#serve and deflect

[nowyoursoulisforfeit]

Percy: *Exists*

Vax’ildan: His swagless looks and cringe-fail personality have captivated me.

[idontmindifuforgetme]

i think i officially set my sights on a therapist and i'll be contacting her very soon?? therapy was legitimately not on my 2024 bingo card (or in the cards for me at all) but here we are????

[btvs3x21]

step 1: perform a lot of moral posturing about victims of rape and incest in relation to kink

step 2: ignore the incest and rape victims/survivors you know who are talking openly about how that's bad actually

step 3: say insane shit about how liking petplay or being a furry means you want to commit bestiality

step 4: be surprised and hurt when your friend who has experienced incest doesn't find you to be compatible with them anymore

step 5: spiral about how they abandoned you for no real reason even though they offered to explain why they don't feel comfortable being your friend, reaffirmed love for you, and wished you well going forward despite this and other weird things you've said

step 6: ignore all the times they very much offered you emotional support in at minimum well wishes when you were spiraling and conveniently forget that you failed to offer them the same when they were spiraling about incestuous abuse and sexual trauma, things you claim to be very concerned about

[jaxhammer2electricboogaloo]

what was serval like?

erm. well, lets just say they were banned for a reason. and if you ask me, it was well overdue

[1st-worldsaver]

Just learned about ''''la leyenda negra'''' and I'm going to blow up Spain

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

✏️ Writing Dialogue That Sounds Like Real People, Not Theater Kids on Red Bull

(a crash course in vibes, verbal economy, and making your characters shut up already)

Okay. We need to talk about dialogue. Specifically: why everyone in your draft sounds like they’re in a high school improv group doing a dramatic reading of Riverdale fanfiction.

Before you panic, this is normal. Early dialogue is almost always too much. Too polished. Too "scripted." So if yours feels off? You’re not failing. You’re just doing Draft Zero Dialogue, and it’s time to revise it like a boss.

Here’s how to fix it.

─────── ✦ ───────

🎭 STEP ONE: DETOX THEATER ENERGY I say this with love: your characters are not all quippy geniuses. They do not need to deliver emotional monologues at every plot beat. They can just say things. Weird, half-finished, awkward things.

Real people:

interrupt each other

trail off mid-thought

dodge questions

contradict themselves

repeat stuff

change the subject randomly

Let your characters sound messy. Not every line needs to sparkle. In fact, the more effort you put into making dialogue ✨perfect✨, the more fake it sounds. Cut 30% of your clever lines and see what happens.

─────── ✦ ───────

🎤 STEP TWO: GIVE EACH CHARACTER A VERBAL FINGERPRINT The fastest way to make dialogue feel alive? Make everyone speak differently. Think rhythm, grammar, vocabulary, tone.

Some dials you can twist:

Long-winded vs. clipped

Formal vs. casual

Emojis of speech: sarcasm, filler words, expletives, slang

Sentence structure: do they talk in fragments? Run-ons? Spirals?

Emotion control: are they blunt, diplomatic, avoidant, performative?

Here’s a shortcut: imagine what your character sounds like over text. Are they the “lol okay” type or the “okie dokie artichokie 🌈✨” one? Now translate that into speech.

─────── ✦ ───────

🧠 STEP THREE: FUNCTION > FILLER Every line of dialogue should do something. Reveal something. Move something. Change something.

Ask:

Does this line push the plot forward?

Does it show character motivation/conflict/dynamic?

Does it create tension, add context, or raise a question?

If it’s just noise? It’s dead air. Cut it. Replace it with a glance. A gesture. A silence that says more.

TIP: look at a dialogue scene and remove every third line. Does the scene still work? Probably better.

─────── ✦ ───────

💥 STEP FOUR: REACTIVITY IS THE GOLD STANDARD Characters don’t talk into a void. They respond. And how they respond = the real juice.

Don’t just write back-and-forth ping pong. Write conflict, dodge, misunderstanding. If one character says something vulnerable, the other might joke. Or ignore it. Or say something cruel. That’s tension.

Dialogue is not just information exchange. It’s emotional strategy.

Try this exercise: A says something revealing. B lies. A notices, but pretends they don’t. B changes the subject. Now you’ve got a real scene.

─────── ✦ ───────

🔍 STEP FIVE: PAY ATTENTION TO POWER Every convo has a power dynamic, even if it’s tiny. Who’s steering? Who’s withholding? Who’s deflecting, chasing, challenging?

Power can shift line to line. That shift = tension. And tension = narrative fuel.

Write conversations like chess matches, not ping pong.

