking towards you with outstretched arms. Dropping your cases to the floor, you ran to meet him, embracing in a tight, meaningful hug. “I’m so glad you see you.” You exhaled, already feeling the stresses of London melting away. You had always been incredibly close to your uncle, but his newfound wealth and social status and upheaved him from his family and everyday life and plunged him into Rutshire. “Leave the cases. Someone will bring them up for you.” He nodded, taking your hand and leading you into his remarkable home.

“Hello, darlin!” Your auntie Valerie peeped from the doorway, momentarily giving you an uncomfortable, cramped hug. “You’ll have to excuse Fred Fred for an hour, he’s having a business meeting.” She rolled her eyes as she spoke. Embarrassed, Freddie looked down at his feet, but still mustered a smile for you. “Don’t worry about that, come in and meet them. I can tell you all about our new business plan, it’s fuckin’ incredible.” He spoke, beaming to himself now as Val pottered her way outside into her lavish garden. Opening the door to his office, Freddie ushered you in and boomed to the two men standing inside. “Gents, this is my beautiful niece, she’s staying with me for a while and she was an absolute marketing genius down in London. Darlin, this is Rupert-Campbell Black, Minister for Sport, and Declan O’Hara, former star of Declan on Corinium.” He introduced you. Declan tutted at the very mention of the C-word.

“Hello.” You spoke gently, awkwardly glancing between the two men. They quickly exchanged the necessary response to you, and gathered Freddie round the table, mumbling statistics that were far beyond understanding. “Sit, sit.” Freddie tapped the seat beside you, and you hesitantly obliged. Scanning your eyes over their scrawled out business plans, Rupert took the seat beside you, leaning over you slightly to point at some arbitrary on the paper. The potent, saccharine aroma of his aftershave wafting into your nostrils. As he retreated his hand, it brushed across yours softly, making your jump gently in shock. “Sorry.” He muttered, looking up at you and presenting you with a faint smile. Time stood still for a moment as your eyes interlocked contact — Rupert’s eyes softening in lust, yours in affection. “So,” Freddie’s hands slapped against the wooden desk, “We’ll have lunch, a couple of drinks and then get back to it.” He rubbed your shoulder and grinned at you, mouthing shortly after ‘You okay?’, to which you nodded.

Standing up from your chair and making your way into the garden, you breathed in the soft fragrance from the luxurious assemblage of flowers — Soft, pastelled hydrangeas, electric primroses, and properly preened roses of scarlet red and crisp white. You wrapped your soft, knitted lavender cardigan around your torso and squinted slightly under the subtle early morning sun. “London then, eh? Whereabouts?” An aristocratic voice sounded from behind you, cigarette smoke clouding the aroma from the flowers. “Kensington. I worked for a marketing agency, but they ended up thinking I was some kind of businesswoman so I ended up marketing a few television shows.” You reply, turning around slightly to see Rupert Campbell-Black stood, top button of his pastel blue shirt undone.

“Hmm. You’ll be a great asset to the team then. We could use your expertise.” He internally rolled his eyes as he spoke. There was nothing more dull and droning than boring a beautiful young lady with business. “Declan seems nice.” You reply, cheeks delicately glowing a rosy hue. To this, Rupert raised an arched eyebrow — appearing confused but a painful tinge of jealousy coursing through his veins. “Don’t waste your time with him. He’s… emotionally unavailable. His wife just fucked off back to London.” He chuckles abruptly, taking a long puff of his cigarette. Your supple lips pouted, feeling a rather strong wave of sympathy for Declan — partly for his wife leaving, partly for Rupert divulging such personal information to you. “I’m up at Penscombe Court, should you ever need to visit. To talk business and such. Or maybe more.” He winked, and you snickered, shaking your head softly. “Thank you. I’ll-umm… remember that.” You respond, making your way back inside.

