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pseudowho · 6 months

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(MASTERLIST DISCONTINUED- PLEASE SEE PINNED POST ON MY BLOG FOR NEW RESTRUCTURED MASTERLIST!)

Pseudowho's Original JJK Masterlist

Scroll through to see...

Nanami Kento

Higuruma Hiromi

Suguru Geto

Choso Kamo

Aoi Todo

JJK multi-character fics

Nanami Kento Masterlist

Updated: 28th March 2024

REQUESTS CLOSED

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🔥 Smut 💔 Angst 💕 Romance

☕ Comfort/Fluff 🤡 Clowning

🐙 Monsterfucking. 📚 Education (*dirty laugh*)

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1st of December 🔥☕💕 -- No-Nut November is over-- but Nanami Kento won't let you get away with it that easily.

7:3 🤡 -- Nanami Kento never thought about his 7:3 pattern...a fourth wall breaking moment.

"Dad Reflexes" Ask and Drabble 🤡💕☕-- Nanami Kento can catch anything.

Daylight Robbery 💕☕🔥-- when Gojo asks Nanami to cuckold him and his fiancée, things don't go the way Gojo planned...

Debellatio 🔥💕-- a Nanami x Reader x Higuruma sex-pollen threesome.

Ditch the Party 🔥💕-- Nanami Kento hates parties. But the drinks? The drinks make him bold.

Domain Expansion theory-- Pseudowho's vision of Nanami Kento's domain expansion.

Edging Nanami Kento 🔥💕-- The reader drives Nanami Kento to the edge and back again.

Fire and Iron 💕☕🔥-- AU!Nanami Kento is the town blacksmith, and the reader is forced to stay the night after tending to his wounds.

Full 🔥☕💕-- Nanami Kento treats his pregnant wife like the goddess she is.

Glory Glory 🔥☕💕-- "Help, I'm stuck!" on a mission with Kento, and he takes full advantage of the compromising position.

Good Boy 🔥💕-- after a bad day, you know exactly what Kento needs to help him relax...

Good Girl 💕🤡 -- a drabble

Grandpapamin ☕💕-- Nanami Kento as a grandfather, Headcanons.

Grey 🔥💔💕-- The reader lives a vigilante life; so does Nanami Kento, a changed man after the events of Shibuya. When she is sent to hunt him down, Nanami Kento has a proposition for her.

Grey! Nanami Headcanons Part One ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader headcanons.

Grey! Nanami Headcanons Part Two ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader headcanons.

Grey! Nanami Christmas ⛄🎄 Headcanons ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader Headcanons.

Hanahaki 💕☕💔-- being in love with you is killing Nanami Kento.

Hide and Seek 🔥-- Game night gets spicy.

"How well can you drive?" 🔥 -- the reader takes matters into her own mouth so Kento can prove his driving skills.

Infiltration (MULTI-CHAPTER) 🔥☕💔💕

(COMPLETE!) --the reader and Nanami Kento must pretend to be married, infiltrating a Curse-user cult to take it down from the inside.

Chapter One: Introduction

Chapter Two: Pillow Talk

Chapter Three: Deadly Games

Chapter Four: The Rumbling Shrine

Chapter Five: Breaking Point

Chapter Six: Exposed

Chapter Seven: The Captive Goddess

Chapter Eight: Unchained

In From the Cold ☕🔥💕-- The reader wanders in the snow, lost and injured after a mission gone wrong; will Nanami Kento save her?

Kento Comes Home Drunk 🔥💕-- and the reader handles his advances like a total champ.

And, its sequel... Reader Comes Home Drunk 🔥 💕-- where Kento manages the reader's advances like an absolute champ.

Knismolagnia 🔥💕-- Kento has a somewhat...erotic response to being tickled.

Last Moments 💔☕-- Nanami Kento remembers a childhood holiday.

Nanami Kento, and the Curses of an Unusual Nature (MULTI-CHAPTER) -- Nanami Kento is deemed the only Sorcerer sensible enough to handle some frankly weird Curses

- Chapter 1: Gone Shopping 🤡 -- locals are going missing at a large shopping centre; Nanami Kento is sent to investigate.

Nanami Kento's Massive Squeezable Man Tiddies 🔥☕-- the reader being casually obsessed with Kento's chest...repost link HERE!

Operation Babymaker (a new series!) 💕💔🔥☕ -- Nanami Kento takes trying for a baby very seriously indeed.

A Trip to the Tailors-- the reader reveals she's been off the pill for months, and Kento cannot contain himself.

Benchpress-- the reader interrupts Kento's workout, and is manhandled into submission.

Ditch the Party...again-- tipsy Kento is back, and deadlier than ever.

Wet Dreams-- Kento gives the reader a free-pass for when he's asleep...and he returns the favour

Raising You ☕💔💕-- When the reader is de-aged by a Curse, Nanami is forced to raise her like a daughter.

Red 🔥💔-- Nanami Kento, the infamous Curse-user, has been on the run for years...what will you do when he catches up to you?

Resolute ☕💔💕-- The reader helps Nanami to accept that he has a drinking problem.

Seasons of Grief 🔥💔💕☕ -- The reader supports Nanami Kento through the anniversary of Yuu Haibara's death, and afterwards, when Kento nearly loses the reader

Shirtsleeves 🔥 -- The reader steals Kento's last shirt, and receives her comeuppance.

Still Got It ☕💕-- The Nanami kids' parents are boring...right?

Stoic 💕🔥-- Kento is furious when Gojo assumes that his lack of PDA towards the reader shows a lack of desire.

The Accumulation of Little Despairs ☕💔💕 -- The reader struggles with low-mood; Nanami Kento comes to the rescue

The Chase 🔥💕-- The reader has insisted on No-Nut November; Nanami Kento gets his revenge by hunting her down and taking his reward.

Why I love Nanami Kento

Yet Another Sex Pollen Fic, PART ONE 🔥💕

And...PART TWO 🔥💕 -- the reader has a problem... and only Nanami Kento can help her scratch the itch.

Higuruma Hiromi Masterlist

Updated: 6th March 2024

REQUESTS CLOSED

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Calamus et Gladius (the pen and the sword) 🔥💕💔☕-- slow-burn, enemies to lovers Culling Game smut with Higuruma and a foreign reader

Daddy 🔥☕💕-- dating apps are a hazard for men like Higuruma Hiromi...

Debellatio 🔥💕-- a Higuruma x Reader x Nanami sex-pollen threesome

Fellatio 🔥-- the bathtub lawyer receives head in his office.

Fumus et Ignis 🔥💕-- sometimes, Hiromi smokes and ties you up while he makes you ride him.

Glory Glory 🔥☕-- 'Help, I'm Stuck!' with Hiromi, two bottles of wine and a compromising position with his gavel.

Hiromi and Nemo ☕-- tales of Higuruma Hiromi, and his little black cat.

Hiromi Higuruma Relationship Headcanons ☕🔥💕

In Flagrante Delicto 💔☕🔥💕-- Higuruma struggles to adapt to life as a sorcerer, refusing all of your offers to help...until he needs you.

"I've Committed a Crime" Ask and Drabble 🤡💕-- Higuruma is a ruthless tease

Jus in Bello: A Judicious Domain 💔🔥💕-- The reader throws Higuruma out of their home after they struggle to adapt to his new Cursed power...and the reader must then hunt him down in the Culling Game, to bring him home.

Men with Big Noses 🔥💕-- you reveal a kink for Higuruma's nose, and he shows you exactly what he can do with that.

Milk and Honey 💕🔥-- Hiromi is obsessed with your milk, and loves you while you sleep.

Office Besties ☕💕-- Hiromi and you are just friends...right?

Sanguis et Vinum 🔥💕-- period sex with Higuruma

Shower drabble ☕💕-- Higuruma comforts you after a bad day.

The Stairwell 🔥💕-- You've been teasing Higuruma all day at the office; he catches up to you, eventually.

Vinum Rubrum 🔥💕-- wine is better when you share a glass...and your mouths.

The Widow's Keeper ☕💔💕-- The reader and Higuruma traverse the complexities of love and grief, after the death of Nanami Kento, her first husband.

"Your Honour" Ask and Drabble 💕🤡🔥-- Hiromi forgets your name as he cums.

Suguru Geto Masterlist

Updated: 23rd February 2024

REQUESTS OPEN!

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Deadly Nightshade ��🔥💕-- a Suguru Geto "sex pollen" fic.

Kamo Choso Masterlist

Updated: 28th December 2023

REQUESTS OPEN!

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Glory Glory 🔥☕-- 'Help, I'm stuck!' on a mission together, and virgin Choso is offered the opportunity of a lifetime.

Snowhere to Go ☕💕-- When your date plans are foiled by the snow, you and Choso make your own fun with a stack of old board games.

Aoi Todo Masterlist

Updated: 27th January 2024

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Act of the Soul 🔥-- Aoi Todo uses his Boogie Boogie on the reader during sex.

JJK's Multi-Character Masterlist

Updated: 31st March 2024

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Being gross in long-term comfortable relationships ☕💕-- with Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Yuuta, Maki, Megumi, Nobara, Yuuji and Ino

"Cumfaces" Ask and Drabble 🤡

Defending Your Honour ☕💕-- the JJK boys are sick of the creeps and perverts who harass our dear reader.

Nanami, Todo and Geto

Higuruma, Ino and Yuuji

Gojo, Megumi and Nobara, Inumaki and Toji

Firemen 💔☕💕-- the JJK Crew rescue the Reader, and fall in love at the same time.

Nanami and Higuruma Aesthetics: ☕ 'Besto Friendos' dichotomies

Neat Suit/Messy Suit

Cold Anger/Hot Anger

"Stay down!" Fighter/"Get Up!" Fighter

City-Skyline Penthouse/Converted-Factory Penthouse aesthetics

IKEA Flat-pack Aesthetics

How They Ejaculate 🔥📚-- a physiological ejaculation study of Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Choso, Toji, Higuruma and TrueForm!Sukuna

Penis Synonym Smutfics 🤡🔥 -- with Nanami Kento, Hiromi Higuruma, Takuma Ino, Gojo Satoru and Inumaki Toge

Penpals (a Panda fic) 🐼☕-- he didn't mean to Catfish you. Honestly.

Shower Mat 🔥💕-- the reader buys an 'old lady shower mat'...that makes shower shenanigans suddenly possible.

Takuma Ino as a Young Dad ☕💕-- when Takuma unexpectedly becomes a father...

The Rebounds 🔥💕-- Yuuta and Maki show you the date of your life, after you're dumped

They Find You Wearing This...Unsexy Monstrosity 🤡 -- with Itadori Yuuji, Satoru Gojo, Higuruma, Sukuna, Toji, Nanami and Suguru

2K notes · View notes

becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 6 months

Text

Clownfall: Endgame

I am calling it that in the full knowledge that batshit things may yet happen, but listen. Listen. We have a year left before the general election. I am hedging my bets and assuming all that comes in that year will be Tory manoeuvring ahead of that. Let's all hope for a nice quiet year in which everything can fall neatly under that banner, that won't ruin this naming convention.

Previous Reading

Important Terminology - Required Reading

What is a Whip?

How do Whips work?

Shadow Cabinet

Front Benchers, Back Benchers and the Cabinet

What do we need to call an early General Election?

The Adventures of Big Dog the Clown - Suggested Reading

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Elanor’s Guide to Liz Truss - Suggested Reading

Character-based prequel

The Premiership of Liz Truss

The Next Steps - Suggested Reading

The post-Truss contenders

Bye Matt

BoJo Resigns as MP

Alright, that's probably everything. Just nice to have it all in one place, innit? If you would like a nice soothing soundtrack to your reading, here's my recommendation. On with the show!

Clownfall: Endgame

Wednesday

So, let's start with charismatic and charming Home Secretary Suella Braverman! You may remember her from such hits as "Quitting before she could be fired after breaking the law only to be rehired by Sunak almost immediately and without consequence to appease the right wing nutjobs in the party", and "Claiming Pakistani men have a culture that makes them work in abuse rings to target vulnerable white English girls" (I should add that, if you are unfamiliar with Suella Braverman, regardless of what that quote implies, she is not, in fact, white); recently she made the news because she announced that being homeless is a "lifestyle choice". So true, Suella! They could give it up any time they wanted. They could, for example, get together and break in and steal your fucking house.

But in particular, here we're focussing on her recent stance towards the multiple huge pro-Palestine marches that have been taking place in London. So far she has indicated that she wants people who wave Palestinian flags to be arrested, so that's very measured and rational of her; but, last Wednesday (Nov 8th), she decided to write a lil opinion piece in the Times all about how mean and biased and liberal the police are. This is an absolutely fascinating assertion to I suspect literally anyone who has ever been involved with the police. But no! Quoth Suella, aggressive right-wing protesters are "rightly met with a stern response", while "pro-Palestinian mobs" are "largely ignored".

And, she claims, the march on Saturday isn’t simply a cry for help for Gaza, but an "assertion of primacy by certain groups - particularly Islamists - of the kind we are more used to seeing in Northern Ireland".

Imagine how well all that went down.

Thursday

You are underestimating how that went down, because it emerges that Suella deVille did not, in fact, get any form of validated sign-off or permission from Number 10 before squirting her ill-informed liquid horseshit all over the front desk of the Times news room, and that, Tumblrs, you'll be surprised to learn, is actually quite an important and compulsory part of criticising the police when you are the Home Secretary. Like, there is a Ministerial Code about this. It is very clear. It is in Article 8.2, Tumblrs. Thou Shalt Have Permission From Number 10 Before Making Media Interventions.

“The content was not agreed with Number 10,” a spokesperson for Prime Minister Rishi Sunak told reporters, referring to the prime minister’s Downing Street office. The ministerial code is clear that any ministerial media interventions need approval from No 10.

-AlJazeera

And the Tories are furious! The bloodbath forms quickly and loudly and the hounds start baying! Clown noses are flying everywhere! The factions are drawn! Because even now, there are Tories too stupid to understand that whether you agree with someone or not they still have to follow the rules! Also the other parties realise they can offer some actual opposition here, given that Suella has essentially dragged a barrel into the middle of the House of Commons dressed in a fish costume, handed around a set of loaded rifles, and then crawled inside to wait. The result is that the calls for her resignation are both deafening and pleasingly cross-party.

"(This is a) dangerous attempt to undermine respect for police", says Labour's shadow home secretary Yvette Cooper. "(It's) irresponsible," says London mayor Sadiq Khan. "The PM's weakness when it comes to standing up to Suella is the most shocking thing in all this," claims a senior Labour source.

They're wrong, of course. The most shocking thing is Liberal Democrat leader Sir Ed Davey realising he can actually appear in the paper if he plays this right and so surfaces to attempt some politics. "(Sunak) must finally act with integrity by sacking his out-of-control home secretary!" he declares, frightening many MPs who had forgotten he was even in the room with them.

Meanwhile, several Tories approach the BBC anonymously.

"The home secretary's awfulness is now a reflection on the prime minister. Keeping her in post is damaging him," says one. Another straight-up describes her as "unhinged". Another claims the comparison with Northern Ireland is "wholly offensive and ignorant", and really, all of this is permanently triggering that "Heartbreaking: the worst person you know just made a great point" reaction image.

Saturday

Hey, speaking of reaction images, look, Labour has a go:

Well. They tried.

BUT! Do you want to know the INTERESTING bit??!

Enter: Nadine Dorries! Mad shrieking pink harpy who spends her days maintaining a BoJo shrine in her bedroom! Always the most hinged of politicians, let's see what she has to say.