─────── ✦ ───────

✂️ STEP SIX: SCISSORS ARE YOUR BEST FRIEND The best dialogue is often the second draft. Or third. Or fourth. First drafts are just you figuring out what everyone wants to say. Later drafts figure out what they actually would say.

Things to cut:

Greetings/closings ("Hi!" "Bye!"--skip it unless it serves tone)

Exposition disguised as chat

Obvious thoughts spoken aloud

Explaining jokes

Repeating what we already know

Readers are smart. Let them fill in blanks.

─────── ✦ ───────

🎧 STEP SEVEN: READ IT OUT LOUD (YES, REALLY) If you hate this step: too bad. It works. Read it. Mumbling is fine. Cringe is part of the ritual.

Ask yourself:

Would someone actually say this?

Does this sound like one person speaking, or a puppet show with one hand?

Where does the rhythm trip? Where’s the breath?

If you can’t say it out loud without wincing, the reader won’t make it either. Respect the vibe.

─────── ✦ ───────

🏁 TL;DR: If you want your dialogue to sound like real people, let your characters be real. Messy. Annoying. Human. Let them interrupt and lie and joke badly and say the wrong thing at the worst time.

Cut the improv class energy. Kill the urge to be ✨brilliant✨. And listen to how people talk when they’re scared, tired, pissed off, in love, or trying not to say what they mean.

That’s where the good stuff is.

—rin t. // thewriteadviceforwriters // official advocate of awkward silences and one-word replies

P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:

[reasonsforhope]

"Morningside Park, a beloved neighborhood park in Miami with sweeping views of Biscayne Bay, will soon pilot an innovative approach to coastal resilience.

BIOCAP tiles, a 3D-printed modular system designed to support marine life and reduce wave impact along urban seawalls, will be installed on the existing seawall there in spring 2025. BIOCAP stands for Biodiversity Improvement by Optimizing Coastal Adaptation and Performance.

Developed by our team of architects and marine biologists at Florida International University, the uniquely textured prototype tiles are designed to test a new approach for helping cities such as Miami adapt to rising sea levels while simultaneously restoring ecological balance along their shorelines...

Ecological costs of traditional seawalls

Seawalls have long served as a primary defense against coastal erosion and storm surges. Typically constructed of concrete and ranging from 6 to 10 feet in height, they are built along shorelines to block waves from eroding the land and flooding nearby urban areas.

However, they often come at an ecological cost. Seawalls disrupt natural shoreline dynamics and can wipe out the complex habitat zones that marine life relies on.

Marine organisms are crucial in maintaining coastal water quality by filtering excess nutrients, pollutants and suspended particles. A single adult oyster can filter 20-50 gallons of water daily, removing nitrogen, phosphorus and solids that would otherwise fuel harmful algal blooms. These blooms deplete oxygen levels and damage marine ecosystems.

Filter-feeding organisms also reduce turbidity, which is the cloudiness of water caused by suspended sediment and particles. Less water turbidity means more light can penetrate, which benefits seagrasses that require sunlight for photosynthesis. These seagrasses convert carbon dioxide into oxygen and energy-rich sugars while providing essential food and habitat for diverse marine species.

Swirling shapes, shaded grooves

Unlike the flat, lifeless surfaces of typical concrete seawalls, each BIOCAP tile is designed with shaded grooves, crevices and small, water-holding pockets. These textured features mimic natural shoreline conditions and create tiny homes for barnacles, oysters, sponges and other marine organisms that filter and improve water quality.

The tile’s swirling surface patterns increase the overall surface area, offering more space for colonization. The shaded recesses are intended to help regulate temperature by providing cooler, more stable microenvironments. This thermal buffering can support marine life in the face of rising water temperatures and more frequent heat events driven by climate change.

Another potential benefit of the tiles is reducing the impact of waves.

When waves hit a natural shoreline, their energy is gradually absorbed by irregular surfaces, tide pools and vegetation. In contrast, when waves strike vertical concrete seawalls, the energy is reflected back into the water rather than absorbed. This wave reflection – the bouncing back of wave energy – can amplify wave action, increase erosion at the base of the wall and create more hazardous conditions during storms.

The textured surfaces of the BIOCAP tiles are designed to help diffuse wave energy by mimicking the natural dissipation found on undisturbed shorelines.

The design of BIOCAP takes cues from nature. The tile shapes are based on how water interacts with different surfaces at high tide and low tide. Concave tiles, which curve inward, and convex tiles, which curve outward, are installed at different levels along the seawall. The goal is to deflect waves away from the seawall, reduce direct impact and help minimize erosion and turbulence around the wall’s foundation.A

How we will measure success

After the BIOCAP tiles are installed, we plan to assess how the seawall redesign enhances biodiversity, improves water quality and reduces wave energy. This two-year pilot phase will help assess the long-term value of ecologically designed infrastructure.