Back in the office, Freddie was pacing up and down on his mobile, hand struggling to clasp around the thickened brick of a phone, and the antenna wafting around after him. Declan, muttering to himself under his breath, was sat at the desk, scribbling on an a5 piece of paper. “Drink?” You ask him, and he takes a moment to respond. “Sorry, love. Umm… yes, please. Just a soft one.” He replies, curling his bottom lip into an awkward smile. Temporarily migrating to the kitchen and walking back with a teeming jug of lemonade, laden with ice cubes and slices of fresh lemon, alongside four glasses. Pouring one out for everyone, Declan thanked you as you sat bedside him. “Sooo… what are you working on?” You ask, leaning into him to look over his shoulder. “Just a few pitch docs, jus’ throwin’ some ideas around.” Declan replied, but placed his pen back onto the table and sat back in his chair. “How old are ya?”

“21.” You meekly squeak, his presence intimidating. “And you’re already a marketin’ expert? Ya’ must be really good.” A reassuring smile plastered across his face as he spoke, and took a quick swig of his lemonade. “Well, I don’t know about that. I think Uncle Fred has made me seem a lot better than I actually am.” Freddie looks as you as you speak, smiling through his tedious phone conversation. “I’ve been propositioned already by Mr Campbell-Black.” You sigh, to which Declan shakes his head in disbelief. “Honestly, that man. There’s not a woman on the planet that he wouldn’t ride. Don’t waste your time with him.”

As the evening grew piercingly cold, the budding Venturer team roamed to the living room — television on, fire crackling and tumblers of amber whiskey flowing. You felt small amongst the room of men, talking too loudly and laughing too obnoxiously. Freddie was talking Rupert’s ear off, and that now familiar look of disinterest on Rupert’s face gave it all away. You grinned at him with twinkling eyes as he screwed his face up jokingly towards you at your uncle’s surely riveting conversation. “Whenever ya’ free, and ya’ wanna talk strategies, let me know and we can call a meeting.” Declan spoke, now drunk and stumbling over his words. “This isn’t your way of trying to flirt is it?” You ask, rolling your eyes and pouring yourself an offensively large glass of Sauvignon Blanc. “Trust me, darlin’, you’d know if I was trying to flirt.” All of a sudden, it wasn’t a joke anymore. His tone was low and gruff, and his eyes sharpened. “Maybe we should talk business now?” You suggest, inching your voice towards his. Without responding, Declan rose from the sofa and entered the office. To avoid arising suspicion, you get up a few moments later, with a half-arsed excuse about needing to use the bathroom. Barely waiting for you to close the office door behind you, Declan crashed his lips into yours, pinning you to the wall as the sounds of your colliding lips fought for dominance over your passionate groans.

•

Sliding his hand under your blue floral frock, Declan rubbed his thumb over your slit, the friction of your pants sending a jolt through your body. “Wet for me already?” He asked into your ear, before pulling your pants to the side and gliding two fingers inside you. You yelped in pleasure as his fingers immediately curled towards your g-spot. The frantic passion of the seductive man increased your groans, as you brought your hand down to rub his growing cock over his jeans. “Do you want me on my knees?” You asked with a smirk. Declan opened his mouth to speak, but —

The doorknob turned, and you both desperately panicked to straighten yourselves out. Smoothing down your dress as Declan turned around, in attempt to hide his hard-on from whoever was to enter the room. “Darlin?” Your uncle asked, and you perked your head up innocently. “You okay?”

“Yes, Uncle Freddie. Declan was just… picking my brains.” You chime, turning around slightly to check for his reaction. He suppressed a smirk, and nodded in agreement towards Freddie. Unsuspecting as always, Freddie smiled in contentment and closed the door behind him. “Fuck, that was close. Jesus feckin’ Christ, you turned me into an animal.” Declan wheezed into laughter. You stepped towards him and lifted his hand, sucking his brutish fingers that were, moments ago, inside of you. “Fuck.” He growled in response, running a course hand over his hair. You opened the office door and stepped out, Declan following close behind and giving you a playful snack on your behind that made you yelp. Freddie stood by the door, phone to his ear and speaking nonsense to a pretend caller. He was watching, and keeping a close eye.

•

“Cigarette?” Rupert’s voice spoke from the kitchen towards Declan. You hear Declan decline, and make your way into the kitchen to refill your drink. “You?” He asks, and you nod your head in response as you take a few, very-needed sips of wine. Pulling your uncle Freddie’s lighter from the countertop, you follow the suited man into the garden, taking a quick seat on the frosted wooden bench as Rupert stood above you. He lit his cigarette, and leant down to your level, lighting yours with the blaze within his.