Former cabinet minister Nadine Dorries claimed Ms Braverman was trying to get sacked to give her a platform of martyrdom in service of the right-wing. "The competition is on now for who is going to be the leader of the opposition," Ms Dorries told the BBC.

???!??!?

PERTINENT POLITICAL OBSERVATION FROM DORRIES?!?!?? The most shocking part of this whole affair. Remember that time she yelled at a journalist during an interview about Boris Johnson's latest scandal when he asked her how Johnson was feeling about the whole thing and inadvertently implied they were having an affair when No One Asked? God, wonders never cease. She's even acknowledging the Tories can't win the next GE, look. I'd say this is growth, except I am 100% positive she's just being catty about BlowJo being fired again.

Anyway, the real Saturday issue: it's Armistice Day, and there's a pro-Palestine march planned.

Now, to give context, Armistice Day has a creepy level of patriotic state-worship attached to it in the UK. Some time in October everyone on telly suddenly starts wearing a poppy, and if you don't you get hanged, drawn and quartered by (a) the British press, and then (b) a baying mob outside your living room. You most be performatively sad. You must perform reverence and hero worship and say things like "Never again" all while whole-heartedly supporting current wars. You must talk about "our brave boys", and share the works of dead poets from the trenches, and then completely fail to absorb any of their lessons. If anyone tries to wear the white poppy to distance themselves from the current political appropriation while still commemorating the millions of conscripted casualties, you accuse them of being "woke" and pissing on the worthy dead of WW1. It's a whole thing, and politicians love using it as an excuse to point fingers and mock each other for being insufficiently patriotic if they wear the wrong tie to the ceremonies, or choose to walk with actual veterans rather than a head of the current army, or any number of other things. And then on November the 12th they'll order a drone strike or something.

So, off the bat, you can see how a pro-Palestine rally on the same day was likely to be seen as provocative to some.

"Some" included Sunak! He didn’t (publicly at least) ask the police to ban the protest, but did call on organisers to call it off, claiming the choice of date was “provocative and disrespectful”, because as I say, a march calling for the ceasefire of a genocide is super disrespectful to every sad dead poet in a trench who dreamed of a ceasefire so they could live, or something.

But the inevitable therefore happens, which is that far-right activists agree that it's disrespectful, and so decide to violently target the march to show their respect for the idea of peace on Armistice Day, or something.

Here's the planned route by the organisers:

Note, though, that the Armistice ceremony happens at the Cenotaph - visibly nowhere near the march. These two events actually wouldn't have overlapped, if it weren't for far-right protestors deliberately linking them to stop them being disrespectfully linked, or something.

And that's exactly what happened. From the Guardian:

Perhaps the most striking incident, though, was when far-right protesters charged past police who sought to hold them back from the Cenotaph. In this video, a man shouts “this is fucking our country” in celebration. Whereas the pro-Palestine march had been excluded from the area as a precaution, the far right was not; by overwhelming the police, they supposedly sought to defend the site from an enemy that simply wasn’t there.

(that's quite a good article of the whole thing, actually, I recommend giving it a read.)

Crucially to the clown show, though, several politicians and others accused Suella deVille of emboldening the far-right, which... well, several of the far-right protestors straight up said was the case on the day, so hard to disagree, really.

Rumours of a reshuffle in Whitehall circumnavigate the land so fast the truth gets sucked into a tornado and is declared MIA. Here's the thing! I've covered a few Cabinet reshuffles by now, Tumblrs, you know the drill. Reshuffles are always deniable until they actually happen – so if, say, a reshuffle was going to happen on Monday 13 November 2023, there’d be no need to publicise it in advance. That way, if things change and politics happen, you don't need to retract anything :)

Because, remember: reshuffles are always controversial. Yes, some people get demoted, and those people will often kick off, and some people who don't deserve it get promoted, and lots of people kick off. But the big thing is that a lot more people get overlooked for promotion.

His most ardent supporters would say that Rishi Sunak is a cautious man (if you'll allow me a moment to express my own view on the matter, Tumblrs, if you'll forgive this crumb of personal opinion amongst my otherwise impeccable journalling of greatest integrity, I once did a teambuilding task with my students where they had to build the best possible bridge out of uncooked spaghetti and pieces of marshmallow, and I personally would liken the structural integrity of his spine to the losing team's entry), and reshuffles will spread a lot of disappointment to Tory MPs who lose – or fail to gain – a cabinet position.

So, all in all... regardless of Suella's idiocy...

There's no guarantee of a reshuffle. Rumours are just that - whether they prove to be true or not remains to be seen.

Week Commencing Monday 13th November, 2023

New week, new challenges! And it's going to be a big week this week. On Wednesday (tomorrow, at time of writing), three big things are going to be announced, and these announcements will colour everything else this week:

One. The Supreme Court decide whether the government will be allowed to enact their plan to send some migrants claiming asylum in the UK to Rwanda, a signature Braverman plan that human rights campaigners (including many in Rwanda) have been trying to block for ages.

It’s a massive deal anyway – a flagship government idea that’s been bogged down in the court, and we’ll finally have an answer one way or another. For what it’s worth, the Tories aren’t confident about winning it, either. The optimists among them reckon it’s a 50/50 chance, the pessimists reckon it’s 70/30 against, so it's iffy at best.

But here's the thing!

Plenty of Tories have always disliked Suella. Others could handle the odd outburst she has, but can’t stomach the sheer number of them lately - the Lib Dem non-entity man was absolutely right that she is rapidly growing out of control and just does not know when to shut the entire fuck up.

Which means! If the Supreme Court allows the Rwanda plan, Braverman could become emboldened, like a far-right protest injuring police officers to defend the cenotaph from people who are nowhere near it and have no interest in it. Do we want an emboldened Braverman?? Well; no, obviously. I also don't want dysentery, or rotten meat, or a serial killer in my neighbourhood. But it's a question even Tories are asking themselves, which is notable.

Plus, even if the court allows it, there will still be months of planning, and lawyers might still prevent the plans in the long run... But psychologically, the issue is this: the government wants this win, but probably doesn’t benefit from Braverman feeling victorious.

Two. We’ll get inflation figures. The government promised to halve inflation, and it seems likely they’ve managed this. Expect them to massively celebrate this, to distract from the promises they haven’t kept e.g. waiting lists in England, competent governance, etc.

Three. Voting on a ceasefire in Israel seems likely for Wednesday. It’s the SNP’s idea, and it won’t affect government policy (they won’t support a ceasefire – they claim it’ll empower Hamas).

But it’s a big deal for Labour, even more so than the Tories. A Shadow minister has already resigned over the war. A bunch of frontbenchers want a ceasefire, but that isn’t Keir Starmer’s policy, a man who is calling for the colours of the Israel flag to be shown at sports matches to show that "we stand in solidarity with Israel", because you can really count on Starmer to fuck up everything he touches. So what do they do? Abstain? Claim they had a prior commitment?? We might see more resignations, basically. Big day for Starmer.

So! With all that in mind...

Monday

8.43am

Oh look. Timestamps are back. I wonder if that suggests anything?

Suella Braverman is sacked as Home Secretary.

But! Sunak is accused of waiting too long! Which he demonstrably did!

He should have made the decision after the illegal article that she shouldn't have written and triggered a far-right rally on fucking Armistice Day. Instead, remember that 'cautious' descriptor I talked about?? He waited until the tide had turned against her completely, and now looks like he (a) was too much of a useless wimp to fire her until he was sure people would still like him and pat his dick and tell him he's a Good PM, and (b) only fired her because he caved in to that appalling lefty liberal cabal that somehow these days includes the Metropolitan Police of all fucking people, and she'd have been able to stay otherwise.

Shout out to the best comment from Reddit:

u/nowonmai666: Doesn't she normally get sacked on a Friday so she can have the weekend off before being reappointed?

Anyway, that's the big risk now: Braverman’s supporters can claim she was only fired because Sunak caved in to the left.

8.56am

Tory MP Andrea Jenkyns claims Sunak only sacked Braverman because he caved in to the left.

9.00am

Neil O'Brian, Pharmacy Minister, quits to live out his stated dream of being a back-bencher with less power.

*sus*

9.09am

Nick Gibb, Schools Minister, quits to live out his stated dream of being more diplomatic, or something.

*sus*

9.42am

The Lib Dems decide to build on the success of their leader getting to be on telly for his one comment on Thursday and call for a general election. Says Ed Davey: “It was the Prime Minister’s sheer cowardice that kept her in the job even for this long. We are witnessing a broken party and a broken government, both of which are breaking this country.”

Good job! They're having such a good few days.

Anyway remember the Tories don’t have to have a general election until December 2024, though, thanks to the Fixed-term Parliaments Act (2011), which was passed by the coalition government of Tories and, um, Lib Dems. In which Ed Davey served for three years.

Hmm.

9.43am

James Cleverly (remember him?) returns to the Cabinet and is appointed Home Secretary. The party attempts to appear trendy by experimenting with emojis:

This appointment is probably because Tory strategists wanted him in a domestic role to help the party’s chances in the next election; as Surprising Political Pundit Nadine Dorries told us, of all fucking people, the race is now on to lead the opposition.

But hey, this is not likely to lead to any more changes -

10.03am

FORMER PRIME MINISTER, BREXIT-TRIGGERER AND PIG-FUCKER DAVID CAMERON BECOMES FOREIGN SECRETARY

!!!!!!!!!!!!

And look! Another emoji! They're so hip!

(Side note... the balls on this one are astounding, actually. The UK political system has been in chaos ever since Cameron, and he was the first domino. This is not a well-loved former hero that will be greeted warmly by the unwashed masses.)

Awkward though, since just last month Sunak claimed that we’d lived through “30 years of a political system that incentivizes the easy decision, not the right one.” It would be a terrible shame if a journalist was to ask David Cameron whether he agreed with the Prime Minister on that, given that Cameron’s job is to support the Prime Minister now.

Especially since Cameron took to Twitter last month to explicitly criticise Sunak for breaking the Tory promise to deliver High Speed 2.

(Cameron tweeted this criticism last month. Labour MP Angela Rayner however promptly retweets it now lol suck a dick Dave, but try a human one this time)

Also, fun fact, Cameron has just come out of a large-scale lobbying and corruption scandal. Given the state of Sunak, though, that's actually probably what got him the job.

BUT!!! Here's an even funner fact: the man is not an MP. He left politics after he accidentally triggered Brexit and then it came out he'd once face fucked a dead pig's head while it was held on the lap of another Tory; he's been living it up in the lucrative world of after-dinner speaking, as these people do.

So can you do that?? Can you hold a Cabinet position if no one at all has voted for you??

Yes, turns out.

Don't be alarmed by that, though:

But, convention holds that anyone who becomes a Cabinet member while not being an MP needs to be a Peer - that way, if they do bad and naughty things, they can't be held accountable by the House of Commons but they can be held accountable by the House of Lords. Only problem is, Hameron is not a lord...

10.13am

The reshuffle, bafflingly, continues. Jeremy Hunt will remain as chancellor.

For the first time since 2010, the top four positions in government – Prime Minister (Sunak), Chancellor of the Exchequer (Hunt), Home Secretary (Cleverly) and Foreign Secretary (Cameron) – are all held by men.

10.18am

Lots of people tweeting about the historic context of Cameron’s appointment. Here’s my favourite:

10.48am

David Cameron is given a life peerage, so his proper name now is Lord Piggledick.

10.52am

Health secretary Will Quince quits. He wasn’t planning to stand for re-election anyway though, so this one is probably not a shock. But it's important that no one else resi-

11.04am

Decarbonisation minister Jesse Norman resigns.

...

Time for a

✨Conspiracy Theory✨

Between Quince and Norman – as well as Neil O’Brien and Nick Gibb – we’re seeing several mid-ranking ministers resign, despite being generally regarded as fairly competent.

It’s possible they were fired in private, and they’re publicly resigning to save face. But here’s another theory.

MPs aren’t allowed to seek commercial employment for six months after resigning from the government.

So hypothetically, if you were going to lose your seat in a general election, you’d want to have resigned six months earlier so you can still get a job.

If that’s what these guys are doing, it suggests we’re on track for a May 2024 election...?

11.05am

11.12am

Remember Cameron's financial scandal? Quick background here: David Cameron was specifically vice-chair of a £1bn China-UK investment fund.

So let’s see what throwback former leader Iain Duncan Smith thinks of Cameron’s return:

“I am astonished at this appointment. It seems to send a signal to China that we are pursuing business with them at all costs and any costs. Those who have been sanctioned now feel more abandoned than at any time. Those facing genocide and persecution will feel more abandoned than at any time.”

I cannot believe I am about to say this.

But.

I agree with Iain Duncan Smith *spits on floor*

11.50am

Former Tory deputy prime minister Lord Heseltine is asked to sum up the return of Cameron, and says it’s the “clearest signal that the sort of right wing lurch that we’ve seen and the anti-European movement that we’ve seen has been put to bed, and that will get a message across to people”.

12.13pm

A Tory MP is worried that Cameron’s return will turn back the clock on Brexit and Johnson’s election.

“It is very alarming. I am predicting a softening on small boats, a softening on legal migration. I would not be surprised if the ban on conversion therapy returns.”

... Don’t threaten me with a good time.

Anyway, let’s see how the public actually sees Cameron compared with other PMs!

Yeah, not sure people will mind if Cameron’s not Boris Johnson.

12.43pm

ITV political editor Robert Peston walks past a minister of state. The minister’s on the phone, but takes a moment to heatedly shout at Peston, “The PM just sacked me!”

I guess some days are easier than others as a journalist

12.47pm

Therese Coffey resigns as environment secretary!!!!

*choirs of heavenly angels sing*

You'll remember her of course, Tumblrs - she was one of the thugs manhandling people into the 'right' voting lobbies to force their vote on the day of Liz Truss' fracking law. Rumour has it she still has the Whip handle in her ass.

A lot of people seem to be resigning today! But don't be fooled. In almost every case, it’ll be because they were told to resign. They’ve been sacked, but they resign to save face. A last mercy from their benevolent leader.

My guess: Tessie here is terrible at media skills, so – get rid of her before she hurts general election chances. This, too, is a pattern.

12.52pm

Rachel Maclean sacked as Housing Minister! Fun fact, numbers fans: it took Doctor Who 33 years to make it to eight Doctors, but since the 2019 election, the Tories managed eight Housing Ministers in just under 4 years

trololol

1.15pm

Jeremy Quin quits as Minister for the Cabinet Office.

1.37pm

Times Political Editor Steven Swinford reports that No 10 is struggling to find a new housing minister (owing to rumours the job is cursed). Several people have turned it down, including Jeremy Quin. It is incredible to me that they didn't line someone up before sacking the last guy.

Kemi Badenoch and Michael Gove are apparently unhappy that Rachel Maclean was removed from the role. I for one do not care about the opinions of Kemi Badenoch or Michael Gove.

2.04pm

Health Secretary Steve Barclay becomes Environment Secretary. This is effectively a demotion for him. It is our 5th Environment Secretary in four years. Chasing that Housing Minister record! It took 19 years for Doctor Who to have five Doctors

2.15pm

Richard Holden appointed new Conservative Party chairman.

A 2019-intake Tory MP, he led the charge against Sir Keir Starmer over Beergate, which did damage Starmer a bit (albeit not much, given that it turned out Starmer had complied with lockdown regs, and the accusation was nakedly to try and distract from Partygate). So this appointment looks like more strategy to win the next election - someone not known enough to be hated, with what passes in the modern Tory party for a proven track record.

This could be a sign that the Tories intend to at least try to shore up the Red Wall votes? As unlikely as the Tories are to keep those seats.