To evaluate biodiversity, we will use underwater cameras to capture time-lapse imagery of the marine life that colonizes the tile surfaces. These observations will aid in documenting species diversity and habitat use over time...

In the coming year, we’ll be watching with hope as the new BIOCAP tiles begin to welcome marine life, offering a glimpse into how nature might reclaim and thrive along our urban shorelines.

[luna-azzurra]

Emotionally reserved characters

Instead of openly sharing their emotions with others, they keep their feelings locked inside, letting their inner thoughts do all the talking. You get a glimpse into their mind, where a storm of conflicts, doubts, and desires brews quietly beneath a calm exterior. This internal monologue allows readers to understand what’s going on inside their head, even if they don’t show it on the outside. It’s like seeing the world through their eyes, where every little thing stirs up a wave of emotions that they never express out loud.

For these characters, actions speak louder than words, but even their actions are restrained. They communicate their emotions through the smallest of gestures—a slight tightening of the jaw when they’re angry or hurt, a brief flicker in their eyes when they’re surprised, or a controlled change in posture when something makes them uncomfortable. These tiny, almost imperceptible movements can say so much more than an outburst ever could, hinting at feelings they would never openly share. It’s about what they don’t do as much as what they do.

When they do speak, every word is carefully chosen. Emotionally reserved characters don’t ramble or spill their feelings in a flood of words. Instead, they speak in a measured and controlled manner, always keeping their emotions in check. Their sentences are concise, sometimes even vague or indirect, leaving others guessing about what they’re really thinking. It’s not that they don’t feel deeply, they just prefer to keep those feelings close to the chest, hidden behind a mask of calm and composure.

For these characters, what they do is often more telling than what they say. They might not say “I care about you” outright, but you’ll see it in the way they go out of their way to help, the quiet ways they show up for the people they love. Their actions reveal their emotions—whether it’s a protective gesture, a silent sacrifice, or a kind deed done without expectation of recognition. It’s these unspoken acts of kindness that show their true feelings, even if they never say them out loud.

They often have strong personal boundaries. They keep their private lives just that - private. They don’t open up easily and are cautious about who they let into their inner circle. They might deflect conversations away from themselves or avoid sharing personal details altogether. It’s not that they don’t want to connect, it’s just that they find it hard to lower their walls and let others in, fearing vulnerability or judgment.

When they do show vulnerability, it’s in small, controlled doses. These characters may have moments where they let their guard down, but only in private or with someone they deeply trust.

Sometimes, emotionally reserved characters express their feelings through objects that hold special significance to them. Maybe it’s a worn-out book they keep close, a piece of jewelry they never take off, or an old letter tucked away in a drawer. These symbolic objects are like anchors, holding memories and emotions they can’t express in words. They serve as tangible reminders of their inner world, representing feelings they keep buried deep inside.

When these characters communicate, there’s often more to their words than meets the eye. They speak in subtext, using irony, implication, or ambiguity to convey what they really mean without saying it outright. Their conversations are filled with hidden meanings and unspoken truths, creating layers of depth in their interactions with others. You have to read between the lines to understand what they’re really saying because what they leave unsaid is just as important as what they do say.

Despite their calm demeanor, there are certain things that can break through their emotional reserve. Specific triggers - like a painful memory, a deep-seated fear, or a personal loss - can elicit a strong emotional response, revealing the depth of their feelings. These moments of intensity are rare but powerful, showing that even the most reserved characters have a breaking point.

Over time, emotionally reserved characters can evolve, gradually revealing more about themselves as they grow and change. Maybe they start to trust more, opening up to those around them, or perhaps they experience something that challenges their emotional barriers, forcing them to confront their feelings head-on.

[mysumeow]

ᯓ★ KINKTOBER DAY 6: OVERSTIMULATION

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Afab body reader, overstimulation (receiving), unprotected piv, handholding omg officer this fic right here /j

ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: When you simp so hard...it actually gets you were you want?

ᓚᘏᗢ WORD COUNT: 2.4k

ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: doneeee with my pending kinktober posts omgggg i thought i could use the whole week to procrastinate my days only playing infinity nikki and but then some stuff came up and ive barely been at home T_T but i really wanted to check this off my list before i lost the inspiration ueueueueue

. . . KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | TWST MASTERLIST

“Ace—“

“Oh, boy. I know where this is going.”

“Did you see Malleus’s—”

“I did, and I don’t want to hear you gush about it.”

