#clothes out from my outside™️ clothes

[bunnyb34r]

Bleugh gotta go shower before I can lay down to nap but dont have the energy/motivation to get up and do that

[thetriumphantpanda]

be my Venus of the stars | general marcus acacius

Summary | He's been visiting you for months, fresh off the battlefield, to be cleaned and reborn, but this time, something is different, this time, he might finally touch you back.

Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Word Count | 2.8K

Warnings | Set in a bath-house, it is suggested that reader is a sex worker, The General™️ is dirty and needs a bath, as historically accurate as I could make it, use of Latin terms of endearment, explicit smut, handjob, fingering, oral sex (f), unprotected PiV, creampie, marking during sex, mention of ancient roman methods of.... not getting pregnant, no use of y/n, reader is a blank slate but does wear a dress.

Authors Note | Listen, I know we know literally nothing about this man, but what I do know is that he looks like a needs a bath and a nice lady to help him destress... so here we are. Leave it to the archaeologist to fall head over heels for the roman general, right? Whilst my ancient archaeological interest has always been Greece, you best believe this is right up my street. We won't talk about the amount of academic papers I read to make this as historically accurate as possible. I hope you love this, and if you do, please consider reblogging, commenting and screaming with me in my ask box!

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Divider by the ever wonderful @saradika

He’s weary, his body drooped from the weight of his armour, but you suspect there are other things that are weighing him down too.

He’s been gone a while, sent away to some far-fought battle, never knowing if the view of his back when he leaves will be the last you ever see of him or not.

As he always does, he drops a coin purse onto the table, sliding it across to the bathhouse owner, before he turns, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Always you, only you, he’s never paid attention to anyone else in this damned place and he never will. His face is covered in dust, dirt and grime, his clothes in no better shape - you know you have your work cut out for you, but you find that when it’s him, you don’t mind at all.

It’s a familiar dance, how he follows a few steps behind you, the clinking of armour filling the hallway as you lead him to the private bath. You do as you always do, and open the door, letting him move inside as you let the door click shut behind you.

The hour is late, candles the only source of light, the sounds from the street below filling the silence as you ready the water for him. Warmed already, you drop a few rose petals into the water and pick out the oil you know he likes. It strikes you then that he’s not undressing, something he normally does himself. Instead, he stands at the window, staring out into the darkness.

“It is ready, sir.” You speak softly, motioning your hand to the bath when he turns around.

“Come,” he all but whispers, “Help me.”

You step closer, following his lead as he starts to undo whatever straps keep his heavy armour in place, dropping his hands when he knows you’ve got the hang of it. You take it off, piece by piece, setting it gently on the ground until he’s just in the under layers he wears.

Night is falling, and the candles in the room and the orange light from outside bathe him in gold as he motions for you to do the rest. Your hands, trailing up his body, lifting the tunic he’s wearing under his armour, over his head. There’s a hiss of pain as he lifts his arm, then a sigh of relief his tunic is gone, and it’s at this moment, that you realise he hasn’t stopped looking at you.

This man, born and bred for the fight, with brown eyes softer than you’ve ever seen staring down at you as you undress him.

“You can touch me.” You offer.

You look at him, eyes through eyelashes, as his roam across your body, draped in cotton and pinned in just the right place to accentuate every inch of you - it was a gift from a wealthy customer many years ago, a traveller who had taken to you, promised to take you with him but left you with nothing but a nice dress.

He goes to reach out, but stops short of touching the material, “It is such a pretty dress,” he muses, stepping back from you to let the final garment he’s wearing drop to the floor, “I must bathe first.’

You aren’t shy in the way you look at him, you’ve seen him without clothes more times than you care to admit, you’ve touched him, made him sigh, made him cum more than once, but he’s never once reached out to you. But there’s something different tonight, something charged, and as he walks towards the bath, muscles in his back rippling as he does, you wonder if tonight might be the night you finally know what it is to be touched by him.

He lowers himself into the warm water, groaning as he settles his back against the metal, warm from the water and from the fire lit to keep it that way.

You do as always and kneel beside it, picking up the small bowl on the table next to you. You scoop some water into it and let it drain across his curls, his head tipped back because he knows this dance. Fingers run through his wet hair, freeing his locks from the weeks of dirt and sand and blood and fight, until the water runs clear.

Then, you move onto his body. It’s arguably your favourite part, letting your hands run across his skin. He rests his arms on the lip of the bath, a well-rehearsed dance now, and lets your pour the scented oil onto his skin. You massage it in, thumbs digging in where his armour has left marks, easing weeks of tension with firm presses. You use the strigel to scrape the oil and the dirt off until his skin is clean.

Only once you have used your hands to rinse him off do you consider moving lower. You always do, run oil soaked hands up and down his legs under the water, feel his muscles tighten when you drag them higher, which is how it always ends up with your firm hand wrapped around his cock. Your fingers dip below the water but his strong fingers grip at your wrist as they go to drift lower to his legs.

You let him guide your hand, your eyes meeting his own chocolate-brown orbs, which are blown wide and dark, as he shows you what he really wants. No preamble this time, as your fingers meet the skin of his semi-hard length.

“I haven’t finished.” You purr at him, letting your fingers close around him anyway.

“I find I don’t care,” He speaks back, tone low, “I have been gone for weeks, this is all I want.”

You watch as his head tips back and his body lowers into the water when you start the languid pumps of your hand up and down his cock, gripping tighter when you reach the tip, loosening when you move down. You’ve seen him for years, you know how he likes it, slow to start with, faster to bring him over the edge.

There’s something different this time though, of all the years he’s seen you, he’s never once touched you, only ever a tight grip on your arm as he comes, or a drag of his thumb across your cheek when he leaves. His grip tightens around your wrist enough to still your movements, then, he’s dragging your hand away. You wonder for a moment if you’ve done something wrong, until he shifts and stands.

You’ve seen him without his clothes enough times to know every dip of his body, ever mark and scar that he’s accumulated, but as he stands now, water dripping from his skin, cock hard and heavy in front of you, he looks nothing short of God-like. All the statues in all of Rome could never compare to this man in front of you.

Standing from your place on your knees, you watch as he steps from the bath, water pooling on the floor as he walks towards you. He lets a hand drape across your waist, palm flat against your back as he pulls your body to his own, wet skin against dry garments, head dipped so his mouth is a whisper away from your own.

“Tell me I can,” He asks, “I want to kiss you.”

You let your hands entwine at the back of his neck, wet curls locked between fingers, so you can drag him closer to you. When his lips finally meet yours, all the years of wondering what it was like prove worth it. They’re chapped, dry from whatever battlefield he’s been within, but it’s perfect, as they slant across yours and he pulls your body tighter to his own. He’s gentle, unlike other men, his tongue is tentative as it drags across your bottom lip, mouth opening against your own as his tongue melds with yours behind your teeth.

There is movement that you only register at the last moment, when the backs of your knees hit the bed in the corner of your room. You tumble down upon it, lying and watching as he watches you, fist tight around his own cock as you start to undrape your dress from your skin. His eyes rove across your body when you finally reveal yourself to him, spreading your legs for him, letting your hands cup your breasts.

“You do this for everyone?” He asks quietly, settling himself between your open legs, his cock resting against your mound.

“Maybe,” You respond, “But you’re the only person I want to do this for.”

“Do they treat you well?” He murmurs, laying his body across your own, the weight on him on top of you making your cunt pulse.

“Some do, some don’t.” You shrug, cupping his face with your hands.

“Any of them make you come?”

You shake your head against the bed, “They come here for their own pleasure, sir.”

“My pleasure is your pleasure,” He whispers against your ear, “Tell me, has anyone ever kissed you here?”

One of his hands drags down your body, his hips lifted enough to let his hand cover your cunt.

“N-no,” You choke, the heat of his hand stifling against you, “They h-haven’t.”

“Would you let me?”

You nod, words failing you, as he lets his mouth drag down the naked skin of your body until his broad shoulders are settled between your thighs, pushing them apart, spreading you obscenely wide for himself.

His mouth is hot as it kisses the skin of your pussy, soft feather-light touches to every inch of skin. His thumbs pull your folds apart, baring every intimate inch of you to him, and then it’s all ecstasy as that wonderful mouth clasps around the bundle of nerves that you know so intimately of yourself, but others seem to forget.

It makes you buck your hips into his mouth, pressing further into the feeling of absolute bliss as the tip of his tongue flicks fast and then slow across it in undeterminable patterns. One of his hands splays across your stomach to keep you still, as he switches from the tip of his tongue to the flat. You can hear the slurping from between your legs, can feel your slick leaking from your cunt at his ministrations, the moans he lets out when his tongue dips lower to taste you - he’s enjoying this just as much as you are, a man committed to making you feel good before anything else.

There a knots twisting in your stomach, a fire that you know only from your own hand spreading across your lower body, you’re close, and you think he knows it too.

He brings his mouth back to your clit, lips enveloping it whole as he sucks it into his mouth, rolling his tongue across it as you feel two of his fingers slip inside your wet cunt, curling upwards almost immediately.

“Gods,” you breathe out, letting fingers tangle in his quickly drying hair, “I’m- oh fuck - so close.”