“Finding us insufferable already?” He teased, taking a step back. Shaking your head and puffing your cigarette, your mind could barely muster a response as you envisioned the sound of Declan’s groans and the way his fingers hooked inside of you. “Umm… no. You’re both very nice, actually.”

“Hmm. Declan’s a bit of a cunt but we fair well for ourselves. Think any more about my offer?” He asks, sitting beside you now. “Not yet. How do I know you’re not some chauvinistic Casanova that wants to add me to your long list of conquests?” Raising an arched eyebrow as you speak. Rupert raises his hands in defeat, chuckling to himself that he’d been completely rumbled. You chuckle half-heartedly, semi-believing your own joke. “Well, let’s forget business. I don’t believe in waiting for something you desire. You’re a beautiful girl, and I’d like to take you to dinner.” He declared, taking a long drag of his cigarette and rubbing his thumb over your silky cheek. Taken aback by his rather attractive forwardness and gently biting your lip, you tilt your head upwards at the gentleness of his touch. The bitter evening silence in the garden was comforting — solemnly tranquil, interrupted only by autumn leaves tumbling in the wind and the occasional croaking of a frog in the grass. Even more beautiful still, the heavens opened up to unleash a downpour of of rain. Luckily, the bench was tucked under the porch, but one could still admire the serene display of nature.

Keeping your head tilted towards him, he ran his thumb from your cheek to your lips, lining the top lip, and then the bottom. So enamoured with desire, you could barely breath. He gently pushed his thumb into your mouth, making contact with your tongue. Keeping it there for a moment, he paused and spoke .. “You are magnificent.”

“Darlin’? Are you comin’ in? It’s rainin’ cats and dogs out there.” Freddie’s voice beckoned you from the kitchen window, catching a slight glimpse of the scene unfolding on his garden porch. Taking his time, Rupert removed his thumb from your mouth and stubbed out his cigarette against the brick wall. “You know where I am, angel. Don’t hesitate.” He expressed solemnly, as you collected yourself and went to join your uncle.

“Be careful, darlin’. You’re playing with fire.” Your uncle Freddie warned.

[anyataylorjoys]

"The worst enemy you can meet will always be yourself" -Friedrich Nietzsche

PREDESTINATION (2013) dir. the Spierig Brothers PERFECT BLUE パーフェクトブルー (1997) dir. Satoshi Kon HATCHING (2022) dir. Hanna Bergholm US (2019) dir. Jordan Peele YOUTH IN REVOLT (2009) dir. Miguel Arteta TRIANGLE (2009) dir. Christopher Smith LOOPER (2012) dir. Rian Johnson SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD (2010) dir. Edgar Wright BLACK SWAN (2010) dir. Darren Aronofsky THEY CLONED TYRONE (2023) dir. Juel Taylor ENEMY (2013) dir. Denis Villeneuve

[inseobts]

Roses or Swords - choose your story pt.1

zoro x fem!reader + sanji x fem!reader

how it works

a/n: let's tryyyyy, hope we'll all have fun with it! let's try short and easy and remember to vote at the end.

tags: love triangle, secret admirer, slow burn, crew dynamics... the rest tags will come with your choices.

words count: 2.1k

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sun sets over a new island.

The scent of salt and citrus drifts on the wind, and the golden light dances across the water like glitter. A couple of seagulls circle overhead, crying out before gliding toward the trees beyond the village.

Orange and pink mix in the sky like paint on a canvas. The Thousand Sunny is docked by a peaceful shore, where a small village waits nearby.

Sanji stirs a pot in the kitchen. The smell of garlic and herbs floats through the air. He hums quietly but stops when he hears your voice from the deck.

“Sanji! It smells soooo good! What is it?”

You’re smiling. Just one sentence. Just one smile. It’s enough to make his chest feel tight, but he only smiles back and nods.