“His radiance is unfair, but I’m not even mad about it. And that ponytail? He should wear his hair like that more often, he looks so—”

Fed up with your yapping, Ace forced a spoonful of his lunch into your mouth. “Thank the great seven that the cafeteria's so noisy no one heard anything. I would’ve run away and pretended I didn’t know you.”

You didn’t even bother chewing before you swallowed the lump of food down your throat to continue. “Don’t even let me get started on what I would do if I got my hands in his ponytail.”

Ace groaned in annoyance and opened his mouth to cut you off before you got started, but his face paled when his eyes landed on someone behind you that heard you talk about his liege like that.

“Human! Such unbecoming thoughts…!” was none other than Sebek. Had he not gripped his lunch tray hard enough, it would’ve clattered to the floor. Curse the fae part of his blood that gave him better hearing.

If Sebek was around, then Malleus too…

Was this the end of the renowned Ramshackle prefect? Was this the way your journey into this unknown wonderland would finish? If you were lucky enough, dying was the way to return home…

“Sebek, it’s not polite to interrupt someone’s conversation,” Malleus reprimanded him. “Let’s continue in our way. We’re in the middle of the entrance.”

“Yes, my liege.” Sebek’s infuriated expression calmed down, and he followed him.

“I thought you were a goner!” Ace couldn’t help but laugh, his hands on his tummy.

“Do you think he heard? I don’t think I’ll be able to speak to him ever again.” meanwhile, you hid your face behind your palms.

“That’s what you get for subjecting me to your lovesick babble.” Ace poked your side. “If it serves to console you, he didn’t seem angry. Then again, who knows what a prince is thinking.”

“Maybe I should go apologize.”

“Errh, it’s best not to bring up the topic again, in case he didn’t hear you. Maybe he was thinking of something else and didn’t notice it.” He shrugged and went back to eating his lunch before it got cold. “Do whatever will allow you to sleep better tonight.”

After this, sleeping tonight wasn’t something you were going to be doing much, that’s for certain.

You found yourself at the door of his club before you could decide whether confronting it was a good idea or not. You were just going to say hi and probe his reactions to decipher if he was mad or not. If there was any crackling of lightning happening, you knew that was your cue to run away…

“Prefect.”

Your hand stopped just before you could knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Your hand sweated while you turned the knob and stepped in with caution. You expected a rapid flash of lightning to strike you down the moment you stepped into the empty classroom; instead, Malleus had his hands occupied with stone sculpting tools. His movements ceased when his eyes found yours.

“Come closer. You won’t be able to hear me at that distance.”

You made it inside without being turned into a pile of ash. That was a good start.

“I doubt I’ll have any more visitors other than you this afternoon,” he surveyed you for a second. “You appear to be uneasy. Did something happen?”

“No,” you were quick to deflect. “Uh, you said something about having visitors now?”

“Well, of course. I placed an announcement about a gargoyle tour for today, but, as usual, there’s a lack of invitees. Other than you, that is.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him you didn’t come here for that—besides, the tour could be interesting. You weren’t against the idea of dipping your toes into the history of gargoyles.

He must’ve noticed your contemplative expression, as he continued with a: “Or did you show up with other intentions?”

“I came here for the tour!” you blurted out. “I’ve always wondered what your club was like, and since you’re knowledgeable about gargoyles, I would like to listen more about them.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm. Well then, let us begin.”

By the time the tour ended, your worries had gone to the back of your mind, as you were immersed in the eloquent manner Malleus carried his words and shared his vast knowledge in gargoyles.

“I didn’t know there was a difference between a gargoyle and a grotesque. Being honest, they looked pretty much the same to me.”

“Correct, don’t confound the two. Gargoyles are a lot more than mere decoration. Good to know the tour has served as a new acquisition of knowledge for you.”

“I don’t get why people don’t visit your club more often. You’re great at explaining stuff, and I didn’t know gargoyles had this much history behind them. If it were Trein trying to explain this to me in the slow voice he uses during lectures, I wouldn’t have retained half of what I just learned.”

“I agree. The world should appreciate gargoyles more. Now, I’ll hold a pop quiz for you.”

“Oh—”

“It’s in your interest to say the correct answer, or this will be the last time you see me in this hairstyle.”

“Huh?!”

As your thoughts reeled into the implications of his declaration, Malleus threw the first question.

“What does this particular gargoyle represent?”

“A-Ah, that one! The power of metamorphosis, right? The ability to transcend beyond mortal limitations to higher realms of consciousness...something like that.” You were 99% sure that was what Malleus said earlier.

“Why are gargoyle’s expressions, which are commonly regarded as terrifying, like that?”

That was an easier one. “To ward off evil spirits and protect the people.”