That said, Holden’s seat disappears in a boundary change next election, sooooo … we'll see what they do there.

2.24pm

Victoria Atkins appointed Health Secretary, replacing Steve Barclay who’s moved to Environment Secretary. She's a relative unknown but also considered actually competent. Massive middle finger to Steve Barclay

2.37pm

Laura Trott (formerly in pensions) promoted to Chief Secretary to the Treasury.

2.42pm

Science minister George Freeman resigns.

3.18pm

YouGov conducts a snap poll: is the appointment of David Cameron as Foreign Secretary a good decision or a bad decision?

Good decision: 24%

Bad decision: 38%

Don't know: 38%

So that's going well

3.24pm

Greg Hands is made a business minister after losing the Tory chairman role.

John Glen moves from chief secretary to the Treasury to become the Minister for the Cabinet Office and Paymaster General.

3.39pm

With Cameron being a Lord now, he’ll be based in the House of Lords rather than the Commons. The most recent Cabinet Minister to be based in the Lords was former Brexit minister Lord Frost, who did weigh in on the matter:

“[T]hough I was not running a whole Department too. I don’t think it works well to have a lead Cabinet Minister answering questions and defending their Department solely in the Lords. The Lords is not a fully party political environment - nor should it be - and voters are owed proper political scrutiny. In our system, that can only happen in the Commons.”

I cannot believe I am about to say this.

But.

I agree with Lord Frost *spits on floor*

The SNP had already called this out, with MP Stephen Flynn claiming, “The UK is not a serious country.”

4.21pm

Conservative MP Lee Rowley appointed the 16th housing minister in the past 13 years. Even counting David Tennant twice, that's more than all the Doctors Who we've ever had, and that took almost 60 years.

5.16pm

Sky News’s Tamara Cohen reports that Sunak sacked Braverman by phone this morning! Downing Street says there won’t be any exchange of letters between them - this is almost unheard of. Politics runs on paper trails! Everything happens through formal letters! By phone!

It means we’re denied insight into their differences. But Cohen reckons we’re likely to hear from Braverman on Wednesday, as the Supreme Court rules on the Rwanda scheme.

6.03pm

Tory MP Andrea Jenkyns, former Education Minister, submits no-confidence letter in Rishi Sunak.

It's almost like, in the absence of Dorries, she's decided that someone needs to step up and have a tantrum and that someone might as well be her. It is, actually, an extremely funny letter, as these letters go. Normally they're written with a sort of furious earnestness wrapped in formal language. I presume that Andrea Jenkyns MP, former Education Minister, was aiming for something similar, and the first paragraph manages it. But by the end you sort of start to wonder if this was supposed to be a letter she wrote with her therapist to get her feelings out:

My favourite line, when pulled in isolation, is "Yes Boris Johnson, the man who won the Conservative Party a massive majority, was unforgivable enough."

Yeah, Andrea babes. You're bang on there.

6.05pm

Esther McVey is appointed as Cabinet Office minister. Not a full cabinet member, but she will attend cabinet meetings.

This is notable: unlike a lot of today’s appointments, she’s on the right of the party. Her role will be to represent the government on TV and radio as much as possible, talking about gender/culture/British colonial history issues (i.e. she’s anti-woke and a screaming bigot).

In other words, with Braverman gone, McVey is an offering for the populist right of the party to try to appease them.

6.15pm

Sunak tweets about the new cabinet, claiming they’ll make “the right decisions for our great country, not the easy ones.” So it looks like that’s the new slogan, and we're pressing on with austerity

6.27pm

Tim Loughton, a Tory MP on the “One Nation” wing (i.e the David Cameron side) responds to Andrea Jenkyns’s letter of no-confidence by tweeting:

“Where can we submit a letter of no confidence in the Pantomime Dame?”

(It’s Andrea he’s publicly referring to as a pantomime dame there. A lil joke from the Tories for you)

6.31pm

Paul Scully sacked as minister for London. Didn't know that one was a position.

9.43pm

Sunak says that only a two-state solution will allow a new future for Israel/Palestine. This is, um, not what the Prime Minister of Israel wants. Who knows whether the Prime Minister of Israel will survive this crisis anyway – but these are big words from Sunak. Cameron’s influence? Maybe? Interesting either way

10.03pm

And then - PLOT TWIST!!!

According to ITV political editor Robert Peston, a senior government source reveals that Cameron was approached on TUESDAY.

Which means plans were underway to get rid of Braverman not only before the far-right violence on Saturday, but before her anti-police article on Wednesday. It seems she lost her job not because of what she said about police after all; but because she claimed homelessness was a lifestyle choice.

Well well.

11.05pm

And the day finishes with Andrea Leadsom back in government (as Under Secretary of State for Health and Social Care) which nobody saw coming! Pretty demeaning to the other 300 Tory MPs who could have been given this.

The final response from numerous Tories: they are feeling jilted and insulted because David Cameron being brought back when he's NOT EVEN AN MP, RISHI suggests that they themselves are not good enough to be in government.

No one tell them

#politik #clownfall: endgame

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alexa-fika · 4 months

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Midnight Lessons (Mihawk x gn!child!reader)

A/N: Here we go, stoic dad time! Guys please drop by my ask box, wanna get to know my audience!

Dividers by @saradika

Night had fallen in Cross Guild’s headquarters, the members still busing around completing their chores. In the main office, quiet reigned between two of the founders, the only sound echoing in the office being of Crocodile’s exhaling his cigars in a thick mist, sitting at his desk and looking over the current paperwork, and the sound of Mihawk sharpening and polishing Yoru, on the office’s couch, his sharp gaze examines his black blade for any blemishes or imperfections.

A knock rings on the door to the office the two reside in

Crocodile’s eyes narrow slightly as he bellows smoke from his cigar and looks up. He sighed, remembering he had locked the door so he and his co-worker could have a meeting, so he stood up and opened the door, grunting when he saw who was at the door.

“Mihawk, it’s your brat,” he called out, staring at the child in front of him

Mihawk puts down his sword and walks over to the child. He squats down to the child’s level*

“Why are you awake at this hour?” Mihawk asked in a deep, quiet voice

The small child mutters something under their breath, sniffling.

Mihawk raises an eyebrow and nudges their arm with his finger, asking them to look at him instead of hiding their face.

“Do not mumble; speak up.” Mihawk’s voice is like a whisper, but his stare was piercing like a sharp blade

“Can I stay with you, Dad?” They cry out, voices still barely above a whisper

Seeing the child’s sad expression, Mihawk frowns and sighs quietly.

“Yes, you can stay. But not for long; you must return to your room soon. Mihawk’s voice was still quiet, but his tone had an unmistakable gentleness as he easily lifted the child carrying them back to the couch.

The small child hugged his dad tightly, trying to muffle their sobs so as to not bother their father at work.

Reader tightened their arms around their father; in response, Mihawk gently caressed their head and patted their back, silently reassuring the child.

“Why are you awake?” he repeats his previous question.

Crocodile glances at the pair once more before turning his attention back to a stack of paperwork on his desk.

“I had a nightmare,” they cry.

Mihawk’s brow furrows, and he looks down at the child.

“What was it about?”

“Y-you were gone.”

Mihawk’s expression tightens when he hears this. His eyebrows narrow, and his lips pull into a thin line. He stays silent for a moment.

“Do not worry about such things, I will not leave.”

Reader nods, comforted by their father’s short but meaningful words.

He pulls the child close to him until their head is lying on his chest, and their face is buried into his neck. The child can feel Mihawk’s heartbeat in their chest. He wraps an arm around the child, holding them close while they sniffle and sob.

Mihawk’s expression remains blank, and he does not say a word until the child’s crying stops.

Reader nuzzles closer to him as they are slowly lulled to sleep.

Mihawk’s arms enfold the child, gently caressing them and providing comfort. The child soon falls asleep, wrapped tightly in Mihawk’s warm embrace.

“Did they fall asleep?” Crocodile’s deep voice cuts in

Mihawk remains silent. He continues caressing the child, gently ruffling their hair. Then he softly turns his head to peer up at Crocodile, still sitting behind his desk.

“Yes.” Mihawk’s voice is still calm and tranquil despite his expression turning cold and serious

That soon changed, however, as the third founder slammed open the door as he came in, startling the child wide-awake, childish cries echoing through the office.

Mihawk tightened the grip around the child slightly.

Crocodile looks up from his desk, and his eyes narrow as he sees the third officer standing at the door.

“What are you doing, Clown?” he asks coldly.

Buggy’s eyes widen in surprise at his tone. He stumbled back, and then tried to compose himself*

“I…I was just-”

Before Buggy could finish, Mihawk’s gaze pierced through him. His eyes are dark and menacing, looking like he’s about to attack him at any moment. Mihawk’s hand tightened around the child again, and he was clearly agitated.

“Out!…” a low, deadly tone leaves Mihawk’s voice. Buggy’s eyes widened in shock, even he could not ignore the seriousness of Mihawk’s tone and expression. His eyes darted to the child, still sobbing and buried in Mihawk’s arms. Buggy gulped before quickly turning to leave the office. The whole place became silent again, with only the sound of the child’s soba as they cried into Mihawk’s chest.

“I’m going to pulverize him,” grunts Crocodile

Mihawk’s attention goes from the doorway towards the crying child in his chest.

Eventually, and with the help of Mihawk’s warmth and comfort, Reader’s cries recede. They are still snuggled close to Mihawk and can feel themselves surrounded by his warmth and presence. His fingers still brush through their hair while his other arm holds onto the child firmly.

Mihawk gently moves Reader from his chest to between his legs, grabbing his sword and continuing to sharpen it

Reader looks at his actions entranced, his attention captured by Mihawk’s strong but careful sword care.

Mihawk’s hands move gracefully over the blade, which shines brilliantly in the candlelit room. His motions are quick and efficient, and he works accurately and skillfully. His face remains calm and unconcerned as he continues sharpening his sword. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Reader staring at him with a mix of curiosity, fascination, and admiration. The unspoken question lingering in the air.

“No, you cannot work on this sword.”

Reader frowns at the rejection without the child having the chance to ask but makes no comment.

Mihawk notices the expression but does not say anything. He looks at the child and raises an eyebrow before turning his attention back to the sword. He runs his thumb caressingly along the blade but then stops abruptly.

“However, I can find a sword you can work on if you so desire, Blade Child.”

They smile and nod.

“I want to. Can you tell me how to do it?”

“Yes,” Mihawk replies in a low tone as he finishes sharpening his sword. Pulling Kogatana out from its sheath in his pendant and showing it to Reader.

“You may use this sword to practice on,” he says as he puts Kogatana down and hands Reader the sharpening stone, helping them grab it correctly and guiding their hands in the appropriate motion.

The child laughs gleefully, excited to be able to repeat the similar actions they saw their father do minutes prior

Mihawk relaxes slightly at the child’s enthusiasm; he watches as Reader sharpens Kogatana with gentle but firm guidance and hand placements. After a few minutes of instruction, Reader feels comfortable enough to sharpen the sword on their own. The light sound of the sharpening stone against the blade echoes through the office.

“I did it, Dad!” Reader exclaims, showing Mihawk the freshly sharpened Kogatana

Mihawk’s expression softens as he looks at the blade with the sharp edge.

Then he looks over at Reader proudly.

He nods his head.

“Yes, this is much sharper now. Not a bad job for your first time.”

Mihawk places the blade back on the sheath on his pendant.

The child laughs at the praise, knowing it is as strong a compliment as he could pull from their stoic father.

Not sure how to feel about this one; what do you guys think? Please send in requests for what you guys would like to see next!

#one piece x reader #Mihawk x reader #Mihawk #Dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x child!reader #Dracule mihawk x child!reader #one piece fluff #one piece imagine #one piece x child!reader #one piece x platonic!reader #cross guild #cross guild x reader #cross guild x gender neutral reader #cross guild x gn reader #mihawk x gn reader

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plush-rabbit · 6 months

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Working for Mammon

A/N: I can't get this dumb spider clown out of my head oh my gosh. Also you're a singer here. Jack of all trades ig. enjoy!!

Fizzarolli was his money maker- compared to the other business and people Mammon invested in, they were nothing compared to the imp. The only one who ever came close to the clown’s revenue was you. You were a close second. There were moments where your sales would rival Fizzarolli’s and you were the starlight in the sin’s eyes, only to be replaced by someone that burned brighter than you ever could. Then, of course, the imp goes and quits and you’re bumped from being second place, to first.

Being number one comes with a lot of responsibilities. Sales cannot falter. You cannot falter. Not even for a moment. Any grand gesture or event that there is must be perfect. You’re marketable. And because of that, the Sin of Greed treasures oh so much. You may be a lower class demon, but you belong to him. Leaving you alone can bring all sorts of trouble, trouble that he isn’t going to tolerate. He dresses you in fine clothes, adorns you in sweet things that came from your pay- you deserve to own something nice that you worked so hard for is what he tells you. You are protected and cared for, treated like porcelain and pressured into a diamond.

Ever since the abrupt departure of the imp clown, it’s clear that the Sin of Greed has a bit of an attachment issue. He hardly likes to leave you unattended just in case people start to whisper to you about just how covetous he is. He lost quite a profit with Fizzarolli and the Sin would never say it out loud, nor even entertain the idea, but it left him rattled. He treated him better than the underlings, but that isn’t saying much. Maybe he was given too much freedom and became involved with Asmodeus, and that put some wicked ideas into his head, but it’s a mistake that will not happen again. You have guards that take care of you, and there’s hardly a moment when Greed isn’t seen with you in public. He likes to know where you are- always calling and messaging, appearing if you haven’t answered within five minutes. He always has this scared look in his eyes, and he hands always clasp around your biceps, and it’s silent, as if he’s trying to contain his anger, and trying to mask any worry that he had, but it’s always noticeable with the appearance of his many eyes and the frown that’s stitched onto his face. He’s consuming, taking and wanting, and it’s never enough.

It comes to no surprise that the Sin of Greed desires to be around you at all times and in doing so, he always has a hand on you. It was different in the beginning. It felt possessive, like a child gripping onto their blanket, held in a fisted hand that won’t let go no matter how hard it’s tugged at. You remember the sore feeling, the way you were dragged around like a dog and unable to go anyway without his approval and without him. Now, it’s different. He holds your hand softly, interlaced and pulling you closer to him. You can lead him around so long as you squeeze his hand. In public, he has you pulled close to him- hands around your shoulders as he whispers for you to not mess up the performance, an arm pulling you close to him as you walk through a crowded area. He can’t seem to let go of you.

Your attention has to be on him constantly. In public during a talk show, you sit beside him and you look up at him, your hand interlaced with his, another free hand on your knee- the benefits of having multiple arms. You have to talk about him, mention how wonderful he is, and not look away. It feels marketable, there’s no intimacy to it. It’s all for show. But then you go to his home, and he whines and grumbles about everything and nothing at all as his head lays in your lap. He only sighs and mumbles something barely comprehensible when you begin to scratch the crown of his head. Or he’ll pull you close to him in private, watching some random movie, all for an excuse to have you close to him, desperate to just touch you, his hands scratching lightly at your side and splayed over the top of your thigh. He’ll twist at your hair and trace shapes against your skin, and sometimes, you forget that he’s a Sin.