“Dinner will be ready soon. A surprise!” he says. Calm. Simple. Not his usual heart-eyed, dramatic self. He doesn’t spin or cry or float in the air like a cartoon.

You blink in surprise “No… ‘Mademoiselle’, or ‘Goddess of the sea’ today? Nothing? No heart eyes?”

He shrugs “Trying something new. Something serious.”

You laugh a little and walk away as you dramatically say "I'm even wearing a new shirt..."

Sanji watches you leave. Then, he sighs and stirs the soup harder, and as soon as he's sure you won't listen he softly says "Oh I noticed the cute light blue shirt... Of course I noticed... It suits you so well, Y/N..."

Later, in the village, the crew splits up to explore. You go with Robin and Nami to the market to find something cute to but. Sanji tags along for a while, but when he sees a group of local women smiling his way, he walks over to them.

He turns on his charm side “Ladies, may I say, this village is full of beauty.”

They giggle. You don’t even turn around. You’re busy looking at some books with Robin.

He keeps glancing your way.

“She didn’t even flinch. Not one look. Not even a roll of the eyes. She doesn't care at all.” He thinks.

Sanji’s smile fades. He says something kind to the women and excuses himself. Going on the opposite side from you.

That night, as you walk back to the girls' room, you find something in there.

A small bouquet of red and white roses. Tied with a blue ribbon. A small note with your name on it and a heart, nothing more.

You gasp.

“Who…?” You hold them close and smile so wide your cheeks hurt. You run to show it to Robin.

Robin tilts her head “There’s no name?”

“No… but look how beautiful! And they smell so good.” You pull two petals off carefully and hold them out “Can we press these into a heart? For a bookmark?”

Robin smiles warmly “Of course. I’ll help you.”

She helps you press them into a book. You choose your favorite one to do it.

Sanji watches you from the kitchen door. He can’t hear your words, but your smile says everything.

“She loved it. I'm happy.” he whispers to himself.

He exhales slowly, the sound almost lost in the quiet hum of the ship.

There is warmth in your smile, but it isn't aimed at him. Not really. He turns back to the stove, tasting the soup with a wooden spoon. It's perfect... but suddenly felt bland.

The next morning, Zoro finds you sitting on the deck, holding the roses bouquet in your lap.

“What’s with the flowers?” he asks, yawning.

You look up, dreamy “I got them last night. A secret admirer, maybe? I don't know, there was no name apart mine on it. And a heart.”

Zoro raises an eyebrow “Seriously? Someone on this island? Who?”

You nod “Must be. No one on this crew would do that. Maybe that guy who stopped me at the marked. But I don't know... he looked more interesting in having the book I was holding than in me. Or maybe that one who gave me a strawberry from his stand. I have no idea.”

He doesn’t reply. Just watches you as you smell the roses again.

Sanji walks by with a tray of tea “Mosshead, stop standing around. You’re wasting space as always.”

Zoro grunts “Tch. I wasn’t talking to you.”

Sanji doesn’t look at him. He gives you your tea before leaving to give the rest to Nami and Robin.

His eyes go to the roses.

Then to you.

Then away.

“Some people don’t appreciate beauty until it’s handed to them.” he says quietly, walking into the kitchen.

Zoro frowns but didn't hear what Sanji said.

You also don’t hear it. You’re still lost in your petals.

The Thousand Sunny bobs gently at the edge of another island. This one is bigger than the last and lush with trees and a quiet beach, but no nearby villages.

The crew is back from a short scouting trip. You’re walking toward the deck when you hear Brook’s voice.

“Yohohoho~! What is that? Can I open it??”

Everyone turns. On a crate near the mast sits a small, wrapped box. It’s neat and tied with a ribbon, not flashy, but special. A folded note rests on top.

Your heart skips reminding of the roses of last time.

Nami walks over and picks up the card “It says your name Y/N.”

Usopp whistles “Oooooh! Another gift from you admirer?? Let’s see, let’s see!”

You hurry over and gently take the box. You untie the ribbon, fingers shaking a little.

Inside, there’s a beautiful bracelet made of sea glass and tiny shells, all smooth and shining under the sun. In the center is a silver charm: a little star.

“Oh my god...” you whisper “It’s so pretty.”