He continues just as he is as your body starts to convulse. Your eyes clamped shut, sweat pooling in crevices you didn’t know you had, until his tongue flicks just right and you’re snapping, coming undone. Body arched into his mouth as your cunt clamps tight around his fingers, as pleasure bursts across every inch of your skin. His tongue doesn’t let up until you whimper quietly that it’s too much, chest heaving and vision blurry.

His body clambers atop yours once more, hot skin against hot skin, his lips at your neck as he fumbles between your bodies, hand guiding his heavy, hard cock to nudge at your leaking centre.

“Tell me it’s okay,” he breathes against your skin, “Tell me I can have you like this.”

You moan, hips moving upwards into his own, heavy arms wrapping around his neck, “I’ve wanted this for so long,” you whine, feeling the tip of his cock right where you want it, “Please,” you beg, “Please, put me out of my misery.”

One of his hands grips your chin, turns your face to his. He’s so close, his eyes burning with lust you’ve never seen before, his forehead pressed to yours.

“Look at me,” he begs, shaking your head a little when you close your eyes at the feeling of him starting to push inside, “I want to see you when I do this.”

So you do, eyes open and boring into his own as he slips his cock into you. He’s big, bigger than you think you’ve had before, your mouth drops open as he slowly feeds every inch of himself into your cunt, stilling and sucking in his breath when he can go no further.

“I have dreamt of this,” he speaks softly as he drags himself out of you, “Wondered what you would feel like,” then he pushes back in, all at once this time, “It is nothing like I imagined.”

His face is buried in the crook of your neck now, his hips pulling back only to push back in again, tip of his cock brushing against that spot inside you that makes you keen, fingernails digging into his arms as you hold on.

“Is it better, General?” You ask in his ear, “Am I all your dreams come true?”

He answers with a hard thrust of his cock, causing a shrill shriek from your throat as the tip bruises at the very depths of you.

“It is everything I wanted and more, carrisima.”

He pushes himself back from you, cock still buried deep, and gathers your legs, hooking them over his arms before he presses forward again, bending your body in a way you know will make you ache tomorrow.

His hips pull back, before the slam back into you, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, as he sets a pace that you’re not even sure the God’s could keep up with. The room filled with nothing but the sounds of his skin slapping against yours, the wet squelch of your cunt sucking him in on every thrust, and the hot pants and moans from the two of you.

You let your arms reach around, palms against the toned muscles of his ass. You squeeze and dig fingernails into skin on each bruising thrust, head thrown back to let him press forward enough to suck at your neck, teeth nipping and tongue soothing. No-one but him would get away with marking you.

“I’m close,” he manages to choke out, “Tell me I can fill you.”

You’ve waited too long to feel him like this to deny him. You would go to the healer in the morning for a cyreniac balm, but all you wanted right now was to feel him claim you, to make you his in every possible sense.

“Fill me, General,” you moan, “Let me feel you, please.”

It does take long, his hips faltering, stilling into your on one final thrust. He growls into the night air, his cock throbbing within you, the feeling of his seed painting your walls makes you hungry for more. He collapses on top of you, softening cock still deep inside you, as you wrap your arms around him, run comforting fingers through his hair as he recovers his breath.

Finally, he slips himself from your heat and rolls onto his back, dragging you with him to drape across his chest, one hand on your lower back, the other placed atop yours on his chest.

“I go back to war soon,” he speaks quietly, mouth pressed to your forehead, “I-“ he stutters for a moment, “I’m not sure I will make it back this time.”

You lean up and press a soft kiss to his jaw, “You are lucky, Sir,” you speak, “I think the Gods look upon you.”

“I feel a premonition,” he explains, “I couldn’t go back without knowing what it was to have you.”

You move the hand you have on his chest to entwine your fingers with his own, “You must come back, I cannot live without you now I know you like this.”

He smiles a little, shifts the two of you so you are both led on your sides looking at each other. His big palm traces down your side, resting at your hip.

“I will try, mea columba,” he whispers, kissing the tip of your nose, “But for now,” he rolls you gently to your back, fingers trailing back through your folds, slipping inside you, gathering his come and your slick on his fingers, dragging it up to circle your clit softly, “We must make the most of the time we have left together.”

[h0neyfreak]

helping “The Environment” as an individual is such a nebulous and ever changing concept and seems to be very much in the Discourse™️ at the moment so I just want to take a minute to shout into the void with some reminders I gave my enviro students when they got to the “oh dear god we’re all gonna die” phase of the class:

“Individual choices don’t matter” is like. true(?) for climate change (unless you’re a kardashian or CEO or something) but that just means you can’t reusable tote bag your way out of a private jet society. NOT that you can’t have any impact through community initiatives and activism. Advocate for municipal composting and public transit!! Get involved locally!!!!! Write weekly to your representatives! Do whatever you can to get unstuck and scrape together some modicum of hope.

Also on individual choices. There are some that “matter” but be very wary of outsized benefits promised for seemingly small choices (e.g. the straw debacle). An app is not the thing to save us from a hundred years of industry. Going out and collecting litter DOES have an impact even if that impact is just “this area of the world no longer has trash in it.” It’s not solving the issue of microplastics or whatever but it is helping local birds. And it’s helping YOU feel more connected to your local environment and getting you involved with the world and your community.

Finally, the best thing you can be is well informed, persistent, and kind. Be willing and able to help if you bump into someone who is open to the idea of not letting Shell and SHEIN pour toxic sludge directly into every river. It’s more people than you think. But most people only know how to buy things that are “better.” (Electric cars, reusable bags, expensive neutral clothing made of flax). They want to do SOMETHING but we’re all just kind of vibrating balls of anxiety all the time. Know what sort of things are going on around you and invite them! My go to’s are composting initiatives, textile recycling programs, and pollinator friendly/grass free gardens.

Again, it would be great if we were all willing to drag the Shell and Nestle CEOs out to account for their crimes but being paralyzed by fear is not gonna help. Neither is another ethical clothing brand selling $400 linen underwear (probably). I’ve found time and time again that people who have any amount of tangible connection to the world outside have a much more visceral reaction to billionaire super yachts than defeatist suburbanites who drive EVs and have a kitchen full of dubious organic snacks.

[nordarknessdimsthesky]

A linguistic analysis of tumblr hyperbole in the tags

This post expands my previous analysis of hyperbolic reactions to cluster tags by themes. There were too many themes, some of them overlapping, to create a cohesive graph. Instead, I present several overarching themes from a data set of 50 tags observed and documented in various corners of tumblr.

1. Feeling Normal™️

Tags within this cluster profess Normal feelings (read: extreme excitement, enthusiasm, obsession, derangement, etc.).

#mmmmrrrghuhhhhghhh #I'm so normal about it teehee #absolutely not rending my clothing #feeling very normal and not feral at all #i will simply never recover #gif sets sent to personally destroy me #i can't cope #the eyes #i'm a puddle #i am INCONSOLABLE #i am DISTRAUGHT #IM NOT OKKAAAAAAYYYYYY #FEELING TOTALLY ONE HUNDRED PERCENT NORMAL

2. Feralness

The following data points conjure animalistic behavior. There’s a non-zero amount of biting and chewing involved.

#chomping biting barking #biting my arms off #rattling my cage #[incoherent biting noises] #chewing glass #chewing through wood #*shaking the bars of my enclosure* HELLO!!!!!!!! #climbing the walls #biting gnawing chewing #im gonna rip off my front door and eat it

3. Noisy Emotional Outbursts

These tags encompass crying, screaming, yelling, and other loud reactions.

# shaking sobbing crying #SCREAMIIIING BANGING MY HEAD ON THE WALL #*no thoughts only wailing* #i am SOBBING #IM CRYING LIKE A BITCH #*just fucking yelling* #S C R E A M #screeching into a pillow #brb sobbing for 5-7 business years

4. Throwing

All of these tags except the last one involve being thrown instead of throwing things. I, personally, am entertained by the range of places/situations people are throwing themselves into.

#i am going to THROW MYSELF into the SEA #hurl me into the sea #hurl me into the sun #trebuchet me into the sun #hurl me straight at europa #vent me out of an airlock #slam me against a wall #put me in a box and throw me down the stairs #throwing myself into traffic you know? #just defenestrate me already #defenestrate me #absolutely hurl me through plate glass #i'm going to start tossing furniture

5. Bodily Harm

There’s a good deal of overlap with the previous theme. Nearly all of the tags involving throwing would result in varying degrees of bodily harm. Here are the tags outside of the Throwing subgroup.  

#im going to throw upppppp #tearing my hair out #banging my head against the wall #SCREAMIIIING BANGING MY HEAD ON THE WALL #biting my arms off #microwaving myself #crumple me up and microwave me

6. Absurdism

My personal favorite cluster. The imagery conjured and resulting comedic hyperbole is just [chef’s kiss].

#im gonna rip off my front door and eat it #crumple me up and microwave me #put me in a box and throw me down the stairs #defenestrate me #absolutely hurl me through plate glass

7. Keysmashes

These tags center less around meaning and more around style, so they form the last group. A handful of these could fall under Noisy Emotional Outbursts because they represent reaction noises. In my linguistic judgment, keysmashing increases the hyperbole – consider augh versus aughfhghghghhh – the latter reads as prolonged and more intense emotionally.