No matter how you look at it, you have to be marketable. You have to sell plushies, prints, keychains, chips and sodas and endorse perfume and clothes. And you have to sell sexbots. It took time to convince you to agree to have your likeness placed onto something that was going to be used for lewd purposes. It took even longer to convince Asmodeus to create them. But it was all worth it. The profits that came in were amazing, better than he could have ever expected. However, you still belong to him, and it comes to his attention just how creepy fans could be. Were they like this with Fizzarolli as well? No, surely he would have noticed.You’re no different than the imp that you replaced. But when he sees a fan try to get a picture of you in your dressing room, he feels angry. Rageful, even. He sees how panicky you get, and he loves how you cling to him in fear and for protection, but he hates seeing you so sad. For a brief moment, he reconsiders recalling the sexbots, but then he gets a notification that the bots are out of stock. He tells you that he’ll hire more security for you with a kiss on the top of your head.

The Sin of Greed likes to act like he’s in a romantic relationship with you. He plans your outfits to match with his. It doesn’t have to be a direct copy of what he wears- honestly, he has some semblance of tact- but he wants to coordinate with you. The colors have to bounce off each other, the theme of the outfits, the jewelry, and accessories. He wants to match with you. It’s easy for people to start rumors that the two of you are together, and he doesn’t stop them. If people think you belong to him in a romantic way, it doesn't matter. The rumors do encourage him to be more touchy with you, to hold you closer and have a reason to not let you be alone. Sometimes he’ll play it up, talking about how pretty you are, and how your singing voice is even better in person and people should really buy tickets for your next performance. He’ll even mention how in the next act, he’ll come in with some throwing knives- just a bit of a kick to add to your performance.

When he books you at a more high-end event, he likes to have you sing ballads. You confess to him that you don’t know where to look during those types of songs. The more energetic ones are easier because you’re constantly moving and performing, but ballads are softer, and you can’t just look at strangers. He’d never admit to anyone that it was just a way to get you to look at him as something more than a manager. He tells you to look at him- to sing to him. During those few minutes where you long for him and declare your love and how you’d wish to kiss him again and again, nothing else matters to him. You sing to him, not to the others. You care only for him during those minutes until the song pauses and a new one comes along and you sing to him again and again. And what is he but greed personified, and the desire to hear you tell him that you wish for him and no one else, keeps your nights busy until your throat is too sore to sing.

As a clown, he takes great satisfaction in knowing people are laughing because of him. It fills his pockets with green and it keeps the masses entertained enough to keep coming back. It didn't matter who was laughing, it just mattered that he was getting paid. But then he makes you laugh. And it’s nice, and loud, and it’s your laughter that has him pausing and feeling his face grow warm. It’s uncontrollable, and your smile is lovely. Ever since he found out he likes your laugh, he does his best to keep your laughter going. He wants to hear it, to drown in it, to memorize the sound and never let another soul hear it.

Mammon is a manager first and a sort-of-romantic partner second. He pushes you to be better than perfect. You can't afford to lose money. But when you’re at your limit, when you’re too exhausted and irritable, there are few times where you actively fight back and grow resentful and it frightens him. You don't talk to him, you avoid anything of his, you detach yourself from him.. Even if he does hold your hand, he can feel how cold you are. He hates how you affect him so much. If he makes you upset, he makes up for it but it's always half-hearted. Mammon tells you that he didn't mean to push you so hard, but he wants you to be perfect. He cares for you so much, he knows that you can be better than the imp. So he sits beside you, grumbles something that isn't an apology and he looks so sad, you can't help but forgive him. He'll pull you close in private and tell you how you did such a good job, that you're his treasure and star and where would he be without you.

#helluva boss #helluva boss mammon #helluva boss mammon x reader #someone hit me over the head #idk what it is #but greed characters just got me feeling a sort of way #and i hate it #quick someone get the bat #and whack me #this is not the mammon that i fell in love with

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hey-august · 1 month

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March Madness Event - Winner (NSFW | Buggy X Marine!GN!Reader)

Woah woah woah, this story concludes the March Madness event!

(In case you missed it, throughout the month of March I posted polls pitting kinks against kinks. The ones that lost in the polls received short stories involving a bit of failure. The kink that won at the end of the month was slated to receive a proper story. And that's where we are now!)

I'll be honest, I did not expect this to be the winner. Then again, I should have seen it coming with how it took off in every poll it was in.

Thank you all for participating! Voting, reading, commenting, liking, reblogging - everything!!

I hope you enjoyed this event and that you enjoy this story. 🩷

Description: As a Marine, you're responsible for safely escorting the captured prisoner, Buggy the Clown. Things don't go according to plan and while the prisoner remains captured, not all of him ends up behind bars...

Teeny tiny teaser: "This fucker needed to know the effect his dumbass decision had on others."

Word count: ~3.4k (I don't remember the last time I wrote a one-shot this long 🥴)

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, marine!reader, no use of Y/N, insertion sex, bit of degradation, cockwarming (not solely intimate, but there is some eventually), misuse of devil fruit powers

“I can fuck you harder if you uncuff me,” he said through gritted teeth. “C’mon, tell me you don’t want that.”

The teasing remark was hissed behind your ear, sending a shiver through your body. Your weak fucking body, nearly wiped of all self-restraint. A thin thread of rationality kept you tethered to a sense of preservation, but the constant pounding threatened to snap that hold.

You were responsible for locking up the prisoner - a duty you’ve fulfilled many times without issue. Over the years, your strength and cleverness helped you climb the ranks of Marines, yet this was the first time you failed to complete this responsibility. Well, you haven’t failed yet, but the more the thread frays, the more your legs shake, the more his heavy grunts fill your ears…

Your shaky hands gripped the seastone cuffed wrists wrapped around your body. Although the pirate couldn’t grip your hips the way either of you wanted, he was able to pull your body towards his as he relentlessly slammed himself in you.

Of all the captured criminals you ever escorted, it was the goddamn clown that broke you. The pathetic clown with a face of smeared paint. Left behind by his crew. A captain who was visibly crestfallen when none of the Marines appeared impressed by his presence.

Despite his circumstances, the prisoner - Buggy the Clown - lived up to his namesake. Nearly every comment out of his mouth was a joke, often at the expense of anyone around him. The lack of laughter after each quip should add to embarrassment and pity for the clown, but you found yourself enjoying the amusement he was clearly creating for himself. It was…endearing.

As his sole escort below deck, his attention quickly turned towards you and the warm fluttery feeling you had moved lower in your body. Silence only protected you for so long before your face was too red to ignore, giving the clown encouragement to continue. Changing tactics, Buggy started spouting cheesy and overused pickup lines. Each remark said with unabashed enthusiasm added to the heat on your face.

“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together.” “I’d like to report a crime. My breath was stolen.” “That Marine uniform doesn’t look so bad on you. But it would look better on the floor.”

Those comments were so stupid and worked so well. A few hissed retorts and threats of punishment were disarmed with a charming smile. You had no chance of winning whatever this game was. Secretly, you weren’t sure you wanted to win. There was something alluring about this pirate who tried to hide behind jokes and laughter that you wanted more of.

Arousal easily increases in potency when mixed with other feelings. For you, it was unexpected affection and the lure of degeneracy. For Buggy, you assumed it was the fear and anxiety that comes with imprisonment. Each concoction was perfectly portioned and all it took were choice words, overly-familiar touches, and curious glances for the poison to take effect.

Alone in the room, it only took seconds to pull your pants low enough to grant Buggy access. You leaned forwards, steadying yourself against the wall, while he grabbed the lower hem of your top. His thrusts were erratic and sloppy as he tried to find a decent pace. There was barely enough time for this moment of guilty indulgence and you both wanted as much from it as possible.

Bringing his bound hands overhead, Buggy pulled you close to his chest until you were wrapped in his hold. With his hands closer to your hips, he was able to move both of your bodies at a quick tempo. He was rewarded with a whine that escaped your heavy breathing.

“S’that how you like it? Hard and rough? I didn’t expect you to be so fucking filthy. Do all your prisoners get welcomed like this?”

Fuck. Why did his voice sound so good? And why did it sound better saying such degrading shit?

You shook your head and leaned into his touch, wanting to feel more. “Sh-shut up. Don’t you ever stop talking?”

“You d-don’t want that,” Buggy groaned. “I can feel your body squeeze when I talk. You like it.” His teasing was met with a delicious whimper.

Every word from his mouth had your head spinning. You wanted so much more. You wanted to taste his voice, to feel his mouth against yours, to feel his lips on your skin, but he wore that stupid face paint. You wanted his touch everywhere, for his hands to roam your body, for him to hold you tighter, but he needed to keep the cuffs on. Buggy was a Devil Fruit user. He was dangerous. And he was breaking you down.

Almost as if he could read your mind, Buggy started describing all the ways he wanted to screw you. How good you are at taking him. He wants to hear how good he makes you feel. Lost in the haze of lust, you barely remembered pulling out the key you wore on a chain and had tucked under your clothes. Your palm ached from how tightly you gripped the key while fighting against the horny instincts crowding your body.

You were so close, so achingly close. Maybe if you timed it right, it would be okay. You could minimize the danger. That makes sense, right? It could work. The wisp of rational thought faded away so softly that you didn’t miss its absence.

“Please,” was all you could get out as you unlocked the cuffs and let them fall to the floor.

It was like you released a feral animal with that decision. You didn’t realize just how much the seastone had sapped from Buggy until you felt his bruising grip as he brutally slammed his hips into yours. Even his cock seemed to get harder as it was bullied deeper in your body. He struggled to stay quiet, grunting like a wild boar as he rut into you.

You were on the edge of the precipice, ready to throw yourself over the ledge, when a horrible sound yanked you back to solid ground. A piercing siren sound filled the ship, signaling the top of the hour and a change in duties. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You needed to finish your job before anyone found out what you were doing. Who you were doing.

In a panic, you elbowed the pirate and spun around. “They’re gonna catch us,” you said with wide-eyes.

With all his blood below the belt, Buggy was already caught off-guard by the loud noise. Your rapid change from a whimpering needy thing who needed to be railed, to a Marine who wanted to follow the rules was a lot for the pirate to follow after losing the trail of his own orgasm. All he could do was struggle to pull up his pants as you shoved him into the jail cell and locked him in. Thoughts slowly returned to his head and weakness seeped back into his body as he watched you fix up your uniform before freezing.

“What the fuck did you do?” The question started as a shout before you restrained the rest of your temper.

“I wanted to make sure you come back for me,” Buggy responded with a wink. “Besides, we didn’t get to finish. I figured you could keep it warm for me until the encore.” He reached down and grabbed the crotch of his pants, which was baggier than it should be.

“Are you fucking ser-” The rhetoric question was stopped by the throbbing in your body.

Between your body fully accepting the rough fuck and the whirlwind of anxiety about being caught, you didn’t notice that Buggy left you with a piece of himself. Of all the things he could have done with his Devil Fruit powers in that moment, rather than doing something, anything, that could help him escape, the clown chose to part from his dick. What a fucking joke.

---

It was a sunny day with just enough of a breeze to keep the sails full and to blow away excess heat from the sun. The gentle wind helped dry the perspiration on your skin as you crossed the deck, towards the meeting room. While the air carried away some of the physical evidence, your body still burned and you chose to believe the unrelenting heat was shame. Punctual attendance was critical on the ship and you couldn’t even spare a few minutes to evict the pirate’s privates without risking a penalty.

With each step, you felt the fullness between your legs and the stretch from his girth. You couldn’t remember what it meant to walk normally. Every movement was over thought and analyzed. What felt normal made your core feel too tight against the intrusion. Longer strides had you worry that he might slip out. While it seemed unlikely (all of this was unlikely already), you worried about losing this bit of Buggy. There would be no reasonable way to explain a lone penis anywhere on the ship.

As hard as you tried to be upset with Buggy’s stupid horny decision, your body was still flooded with hormones that drowned logic and only allowed obscene thoughts to float. You were deep in a fucked up situation and you were enjoying it.

You arrived just in time for the meeting to start. It was a daily check-in where attendees would recite numbers and metrics that meant nothing to you. It was important and wholly unnecessary. The returning sheen of sweat and lingering redness on your face could be excused as the hustle needed to arrive on time and not the throbbing you felt inside.

Settling into one of the open chairs, you couldn’t find a position that was remotely comfortable. There was minimal padding on the wood chairs and the backrests were at an awkward height that provided no support. Leaning too far one way pushed Buggy further inside and you just barely concealed the discovering gasp as a deep breath.

Crossing your legs was a terrible idea, as it only added to the unforgiving pressure. The sensation attacked you both, as you felt the confined cock flex in its warm prison. You quickly uncrossed your legs, glad no one could see how they shook under the table.

Wicked voices began whispering to you, talking over the droning presentation at the head of the table. You couldn’t find any reprieve from what you were feeling. The only thing that made you feel better was giving in. You could afford to let your mind drift, this meeting was only to make others feel important. You had your own feelings to deal with.

Your mind wandered down to where those feelings radiated from. To the frustrating ache between your legs. Buggy was a good length, on the longer end of average, but his thickness was far more than average. Thankfully he got you so riled up earlier and all you had to suffer through was a burn that he quickly fucked away. Your body had grown accustomed to the wideness, but being held open for so long was different. Even through the uniform, you felt exposed. With each twitch from your hole as it fruitlessly tried to find some give against the occupant, you fell apart a little more.

You shifted in the chair again, cautiously rolling your hips with the movement. Just once. And then again, under the guise of trying to get comfortable. Fuck, that did feel good. Your body shifted against Buggy’s member just right. You tensed against him, chasing that sensation, and receiving a heavy throb in response.

Your name broke through the fog you willingly got lost in. Your eyes snapped to the man standing at the head of the table.

“Is there something more important than going over these reports?”

Maybe your movements weren’t as subtle as you thought.

“No, Sir. Just trying to get comfortable. I apologize for the distraction.” You spoke loudly, overriding the quiver hiding in your throat.

Buggy was reacting to the jolt of tension that ran through our body. Clenched fists pressed into your knees and your toes curled in the little space available in your boots as you rode out his movement. It was incredibly frustrating and absolutely embarrassing. So why did it feel so fucking good?

---

The rest of the meeting ended without further incident. At least, as far as any of the attendees cared. For you, every action and reaction from either of your linked bodies felt like a whole new event to survive. You offered a tight lipped smile to everyone as they left the room, preferring a small audience when you attempted to use your weak legs. Luckily, horniness and adrenaline held you up and supported you out of the room.

The infirmary was a few doors down and it was around the time the doctor took a break. If you were lucky, the room would be empty and you could put an end to this. The luck was debatable when you opened the door to two pale faces. One belonged to the Marine who was on guard duty and the other belonged to the prisoner being guarded. A prisoner who offered you a small smile that matched the one painted on his face.

The guard started babbling when you entered the room. “H-he doesn’t look good, r-right? I brought him h-here, but they’re all on break. I’m wor-worried he’s gonna upch- upchu-ugh, pu- v- vom-”

“Get sick?”

The guard nodded with pursed lips, struggling to hold back the hiccups and sympathetic heaves that wracked their body. “Doesn’t seem ser-serious enough to call the med-ugh medics b-back.”

You looked at Buggy, trying to assess what was going on. Was this a ploy or was he actually ill? Were you going to get sick?

“It doesn’t look that serious. I can stay with him. Why don’t you go lie down?” Your offer was accepted before you even finished speaking.

The infirmary door closed, leaving you and Buggy in an awkward silence. He sat in a chair, hunched over, still giving you a weak smile.

“Are you okay? Is it bad?” You asked, concerned that his flashy self seemed to be affected. Crouching down, you brought yourself closer to his level.

“Bad,” he repeated hoarsely, leaning towards you.

His trajectory would bring his painted forehead to the white shoulder of your uniform, so you intercepted. Pressing your head against his, you waited for Buggy to continue.

“N-need you. Made a bad decision, need you, please.” One of his cuffed hands pawed at the empty space where his dick should be.