You hold it up and the sunlight dances through the sea glass. A big smile spreads across your face.

“Wow” you breathe “They made this. You can tell.”

Nami nods “Definitely handmade. Whoever this is, they’re thoughtful.”

Luffy leans in, eyes wide “Someone gave you treasure jewelry?!”

Then he frowns deeply “Who’s trying to steal someone from my crew?”

Usopp laughs “Luffy, she’s not getting kidnapped or anything.”

“But still!” Luffy crosses his arms “This person… what if they’re evil?!”

Brook chuckles “Maybe a romantic villain~! Yohohoho!”

You giggle and slide the bracelet on your wrist “This means it can’t be a villager from the last island as we thought. We're already on a new island…”

Nami taps her chin “Hmm… that is strange. First roses, now this.”

“Could be another pirate!” Usopp suggests “Someone who saw her and got smitten! I bet it's that Eustass Kid, he looked flustrated talking with her last time!”

Brook adds, “Or maybe it's a marine! One of those strong and silent ones? And it explains why they don't let you know their identity.”

Your eyes go wide “No way, really? You think that could happen?”

Sanji watches from behind the railing. He lights a cigarette. His hands are almost shaking.

“She didn’t even think it could be me. Not even a little. Who else she thinks could know how she likes her jewelry.” He thinks.

He forces a smile and walks toward the kitchen before anyone notices him staring like that.

Inside, he leans against the wall. His heartbeat is loud in his ears.

“She’s smiling. That’s all that matters, right?”

But still…

On the deck, Zoro stands near the railing, arms crossed. He watches you from the corner of his eye as you show the bracelet to Nami and Brook.

When Usopp says, “Maybe she actually has a secret boyfriend and she doesn’t want to let us know!”

Zoro’s jaw tightens at that. He turns and walks away.

Every step away from you made his chest feel tighter. He hated this feeling of being… replaced. And worse, not knowing if he has any right to feel that way.

“Where are you going?” Nami calls after him.

“Nowhere.” he mutters.

You look over and see his back as he disappears below deck.

Weird. Is he… mad?

You shake the thought away. Your fingers trace the charm again.

Whoever they are… they’re watching. And you want to know who.

You lean over the railing, watching the ocean sparkle like glass. The bracelet dangles from your wrist, catching the sun. It still makes you smile.

But something else makes your chest feel heavy.

Zoro’s been weird.

He barely talks to you anymore. No usual dry jokes, no comments during training, not even a simple “hey” when you walk by. You used to sit on the deck in silence together, side by side, and it never felt awkward.

Now he walks away every time you get close.

So today, you decide to follow him “Zoro!”

He doesn’t stop.

You jog after him across the deck “Zoro. Hey. Hey! Wait!”

He finally turns, not angry, but definitely annoyed “What?”

You frown “Okay, what’s your deal?”

“No deal.”

“Seriously? You’ve been avoiding me for days. You barely even look at me anymore. You don't even talk to me.”

He crosses his arms and glances away “You’re imagining things.”

“No, I’m not.” you say, stepping closer “Did I do something?”

Zoro sighs, then mutters, “No.”

You tilt your head “Then why are you acting weird?”

He hesitates.

You wait.

He looks away again and mutters, “I don’t like this secret admirer thing.”

You blink “What?”

“I said...” he scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, “...I don’t like it.”

You’re confused “...Why?”

His jaw tightens “Because you don’t know who it is. Could be dangerous.”

You raise an eyebrow “Dangerous? They left me roses and a bracelet, Zoro. Not a bomb.”

“Still,” he says, avoiding your eyes, “you’re trusting someone who won’t even show their face.”

You fold your arms “You think they’re trying to hurt me?”

“I think you’re being too careless.” he says sharply, then softens a little “What if it’s someone using the gifts to get close to you for the wrong reason?”

You pause. For a second, you almost believe him.

But something feels… off.

“That’s not the real reason, is it?” you ask, voice quiet.

Zoro opens his mouth, then closes it.

You step closer “Zoro. We’re friends. You always tell me when something bothers you. Don’t stop now.”

He looks at you for a long moment.