#aghdjakgsjadhjaka * #hrhrhrhgnnnghhhhh #aughfhghghghhh #mmmmrrrghuhhhhghhh #I'm so normal about it teehee #waughfhghghh #oughhhhghghhh

*one digression in a friend discord server was how people interpret keysmashes in their minds. Some hear the first couple letters and then some sputtering, others hear static. It’s a common joke that you need a minor in linguistics to understand conversations in this friend group. Such is the nature of things when the chaos linguist energy is strong.

[blacklegsanjiii]

I wanna see Mihawk with a fem golden!Sanji. I don't think much would change over all but I feel like Mihawk being a girldad would be hilarious. Because she's nine and looks like she's six and she's been through hell and back and she's scared of men and boys. Mihawk doesn't interact with girls or women all that much so Zeff shoving them together would be hilarious and heart warming I think. Mihawk would be The GirlDad™️ and not even know it. This is so long. I'm so sorry(not).

Like Mihawk who wraps and braids and cords his swords looking at his daughters hair and taking the time to help care for it and make it look nice because she hasn't had somebody do that for her in years. She lends an ear to his stories and music and she doesn't comment for a while, a long while but when she does start adding her opinions in a soft voice he does smile a bit.

They probably dance a lot, like Mihawk would have taught golden!Sanji anyway, but with his daughter he probably teaches her more of the pairs dances she might have to do during Baratie parties or something. But she's small, like half his size when she starts learning so he's holding her and dancing around the room and she's laughing and Mihawk is smiling. During one such Baratie party Zeff managed to get a photo of this and it's framed in Mihawk's office. The one Sanji has framed in her room is of her passed out on Mihawk's chest in her chef coat and pants and him passed out with an arm over Sanji and the other over his eyes. Five people in the world have seen these photos and no one else believes they exist.

Sanji knows a lot about sex, no one who works at sea - no matter how old, unfortunately - can't not know. Mihawk tries to make the conversations not awkward but like he's Mihawk and Sanji is Sanji so at first they're probably awkward and very factual until Sanji's older and living Baratie and asking her dad some bizarre questions about sex, like what certain acts are or something. Like technical terms and when he's asking her why she's asking she mentions how Zeff and the cooks killed a man or something for propositioning her or something and Mihawk is like 'Ah, yes. I did leave you in good hands for work training, but nothing else.' and then explains whatever she's asking and they'll dive into the nuances of certain acts or the mechanics.

And when Zoro and Perona are on Kuraigana, Mihawk is looking at them and is like 'okay, well, my daughter's not here and neither of you will fit in her clothes' and they're both shocked he has a kid as he digs in old chests and finds clothes for them. Perona isn't in Sanji's old room but they are allowed to look through the room and see if there's anything they'd like to borrow. Zoro probably finds a very old copy of Noland the Liar and tells Mihawk and Perona going there and how the cook was scared of all the bugs. Mihawk is neutral until Zoro opens up the page and sees Sanji's name and Zoro laughs and says there's two people named three in the world and Perona has keyed into something but she's not sure what as Mihawk is like 'just one, to my knowledge, my daughter is the cook of your crew.' and Zoro pales immediately.

One time they're all in Mihawk's office as he goes over paperwork and Perona asks why there's a blonde braid on his desk next to a photo of him and a kid. Zoro comes to look and says they both remind him of Sanji and Mihawk is like 'did you both already forget who my daughter is?' as pinches the bridge of his nose. Mihawk explains the braid is from when Sanji moved to Baratie full time and left home. She has one of Yoru's old cords and her own photo from a Baratie party. Also no one will believe them that this photo exists. Nor is anyone going to believe them about Mihawk having a daughter. He sits back and watches in amusement as realization takes both of them and that outside of the geezer and Sanji, no one will believe Zoro and no one in Perona's life will believe her.

When the Strawhats are reunited Zoro corners Sanji and demands to see the photo of her and her dad and Sanji is making fun of him for losing his eye on Kuraigana as she shows him the photo and the cord. I also feel like it becomes common knowledge on the ship because someone(Usopp and Luffy) found the photo and brandished it to the crew and Robin is cooing at baby Sanji with Nami and Zoro is talking about the photo Mihawk has on his desk. Everyone is staring at the cook in awe and she points out none of them asked.

Every time they get an ally and Luffy is introducing his crew and gets to Sanji she thumps him on the head and is like 'you can't keep telling people who my dad is! You're going to get us killed!' and no one fucking believes it until they pass the photo on the way into the galley. And (for the Lawsan agenda) everyone always makes a comment about how darling they look but Law asks how Mihawk even acquired her and Sanji mentions he saved her and the geezer and took her with. Geezer said he needed someone to make the man soft so the blonde girl would do. Law is like 'oh this is me and Cora just flipped' and then he starts falling for the cook. Because she is good at making people soft, she gives him a place away from Luffy and the others, has coffee ready at all times of the day, and is insanely good at bickering with multiple people as well as intelligent conversations. When they start dating, post WCI and during Wano, Sanji brings up meeting her dad eventually and Law points out he's met the man. Sanji says knowing the man as a warlord and as her boyfriend are different and will garner different reactions which makes Law blanch and Jinbei and Marco fucking lose it at them.

When Law does meet the man as Sanji's boyfriend? It's happenstance, Mihawk is sailing by and figured he'd check on Zoro(and Sanji) and Sanji has a few drinks in her(courtesy of Ikkaku) and is on Law's lap when he rolls up he hears the crews talking and Zoro and Luffy welcome him aboard since this isn't pirate business, just a man checking on his kids and Luffy announces to everyone that 'Sanjis dad is here!' and Law and Sanji are staring at the swordsman who is staring back as Shachi and Penguin are losing it and Law shambles him and his girlfriend away out of not panic but a definite fear for his safety.

Sanji is of course telling him he's dumb and just made it so much worse for them because her dad is a master of observation haki. He will find them. Law groans buries his face in her neck because they're a few drinks deep and were not planning on introductions yet, but they have to be made. Also they shambled to Law's room on the Tang so they have to make their way from the Tang to the Sunny. Mihawk is talking with Zoro and nods at them as they go back and Zoro asks Law if Mihawk scared him that much and Sanji says to be nice but Mihawk does agree he's a rather frightful person to have as your partner's parent. Sanji frowns at him and Mihawk raised a brow at her and then she very unceremoniously drags her dad to the galley and he lets her. He just goes which might be the more concerning part because even Zoro is surprised the man lets her pull him around.

They return with wine and glasses to join the party and Law can tell his girlfriend is blushing from whatever they were talking about in the galley as she stands beside him and Mihawk next to her and they open the wine as Mihawk looks to Law.

"I don't necessarily do 'shovel talks' if that's what you're concerned about." Mihawk says smoothly.

"Right." Law nods. "Knowing you're her father is enough, I assume?"

"Well, Zeff and the cooks from Baratie maimed or killed those who were...uncouth. I have no doubt my daughter would kick your ass if you needed it. I assume I would only be called if something dire were to happen." Mihawk answers as he sips his wine. "I didn't kill Roronoa to defend my daughter's honor because she can do that herself."

"Yeah, sure." Zoro hummed in his drink. Sanji handed her glass to Law as Mihawk looked amused and then shocked at Sanji's legs catching on fire as she rushed the green haired man.

"She can skywalk too." Law says as he watches the fight start. "When I saved Zoro-ya after Kaido punched him I shambled us down and she happened to catch both of us. One on each shoulder and still managed to not lose speed."

"Yes, well, being a chef does require a decent amount of upper body strength already, cooking for this crew even more so." Mihawk acknowledges. "Though her hair not being braided is new." He tacks on tilting his head as the wings fight.

"She hasn't the entire time we have been dating." Law says in a questioning tone. Mihawk hums as they watch the cook fight the swordsman, Luffy is laughing and reminding Law he can't take Sanji with him which makes Law flush and yell at him which makes Mihawk chuckle into his wine as the fight concludes. Sanji goes back over and Mihawk hands her his glass and just starts braiding her hair because 'what the fuck have you been doing to your hair?' 'Nothing! Look at my crew! It wouldn't last a day!' 'So pin it.' and everyone is watching him make quick work of her hair and then takes his wine back. The father daughter duo definitely threaten to call Zeff on each other. Mihawk is surprisingly relaxed during the party, even when his daughter leaves with her boyfriend to sleep,

The next morning he's helping Sanji cook in the galley of the Thousand Sunny and Law is the first to come in, despite his hangover, and does say his cooks are providing breakfast to his crew and Sanji nods and gives him coffee. As the crew filters in for breakfast Nami asks Mihawk about braiding and how quick he did it. Mihawk answers he's been cording sword hilts for most of his life and wrapping with multiple cords is just braiding and applying it to his daughter's hair was not so different and offers a demonstration. Which Nami agrees to eagerly and Robin smiles and says that would be a good idea. Mihawk tells Law he is participating, no arguments.

After breakfast is cleaned up Sanji is sat on a chair on deck and Nami has brought the hair pins and hair ties out and Mihawk shows them all several different braids, ranging from simple to intricate. Law is taking many mental notes during this whole thing. When he is made to do a braid on his girlfriend under her father's watchful eye Law doesn't shake because he's a surgeon who has been in worse situations and executes it well. Mihawk departs with a clap to his shoulder and a promise the next time they'll meet to be an excellent fight. Sanji is smiling and once Mihawk is gone asks Law how it was meeting her dad. Law groans and curses her and pulls her close because her dad is terrifying and he's afraid he knotted the shit out of her hair and he will hear about it.