With his strength and stamina taken away during imprisonment, Buggy’s self-inflicted secondary imprisonment was too much. He could feel everything - how your body continued to struggle around him, how warm you were inside, how you reacted to his involuntary cries and demands for more. It felt so fucking good, so deliriously wonderful, and downright torturous.

There was no end in sight, though. There had to be a reason you kept him inside, so even if Buggy could come, it would be followed with overstimulation that could go for who knows how long. Not to mention how upset you would probably be if you were unexpectedly full of his hot cum.

Buggy whimpered at the thought. At imagining you full and plugged. Of his jizz dripping out and collecting in your underwear. Of you being an absolute fucking mess under your prim and pristine uniform, because of him.

“Please,” he whined again.

You pulled away and locked the door. “We don’t have a lot of time. Again.”

Buggy bit his lip as you held out your hand to help him up and blubbered what sounded like, “thank you.”

You understood how he felt. So insatiable that nothing mattered more than giving into these desperate needs that aggressively grew out of desire. Giving up on everything but chasing the high, you uncuffed Buggy and undid your pants.

This fucker needed to know the effect his dumbass decision had on others. You shoved his hand down your pants, letting him feel how wildly aroused you were. How much of a mess he made.

His groan was laced with delight and pain at the knowledge. His touch was everywhere, committing all of the evidence of your lust to memory. As his hand crept further, it came in contact with his base and his body jolted at the touch. This was too much.

Yanking his hand out of your pants, Buggy rushed to unbuckle his and expose where his member belonged. Following his lead, you pulled your pants down and turned around. Wary about wasting precious time, Buggy pressed his hips against yours and shuddered when his cock returned to its rightful place. It felt as if his senses increased a hundredfold now that it was back.

“M’close,” he warned, struggling to set a reliable pace.

Honestly, he was about to explode when his hand was down your pants. But he needed this. He needed to feel you moving on his cock. To feel your body react against him. To feel you explode.

As if reading his thoughts, you grabbed his hand and pushed it down. You didn’t need much. This entire time, you didn’t need much, apparently. Just his attention on you was enough to pull you off the trail you were on. And that’s what he gave you - his enthusiastic attention.

His hand moved fervently, following the cues your body gave. The touches that had your breaths teeter on moans, pressure that had your body clench his, sensations that increased the tension in your core.

“Uh-haah, uh-huh, just like that. K-keep going, g-gonna… You’re gonna make me c-” You were cut off as the feeling ripped through your body, sharp and electric. The words in your mouth were wiped away as you fell to the indescribable surge.

Buggy huffed as he struggled to fuck through your orgasm. Your unsaid words rung through his head - he was responsible for this. You were shaking beneath him because of what he did. Your sweet sighs of relief were for him.

“Wh-where-” Buggy could hardly stutter a question he should have asked earlier.

“Finish what you started,” you said, leaning into his touch once again.

Feeling your body melt against his, accepting his thick cock so easily, pulling him deeper - that was more than enough.

“F-fucking shit,” Buggy hissed as he came.

The climax was nearly painful as he shot stream after stream inside your body. Feeling like the release would never end, the pirate clung to you and whimpered with each pulse. Eventually, he ran out. His hold released with a shaky sigh.

Buggy struggled with words to fill the next moment. Something about how this felt good. Maybe a thanks? But before he could decide, yet another loud sound interrupted the moment. A sound that was accompanied by a lurch that threw the pirate back. An explosion. Then came the alarms. The ship was under attack by pirates. You both rushed to fix yourselves up.

“I-I think that’s for me,” Buggy said.

You looked at him incredulously. Was this all a fucking trick?

“I want you to come with me.”

His request kept you silent. This didn’t make sense.

“I didn’t think they were coming. I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. But it was fun - well, I had fun. I think you did too. We can keep having fun, unless you want to keep living this stuffy life.” Buggy spoke quickly.

His explanation was rushed, but you could see a hint of honesty among the turmoil.

Buggy held his hand out for you to grab.

---

Life on a pirate ship was different, but also similar to life with the Marines. Useless meetings couldn’t be avoided and petty drama existed everywhere. But the spirit and passion that came with piracy was unbelievably vast. Joys flew high, parties raged hard, drinks always flowed, treasure was celebrated.

And on Buggy’s ship, there was always more. More life, more color, more light. Dumb jokes, death defying stunts, fantastic skills, and stupid decisions that managed to work out in the end.

One of your favorite things about life aboard the ship were the quiet afternoons you spent with the captain. Afternoons that were spent laying in the shared bed, your body nestled against his. Afternoons full of stories and musings. Afternoons dedicated to the two of you, which you spent slotted together in warmth and intimacy.

#buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy the clown #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown smut #one piece smut #gender neutral reader #hey-august march madness

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the-s1lly-corner · 6 months

Note

Sorry to bother ya again, but my brain is literally on overdrive with this show and this clown who hws beckme my first kin and lives in my head rent free as she quietly sits there with a cup of hot chocolate and a warm blanket like she deserves, buuut

What if the gang found out the reader could abstract at will, including restricting it to certain parts of their body, ooor what if they found out you were a shapeshifter when you accidentally sneeze and turn into Wario or something

TADC cast x reader who can shapeshift!

i have returned from eating my silly dinner (sweet n sour chicken with rice!) it was very scrumptious i went ahead and did the shapeshifter idea since i feel that would be more fun to write (we can pretend they can still shift to mimic an abstracted body shhh) these ones are a little short i hope thats okay!

CAINE:

its not totally unheard of people getting unique abilities when they enter the digital world, its just not very common (this is a hc!), so when caine found out you could manipulate your appearance he wasn't all that surprised! i think he was more intrigued more than anything, because its not everyday you see something like that! he would be absolutely thrilled if you shifted into him; both from being amused of it and this man probably loves himself as much as someone can

will try to pop you if you mimic bubble, kind of feels bad for a second but your disguise was just so so convincing! say, were you by any chance an actor in your past life in the real world? you totally had him fooled!

POMNI:

pomni would be a little freaked out, especially if you just. suddenly sneezed and OH! now it looks like you're abstracting in front of everyone! first response is to run away before the transformation is complete, but when she notices no one else is freaking out (ragatha even blesses you!) shes more than a little confused

you offer to demonstrate your abilities to her, but she probably politely turns you down; she understands... for the most part... really its mostly just her trying to become used to the digital world as a whole

RAGATHA:

ragatha makes sure that you know that she thinks its cool; and as long as you're not morphing into a giant bug shes encouraging you to hone in on that cool power of yours! compliments whatever form you choose for the day

oh? you changed your hair color! she likes it, the new look is amazing on you! oh? you made yourself a little taller and gave yourself some new characteristics! points out nearly every detail shes noticed, no matter how small. ragatha pays attention, ragatha cares

JAX:

tries to drag you off to the dark side (ie being a menace to the others), whether or not you agree to be his partner in crime and 'use your power for evil' is fully up to you!

makes random requests to see just how far you can take your shapeshifting, usually listing off things at lightning speed to see if you can catch up.. if your shapeshifting takes a toll on you (like lets say it takes energy out of you) he might let up when he realizes how tired and pale you look all of a sudden.. at least for now

KINGER:

speedrunning to kinger for a moment before i forget this idea but imagine shapeshifting into him and hes just totally confused. leads to him making weird movements and you copying him (he thinks caine added a new mirror in the middle of the room for a solid minute before you break the illusion)

unless you have a set 'base form' hes going to keep thinking youre a new person if you drastically alter your appearance.. which, fair, since i think if you made yourself look unrecognizable, people would think youre a new person entirely. has probably introduced himself to you multiple times before realizing it was you

kinger gets a technical third bullet point but its not fluff. i just remembered the scene from steven universe where amethyst shapeshifts into rose in front of greg. but instead its kinger and instead of rose is queener/queenie. i hurt my own feelings. im gonna stew over this now

ZOOBLE:

honestly if you look just a mixmatched as them they would be into it and say you look cool. i had an idea that zooble has spare pieces and sometimes switches out their pieces for a new look, so imagine the two of you make matching looks or something, i think that would be cool

otherwise i dont think zooble would treat you any differently than if you were friends and couldnt shapeshift... though... i will admit, they think its funny when jax annoys you and change yourself in order to get him to back off. serves him right!

GANGLE

imagine she asks you to be a model for her art.. asking you to do different poses as well as different figures so she can better her craft. i absolutely love the idea of gangle being really into art, and this idea is just so cute to me

you have probably shapeshifted into her and pretended to be her when she needed someone to stand up for her... imagine how jarring it would be to see 'gangle' snap back at jax after he does something particularly mean

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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wood-white-writer · 6 months

Text

"Didn't mean to make your heart Blue" || [6/...]

— OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

“On sunny days I go out walking, I end up on a tree-lined street. I look up at the gaps of sunlight. I miss you more than anything."

— Mitski, "Francis Forever"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live action) x F!Reader

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. The crew arrives at the Baratie, and several things go down in a matter of hours. Decisions are made, both stupid and not so stupid. Old and new faces come back into your life, and unable to deal with the events in Orange Town, you handle it in the worst best way possible: through the bottle.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, fem!reader, LA!Verse, slight canon divergence, alcoholic indulgence on a catastrophic scale (drink responsibly ppl), blackouts, morally grey reader, violence, mentions of everyone (marine, fish people, pirates, etc.) having a past beef with Reader/"Cross-Hairs", Buggy POV in the end,

A/N: So, since this chapter was delayed, I think it compensates due to the fact that it is approximately 7k words long. The chapter jumps a little between the events of the Baratie, but there's a reason for that: the reason being that the Reader is shitfaced for most of the time during this chapter. Also, shout out to @ay0nha for putting up with my rambles during this period, really appreciate it XD

It hurts. Everything hurts. That’s the first thing he feels.

His feet, his back, his torso, but especially his head. It’s like a hamster is running on a wheel inside the bones in his skull, squeaking, chirping, driving him insane from the inside.

The wheel is pounding, and pounding until all he wants is to chuck that fucking hamster into–

“Hey, he’s waking up!”

Shanks? Why is he in his head? Fuck, he takes it back. The hamster can stay, rent-free, for as long as it fucking wants to, as long as it isn’t fucking Shanks—

“Buggy?”

On second thoughts, that voice doesn’t strike any sense of irritation with him. In fact, he finds it comforting, like the morning sun shining atop the ship deck. He doesn’t mind listening to that.

“Buggy?”

His eyes open, and he thinks he's seeing the sun for the first time. The sun and the moon, in fact, at the same time. Golden, blinding, warm, and cold, but he wants to watch them until his vision turns white and all sense of sight abandons him.

It’ll suck to be blind, but damn, what a hell of a way to go.

The more he stares, however, the more everything else falls back into place. He realizes it’s not suns he’s staring at, but two sharp eyes and a concerned face that makes him feel just as warm.

He’s in a bed, he finally discovers. There’s a pillow under his head, a fresh sheet up until his midsection which strangely smells of vinegar, inside a room he just now remembers is the Oro Jackson’s de-facto ‘infirmary’ which really is just an old storage space that was refurnished when they first got the ship.

There’s something wrapped around his head, tight but not too tight that it’s squeezing. It’s been done by precise and sturdy hands; a professional, someone who knows what they’re doing.

He blinks once, then twice, and everything around him finally settles. Including everyone perched around the bed.

“Ah, Buggy, my lad!” It’s hard not to recognize the booming voice of his captain, who proceeds to lean over him with his hands pressed around his biceps until the massive mustache trickles his chin. “Thought you were a goner for a moment!”

He kind of wishes he was one because the strength of Gol D. Roger is not to be underestimated. His ribs squeeze and it's hard to breathe, but out of respect for his captain, all that leaves his throat is a guttural groan that he hopes conveys the message clearly enough.

Gol D. promptly removes himself from his poor apprentice with his hands raised, and when he steps back, Shanks takes his place next to the bed. “Gods, Buggy! What were you thinking? You could’ve been killed! Rayleigh said you were lucky it was just a concussion!”

That’s when it dawns on him. Riiight, there was a scuttle. Some asshole pirates trying to ambush them, they picked the wrong fucking targets. Some … guy was flying over him? Did that happen, or was it just a fever dream?

He remembers kicking someone in the balls, and then … and then …

Lightning. Making its way for him as the darkness embraced his vision. A line of gold, straight as a sword, narrowing in on him.

Did it catch him before the darkness did?

He hopes so.

“Lay off me, will ‘ya!” he shouts at his friend, trying to get up. However, the fucking hamster wheel in his head keeps spinning until he settles back down against the pillow. “I was doing good!”

“Yeah, until you weren’t!” Shanks disputes and grabs his fellow apprentice by the collar of his sleeve. “I told you to fucking move, but it’s like you spaced out! She had to carry you all the way back here with your head all bleeding!”

Carry him?

He glances at you, finally. You’re sitting there, hunched slightly over the bed with those eyes looking at him, and he’s thinking you fucking carried him? It’s not that he’s ashamed, not at all, but if anything, he was always hoping the roles were switched.

He’d be the one carrying you. With your strength, he imagined it would be quite the weight to uphold, but he would do it. For you, he would move the seas if he could, Devil Fruit or not.

“Buggy, are you alright?”

You’re the one talking this time. Not the captain, nor Shanks, just you. The lighting is here, and he feels his skin prick. It’s electric. Cold. Warm. All and nothing combined. He could listen to it – feel it – for hours, days, maybe even years without ever growing weary of it.

He puts on his best brave face and scoffs, forcing his arms to cross themselves despite the surge of aches that rush through his body doing so. “Of course I’m alright! I’m Buggy! I bounce back, always!”

“Still,” your hands fall on top of his, and he feels his body freeze. “I was worried.”

“’Worried’?” Shanks cackles and gestures to you with his thumb over his shoulder. “You should’ve seen the damage she left behind. The entire place was smithereens, I tell you, Buggy! She knocked over those assholes like frickin’ chessboard pieces!”

“What did I always tell you?” Gol D. slams a hand on top of your shoulder, knocking you slightly forward. “She’s got eyes sharp enough to cut through steel, and pirates too, apparently.”

You laugh awkwardly. “I didn’t cut through them, really. I just … knocked them a little over.”

Shanks cackles. “Don’t be humble. You should’ve seen the guy who knocked you out. I swear, none of his bones were where they were supposed to be. He won’t be walking, or doing much of anything, ever again.”

Buggy can imagine it, but also not. He looks at you now, and he sees his concerned friend with those kind eyes that contain both the sun and the moon. He’s always known you’re strong – the strongest person he knows of save for his captain, but not unkind. Not cruel. Not sadistic.

Yet, if what Shanks just said carries any weight, it confirms what he’s always known.

You’re a beast, and beasts only follow their prime instincts. They don’t allow others to harm what or who they consider theirs.

And it means that you consider him yours.

Maybe in a different way than he’d prefer, maybe in a way that’s different from the kind he harbors towards you, but it still confirms he’s yours.

He will never want to find himself on the opposite side of that. Of you. Never you.

When he looks at you again, looks down at where your hand is pressed on top of his, he takes it in his own.

“I’m fine,” he finally says, his lip tugging in what is supposed to be a smile. “Remind me not to get on your bad side, though.”

You chuckle softly, and he smiles. Fuck, how can he not? He remembers it all so clearly. The way your dimples are shaped, the length of your hair, the soft tint of your lips.

“You? Never.” You finally say. “Never you”

---

You reflect on how it's weird that some things change whereas others don't.

Flowers prosper and bloom and die. The sun ascends, stays up for a few hours, then descends back into the horizon.

Friendships grow strong, stay strong, then they aren't.