Then he turns his back “I told you why. You don't believe me... So, just forget it.”

And just like that, he walks away again.

Leaving you there, staring after him, the sea glass on your wrist suddenly feeling a little heavier than before.

You watch Zoro’s back as he disappears into the lower deck again.

Your heart sinks. It’s not just about the secret admirer, something else is pulling him away from you. And he won’t say what.

You sigh, fingers touching the charm on your bracelet. The silver star is warm, but it doesn’t comfort you as much today.

Fingers wrapped around your wrist where the bracelet is.

You don’t take it off. Can’t.

But the questions in your head run like waves in a storm. Who left it? Why Zoro ispulling away? Why Sanji kept looking like he wants to say something but never does?

You sigh and turn toward the stars... they blink gently, like they know more than they're telling.

As you stand frozen between the open kitchen and the quiet stairs, Luffy passes by munching on a chunk of meat.

“You okay?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Kinda,” you say “Just thinking.”

Luffy gives you a nod “Thinking too much makes your head hurt. That’s why I only do it sometimes.”

You smile despite yourself “Thanks, Luffy.”

“You want meat?” he offers.

You shake your head and laugh “I’ll be fine.”

He leaves.

As you stand there thinking, a voice cuts through the silence behind you.

“Are you actaully okay, sweetheart?”

You turn and find Sanji leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, cigarette between his lips, soft worry in his eyes.

“Not really... No...” you say honestly.

Sanji steps forward “Want some tea? Some ice cream? You look like you could use a break. And something sweet.”

You hesitate. You could use the tea. And the company.

But another part of you still wants to chase after Zoro. You’re not ready to give up on him, not yet.

You remember the night you sprained your wrist during a training session. Zoro barely said a word at the time, just handed you a cold pack and sat beside you in the dark. You’d watched the stars in silence, shoulders brushing. That night, it felt like he’d always be there. And that's how your friendship actually started.

Or maybe… you should stop thinking about both of them and just talk to the rest of the crew. Laugh. Take your mind off this whole emotional mess.

You look from the stairs Zoro vanished into, to Sanji’s open, waiting hand.

And then out to the deck where Usopp and Nami are chatting about your secret admirer again.

Choices spin in your head.

[ourflagmeansworms]

Idk what I was expecting from the minecraft movie but it wasn’t being queer baited by Jason Momoa in pink triangle motifs and Jack black in unisex turquoise blouses.

[actualgamergrill]

triangles when they're black or something

[hellonerf]

i don't even like yaoi all that much

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

ghost horses

GHORSES

[pamperedollie]

XOXO. જ⁀➴

A GOSSIP

‎‎ ‎‎GIRL AU

. ۫ ꣑ৎ you've gone your whole life hating the spotlight, but soon find yourself enveloped in it

summary. a scandalous gossip girl-inspired au where you—an aspiring fashion designer is caught in the chaos high society, stumbling into a dangerously irreristible love triangle between the wealthy & powerful vanderbilt brothers, all under the eyes of gossip girl …

tropes. love triangle, fake dating, forced proximity, social media, poc reader

characters

☆ GGAU!READER

☆ drew vanderbilt

☆ harris vanderbilt

☆ ryan bennett

☆ lila vanderbilt

☆ alexa esparza

☆ evan ortiga

☆ damson sinclair

☆ taylor beaufort

chapters

one

two

three

layout ib by musegyra

[shetheabsolute]

— Fruit for Thought

(Sinners, 2000s au)

Stack × Original character (Imaan Irie Miller)

Episode 2: Off balance

The door swung open with a loud chime as Grace and I stepped inside, the cool air from the store wrapping around us like a prayer.

I blinked, adjusting to the hum of the refrigerators and the smell of cleaning bleach and something sweet like air freshener, still stuck on what she just said.

“They back? Grace, you playin’ me right now?” I said, stepping over the welcome mat with my heart catching in my throat.

Grace pushed her long silky black hair off her shoulder and gave me that look—half-smirk, half-truth. “I’m serious, boo. Stack and Smoke’s Juke Joint. That’s what it’s gon’ be. Annie say Smoke paid her a lil visit the other night.”