[jellyfishsthings]

Warnings: the usual, Jealous Remus™️ and Full Moon Remus™️ (aka my favorite type of Remus), I feel like I went crazy with this one, definitely better than pt.2

Also huge shout out to @some-insomniac-writes and especially one fic that I have been reading all day and night. I feel like I might have copied some parts of the story but I also feel like I kind of engraved it to my brain so 🤷 who knows?

Part 1 , Part 2

"Ready for round two?"

Well.. it hasn't been just this one round. There was also the time. I was shoved into broomclosets, fucked like it was our last time and exited said broomclisets looking as if I had dealt with a hurricane which left purple marks adorning my body like a canvas. Or the time we met at the Perfects bathroom at midnight and stayed in the water until I couldn't walk. Or all the times he sneaked into my room putting in good use not only my bed, but my shower, my desk, my mirror, pretty much all my furniture if I am being honest. Or when.... well you got the gist of it.

All this was a fun experience, but still there was a gaping hole in my heart. Sure he said he loved my laugh, the sounds I made, the way I tasted and he did stay with me every single time, taking care of me. But that didn't sooth my aching heart. The way it stung when all the girls not just flirted with him but threw themselves at him. He was mine ... wasn't he?

I dismissed all these thoughts trying to focus on Alfred, my potions partner, a Hufflepuff boy that was struggling with the lesson. He was sitting way too close to me and was trying to have some kind of physical contact with me. But that didn't affect me. He wasn't the one that with a single touch he could drive me crazy. Or just his mere presence, his scent, his body heat... Remus on the other hand, was something.

He was also watching me. His gaze digging holes on the poor boy's head. Soon all this will be over. I will go back to my room, take a nice hot shower. And that was exactly what happened. Until the clock struck 1:23, that was when a thud sounded outside the dorm and a low swearing voice. Remus, he was here.

He entered the dorm easily, picking the lock. Without missing a beat, he walked confidently towards my bed, getting atop of me and kissing me senseless. Discarding my clothes and letting them fly in every possible direction. Kissing and marking up every inch of my skin, paying special attention to my breasts. And then kissing a straight line across my collarbones

"You smell like him. His cologne is all over you." Every single one of his movements is done to precision. His hand startles me as he starts, rubbing my clit with his thumb. "You're mine. Only mine. If that bastard ever comes close to you ..." I didn't know he could be so territorial. So jealous. So ... committed.

He is teasing me now. Playing with my folds, using only one of his fingers, enough to drive me wild and over the brink of insanity, enough to hit all the right spots. Enough to delay the oncoming orgasm and make this as painful as possible.

"Who makes you feel good?"

"You"

"Scream my name, sweetheart. Let the world know who you belong to." He says as a hand comes hard down my pussy. Making a startled yelp leave my lips.

"Remus"

"What is it, love?" Says the taunting son of a bitch. "Say what I want to hear. And you will get the special treatment tonight."

"I'm yours. Only yours. Please."

"Atta girl. Now let the fun begin." With this he stands up and walks back towards the edge of the bed, whilst holding my calves, dragging me too, until only half of my ass is touching the bed. He gets down on his knees and starts kissing my thighs. That was how I found myself like this.

My body was desperately trying to get away from his mouth, a squeal ripping from my lungs as his hands kept a firm hold on my thighs. Keeping my legs spread open for him, giving him easier access to my cunt from what felt like endless hours of orgasm after orgasm. Cum after cum, Remus wetting his lips just so he could delve back in with his tongue and open mouth, lapping up as much of me as possible. He was insatiable, all low moans and growls against me. His eyes scrunched so tight that a crease was forming between his brows. Mumbling every few minutes statements of ‘right there?’ and ‘aw, poor thing.’ when I squealed and kicked in overstimulation, taunting me as usual.

“One more, dovey. One more.” He spoke into the my cunt, what was the biggest lie ever. It was always ‘one more’ with him. One more turned into two, and then after that, I’d likely pass out cold from exhaustion. But it was worth it. He was feral. Mixing Jealous Remus and Full Moon Remus could never have a good result.

“I can’t!” I sobbed out, a sharp gasp falling from my lips as he pushed his face and nose even further against me, something I didn’t believe was even possible, despite all my pathetic attempts to keep him away. His knees dug harshly into the floor to keep him steady. He was almost lifting my hips from the mattress as he ate me out like I was his last meal. Drank me in like he was a man that wandered the desert for days on end.

It was obvious from the start that Remus had a particular liking when it came to eating me out, in fact, he was often rather enthusiastic about it. If anything he begged to go down on me whenever we had sex. He was just so obsessed with how I tasted; better than any Butterbeer or chocolate no matter the price, a finer meal than anything else on earth, according to him. So when I tried to push him away, tried to make a feeble attempt to interrupt him, trying to take away his favourite thing in the world, it was no wonder he was acting like a madman.

Overstimulation wasn’t rare with Remus, in fact, it was pretty common. As he nuzzled his nose against my clit he said "There's no running from this dove you're at my mercy now."

At this point, tears are streaming down my face, and my throat feels so sore. Everything is just too much. But that doesn't make him stop. So when I cross that euphoric blurred line, he is there and he doesn't stop, claiming everything my body offers him. Next thing I know I am face down duried into a pillow and my ass is up in the air. He is already inside of me, his hand placed on my shoulder blades as it moves towards the back of my throat, keeping me immobile. Not that I would have any energy left to do anything.

He sets a relentless pace, driving out one orgasm after the other for both of us. And yet his movements never stop, it seems almost impossible. How could someone do such a thing?

Him, apparently. Because all our previous releases are coating not only my cunt and his cock but they are also ruining the sheets. He is getting sloppy now, his stamina is running thin as he pulls my hair and brings me right to his lap.

That's how tomorrow finds me. The first light of the sun illuminates the room. Finally giving Remus the perfect view. Seeing how he enters me again and again as his hips move upwards with enough force to make my tits bounce painfully, while he uses my hips as leverage moving them up and down bouncing them. My voice is long lost as I cum for the last time and we both collapse to the bed. His cock was still inside me, keeping every last drop of our releases in place.

There is no way I will be walking any time soon.

words: 1.319

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

it girl wag era

daniel ricciardo x f!reader

i think i'm gonna make this a series???? but idk how???

fc: mainly lucy boynton

warnings: swearing, i said 'overestimated' at one point and i meant 'underestimated', kym illman

liked by pierregasly, and 18,865 others

f1wagupdates: y/n l/n on the late late show with james corden in early 2016, months before she reportedly met daniel ricciardo at the austrian gp in 2016. the interview has begun recirculating after daniel revealed dm's that the two had been in contact for two years before they 'met' for the first time.

do we think her cryptic clues could have been a hint to the actress having a crush on daniel himself, or another driver on the 2016 grid at the time?

view all comments

user1: forget the confusion, i'm impressed she didn't succumb to corden's ridiculous peer pressure smh

user2: fr 'i hope i'm not overstepping' and then he tries to literally pry the info out of her hands

user3: 'SO IF YOU DON'T KNOW THEM, WHAT'S THE HARM IN TELLING?'

user4: also you can't convince me her 'dignity' and 'reputation' wasn't code for 'i don't want to talk about it'

user5: could you imagine if she was talking about jenson button 💀

user6: idk i think 'i'm a big fan of you' ruins that theory, i can't see it being anyone but daniel

user7: i'm so jealous of her if they started dating in 2016 because danny's curly mullet era was MOUTH-WATERING

user8: there were 24 drivers on the 2016 grid and from that 24 around 1/2 could be candidates

user9: can daniel ricciardo fight? i hope he can't

user10: 'he drives fast and he looks good doing it' miss y/n did NOT lie

user11: just thinking if she got this flustered and nervous about her crush on him to the point where she couldn't actually tell anyone who it was, then how did it go when she met him in 2016???

user12: why is nobody talking about how flirty those messages were? 'are you bribing me?' and 'is it working?' THEY CLEARLY LIKED EACH OTHER

user13: the man literally couldn't find her in the paddock and HAD to introduce himself he was clearly down BAADDDD

liked by 71,196 others

f1wagupdates: monaco gp or The Monaco Incident™️ Anniversary (TV*)?

**Tame Version

view all comments

user14: we want unhinged version

user15: the one time i decide to go on twitter on the night of the 2018 Monaco GP, it descends into chaos

user16: daniel half dressed outside a club with y/n over his shoulder giggling and still holding a glass of alcohol will never not make me laugh

user17: the morning after pics hit different now you know they'd been dating for years already

user18: daniel ricciardo is one dirty mf using his shoey mouth to snog y/n later in the night

user19: the fact that it was the first time we'd seen y/n in clothes that weren't classy and ironed

user20: idc if she never comments on it but in my head those clothes were pulled from the depths of danny's wardrobe

user21: the way this moment impacted f1 from then was astronomical

user22: i've never seen 2 celebs to openly all over each other

user23: whatever you do don't google timothee and eiza ok 👍👍 promise me i need you to do that

user24: i remember the way tabloids were all over her for this about not being a good role model 😭😭

user25: the bisexual hold this series of events had on me at the innocent age of 12

[macabr3-barbi3]

God, That's Good!