Some things change, some don't.

Baratie being among the latter.

It's bright enough inside to momentarily blind you, just like it was a little over ten years ago. Save for new faces with the employees and some design choices, the overall place has stayed the same.

There are people there of prestigious backgrounds - both pirate and not - and you think of how receptive the restaurant must've been to make both parts come together without any regular scuttles.

A neutral ground for all to come and enjoy the feast. Well, that is the principle, but not everyone abides by it.

It’s been a while since you last visited the establishment, and last time, you were banned for life.

Frankly, you don’t recall much of the events; too drunk on rum at the time.

What you do remember is that it involved a few broken bottles of Baratie’s finest wine, some mashed-up furniture, and cutlery, a rival captain who wouldn’t take a “fucking get lost” for a “no”, and it ended with you standing surrounded by a bunch of broken bodies of your own making.

Needless to say, Zeff was pissed.

More than pissed, actually. He was fuming.

He probably still is.He has a thing for grudges if he’s still alive.

Maybe … Just maybe the old man’s chewed off something more than his leg and kicked the bucket? That’d be a sight to see considering he only has one remaining foot.

"My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?"

The waiter - Sanji - is fine, not going to lie. A good fighter, too, if his little display seconds ago is a testament to that. A bit too young for your preference, with a nose too small, and hair too bright and blonde. Not quite blue colorful enough.

All in all, not a bad look at all. Just for the aesthetics, though. A solid 7/10, you conclude.

"One of everything, please!" Luffy requests enthusiastically.

For whatever reason, Sanji does not seem to share your general affinity for the restaurant. That’s odd. Most people who work here tend to boast about their occupation in the famed restaurant.

Though, if you have to make a guess, Zeff is likely a contributing factor behind that disdain. He’s tough on people, even tougher if he likes someone.

As discontented as Sanji seems, however, it does not keep him from trying to withhold his flirtatious demeanor with Nami. A Casanova, it looks like. Funny.

"Waiter, can I get a beer and something for my friends?" Zoro asks, fed up with the one-sided dalliance going on between your shipmate and the waiter.

"Two beers!” Usopp promptly adds. “though, I usually have three."

"And one milk!" Luffy chimes in.

"Three beers and a milk," Sanji notes. His eyes land on you, and that signature smile falls to his lips. "And for the ladies?"

You’re already here, you think to yourself. Why not make the most of it? For nostalgia’s sake.

"A bottle of Baratie's Finest," you request, your chin resting in your palm. "Not the kind you keep for customers, though. Pick one from Zeff's private stash, if you can afford to smuggle it past his bushy nose?"

"A classy beverage for a classy lady, I see." A mischievous glimmer shines in his eyes and smile. "Although that stash is off-limits, what kind of a man would I be if I refused a lady her desired beverage?”

You tilt your head a fraction to the side. "I'm sure he won't mind. At his age, he needs to watch his liver."

"That is true,"

Quite frankly, everything else evades your attention the second the waiter arrives with your order. Sanji brings you your meals, and your pricey bottle of Baratie's Finest, and it’s the Red Apple edition.

Perfect.

You eat, and eat, and drink, and then drink some more, not even stopping to concern yourself with the price tag.

The food at the Baratie's has not been in decline when it comes to quality above all else. It's delicious, and not a lot of places have earned that kind of claim in your life.

The food is good, but the drinks are ethereal.

One glass turns into two, and two promptly becomes three. So forth, and so forth. Anything to dull the tightness lodged in your chest.

A tightness that has not left you alone in the past couple of weeks.

You've developed a pretty good tolerance over the years, and after several more units, you begin to feel the tickle on the edge of your hands. Baratie’s Finest indeed.

After five, the feeling settles on the tip of your spine.

After seven, you start to wonder what went wrong. It's a dangerous area to indulge in, especially if liquor is involved, but you don’t stop.

What went wrong?

What did you do wrong?

In another life, you would've traveled the world with them, doing nothing but drinking, fighting, exploring together.

Instead, you’re here, drinking with a crew yet still feeling like the loneliest asshole in the world. It’s not your crew.

You lose a smidgen of focus, and in the grand specter of things, focus is something you could do well with less off.

You can afford to think less, feel less, and know less. Life has been full of ups and downs, and quite frankly, you've grown weary of it all.

Fuck, maybe Luffy’s onto something? Maybe you are sad?

… Nah.

Once Zoro orders another beer, you go as far as to share your bottle with him. His face scrunches at the taste and he coughs several times, but he admits that it’s good.

As you sit there on the edge of the couch, sipping your beverage and tasting your food, Sanji arrives to collect the bill. You know Luffy doesn’t have a berry to his name yet, and so you wonder how long it'll take before Zeff notices.

More specifically, how long it’ll take him before he realizes he's missing something from his private collection?

“Who the hell is Monkey D. Luffy?!”

Speak of the Chief… and he shall appear.

This time, you do not interfere when Luffy attempts to bargain for his lack of cash. You simply sit back and observe.

As much as Luffy tries, he does not have the words or mind suited for this kind of business yet. It’s Capitalism at its finest.

“You eat, you pay!”

Thoughts and dreams can only get you so far in life, but at the Baratie, it’s coin.

When Zeff grabs Luffy by the front of his shirt, the chief's eyes turn to you, and holy hell, is he furious.

“And what in the blazing hell are you doing here?!"

“Zeff,” You greet him and raise your beverage his way, a tilted smirk on your face. "It’s been too long."

"Not long enough! I thought I told you to get fucking lost last time? The damages you did cost a fortune!"

“In my defense, it was the other guys that started it.”

He gives you such a dirty look that his jaws clench. “Don’t give a shit. Why are you here?”

You twirl the bottle around in your hand. "Just enjoying the ambiance, as always. I was in the area, and so how could I pass up the chance to try your scrumptious meals again? Or drinks, for that matter?"

On cue, you raise your - or rather his - bottle closer up to him.

It’s stupid, the rational part of your brain argues. One does not fuck around with the Chief of the Baratie, but among the few joys you have left in life, this remains one of them.

His eyes narrow in on the bottle and there he is.In the blink of an eye, he snaps it out of your hand with such fast precision that you're almost caught off-guard.

Zeff narrows in on the mostly empty flask like it's personally insulted him and his entire lineage. “Where did you get this?"

"It was on the menu."

"It sure as shit was not! How could you—" He freezes like a thought suddenly dawned on him, and if a man can become purple from anything other than oxygen deprivation, Zeff's current mood is the closest thing to it. "Sanji. Why that snot-nosed, little—! ... When I get my damn hands on him."

It seems that whatever vendetta Zeff has towards his employee, it outweighs the one he has for you tenfold, which says something. Without another word, he yanks Luffy by the scruff and all but drags him with him to the kitchen.

Ordinarily, you would’ve intervened on behalf of your captain, but with Zeff now preoccupied, it’s your chance to rob the bar of a few more beverages.

And in your dictionary, “a few” is the equivalent of “a shitton”.

"Wow," Usopp murmurs with a low whistle. "That guy really hates your guts."

"What are you talking about? I’m his favorite customer." You raise what remains in your glass to them. “Anyone want another one?”

"I do," Nami relents.

Zoro laughs, probably for the first time since you’ve met him. "Now you're talking."

Maybe, just maybe, you’re beginning to like these people.

With a couple more drinks, maybe you’ll be able to tell.

———

“You know, I kind— I kinda assumed you were an asshole when we first met?”

Usopp’s struggling to stand on his feet, legs bent slightly forward as he makes a half-assed attempt at ordering another drink. You can’t tell if the bartender is electively ignoring him or not, and truth be told, you don't blame the guy if the former applies.

Between the two of you, you’re more adept when it comes to dealing with liquor. Sure, your lips are a little looser now and the bright lights are starting to hurt your eyes, but all in all, you’re not even half as drunk as you want to be.

Seriously, fuck me sometimes. You just had to go all out when you were younger. Days and nights spent pouring bottle after bottle left your liver hardened rather than weakened.

Now, because of the high tolerance you stupidly developed, it's come here to bite you in the ass and keep you from getting wrecked.

“Oh?” Your sarcasm couldn't be any more discernible than it is now as you eye your crew mate. “What made you reach that conclusion?”

Usopp twirls around, horribly off-balanced, and slaps a hand over your shoulder.

A little too personal for your liking, but you let it slide for now.

“I mean, for starters, you—,” he hiccups. “You always have that look about you. Like someone just pissed in your ale.”

You give him an unimpressed but vaguely piqued once-over. “Descriptive. Go on,”

“And soso— And so I and the guys are wondering if you’re like that because some clown broke your heart or—,” he hiccups again. “Or some— something? Did he piss in your ale?”

You shrug his hand off at once. You don’t want to think about him, now least of all. "No.”

Not even a second later, his arm his back over your shoulder and he leans closer. It's probably meant as a comforting gesture, but given how absolutely wasted he looks, you perceive it with a grain of salt.

"Y-You can tell the great Capt— I mean, the Great Usopp, alright? We've all been there before, I—I'm ssssure. I mean, Zoro doesn't strike me as much of a ladies' man, but he's probably got stories, too."

The bartender finally stops by and leaves a beer bottle in front of you on the table, completely ignoring your companion, and disappears to make his next rounds.

You take the flask and flick the cork off with your thumb. "Well, if you really want to help, —"

You turn around so that your back hits the bar counter, twirl Ussop around with the guidance of your hand and shove him lightly towards where Nami and Zoro are sitting. "— Talk to the others first about their heartbreaks."

If he wants to object, he's too drunk to for it. Instead, he recollects his limited stance and all but wobbles over to the corner where your other companions are seated.

He’s their problem now, but it’ll be an interesting display.

You recline against the bar counter to chug your beverage in peace when a voice suddenly speaks up from next to you.

“I thought you were retired.”

With how loud the music is, it might have slipped your notice completely. Then again, the owner of said voice has always had that thing about him.

He could whisper, and the entire room would’ve heard.

You glance up at your side, and you’re halfway tempted to smile when you see who it is.

“It’s been a while, Hawk-Eyes.”

Everything from the feather on his hat to the cross around his neck and the pointy way his beard is trimmed has stayed the same. Not a scar, a bruise, or blemish to spot on him.

In ten years, he looks to have aged only one. Some people are fortunate in terms of youth, and you would definitely consider Dracule Mihawk one of them.

“Cross-Hairs.” He inclines his head to you, a silent courtesy reserved only for those whose company he tolerates. “I believed you abandoned your life behind the mast years ago.”

You take another generous gulp from your bottle before you respond. "So did I, but life finds a way, doesn't it?"

"Indeed." He peeks over his shoulder to where your companions are seated, his countenance less than impressed. Then again, that's just his face by default, so hard to tell with him. "And last we met, you were a Captain."

"Last time we met, you almost cut my right arm off." For emphasis, you pull back your sleeve to show off the straight scar that separates your upper arm from the rest. It's faded, old, and never noticeable unless you decide to wear anything short-sleeved, but it's there all the same.

He doesn't apologize. Of course, he wouldn't. Instead, he raises his sparse glass of wine to you. "Nothing personal."

You raise your bottle to him in turn. "Of course not,"

Clink!

You drink your respective beverages in companionable silence. However, even with your halfway inebriated state of mind, you can't help but think of the reasons for his presence.

You have your suspicions, and you're not shy about voicing them.

"This isn't your usual scenery." You say. “What makes one of the great Warlords of the Sea seek out a place such as this? Business or pleasure?"

"Business," he answers curtly, as though he'd prefer to do anything but. "I'm looking for a captain."

“It’s not Shanks, I take it?”

“No, it’s not. It’s a captain by the name of Luffy.”

It doesn't surprise you. It should, but it doesn’t.

The lengths the vice-admiral is willing to go to retrieve his grandson, which apparently includes hiring a Warlord to do so, doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. Unbreakable willpower is a family trait, after all, if you've learned anything from Luffy.

It wouldn’t suffice with a gun; he had to send the entire fucking arsenal.

Still, at least it’s Mihawk of all people. It shouldn’t be a source of relief, but had it been anyone else, be it Kuro or Axe-hand or Bu-...

Your fingers subconsciously dig into the fragile, empty bottle you’re holding.

The point is, had it been anyone else, you would've intervened. You have intervened, several times by now, but not tonight.

Tonight, you're here to drink and forget, then drink some more. You don’t have the sobriety to worry about much of anything anymore.

"Garp must truly be at his wit's end if he employs you for his endeavors." Once you retrieve the bottle at your disposal, you pluck off the cap and swirl it lazily in your hand. The lights from the bar dance around the transparently brown rim, like a shooting star with no exit and no entrance to the rest of the universe. Forever stuck. "Seems excessive to send you of all people after something so seemingly simple."

"From what I've heard, this particular quarry is something of a wildcard."

"If you’re here, I’m sure of it."

Mihawk tilts his chin up, eyeing you curiously in your peripheral vision. "Are you saying that you're acquainted with this Luffy?"

"I'm saying no such thing. It's just mere speculations on my part." Another fistful of alcohol travels down your esophagus. "You're only employed when it's truly serious, and the vice-admiral is known for only getting involved in those kinds of matters. It adds up, is all I’m saying."

“I hardly consider it dire. It's more a means of killing some time on my part." He does not take his eyes off of you, and even in your current state, you can tell that something is brewing beneath those sharp eyes. "However, if said captain has you in his arsenal, then I feel like some investigation is warranted. After all, the Captain of the Cross-Haired pirates is not particularly known for her tendency to submit to others."

You quirk an eyebrow at him and circle your finger around the bottle rim, pondering on the subject yet not biting at the metaphorical carrot he dangles in front of you. "Technically, it’s just like you said: I'm retired, and the Cross-Haired pirates are no more. I’d think most people are aware of that.”

"The Marines believe otherwise,” he counters calmly. “The Cross-haired pirates may be disbanded, but their captain’s bounty remains on the posters. The vice-admiral was quite adamant that, while he wants the boy alive, he’d prefer it if you weren’t."

“I see.” The vice-admiral should learn to take a fucking number. “Tell me, have you elected a means of execution, or is it the dealer's choice?"

"I recall he mentioned something along the lines of wanting your head on a spike."

"Crude."

"I agree."

"Then," you raise your glass. "Am I to have my last drink here tonight?"

He shakes his head. "No, I'm here for the boy and nothing else."

You'd expect him to be forward with his line of questions; demand you just give Luffy up and be done with it, not side-stepping the subject like he's doing now.

If he suspects something, he'll sniff it out like a bloodhound until he gets what he's searching for, regardless of how many cards or people fall around him. You’ve not exactly been subtle about your affiliations with his quarry, something you’ll berate yourself for come morning, but it all depends on how this plays out now.

"I won’t give you the answer you seek. You’ll have to do that on your own.”

You're not friends, but you're not necessarily foes either.

For as long as you’ve known the swordsman, Mihawk's only ever had a beef with Shanks for reasons undisclosed even to you. Even after you parted ways with your red-haired crew mate, Mihawk never seemed to have anything personal against you despite the rather brutal nature of your previous encounter.

If anything, there's a certain level of respect veiled between you, one former pirate to another semi-former one, and it’s something you hope he'll honor just this once.

To your relief, he decides to not push the matter, but the interest lingers in his eyes.

It's not easy to notice, but you make it a habit to take note of limited details. "The boy must be something special to have earned your loyalty like this, Cross-Hairs."

"I suppose you'll have to find out for yourself."

"Perhaps so," he concedes.

You chug the rest of your drink in one go, put the empty bottle on the tabletop in the space between you, and push yourself off the counter. "For what it's worth, I wish you good fortune with your endeavor. However, I’ll warn you; if anything happens to the kid, I'll get involved.”