We both froze for a beat, eyes catching. And then—

“Oh I know what visit mean,” I said, grinning wide. “Annie still got them weak knees.”

Grace burst out laughing, covering her mouth. “That woman could raise the dead with the way she do. You know.”

The front door jingled again as Bo came out from the back, holding a clipboard and looking about half-interested in the world around him.

“Imaan,” he greeted with a lazy smile, waving me over as he stepped outside behind a group of teenage boys hauling the crates from my truck bed.

He pointed a finger at one of them—tall, lanky boy with his jeans too low and confidence too high.

“But—aye! Keon!” Bo barked. The boy froze mid-lift. “Don’t none of y’all be tryin’ no funny stuff with my daughter. I know how you get. And don't forget I know y' mama.”

The other boys howled laughing while Keon just rolled his eyes. “Ain’t nobody worried ‘bout Lisa, man.”

Bo gave him the look.

“Go on now,” he grunted, jerking his chin toward the crates.

Grace laughed under her breath, swatting Bo’s arm as he came back in.

“Leave them boys alone,” she teased. “Lisa got it handled.”

Bo grinned and pulled her close by the waist, kissing her like other people weren't around. “Mmhmm. And I got you handled.”

“Boy, go somewhere,” Grace murmured, flustered, before turning to me. “He act up all the damn time.”

Bo slapped his hand over his chest. “Now that hurts. Now, Imaan, don’t worry, I’ll pay you good like always. You just keep bringin’ me the best mangoes in the state.”

“Best in the whole South, you mean,” I said with a wink.

Bo headed toward the back again, clipboard in hand, while Grace slipped behind the front counter. I followed without thinking, like I’d done a thousand times, perching myself behind the glass barrier where the peach rings and dried plums lived. My feet swung a little, bare calves brushing the cool metal as Grace flipped through an old issue of Vibe magazine.

I watched the way her eyes scanned the page slow, but I knew her thoughts were still stuck where mine were.

I lingered before asking, “...and you sure Annie said they both back?”

Grace didn’t look up right away. She flipped a page, then nodded slow.

“She said she saw Smoke first. Said he walked in like he ain’t aged a day, talkin’ slick like always, askin’ if her number was still the same.” Grace smirked. “And then she said Stack came in later. Real quiet. Looked a lil tired, but chu know, still him.”

I swallowed something dry in the back of my throat. My fingers traced over the glass counter without lookin’.

“She say anything else?” I asked, voice soft.

Grace tilted her head, finally lookin’ at me. “Just that he was lookin’ for a spot. Said he wanted to ‘build sumn familiar.’ She ain’t know if that meant the Juke Joint idea or…”

“Or me,” I finished for her, eyes unfocused. The word sat heavy in my mouth.

Grace didn’t say nothing for a moment. Just hummed and nodded slow.

“Could be both.”

I leaned back, letting my body rest against the wall behind me. My eyes drifted toward the front window where the kids were still hangin’ around, laughin' and pushin' each other near the truck. But my mind… was somewhere else.

Back on that couch. Back on his mouth, brushing over mine like a secret.

Back on those damn dog tags sitting in the box under my bed.

Grace tossed the magazine onto the counter and leaned her elbow on it, watching me, eyes glinting with mischief. I could tell she was already ready to clown me.

“You gon’ go see him?” she asked.

I didn’t answer. Not yet.

I just stared at the sunlight spilling through the front window, warm and golden and unfamiliar.

“I don’t know if I’m gon’ go see him,” I said, leaning down to adjust the strap of my sandal. “Not if him still messing wit’ the pale lady.”

Grace let out a loud laugh and gently pushed at my thigh with the back of her hand. “Who? Mary? Girl, you a trip. Easy, easy—you know that girl family.”

“To y’all,” I said with a pointed look, twirling my finger in a slow circle. “I do not conversate with her. She still think I was tryin’ to—on quote—steal her man. I mean, wasn’t she married to some white dude at that time?”

“Mhmm,” Grace hummed as she reached below the counter, grabbed a pack of peach rings, and tore it open easily. “But, girl, you know she divorced him. Got his money too.”