Chapter 4: Ah, Miss

Across town from Fleet Street, Charlie reflects on what she wants- and Vaggie reflects on Charlie.

Chapter 1 🥧 Chapter 2 🥧 Chapter 3 🥧 Chapter 4 🥧 Chapter 5 🥧 Chapter 6  🥧Chapter 7

Tags: Charlie being a Disney Princess, starstuck Vaggie, Sera is The Worst™️

Thank you as always to my beloved @fraugwinska 💕❤️

Charlie knew that Adam and Sera were lying to her- and had been since she was a child taken into their care. 

True, her memories are vague, but they are there. Her mother and father, deeply in love with one another and not a pair of criminals only interested in drugs and money. Sometimes if she closes her eyes and concentrates she can almost see the ghost of their faces- a man with a kind face and a neat mustache that looked so much like her, a woman so fair and beautiful that all she had wanted at eight years old was to be her when she got older. And she looks like her now, fifteen years later.

At least, that’s what Adam tells her. She doesn’t like the way he says it lately, standing too close to her in the tiny hallway between their respective rooms in his house, like he’s looking at her but seeing her mother. Charlie remembers him coming to their home as a child, her Uncle Adam, always quick to teach her a curse word and bring her candy that her mother didn’t think she should have. They would drink and play cards together while Charlie drew or read or played with her dolls, and she had thought everything was fine- perfect, in the way that most eight year olds think that their parents and close relatives are when they’re young.

For the most part he leaves her alone. Sera is the one that really provides for her beyond a roof over her head- taking her to Church with her daughter Emily, ensuring that Charlie is well educated and well spoken, providing the books she reads, the clothes she wears, the places she goes. And in Emily, at least, she does have a friend; someone to bond with over how strict the Beadle was, both in the home and outside of it, to talk to about the experiences that they were missing. Charlie might have turned out just like Emily; content and ignorant in her essential isolation, not knowing what else there really was in the world outside of home and Church if it wasn’t for the young man that frequently came down the street on the way to his… ‘partner’s’ house.

Anthony- though he asks her to call him Angel, short for Angel Dust, being so close to his not-quite-boyfriend’s home- is an absolute delight. Having really only had Emily for company for the longest time, he was an interesting change of pace. It had been a couple of months now since he had come to town, and the first time that she met him she had known, somehow, that they would be fast friends.

“Hey, toots,” he had called from below her balcony, while she had been so engrossed in tracing the constellation Andromeda in the sky one night that she hadn’t even realized he was there. “Ya got a light?”

She had startled, scraping her elbow on the stone of her railing as she registered his words and presence. He was tall and lithe, slender, his clothing in style but far tighter than most men wore their garments. It took her a moment before she recognized him as one of the new faces that had been spotted hanging around the ‘brothel’ in town when Sera took her and Emily to Church on Sundays, draped through the arms of the tall, flamboyant man that ran the place. Sera always led them away as quickly as she could, but that didn’t stop Charlie from noticing, even at a distance, the difference in the coloration of his eyes. That night, a few feet below her, it was even more evident- a sweet, soft brown on the left, greenish hazel on the right.

She had given him a book of matches, and since that night she was out here all the time, waiting for him to come by in the later hours of the night. When Adam was out at parties and such Charlie would risk coming downstairs, right to the wall a few feet past her balcony so that she could talk to Anthony face to face instead of from above him. He was reserved at first, a little guarded with her being the ward of the Judge and his occupation being technically illegal, but the more they got to know each other the more they trusted one another.

Anthony told her so much about the world outside of New Orleans- having come from New York City, where things were faster, vibrant, more exciting. Everything seemed so much bigger from his perspective, and Charlie needed to see it for herself.

She hadn’t yet told him of her plans to leave; she hadn’t told anyone. Sera had been pushing the idea of marrying her off, which Charlie wasn’t interested in the slightest, and Adam continued to act strangely around her. She wants to go South to find her father- if he was truly holed up in some prison like Adam and Sera told her, there should be some record of it, some path that she could trace to him so she could finally hear from him directly if what they had said was true- that they were criminals, that they plotted against Adam, that he had killed her mother before Judge Cain had him sent away. It wouldn’t change anything, but she thought the knowledge might give her closure, finally reconcile the image of her father she had kept in her head for fifteen years with the man he really was.

It would kill her to leave Emily behind. The younger girl was like a sister to her, the closest friend she had besides Angel, but she didn’t think that she would come. When Charlie spoke to her of the things she learned from Anthony- fun, exciting, scandalous things that had Charlie blushing some nights over the garden wall- Emily wasn’t as intrigued. She was content in the life her mother had set up for her, engaged to a nice young man named Peter from the Church and ready to marry within a few months and be a perfect, dutiful housewife like Sera had been before her husband died and she devoted herself to the Church and the Judge. 

That wasn’t the life Charlie wanted. She wanted to see the world and help people, people like Anthony that ended up down on their luck and made to go into whatever industry would have them just to survive. She had plenty of savings- Adam had a habit of gifting her money for things like her birthday, even though Sera rarely took her to any stores to buy anything with it- and she had enough of an idea of what she wanted to do to give her conviction in her plan. She didn’t know when, but soon she would leave New Orleans and find the answers to her questions, and do what she felt like she was meant to do.

Vaggie hadn’t meant to turn down the alley that she had- being a sailor that wasn’t in charge of navigation meant her only real sense of direction was ‘sunrise is East, sunset is West’ which didn’t help much when it was already dark- but the sight of the beautiful young woman silhouetted by the light on her balcony was well worth getting lost among the streets of New Orleans.

She leaned against the railing of her balcony, eyes cast up at the sky as she stood there, humming a song under her breath. Dazzling blonde hair fell in a loose ponytail down her back, lashes large and eyes shining in the glow of the moon. She wore a red nightgown that fell to her shins, swaying in the soft breeze of the night. She seemed calm- thoughtful, if the crease in her brow was indicative of anything.

Vaggie was no stranger to a beautiful woman, but here in the alley off the main street, nearly hidden in the shadows while she was illuminated, it seemed like she was plucked right from the Heavens themselves. 

She stays unmoving as a statue. Vaggie takes a breath to call to her, say something to catch her attention so she’ll look her way, when the wind picks up and blows a thick strand of her hair into her lovely face, breaking her concentration and making her sputter at the strands in her mouth. She casts her eyes around and they settle on Vaggie, something like lightning sparking through her veins as she makes eye contact with the woman. Blue eyes, soft and brilliant and beautiful, meet her brown ones, and breath leaves her body. She manages to send enough brain signals to her muscles to wave and offer a light smile, which the woman returns with a flutter of her fingers.

“Alms,” she hears behind her, and the beggar woman from the docks with Mister Morningstar has returned. Her head still held down low, the metal cup jingling softly with the coins that Vaggie had given her earlier in the day. “Please, Miss, have mercy…”

When she turns back to the balcony, the woman has vanished.

She sighs internally but pulls about another couple coins, hesitating before dropping them. “Do you know anything about that young woman?” She asks, nodding at the balcony, and the beggar glances to the side and flinches with her whole body, jerking away from the house with force. 

“Charlotte,” she says, his voice soft and mournful. “Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte- he took her, Judge Cain, won’t let anyone near her- you’d best be off before he catches you lurking- horrible things he could do, you can’t know what he’s done, poor Charlotte…” 

She starts to pull away, ducking her head away from the house, and Vaggie drops the coins into the cup before it’s gone. “Wait,” she asks, but the beggar is deaf to her calls. She mutters under her breath as she slinks off, back into the shadows, leaving Vaggie alone with only a name and a vague sense of unease.

A shuffle of noise had Vaggie turning to spot a young man- tall, lithe, he wore clothing that was form-fitting and bright as he entered the alley, dragging a hand through his dark blonde locks with a sigh. He spotted Vaggie and gave a little wave as he approached.

“Fuckin’ looney, am I right?” He points at the beggar as she wanders away. “I try to avoid her when I can- ya never know if crazy is contagious. Hey, ya got a light?” He asks, holding up a ‘V’ in his fingers like he was holding a cigarette between them. “Looks like my gal ain’t out tonight.” He gestures vaguely upwards, towards the young woman, and Vaggie’s heart leaps with hope.

She fumbles in her vest for a lighter. “Of course, here.” She waits until the cigarette is lit and he’s taken a drag before she nods her head towards the balcony. “You know her? Charlotte?”

“Who? Ya mean Charlie?” An eyebrow cocks upward as he looks back at Vaggie over his cigarette. “Yeah, I know her a bit. She comes down to talk some nights when she ain’t so lost in her thoughts she doesn’t notice me, or when the Judge ain’t home.”

“The Judge?”

“Judge Cain.” He takes another drag. “I guess he’s a big deal around here- she’s like his adopted daughter or somethin’? She don’t get too specific with me when I ask but I get it. I ain’t too eager to be pokin’ around in my line of work, ya know?” He gives Vaggie a wink, waving his hands down his body conspiratorially. “Ya need to talk to her about somethin’?”

“No,” Vaggie says, “no, I was just… wondering, I suppose.” She eyes the balcony again, and the young man must see something in her face because he whistles low and chuckles. 

“One sec,” he tells her, then- “Charlie!”

The shout echoes in the alley and Vaggie panics, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him down to her face. “Are you fucking insane?” She asks him, but he just smirks as they hear the click of a door above them, light spilling into the area once more.