“Duly noted.” Once again, he dips his head to you. "And Cross-Hairs,"

"Hmmm?"

You glance at him from over your shoulder, but his gaze is fixated on something else this time. Something on the other side of the bar, to the borders of the waters. If he sees anything, you can't tell what it is, and he doesn’t share.

Not explicitly.

"There is unrest brewing in the seas," he finally reveals, casually as if he's discussing the current state of the weather. "I'd suggest you keep your feet dry for now, at your convenience."

You don't know what he speaks of, but whatever it is, you'll follow. He is not a man who prides himself on his capacity to proclaim falsehood. If he tells you that the sun is green, you'll believe it, and you make it a habit not to believe in a lot of people.

That applies to this warning too.

"I'll see you around, Hawk-Eyes."

You need another drink.

———

You slip in and out of consciousness a couple of times throughout the night, never coming to the same places twice, with a belly full of rum, beer, and whatever else with enough alcoholic percentage to knock out a horse.

At one point, you're in the restaurant munching on some bread rolls.

At another, you're puking your guts out in the bathroom stalls.

At the third, you're chugging even more liquor straight out of the bottle while a bunch of people cheer you on.

The circle goes on and on and on until it spins out of control like a zoetrope. Faces flash in front of you, one after the other, never the same two times in a row.

It's alright, you tell yourself, as long as you forget.

You forget about blue eyes, blue hair, and red noses.

You forget about Gol D. Roger and the time you spent on his crew.

You forget it all, if only for a few hours.

Next time you come to, you're still miraculously standing on your feet. You’re currently in the kitchen on the Merry, and currently listening to Nami telling a ridiculous story about how Zoro challenged Dracule Mihawk to a duel.

What a funny story.

In fact, it’s so funny and so outlandish that you can't help but snort. Since when has Nami been the kind of person to tell jokes?

Maybe Usopp's tendencies have rubbed off on the standoffish young woman, or maybe she's smoked something along with her drinks?

Fuck, you have to ask her where she got the stuff.

It takes a few moments of awkward silence until you realize that no one is joking, Nami least of all. The room is still, and as if all alcoholic content has left your blood, it dawns on you last of all.

Oh hell no.

You slowly turn to Zoro with a deadpan look in your eyes, and despite the urgency, you ask him as calmly as you can, "You challenged Dracule Mihawk to a duel?"

He bobs his head and continues polishing his swords. "Which he accepted,"

You blink, and blink, hoping that this is just a fragment your beer-and-bottle-drenched brain has conjured to fuck with you, but Zoro remains where he is and so is everyone and everything else.

Fuuuuuuuck…

You thought he was one of the smart ones, too. His sense of navigation doesn't work for shit and if anyone can get lost on their way to the lavatory, it's him. Still, you withheld some semblance of hope that he would exhibit the same kind of recklessness as his captain.

Turns out, it has all been for naught.

You rub your temples hard enough to sting. With a nasty headache developing, you decide to pop the question. "Cremation or burial at sea?"

"... What?"

"Pick one or the other, I'll see to it that arrangements can be made."

"I'm not going to die.”

"You are a fly to him." Nami grimaces. "Something to be swatted and forgotten,"

"Not if I win." Zoro is steadfast and determined, like every new pirate on their first voyage.

It’s a look you remember well. In a way, the young swordsman kind of reminds you of Mihawk himself, and if there's one thing you can link to both, it's that annoying stubbornness that never yields. Even when the odds are against them.

"You're not going to win," Nami tries.

Zoro remains infuriatingly unconvinced. "You don't know that."

"You won't." This situation, to your chagrin, sobers you up enough that you can't blame the liquor on your next actions or words.

You take a step towards him, and with an iron fist, grab him by the front of his shirt and force him to face you. He's unamused. “I think I liked you better when you were drunk,” he murmurs.

"I want you to get this, really get this.” You snarl. “Once you go against Mihawk, and there's no coming back for most. He's not known as the World's Greatest Swordsman for no reason, and as good as you are, take it from me. He'll end you."

He inclines his head to the side with deep-rooted skepticism. "Sounds like you really know the guy,"

"It doesn't matter whether I know him or not."

"Everywhere we go, we make enemies, and for some reason, they've already got a grudge against you, Captain Cross-Hairs."

With one hand clenched against your offending wrist, he starts to list off his other hand. "Since you know just about every asshole we come across, you might as well tell me about Mihawk's preferred method of execution. Will he chop me in half, or is he excessive like the damn clown and goes all the way with splitting someone into pieces?"

You feel your nails begin to pierce through the fabric of his shirt, inches away from leaving open gaps. You're not their guardian or their mentor. You're not the one supposed to keep the crew at ease or lead them towards certain victories.

That's the captain's role, and you're not it. Not on this ship, with this crew.

Your only purpose here is to keep them from killing themselves on their first voyage, but if they're so determined to do it themselves despite the warnings you provide, then it's not on you.

Pulling him a few inches closer to you, you look him straight in the eyes, and that's when you see it. The aforementioned stubbornness that follows each and every young pirate you've come across in your life. The notion that they're invulnerable; unkillable.

Nothing can hope to end them.

You remember what it was like, that feeling, and it almost breaks you to see it in front of you like this.

You know aggression won’t do it for him, so you try an approach you haven’t tried in years. Bargaining.

“What will it take for you to pull back from this?”

“He’s coming for Luffy. I’m his first mate, it’s my duty to protect the captain.”

To protect the Captain…

That's how you know that there's no convincing the young swordsman to stand down, not this time.

He's persistent, exceedingly so, and if there's one thing you've learned during this voyage with these people it's that hell hath no fury like a straw hat pirate determined.

This is not on you, yet it doesn't make it any easier to let go of him. But you do.

Taking a deep breath, you uncurl your fingers and let him step back.

"Fine."

You need another drink.

Glancing over your shoulder, you meet Luffy’s concerned gaze. “This is your call, captain.”

You don’t need to be here for this. You’ve done your part, and now it’s his turn to do his.

You give Zoro a pat on his back, just one. It's not meant for comfort, it's not an act of sympathy either.

It's just a pat, like the kind you give your friend when they're about to gamble away all their savings over a game of cards. It’s the “fuck around and find out, but do it yourself”-kind of gesture.

Heaving a sigh, you sidestep him and let your fingers fall off his shoulders. "It's been fun, Zoro."

And the worst part about this all is that you mean it, truly. It has been fun to sail with them, share a few beers, and joke at the expense of others. Your time on this ship has been fun.

Like old times.

You won't go as far as to call Zoro a friend, you never do, but it's close enough that you'll probably miss him in the long run.

Zoro looks at you, his countenance indecipherable. "Say that to me again when I win this fight,"

"I can't." Because you won't.

---

The water forces its way into his lungs at such speed that it feels like he's swallowed buckets by the time they finally come up for air. He harks and coughs and tries to get as much of it out, but he doesn’t feel any lighter.

Get it? Lighter, because he’s just a head now and— alright, forget it.

For once, he's happy his head is disjointed from the rest of his body because if it wasn't, he'd probably sink to the bottom of the ocean from the fluid in his belly alone.

The taste of salt and sand stays like a sour afterthought on his tongue, and as much as he tries to spit it out, he can't be rid of all the grains. "Fuck! Give me a warning next time, will ya?! Kinda vulnerable to seawater and all that!"

Whatever fish-guy has him strapped to their back this time does not dignify his complaints with a verbal response. Instead, all he hears is a couple of snickers, like their humor is fuelled at his expense.

Assholes, the lot of them.

It takes some time for the tangy scent to abandon his nostrils, but once it does, it's immediately replaced by the fine scent of something divine. Something delicious.

It smells of food. Actual fucking human food. Not whatever Arlong and his litter gorge on, which he personally believes to be carcasses of dead sea animals they happen to catch on the shores of their island.

It's honest-to-god cooked, seasoned, edible food.

Buggy can feel his mouth water, and for once, he cannot blame it on seawater.

They're finally at Baratie.

The finest restaurant in all the East Blue, renowned for its excellent taste and unrivaled quality. Only the richest of the rich get to dine here, and while he's not exactly flowing with berries at the moment, he’s famished.

“Hey, Lips!" he yells out as loud as he can through the shitty bag. "How about you order me some hot dogs once we get a seat? A clown's gotta eat!"

The only sort of response he gets is an elbow to the bag, which incidentally clashes right into his nose. "FUCK!"

"Shut up!"

There's scuttling to be heard, doors opening, and a shitton of gasps echo from all around him. They have an audience, he deduces, and not a particularly receptive one at that.

Arlong makes a spectacle, something about "serve" and yish and yash about dinner and last meals as they get a seat.

Fuck, what he would give for a meal.

For the first time in what feels like forever, he feels solid ground settle under his neck. Though it's a pleasant reprieve from being thrown back and forth like a yarn ball caught in a cat’s game, he won’t consider it much of an upgrade. He's fucking hungry, damnit!

"Who are you, old man?" Arlong speaks, and Buggy hears uneven steps approach them.

An unfamiliar voice answers. "My name's Zeff, and I own this place."

Right, the Chief. Maybe he can ask him for some crumbs since his captors aren’t exactly on the generous side.

"Well, I'm Arlong, and I own the East Blue."

"No one owns the sea. Not even a fish man."

Ooooh, burn! Suck on that, shitface!

"Listen up!” Arlong exclaims when the chief’s negotiation tactics fail to appease him. “I'm looking for a pirate in a straw hat! Goes by the name of Luffy!"

The saw-nosed motherfucker truly has to be even more extravagant than himself, Buggy admits to himself with no short amount of begrudging compliance. Fishface even goes as far as to threaten the poor diners with having them for dinner instead, by the sounds of it.

Buggy can appreciate the message it conveys; he’s used it himself, but he refuses to find any common ground with his captor, so he buries the sentiment ten feet down into wherever the hell his body is.

He listens as the diners lose their appetite, all the while Arlong begins to gorge on whatever he has on his plate. For a while, all he can make out is the sound of meat being torn off something and the occasional cry from one of the diners in the distance.

Even from miles and miles away, Buggy can feel his stomach twist painfully due to the lack of food in it. Oh, it’s hell on earth to smell everything you want yet being unable to even grasp it. And here his captors are, toying with him, torturing him with it.

Seriously, fuck them.

He’s about to demand to get something to chew on when Arlong’s other henchman — Kuroobi or some shit like that — beats him to it. "Hey, boss, I'm feeling for a bottle right about now."

Arlong laughs. "Don’t have to tell me. Take what you please. I don’t think that one will mind sharing one of hers.”

“And get one for me too while you’re at it,” Lips supplies.

The henchman cackles and gets up to his feet to retrieve what he’s looking for, but not before lightly kicking the bag that is Buggy’s current prison cell in the side.

“HEY!”

“Sorry.” He apologizes unapologetically.

Buggy grinds his teeth together and tries to think of something — anything — to keep his mind off his ever-rising hunger. When he gets his body back, he'll take some bottles and shove them right up these fuckers a—

CRASH!

Buggy hears the sound of something breaking from the opposite side of where the fish man just headed. Countless gasps ring through the restaurant’s interior, bouncing on the walls, and he hears the henchman’s painful wails from a distance away.

He’d laugh - he does laugh, because it seems like someone didn’t want to share their precious drinks and decided that full-on attacking one of the fish people was the appropriate kind of response.

It’s impressive, he thinks. Very much so. Oh, he’d pay to see that again, and he’ll have to give that person a fucking kiss, just for making his day a little bit better.

It’s a shame he can’t see the—

"Fucking get lost."

Buggy feels his head freeze in the bag.

He recognizes that voice. The morning sun shone atop the ship deck. Warm. Cold. All of them at once.

He's finally found you.

---

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy, @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk , @notyuralycat , @angeli-fucking-cat, @machinema7k , @shuujin, @avatar-lover, @gingernut1314, @autumn-slaves. @marvelouskatie, @floristoflillys, @dizzyenby, @redpool, @deliri-yum22, @aemondsb1tch, @ackroxia, @gayandfairycore (If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or leave a comment :))

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #one piece live action #one piece x reader #buggy x you #one piece #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy x female reader #DMTMYHB #didn’t mean to make your heart blue

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tofuxtea · 7 months

Text

𝐁𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐍 | 𝙘𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 + 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — buggy the clown x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, cockwarming, authority kink, ‘sir/captain’ kink, bondage, riding, lap-sitting, slight dumbification, dacryphilia, buggy is a sadist, teasing, praise, creampie, use of “sweet pea” and “sweetheart”

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — 1k words. i remember the vile thoughts i thunk when i saw live action buggy in that goddamn chair and one of them was how badly i wanted to be sitting in his open ass lap. so yeah this is based off of that, y’all can thank my brain for this one![kinktober m.list]

“did i tell you you could move?”

his voice was mocking and stern, cutting through the quiet like a dagger. it forced your spine impossibly straighter where you sat in buggy’s lap, drawing a strained whine from your throat.

though you weren’t even looking at him — your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to still your aching, trembling thighs, you could see the shit-eating grin he wore as he laughed at you.

“i asked you a question, sweet pea.” buggy’s gloved hand flew up and caught your jaw in a tight hold, eliciting a garbled cry from you. he forced your gaze down into his, his pupils dilating at the sight of tears gathering in your eyes. he cooed gently, granting you a sliver of hope that he would actually take pity on you.

after all, he’d been so cruel to you for the past hour. you deserved it, right? keeping yourself so still in his lap with your hands tied behind your back while you kept his cock nice and warm inside of your pretty pussy. you were working so hard to please your captain, yet he still scrutinized even the slightest give of your thighs and taunted you like this.

his eyebrows raised, slightly creasing his face paint, and he shook his head with obvious expectation. when no response looked to be forming on your pouted lips, his jaw tightened. his hand, detached from his wrist, circled around behind you and grasped your overlapping wrists, lifting your arms back up to your shoulder blades.

you cried out as your chest puffed out, a fat tear rolling down your cheek and soaking into his glove. “n-no, you didn’t tell me i could move.” your voice cracked relentlessly while you pleaded with buggy. it seemed to ease his outburst and he slowly lowered your hands back against your tailbone while his satisfied grin grew wider. “i’m sorry.”

his brows suddenly furrowed back together and his piercing blue eyes met yours again. “what was that, sweetie?” he whispered scornfully. you whined softly, fried brain scrambling to figure out why your apology wasn’t enough for him.

buggy’s eyes raked down your pitifully clueless face and he scoffed, releasing your jaw to reach down and grasp your hips, keeping them firmly in place as he harshly thrust his up into yours. his cock dragged deliciously against your walls and filled you to the brim, granting you the friction you’d been craving for so long.

“captain! i’m sorry, captain.” the name tumbled from your lips behind a loud moan, and buggy hummed lowly in response.

“atta girl. that wasn’t so hard, now was it, sweet pea?” his gloved hand now gently cupped the side of your face, smiling when you instinctively nuzzled into his warm palm. you shook your head with a gentle hum. “you’re bein’ s’good for your captain, hm?” you responded with a nod this time, eyes widening with silent pleas.