My brows lifted. “Really?” I reached over and plucked one of the peach rings from the bag, slow and casual.

“Yup.” Grace nodded like she’d just delivered gospel. “She livin’ up in them big neighborhoods now. Behind the gates. She come through downtown like twice a week. I’m surprised you two ain’t ran into one another.”

“I don’t want to,” I said flatly, chewing slow. “She’s so petty. Act like Stack and me was in a relationship. She catch herself havin’ beef with me. But I don’t beef. I will taze that woman.”

Grace nearly choked, laughing. “Girl hush!”

Just then, the back door creaked open and Bo stepped in with a little notepad in hand, head tilted halfway like always.

“I got my half of the load,” he said, waving the pad. “So I’mma go ahead and write you up a check. You good with that?”

“Yes, Bo,” I said softly, slipping down from the counter to follow him over to the register. “You always treat me right.”

Bo smiled, his hands already scribbling down numbers in his tight, neat handwriting. “You know we appreciate you, Imaan. Ain’t nobody else bring fruit like you do. These mangoes? Got folks thinkin’ we got a tree out back.”

I chuckled, leaning against the counter beside him. “Das love, Bo. Thank you.”

“You got it,” he said, tearing off the check and handing it over. “Give Annie my love when you see her.”

“I will.” I tucked the check in my purse. “Tell Lisa I said bye.”

Grace waved from the counter. “Bye, sugar. Don’t taze nobody!”

“Can't make no promises,” I teased.

The sunlight hit me hot and bright when I stepped back outside. I rounded the corner to the back lot and spotted Keon leaning up on my truck like he paid the note, talking to Lisa with a little too much smile in his face. I slowed my step just enough to watch him hold her hand—Lisa giggling, bashful, twisting one of her strands.

“Oooo...” I called out, smirking as I approached. “Y’all betta hope Bo don’t catch this.”

They jumped back like they got caught stealing. Lisa turned beet red. Keon just laughed nervously, scratching his head.

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’, Miss Imaan. Don't tell daddy,” she said, all innocence.

“Mmhmm,” I hummed, pulling open my driver door. “I didn’t see this, for now. Yall take care! And keep yall hands to y' selfs.”

I climbed into the front, the engine coughing once before roaring alive. I cracked the windows back down and began to back out the lot. I hit the main road, the city slowly peeled open more. Pasting faded murals and tall buildings as my mind starts to drift back to Grace’s words.

Stack was back, and with him I just knew the balance I had gained for myself over the years was about to be knocked off its rocks.

masterlist

[kawaiigirly21]

Some General Headcanons part 2

-Conquest met his wife when he came back from an assignment and saw her standing next to Thragg

-She used to be an advisor to Thragg before promptly requesting a job change to spend more time with Conquest

-For reference, Conquest is from the generation where the civil war took place. Natasha was born sometime afterwards. She is from Nolan's generation

-Conquest STOLE HER FROM THRAGG!!!

-The pair were messing around on the side and Natasha reveled in the fact she had the attention of the strongest Viltrumite, but the moment her eyes met those of Conquest's, she felt something she never felt while laying in Thragg's arms

-She found Conquest charming

-He found her beautiful and alluring

-Conquest STOLE HER FROM THRAGG

-Is he jealous? No. Is he mad his favorite advisor isn't giving it up anymore? Yes. He won't admit it but he misses that pussy

-Conquest and Natasha claim that love doesn't exist in Viltrumite DNA but come on. They LOVE each other

-The pair flirt while on assignments. Well, the assignments are actually for Conquest, Natasha is just there to watch him kill and flex his muscles

-Imagine being an alien trying to avoid being murdered and you see the infamous Viltrumite Conquest flirting with a woman whose rubbing on his biceps that are coated in the blood of your kin

-Sex. Oh boy. That's a post all on its own

-The pair forgo courting and jump right into marriage after one exceptionally hard assignment

-No many people attend. And the ones that do, are close associates of Natasha

-Thragg attended as well. For the sake of trying to intimidate Conquest out of marrying Natasha

-It doesn't work obviously and the two are married in a quick ceremony

To Be Continued