“Angel?” Charlie returns, her face peeking over the edge of the railing to spot Vaggie essentially throttling him in her frustration. Her face transforms, something akin to rage creasing her delicate brow and then she’s gone again.

“What did you do?” Vaggie demands of him, and he laughs in her face as another door slams somewhere towards the house- and then she’s there, standing at the gate to the yard in her nightgown, barefoot and beautiful.

“Release him at once,” she demands, hands braced on the metal of the gate, her voice strong and determined, and Vaggie hardly hears the man- Angel?- apologizing on her behalf, saying he provoked her, as her hands release him. “You have to be careful,” she beseeches him as he brushes off his shirt, and then turns to Vaggie and seems to lose her nerve, the anger that had propelled her down the stairs and outside. “Hi,” she says sweetly, and Vaggie steps closer to the gate.

“Hi,” she parrots. “I- I wasn’t really going to hurt him,” she says, “I just- I didn’t want him to disturb you.”

And Charlie smiles, wide and earnest, catching Vaggie off guard. “I should have known,” she says. “He’s a troublemaker- I’m Charlie,” she says, holding her hand across the gate.

“Vaggie.” Angel is snickering under his breath beside them, watching the scene unfold. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The skin beneath Charlie’s eyes crinkles. “And you! Are you a friend of Angel’s?”

A voice interrupts Vaggie’s response. “I believe that is quite enough,” it says, soft but commanding, and the trio of them turn to see a woman step into the alley- Charlie stiffens immediately at the sight of her, tall and beautiful and terrifying. Her eyes are cold, the tiny smile on her face insincere, and she looks at Charlie with a look of what can only be described as disappointment. “You know better than to be out at this hour, Charlie,” she says. “What would Adam think? It would be in your best interest to go back inside, my dear.”

Charlie ducks her head and finally releases her hand from Vaggie’s- she hadn’t even realized they were still touching one another over the gate. “Yes, Sera,” she mutters, breaking eye contact with the older woman and looking back to Vaggie. She mouths something to her, and had Vaggie not been looking she would have missed it.

“Please come back,” it looked like. And Vaggie would- she didn’t know who this woman was but unless they locked the sailor behind bars she couldn’t be kept away.

Charlie disappeared, leaving Vaggie and Angel with Sera. “You’d better run along,” she directs at Vaggie. “Judge Cain doesn’t take kindly to outsiders around his property; especially not those that seem too interested in his ward. And you,” she says looking at Angel with a cruel smile. “I should hate to think what Valentino would have to say about you loitering with others for no pay.”

Angel blanches, the color leaving his face as his head drops. “Yes ma’am,” he says quietly, angrily, and he takes off to the right, rounding the corner and disappearing from Vaggie’s sight. 

With one last look at the balcony, at Sera with her lovely but unkind face, Vaggie follows suit.

Chapter 1 🥧 Chapter 2 🥧 Chapter 3 🥧 Chapter 4 🥧 Chapter 5 🥧 Chapter 6  🥧Chapter 7

[saddybildaddy]

More Time Duckery

If you're a Best Not to Speculate™️ fan, instead of a It's A Clue!™️ fan, please keep scrolling!

*Please do not ask Neil about fan theories.*

So I've noticed many things in my rewatches and read tons of great metas. But I just realized something that adds to my belief of the weird Jeremy Bearimy time fuckery going on in Season 2.

I'm certain many of you have already noticed this, but I only watched the show a few months ago and my brain is utter chaos at any given moment, so bear with me:

We know that Mr. Brown is holding a newspaper with a very specific headline in Episode 2 at the pub. Even on my first watch of Season 2, I noticed the adorable duck and the headline.

And when he enters the bookshop for the "meeting"/ball, he isn't holding the newspaper. Fair. Why would he bring that? Isn't Episode 5 (the ball) happening on Thursday (I think), whereas Episode 2's events are at least a couple days prior?

Why is it that when Nina walks in and interacts with him, he somehow has it? WHY?

Why does he have it when he steps up to confront Shax??

He is holding a chewed up/destroyed version the next morning outside the coffee shop when Crowley brings him back from wherever the demons took him.

His outfit in this Episode 6 scene is also the same as Episode 2, but their clothing did change when they entered the bookshop for the ball. However, aren't Episode 2 pub scene and Episode 5 ball supposed to be on different days?????

Great meta here on Pub Guy/Hawaiian Shirt Guy who is one of the many odd extras this season and is seen wearing different outfits in the Episode 2 pub scene vs. the Episode 6 morning scene.

This is actually why I even noticed this in the first place. I recently wondered if Aziraphale ever gave the guests the books he promised them, and ended up going back to see if they walked out of the shop with the books - and they did. Out of the blue (because brainrot), I went from wondering why Mr. Brown was holding something when he wasn't given a book, to remembering his newspaper with the duck, to realizing that the pub scene was likely on a different day.

Please speculate away!

It's ok if you don't like metas - just ignore this! I'm interested in speculating, so I don't want to write this off as a continuity error. This is far more noticeable than some oddly specific things they discuss in BTS videos.

[jessythebunny]

🚂 Ttte Oc's 🚂

From left to right

🩵°•Jenny•°🐰

🩵Jenny is a Moroccan engine, she was build in 1930 (in my AU), and she came to sodor in 1987, and she's the number 58 tank engine

🩵Jenny works in the railway by taking the mail train with Percy, they really love to work together and she's Percy's female best friend

🩵She also in her human form, she can turn into a human bunny engine, or a normal humanised engine according to her will, but she prefers to transform into a human bunny because she loves bunnies

🩵Jenny is innocent in front of others, but when she is alone, she performs devilish acts that even Satan himself could not think of, and she always causes confusion and delay

🩵she loves collecting flowers with Rosie, and distributes them to others, and she works also as an Easter engine and her job is distributing the Easter eggs and chocolates around the stations

🩵She doesn't have any interest in love at the moment, but she really simps for James, and she loves teasing him, he's cute when he's angry, Gordon can't help but giving her solutions to calm him down, and she loves to call him some cute nicknames like Jams or cherry pie or nom noms

🩵she's Mia (@miasonyson )'s best friend, and they spend their time by chatting with echother for hours, or drawing, and many things, she's close with Duck and Oliver, and she wished to be their adopted daugther, she loves playing with Toad and Skiff in the beach, and she wants to be really useful like Thomas

💚°•Creater•°✏️

💚this is just me in real life, I'm Hiba (aka Jessy the bunny) I'm the controller who's running this silly railway AU, and I'm responsable in these humanised engines, and I'm the one who gives them the orders or tell them what to do,They call me "the emo controller" because of my gloomy personality so I guess I deserve to be called by that, The human engines have to be useful or I'll smack their asses

🖤°•Mia•°🎧

🖤character made by @miasonyson

🖤Mia is an American engine who came from America to Sodor to start a new life in there, she's a young adult and she is 23 years old

🖤In fact, Mia is a vampire and loves drinking blood, Sometimes she loses control and can drink all of that person's blood and kill him

🖤Mia has a dirty mind, and when she hear someone's moaning in pain or sickness or something, she thinks about something nasty. ngl me either have the same problem

🖤Mia has a massive crush on Murdoch, and her normal Oc has a crush on Aiden (her oc)

🖤She's getting too lazy at work, and she tries as hard as she can to escape from working, but sometimes when she escapes, the controller finds out about her and she get insulted

🖤She's addectid to Odetari's songs, she finds his songs fire

🖤she's really a huge fan of pizza just like Jenny, Hide the pizza from them!!!

🖤She's close with Thomas, Percy and Rosie and she loves to be a mother for them, she finds Diesel 10 an asshole but cool at the same time, She likes to attend Lady's magic lessons

💛°•Marina•°🧜🏻‍♀️

💛she's the sodor resident fish woman™️

💛Marina came to Sodor but she was unconscious because her wrists were cut by a ship's propeller while she was diving on her way there, She was in a hopeless situation

💛She has a massive crush on Skiff, Because he was the only one who helped and comforted her, and he was the first to see her human form after a long discussion that took place between them, and he also told her that he could transform into a rail boat and he's not actuelly a human

💛Marina suffers from severe anxiety for her life, because there are fishermen trying to catch her and kill her, so she tries not to appear much on the island to avoid any harm, and she makes sure to wear her clothes on

💛Marina is an orphan of parents, and she really hopes that she will have a sister, because she was the only one for her parents and she was feeling lonely because of that, and her parents did not allow her to swim outside the water because of the presence of the fishermen, but unfortunately her parents died because they were stubborn, and for this reason Marina suffers from axiety

💛she loves spends her time with Duck and he's her best friend, and also with Oliver and Toad, especially Toad, she would do anything for him, also close with Donald and Douglas and she treats them like her brothers, She doesn't hate Diesel 10 and she treats him very nicely, but she hates Diesel because of his rudeness, She also spends time with some female engines like Emily and Rosie and Mavis and Molly, And also close with Thomas and Percy and she plays the role of a mother to them and ensures that no disaster occurs on their part

[daimyosprincess]

Idyll: An EX LIBRIS One-shot snippet

Alright besties, I'm excited to announce that a BRAND NEW one-shot is coming to the EX LIBRIS series!! Pour yourself something expensive and treat yo self because this one-shot is pure sugar baby goodness. I hope to drop the full fic by the end of the month, but mental health has been an Issue™️ for me lately but I'll do my best because I can't wait to share it with you all! Thank y'all for all of your support and love 💕

Without further ado, here is a snippet from Idyll: An EX LIBRIS One-shot below the cut!