“can i cum, captain? please, ’t hurts s’bad.” you whined pathetically, waiting for buggy’s okay to start moving. even in such a desperate state, you still managed to listen to him. he watched several more tears race down your cheeks with excitement in his eyes, and your pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears for a while. god, how hopeless he was.

he enjoyed this. he enjoyed bending you beyond your limits until you broke over and over. until you were begging him with all of the air in your lungs to let you cum, completely deaf to everything and everyone around you with your only focus being him. his instruction, his touch, his cock.

he could feel the tremble in your thighs growing stronger against his hips, and he could see the rise and fall of your chest pick up in pace as your sobs became uncontrollable. your lips quivered with each beg, though he couldn’t tell anymore if it was because of your overwhelmingly visceral need to cum or because the pain of your arms squeezing together behind your back was finally catching up to you.

either way, he didn’t care. he wanted to drag it out for as long as he could before you wound up passed out on top of him or something, so he nuzzled his cheek into his closed fist and watched you some more, much to your dismay.

“please, can’t keep myself up much longer. i need to feel you, sir.” you babbled on mindlessly, praying that buggy would finally cave.

he did. his eyes fluttered shut the moment he heard a new term fall from your lips and he sighed. it was as if it was the answer he’d been waiting for.

“since you asked so nicely. go on n’ make yourself cum, sweet pea.” his little nickname for you made you whine as you sunk down onto his cock. he groaned at the feeling of your pussy spasming around him, and his hand reached out to gently stroke your sore thigh. “fuck, you take me so fuckin’ good, sweetheart.”

you whimpered at the praise and you immediately craved more of it, momentarily pushing the pulsing pain in your legs aside to bounce yourself on his cock. he filled you so perfectly, his tip kissing your sweet spot with each long, slow thrust.

both of your moans grew louder, buggy’s lips parting as his head fell back against his chair. his fingers curled around your hips, surely to leave bruises the next day, while he bucked up into you.

“that’s it, just like that — fuck,” he hissed against gritted teeth when your cunt squeezed around him.

your hips rocked into his a few more times before your legs finally gave up, your body rendered numb as a blinding orgasm hit you. your head lulled back and your body arched into buggy’s chest as you weakly rode it out.

buggy’s hands gripped your hips as his own orgasm crashed into him, thick ropes of cum filling you up inside. you whined at the sudden warmth of it, instinctively grinding your hips down into him. he chuckled breathlessly.

“lookit you, takin’ all of your captain’s cum so fuckin’ well. you did so good f’me, sweet pea.” buggy gently wiped whatever tears still stained your face with his thumb, his other hand hovering behind you to untie the rope that bound your arms all the way up to your elbows.

you were sure you wouldn’t be able to move — let alone walk after this, but you didn’t mind. so long as your captain was satisfied.

tbh this one changed my views on this clown. like i pictured him as lowkey submissive before this but now im just.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #one piece kinktober #one piece #one piece smut #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #buggy smut #buggy the clown smut #one piece buggy smut #op buggy #buggy x reader #captain buggy #buggy one piece #buggy opla #opla buggy #opla #opla smut

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gallusrostromegalus · 8 months

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You ohhhandedly mentioned tessai livong through ww2 and… wow thats true there were a lot of characters that got a first row seat to both conflicts, even if only the second was really impactful on japans history. Does urahara, yoruichi, tessai, the vizored or any of the shinigami have any specific feelings on ww2/the nuclear bombs? I know its a wild fucking question but it literally just occurred to me and i cant stop thinking about it.

Yeah WW2 is an entire 5-chapter arc in the fic because apparently Kubo is from Hiroshima, and Karakura town is based on his memories growing up there. Stuff that happens during that arc:

The Soul Society's sole warning that something catastrophic might be coming is the arrival of an irradiated and enraged Coyote spirit from the Trinidad test site. It's up to Newly-appointed captain Komamura to calm it down and explain what happened, and Mayuri is able to work out that atomic weapons are real from it's descriptions. He gives Soul Society about a month before the humans drop one on a city.

Unfortunately, he's correct.

***

Urahara and the Visoreds use the fact that they're already dead to mitigate some of the damage from the bombing by walking into the epicenter and shoving carbon rods into the most radioactive points, stemming much of the radiation damage, but there's nothing they can do for the initial wave of destruction.

It involves going through a new gigai every trip and learning what if feels like to have the flesh actually melt off your bones, but Hirako Shinji and the other Visored are no cowards, least of all about Hard and Dirty Work.

Tessai makes Ururu and Jinta out of spare parts from Urahara's Gigai experiments to house a heavily damage Kitsune and Tanuki spirit pair from a shrine that was destroyed. Ururu is the Tankuki, and the older one- Jinta seems a bit more 'organic' because Tessai learned a lot making his sister, and because as a Kitsune, he's a better actor.

***

Soul Society is in major trouble though.

with the sudden influx of souls- first from the bombing, but then from the radiation sickness and the famine that followed, the living and spirit worlds are in danger of becoming unbalanced.

It's a Major Crisis!

Fortunately for them, people with sociopathy tend to operate really well during Crises, and I realized the reason Mayuri hasn't been fired or killed by the time Ichigo shows up is that when shit hits the fan, Mayuri's lack of emotional response to the suffering of others means he can buckle down and fucking DELIVER.

Expansions to the pocket dimension that the queue of incoming souls is housed in? He didn't sleep for two weeks to get it done on time, but there was more than enough room when the bomb dropped and for the few months after as casualties continued.

Emergency rations for all these incoming factory workers that know nothing about farming? Behold, Nutritionally complete meals that you can eat right out of the box! And smaller, friendlier ones for the kiddies!

Hell, the 12th division even makes instructional propaganda videos about how safe and tasty these new foods are, featuring The Grand Clown Himself, and distribution centers featuring his likeness, so Mayuri enjoys a peculiar popularity in the Rukongai, not unlike an off-brand and sometimes educational Krusty The Clown.

Just ah. Stop asking questions about the ingredients list.

***

"I'm not fucking killing civillians." Says Kenpachi when Yamamoto begins to bring up the historical method that the Shinigami have used to balance out sudden influxes of souls from the living world.

"Oh?" Yamamoto glares at him. "You have a better idea?"

"What's them big fuckers that come outta tears sometimes? Hundred feet tall, black, bird faces?" He asks, waving as he tries to remember the names.

"...Menos Grande?" asks Ukitake, who has gotten remarkably good at interpreting for the man next to him at meetings.

"Yeah!" Zaraki grins, patting his six-foot-tall colleague on the head like a small child. "You said they're like... combination creatures of a thousand souls each right?"

"Zaraki is correct." Pipes up Tousen, who is also extremely eager to not murder civilians and even more eager to absolutely fuck up the army of Menos Aizen has been gathering in Hueco Mundo. "-It wouldn't be *easy* but dispatching approximately Five hundred Menos in the next week seems much more doable and much, much more morally sound than killing five hundred thousand civillians. Sir."

Kaname can feel the curse nails on his back starting to bleed from Aizen's glare but he presses on.

"-There appears to be a significant population of them gathered on the far eastern edge of Hueco Mundo. It would probably take most of the 11th Division's forces but-"

"IKKAKU!" Zaraki is already bellowing out the door to his lieutenant. "TELL EVERYONE TO PACK AN EXTRA PAIR OF PANTIES, WE'RE GOING ON A HOLLOW HUNT!"

There is a distant but enthusiastic whoop form Ikkaku in reply.

"An excursion into Hueco Mundo is exceptionally dangerous." Unohana notes, voice placid as he returns to the table.

"-and? I don't do this job because it's safe 'n' easy." Zaraki shrugs.

Her neutral expression softens just a bit into a small, affectionate and perhaps ever-so-slightly lascivious smile. "May I suggest that a detachment of the 4th Division accompany the 11th? It won't make the work easier, but it will mitigate some of the risk."

Yamamoto groans, aware that the decision has been made for him.

"Fine." He grunts. "Take a detachment of the Ninth too, you can use that newfangled radiodar whatsit to keep me updated."

"Pardon?" Mumbles Kaname, slightly woozy from blood loss.

His circulatory situation is not helped when an illusion-blind-to-the-blood Zaraki grabs him about the middle and starts carrying him off under his arm in exactly the direction the 9th and 11th are not like a particularly bewildered purse Chihuahua.

***

Aizen... almost strays from his path.

The Hogyoku is slow and tiresome, his first plan to barrage Karakura with Menos to create the Oken is being trashed and actually being forced to work his job of Rukongai Management is- Well, it's reminding him just why he started this quest to Dethrone God.

What loving creator would make an afterlife of squalor, where the 'lucky' are cursed to outlive everyone they know and love? Not one worth worshiping, surely.

But actually being out here, setting up emergency food distribution, implementing the latest in civil engineering from the newly arrived and seeing it immediately improve the quality of life, uniting families and... actually helping people? it's making him question his path. Perhaps- Perhaps God is not some uncaring regent on a distant throne. Perhaps God is something that lives in all souls, a kindness and goodwill towards one's fellow man, and to spread the will of a loving creator, one must Act to Enact God's Will...

Gin Panics.

He has not spent the last 300-odd years dangling the Hogyoku in front of Aizen, stuffing him full of spiritual energy to feed to the machine that generates reality like he was fattening up a goose for Pate, only to have him give up his quest for divinity NOW.

He's gonna have to do something drastic.

He's gonna have to convince Aizen he was right all along, and that he needs to keep using the Hogyoku.

He's going to need to use Aizen's own Illusions against him, and convince Aizen that the souls of the citizens of the rukongai aren't worth playing a Benevolent God for. That the whole thing needs to come out and be replaced.

Sure, it's a dick move

but those are his specialty.

***

It's the night before the 11th and the two detachments are supposed to leave for Hueco Mundo, and Yamamoto's been doing some thinking.

He is also in Zaraki's quarters at midnight sharp. "Captain-General." Nods Unohana, pausing mid-activity to acknowledge him. "Bruh." Zaraki grunts to indicate they were busy. "I need to borrow Zaraki for an hour or so, and then you may continue." he says, and then steps back outside so the man can get untied and dressed.

"This better be good old man, I know you haven't been married for a few centuries but REALLY-" Zaraki grumbles, emerging and putting his sandals on. "Don’t worry, it’ll take twenty minutes tops, all you have to do is stand behind me and don’t hide your rage." Yamamoto explains. "-We'’re going to go see the central 46." Zaraki pauses mid-sandal, slowly looking up at him with an intrigued arch to his brow. "Yes, it’s forbidden." Yamamoto says, not tearing his gaze away from the moon above them. "-But I've received reports that the Central 46 has acquired blueprints of the... Device. Used in the living world earlier this month and I'm nipping this at the damn bud." Zaraki grins, and finishes putting his sandals on.

The Central 46 are alerted to the Presence of Yamamoto and Zaraki by the main gate to their district being kicked through the wall of the council chambers.

"Hello, Sages and Wise Councilors of the Soul Society!" The Old Man greets them as he steps through the hole he just made, and The Barbarian squeezing through after, sword casually over his shoulder. "Well isn't this a surprise, everyone here in a full meeting at One in the Morning on a Teusday!"

"Wh-What is the meaning of this?" one of the head councilmen sputters, mustache bristling. "Shinigami are forbidden form this place, I'll have you both execu-!"

"Shut up." Yamamoto glares, and sparks fly from the corner of his eye. The hem of his Haori is starting to smolder and singe as well as he approaches the table the councilors are crowded around the blueprints from the living world.

"Now, we are all good and honorable people here." Yamamoto says, casually waving a hand in what would normally be a placating gesture but now only made his sleeve flicker as Ryujin Jakka grew hungrier. "-But I've been around long enough to know how Power corrupts."

"And we've all been exposed to a new, horrific level of Power."

"Oh, of course, you would never! It's unthinkable to sink to such a level!"

"...but it's been a few weeks. The initial shock has faded, and you're starting to understand the full toll of the destruction." he explains, strolling up, the diamond insignia on his back spreading across his shoulders as the Haori singes. Behind him, Zaraki is following with an unpleasantly carnivorous stroll, yellow eye lazily moving from face to face, taking stock of all those present. "...and you are perhaps developing a new standard of devastation and suffering to wish upon your enemies."

There is some muttering, some protesting, and worse, some agreeing. They are silenced by a sudden electric crackle of Energy from Zaraki.

"I’m just here to tell you all-" Yamamoto continues, unperturbed. Or perhaps so perturbed he's warped all the way around to a deep, ruthless peace.

"If I hear any ONE of you has taken steps to develop a weapon like this-" he points a finger at the blueprints, which singe and then burn, a low, slow flame that reduces them completely to ash.

"-I’m going to kill all of you."

"Actually," he explains, as the blueprints finish burning and the table catches as well, fire blooming and crackling, lighting him from beneath. "I’m going to kill all of you and your families. By which I mean, I’m figuring out who all your ancestors were going back Five generations, Kill them, and kill all their descendants."

The table burns, and the floor is threatening to catch, but nobody can move to ring the fire alarm or grab a bucket of water.

"-Because that’s the kind of indiscriminate destruction these things cause." he explains. "It's a damn shame to say this, but this is the first time we've been able to settle whole families in the same town- because five, six, even seven generations of families, from great-great grandmother to the newest infants were burnt together in an instant."

"So if you want to wield that kind of destruction, you best be prepared to deal with those kinds of consequences." he growls, and suddenly sweeps his hand over the fire, which snuffs out immediately.

Slowly he turns to go, and regards Zaraki behind him.

"Oh, and just in case any of you had thoughts of hastening my retirement in regards to this matter-" he speaks up, and points to Zaraki "-Near as I can tell, this asshole is immortal and indestructible, so if I happen to be dead, he'll do it for me, won't you?"

"Yes, sir." Zaraki Nods, eye fixed on the head councilor, committing his face to memory, blade and crackling eagerly.

"-and he's nowhere near as speedy and clean a killer as I am, so I suggest you don't test either of us." Yamamoto grins, and Ryujin Jakka can't help but flicker off his brow for emphasis.

"Goodnight, and go fuck yourselves." Yamamoto bows, and exits through the same hole he entered.

The walk back to the 11th is largely silent, but Yamamot can feel the pleased-yet-curious thrum of reiatsu from Zaraki.

"Question, boss-" he suddenly speaks as they approach the 11th.

"You're not supposed to question orders, Zaraki." He sighs. He'll make a proper shinigami out of him. Eventually.

"...Request for clarification, Boss-" Zaraki tries again, and Yamamoto nods. "-Why me?"

Yamamoto arches an overgrown brow at him.

"Not complainin'-" Zaraki explains, pointedly looking up at the moon and scratching his neck in deferment. "-But Byakuya's got more sway with them and Gin's definitely better at terrifying first impressions."

"Hm." Yamamoto nods. "It's in the follow-up, not the impression, you see."

"I do not." Zaraki says. For all his faults and frustrations, Zaraki sure keeps Yamamoto on his toes about not being lazy and actually explaining himself.

"-I am very serious about you killing them and their descendants if they ever think about making one of those devices." he sighs and Zaraki nods, waving a hand for him to continue. "-So I picked the Shinigami most invested in a peaceful future to make sure my orders would be carried out."

Zaraki still looks confused.

"You're my only captain with children, Zaraki." Yamamoto explains. "I know you only give half a rat's ass about the court guard, but I've seen what you'll do for Yachiru."

Zaraki nods understanding now, and a few more paces of silence pass between them.

"...Thank you, Sir." Zaraki mutters, bowing his head and using the honorific with genuine intent for the first time since Yamamoto had known him. "-For understanding."

"Thank you, Captain Zaraki." Yamamoto nodded slightly, stopping before the gate to the 11th. "-For understanding as well."

"-Now get back to Captain Unohana before she schedules some sort of blood test of a thousand needles for me!" Yamamoto grunted, prodding at Zaraki with his cane, and the man didn't need to be told twice.

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic #zaraki kenpachi #mauyri kurotsuchi #kisuke urahara #genryusai shigekuni yamamoto #kaname tousen #retsu unohana #long post

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