—Professor!Boba Fett x F!Librarian!Reader

—Series Rating: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Read on AO3 — Series Masterlist — Taglist

Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

After dinner, you’re curled into him on his couch with your shared nightcap in your hand. The sated, cozy atmosphere of the room combined with the low light of the lamps lends an intimate feeling to the space as you finish your dinner discussion. 

“So there’s something you wanted to ask me about, pretty girl?” Boba asks, his fingers trailing up your arm leisurely. 

You take a quick sip of the whiskey, not that you need it, and smile up at him. Finally, the time has come to reveal the desire that’s been consuming you all week. “Mmm, yes there is. It’s about what I want to do with you this weekend… something I read in that romance book Selena recommended to me.” Thrilling heat begins to creep up your neck at what you’re about to describe to him.

Taking a sip of the liquor from your cup, Boba sets it on the side table to give you his full attention. “I’m all ears, princess,” he purrs with eyes of glimmering darkness, his other hand clamping down on your hip to pull you even closer into him. His posture remains attentive, however, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Welllll,” you draw out, enjoying the last of the suspense, “in this book, the girl falls in love with a super good-looking man who gets coffee at the same café as her, who, as it turns out, is also super rich.” Boba hums amusedly and you swallow back the urge to jump him right then and there, though just barely; as tempting as making out with him is, your next words are far more important. “This rich, handsome man ends up taking the heroine out to buy some very expensive jewelry so that he can fuck her in nothing but the diamonds he bought her.” 

Glancing up, you see Boba has a devilish smile on his face. In the beginning of your relationship, you might have gotten a little shy at this point, a bit bashful about the nature of your desire for this god of a man. Not now, however. With Boba’s reassuring hand and your agreed-upon rules at your back, you’ve sailed into uncharted seas, uncovering more than you ever thought possible along his shores: pleasures and comforts more satisfying and valuable than even the most lustrous of the ocean’s treasures. He is your north star, a guide who impels rather than compels as you discover your personal and shared splendors.

 Boba’s large hands snake around your waist to pull you over the thick of his thighs, your knees hugging the outside of his hips. “And has all this given my little princess some ideas?” he prompts with a knowing smirk.

A breathy laugh slips past your lips as he grinds the growing bulge in his pants into your core: the man can get harder quicker than the boys half his age you’d been with. Focus, you chide yourself, you haven’t even gotten to the good part. Anchoring yourself in the depths of his mahogany eyes, you bite your lip. “Lots of ideas,” you confirm, tipping forward to place slow kisses up his jaw, “Ideas about how I want you to give me that full sugar baby experience… designer clothes, shoes, jewelry, everything.” Reaching his ear, you can feel the way his breath catches when you trace its shell with the tip of your warm tongue, his burning heat washing over you. “Then I want you to make me earn every single kriffing penny you spent, want you to make me prove that I’m Daddy’s girl inside and out.”

Taglist 💖

@agirlnamejacq @burningfieldof-clover @marierg @dukeoftheblackstar @imarvelatthestars @saradika @baufraus @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @historianwithaheart @andrakass2 @samspenandsword @liadamerondjarin @sleepingsun501 @sgt-morgan @rescuethewretched @rexxdjarin @ladytano420 @writingwintermoon @pheo-nixpas-calian @acatalystrising @erinthevampire @xxladysquishyxx @kimiheartblade @shinyshayminflower @wings-and-beskar @thirsty-boba-fett-posts

[watfordgrimoire]

“Baz plays for our school. Of course. The tosser.” (Carry On 14)

“Green blazers with white piping. Plus red jumpers if we want them. Capes are optional, too” (Carry On 15)

“I was still in my tennis whites — the numpties had nabbed me outside the club; my clothes were stained in every way imaginable and newly vomited on.” (Carry On 156)

“They do look like really expensive jeans. Dark. And snug from his waist to his ankles without looking tight.” (Carry On 293)

“He’s all kitted out in his finest. Spencer Hart, if I’m not wrong.” (Carry On 306)

“Greenish black suit” (Carry On 431)

[dragonofdarknesschaos]

Hi there,

I have a question about Jack Spicer.

1- What was his life like before the Xiaolin Showdown?

2- What do his parents look like & their color scheme?

3- Did Jack have friends in his childhood past?

4- Is Jack good at playing a musical instrument?

5- How was Jack's relationship with his parents when he was a young child

6- Is Jack's hair naturally red or has he dyed it? Because I saw a lot of fan art and fan stories that say Jack dyed his hair red Is that true or not?

6- Was Jack's grandmother evil or was she just a genius Its inventor woman?

7- What are the things that Jack likes and what are the things that Jack does not like?

8- How Jack dresses when he's not taking over the world.

Like casual clothes Instead of a black trench coat.

9- What is Jack's level of intelligence and genius?

10- I want to know his back story & His life

11- How many people are in the Spicer family?

I know A little about Megan is Jack's little cousin

I'm going to do my best to answer these, but ultimately, there are no right or wrong answers, as canon doesn't provide any information.

We do not know what Jack's life was like before he released Wuya. Furthermore, some of the details in season one (e.g. the party that's going on in "Katnappe!" that Jack claims to hate) do not get carried over to season two and beyond (e.g. Jack seems to be alone in the entire estate at all times). Most headcanon that he is an only child, his father is able to work abroad and is wealthy, his mother is a socialite or trophy wife (possibly both) and both are too busy to give Jack the attention he desperately needs.

Nothing is known about Jack's dad. The only time he is mentioned is in episode one when a Jackbot delivers the puzzlebox containing Wuya's mask in it, saying, "A gift from your father in Hong Kong." Jack's mother is Caucasian or white-passing, extremely slender, and seems to embody the ideals of a 1950s American housewife from the two "appearances" she makes as an arm and legs. The only major detail is her square, red manicured nails.

Jack never makes any mention of friends, or to his "past," unless it's about himself. ...I'm starting to think he's neuro-divergent.

This is unknown. His voice actor in Xiaolin Showdown, Danny Cooksy, was part of a band called Bad 4 Good, so Jack can at least sing. One's own voice can count as an instrument. Jack goes on to rap in Chronicles. Outside of that, there is no further information in canon.

Showdown alludes to Jack having a coddling relationship with his mother. She encourages Jack to do enriching activities, even if he doesn't want to do them. He acts out and breaks makes robots out of her things when he doesn't like what she forces him to do. Occasionally she will bake Jack cookies. Because Jack never mentions his father, he likely wasn't around for Jack's upbringing, but he is at least alive... probably. Jack may have estranged himself from his father for some reason. Chronicles revealed in the 21st episode that does not exist, a short flashback to Jack as a child. He was waiting for both of his parents to come home for Christmas with presents, but they couldn't make it home in time for whatever reason (work or they had an arbitrary excuse not to go home). This is all Chronicles gives us on Jack's past.

Only Hui knows if Jack dyes his hair or not. Because his brows are black, he at least does makeup on them, or dyes them separately.

There is no information about Jack's granny other than he mentions her often, and seems to have a close relationship with her; he likes her gifts. Off hand I can't remember what those gifts specifically were, but they were standard, "You might need this, so here," type of gifts.

This question is too broad, so I cannot answer it. He likes his evil idols and Evil ™️, and thus hates "good" by extension.

Jack can wear whatever he wants. The animators and production designers seemed to have fun with his costume changes (see "Sands of Time" episode).

Jack would need to have at least 140 IQ to be considered a genius. He never mentions being contacted by MENSA, so he's not a super genius (but he still invented a time machine, go figure). He also mentions in season two, when Wuya calls his genius status into question, Jack says, of course he's a genius, "Who else would be smart enough to cheat on an IQ test?"

I don't know how to answer this one. Just watch the show???

It is unknown how many people are in the Spicer family. Jack's immediate family consists of at least his mother, father, and likely a maternal grandmother. Cousin Megan would be from an aunt or uncle. Most likely Megan's parent is related to Mama Spicer, as she's dressed and styled in a way reminiscent of 1950s or 1960s children's fashion.

I hope that covers everything. Again, the questions you're asking don't have any actual answers in canon. Which is nice, because it leaves it open to interpretation for fan fiction purposes. But it can also be frustrating if one really wants to drill into what is concrete in canon.

[cornplateur-fritz]

Namekian Culture (Headcanons)

Posting my random world-building headcanons here once again.

Sign Language

It’s mandatory for Namekians to learn sign languages and code-like ways of communication (like morse code) that makes use of their keen hearing.

The current Namekians in New Namek were taught a lot of Namekian languages that existed before the climate crisis and each of them were made to be fluent in at least one more than their universal language (the one Porunga knows) and their equivalent sign languages (yes, of course you can wish to Porunga with the Namekian SL). The Namek also see even just a hearing that's average for most of the universe's people (like the Earthlings') as a disability and they accommodate this as they do all of their people.

Dragons & Warriors ≠ Their Careers

Much like any civilization, Namekians do not see being a Dragon and a Warrior as a hindrance to a path that they wish to have and have a wide range of careers they can choose from (they at least had engineers, scientists, teachers, cultivators, and all varieties of artists judging from the spaceship and the things they had in their villages). Namekians are known migrants in the universes they are in. However, due to the climate diminishing, they had to start from scratch and had to focus on survival.

They also don’t usually give birth as much as Guru did and used to have a better ratio of Dragons and Warriors in their planet. Since giving birth to Warriors needs more energy (headcanon), Guru decided to have one sole warrior (Nail) to train the willing Dragons.

Life Partnerships / Relationships

Even before Guru repopulated the planet with his children alone, their society already did not comply with amatonormativity. Namekians, with their long lives, rarely settle for monogamous relationships. Some Namekians preferred to have multiple separate partners, some preferred a polycule and all the different types of ethical non-monogamy, while some preferred none at all. Queerplatonic relationships are the most common.

Each kind of relationship was as ordinary as breathing and Namekians were also even known to espouse outside their race due to the long-encouraged migration of their people. Now, however, most Namekians who long for partners in New Namek are encouraged to wish to Porunga for the opportunity to travel in space and find intimate companions, and some had already left the nest.

[Headcanons beyond this point have less than zero canon foundation (it came out of my a– you know what I mean)]

Nuptials

Namekians give great importance to their vows of love and find it unacceptable to violate them. They also have their own ritual for marriage (I haven’t thought of one) that can be done between two or more people.

Before the nuptials, the Namekians are supposed to use their Materialization (famously known in the fandom as Clothes Beam ™️) technique to create an accessory to give their partner/s at the ceremony. The purpose is to create an object tough enough to last their long lifetime.

I've long since headcanon that the longer one stays using the technique, the better quality the material is. Unlike the kais who can create even the hardest metal in the universe in a snap of a finger, mortals make better use of Materialization with how long they pour their ki on them.

This object may be given back or kept after divorce and must always have the name of the one who created them. (I think some polycules create all of theirs at the same time or even create separate pendants for one necklace or bracelet but I think it’s better if they give each other different kinds of accessories like bangles, earrings, noserings, pins or something for their clothes, or even hats.)

Vows

This is just the vows I created specifically for Namekians that I plan to use in my every fanfic if I ever finish/post any:

(After receiving the accessory the person will say:)

“The gift of your embedded soul shall bring with it your comfort, your pain, your thoughts, your worries, your warmth, your memories, and your hopes and dreams; as long as a piece of you resides with my person, so will you.

"I, who have accepted the you who stands before myself, accept you as my companion beyond the end of my life or the day we find ourselves unable to respect and trust one another; as you would do the same.”

Vows are spoken in the language of one's heart, to which most of the time is the person’s native language. (If you're bilingual then the combination of the two MAY be your native language; then if you're multilingual, more variations like that etc.)

Extra: I invented a Namekian Equivalent to "I love you"

Pikkaro apakuto = My love/respect/adoration/admiration of you knows no bounds.

Apakuto = the word that can mean love, adoration, admiration, respect, or all of it at the same time.

Extra Extra HC: If Dende would have his own dragon, he'd probably name them Apakuruto (Dragon of Love/admiration/etc 😌) maybe following his father's dragon of dreams, Porunga.

[To see my first HC dump, check out this post!]

[stiltonbasket]

"feel free to send in asks about them any time" i hope you understand the floodgates you've opened heheh.

honestly, i'm just very curious. what do you think the major character traits of the latter gen young disciples are, jiang and otherwise? your characterisation is one of the best i've seen in the fandom so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i'm interested in your thoughts, dear author.

I can't really speak for canon because most of my work ends up drawing from the TMAAF universe (even for other verses, like the Yiling Wei and Emperor WWX AUs), but I'd say the "shared" character traits of the various disciples are largely a result of a) the culture of the clan they were raised in and b) the specific cultivation demands of the region.

(Note: this is going to be a 4-part series, because I just had too much to say about each sect).

As I've said before, Yunmeng Jiang is guaranteed a constant stream of hauntings because it's always dealing with the fierce ghosts and corpses of drowning victims, most commonly in the winter after the yearly monsoons; and due to this, Jiang disciples are raised with the expectation that one day, they'll strike out on their own, settle down in a currently underprotected village, and become "rogue" cultivators whose living expenses are paid by the sect. Because of this, they're not as distanced from civilian life as most other cultivators are.

The Jiang disciples receive a strictly practical education after they learn the basics of literature, math, and history, which means practice hunts, daily archery sessions, and classes in household management (especially accounting + cooking/sewing) to prepare the adult disciples to live by themselves.

As a result, the Jiang sect is more gender-neutral than most. Since the boys have to be ready to run their own homes by the age of 21, they share all of their classes and duties with the girls and help their seniors raise the younger disciples. (Insert cute montage of Jiang Fengmian teaching Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng how to take care of baby disciples and mend their own torn clothes here.) Hence, the disciples are also huge romantics - there's no huge mystery about the opposite gender, for either boys or girls, so they tend to find spouses very easily and settle into extremely happy marriages.

The Jiang sect also has a somewhat paradoxical custom of spoiling children rotten but not sheltering them, which I hinted at in TMAAF when Hongshuai + the Yunmeng brothers openly discuss serious sect business in front of Xiao-Yu and the Yu babies. Jiang disciples know a lot more about how to deal with the outside world than, say, Lan disciples; but they never really lose the habit of being Baby™️ with any of their teachers/older disciple siblings.

[mrm-pachypoda]

Idk who the fuck I can talk to about this, so I’m writing it here just so it’s Somewhere™️

So, to lay a bit of background, I may or may not have psychosis. I’m going to get officially tested in early May, so we’ll see soon.

Another thing to note is that I’m a fan of the Magnus Archives. So, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess that I’ve been having hallucinations regarding the Distortion. Specifically Michael, I think. It’s probably because it was my comfort character when listening through the podcast?

Anyway.

I started seeing it a month ago, outside my window at night, or on the opposite side of the street, to eventually being right behind me. However, usually if I looked at it directly, it was gone.

I was feeling its Presence months before that, since November at the earliest. I was oddly never perturbed by Knowing that it was there, even when I somehow Knew what it was.

I’m a city guy, who insists on taking public transport everywhere instead of figuring out how to drive. Today was no different, sitting down at the second closest seat to the front door of the bus, on a weird elevated platform directly over one of the front wheels. Before the bus takes off, I see him. Or it.

Based on a generous guesstimate, it was broadly six and a half feet tall. Clad in thick black snow boots, snow pants (?) and a long winter coat with synthetic fur lining the hood. It was a lot more muted than I thought, actually. It had skin. Don’t know what color, but it was human. It did have unruly, curly shoulder-length blond hair, but it could’ve been anywhere between dirty blond to golden to platinum: I truly couldn’t tell. I think it had eyes, but I could only ever see its irises. I never could see a sclera, and I couldn’t tell where its eyelids began. Every time I looked at it, the color of its hair and eyes(?) shifted. However, its eyes were usually green, I think. I think it had a nose, and it must have had a mouth, but I never really saw them. It was like looking at an outline of a person, where inside it was fuzzy, and the edges weren’t exact sharp. Its image was clearer when I didn’t fully look at it.

After the bus started moving, It pulled itself up by the bars overhead, moving towards me, but gripping on those bars like inertia had an effect on it. While it was walking, its hands seemed larger, its legs distended, before looking broadly normal again when it sat down on the seat next to me.

We didn’t have conversations. It could communicate negatives and affirmatives, along with general emotions which in combination could tell me basic things when combined with the gestures it made. However, when it tried to Talk, its mouth didn’t move, and it made no sound, but I knew that it was talking. It almost felt like it was speaking at a frequency that only dogs could hear, and its non-mouth that was maybe smiling simply wasn’t animated.

I Knew that it didn’t like my taste in music. I Knew that it was encouraging me to open the monster can that was in the bottle pocket of my bag. I Knew that it found the flannel that I was wearing to be distasteful, especially considering the patches that I’d recently sewed on its elbows were very obviously eye-shaped. I knew that it wanted to laugh, but couldn’t.

It followed me off the bus, moved along with the foot traffic, and didn’t’n’t comment on how the weather was ‘too cold’ for my outfit, even though it was in the mid-forties. It seemed.. certain? Smug? That it.. dressed, I think, ready for the weather. It was 44*F. It’s in hardcore winter camping but also maybe instagram-able clothing (that is, if you applied enough filters). Im definitely tangenting now, but dude’s deranged (no shit).

Yet another case of the pot calling the kettle black, I guess.

It both was and wasn’t tangible. I put a hand on its shoulder, at one point, and nothing was stopping gravity from having an effect on my hand to let it drop, but it didn’t. I quickly snapped my hand away, obviously. That wasn’t a not-sensation that I would ever want to experience again.

Eventually, it didn’t leave. But it did. I saw it get off the second bus and leave, but it also didn’t move at all, just disappearing.

I still don’t know how to feel about it. I wasn’t scared at all, but I know I should be disturbed by this. I know that I should bring this up with someone.

As a side note before I forget:

I’ve drawn Michael before. What I saw today really doesn’t reflect how I have drawn it in the past. This looked almost human, where in my illustrations I tended to lean into it being something Other Than. Don’t know how to feel about that, either.

So, that’s all I have for now. Any thoughts?