“Right answer, although too simple. It also serves as a reminder that actions have consequences,” the way his lips curved with a taunting smile made you think that he did hear you in the cafeteria after all. “Last question: Why do some gargoyles have wings while others don’t?”

This one took longer for you to come up with an answer. You had a faint memory of him explaining it, but it was brief.

“Was it because they’re located in higher to protect places like towers?”

“Interesting observation. They don’t always represent ubication, however. Wings could represent divinity. A lack of wings meant terrestrial creatures.”

“…Did I fail the pop quiz?”

“Even though you could’ve done better, your score is acceptable,” the corners of his mouth quirked up with a barely held back amused smile. “Anything else you’d like to add?”

“I’m sorry for what happened during lunch.”

“Humans are skillful when it comes to deflecting from the truth, even when one’s inquiries are direct. I must admit, I welcome your honest opinion about my hairstyle today. Even if delivered in such an immodest fashion.”

“Did Lilia suggest the change in hairstyle?”

“He did.”

“He’s got a keen eye for this, then,” you nodded. “I… think it suits you. It’s a fresh look on you, which doesn’t take away your princely charms.”

“Princely charms…?” he placed a hand on his chin, in thought.

“I—”

“You sure know how to get in someone’s good graces.” He chuckled. “You’re welcome to thread your fingers into my hair. Just do not dishevel it too much, or I can’t promise what could happen to you if you do.”

Despite his ominous threat, Malleus leaned down to allow you better access to his head. With how close he was, a rush of ardor made you giddy, but you remained calm. You stretched your arm to caress the lush locks, your fingers threading into them. Cautious. His hair was well taken care of, the brush of the strands like silk against your skin.

“Last time anyone dared to caress my head that way was Lilia when I was still a child,” Malleus reminisced in a hushed tone. “Back then, I thought it was patronizing, to an extent. I don’t feel it that way now, however. How peculiar.

Malleus could be rather elusive at times, and, depending on what he would say, you weren’t sure you had understood him right. Yet, on this occasion, he wasn’t against your touches. That’s what you understood.

While in your thoughts, your fingers wandered close to an uncharted zone: the base of his horns.

By the time you noticed, it was late. Malleus raised his head to look at you, the change in his eyes evident.

If not for the pinkish flush taking hold of his cheeks, you would’ve thought you did something you shouldn’t have.

“You may proceed. I don’t…dislike the feeling,” he said, not moving away. If anything, he tilted his head closer to your hand. His throat emitted a low vibration, which you soon discovered was similar to a purr. Dragon fae could do that?

Your hands pressed against his chest when you felt him inch you towards a nearby desk, tools for carving forgotten near its edge.

“It appears that you aren’t aware of it, but my kind doesn’t lower their head to allow just anyone to touch their horns. They’re personal,” His slit pupils stared into yours, unwavering. “Why did you stop your hand? Do you not accept my advancements?”

You felt your mouth go dry with his towering presence. How he caged you in with his bigger figure, looming over you. “I do accept them!” you blurted out.

After you spoke, Malleus’s thumb caressed your lower lip, and his attention shifted there. Mere seconds after, his eyes closed as he leaned in, the message of what was about to happen clear enough. With your quickened heart, you reciprocated the oncoming affection.

It was unfair. Silky hair and soft lips unlike anything you’ve touched before. Typical of a dragon, Malleus soon grew impatient and greedy. Regardless of inexperience, the fervor in his heart made up for it. His fangs were in the way, numerous times threatening to break through your skin despite his efforts to keep the kiss prudent. You were addicted to the feeling of them creating subtle punctures, however.

His hand slithered behind your back to keep you upright; the space between your bodies became none. There was an obvious hardness concealed behind his pants that pushed and grinded against your body. The friction ignited pleasure. You lacked the constraint to avoid grinding against it, the pleasure straight to your clit.

“Does that feel good?”

You nodded, out of breath.

Malleus grabbed your legs and placed them around his hips; the push of his body into yours was stronger now. He moved in tandem with your grinding, the surge in pleasure hooking you to a nonstop movement. Your arms shot to wrap around his shoulders, bringing him closer. His lips and teeth sought your neck to litter it with his own marks. The noise of the desk’s leg creaking against the floor faded to the background; you were close to coming.

His lips engulfed yours, your moan of his name swallowed by him.

In the meantime, you caught your breath and undid the purple belt around his body.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” He watched you struggle to undress him, the waves of your orgasm still fresh.

“I need you,” you admitted, finally pushing the coat off his shoulders.

“Glad to oblige.”

He finished the work and nudged your legs open to stand in between them. Thick and long—specially long—his dick was erect with a hefty amount of precum on its head. The size might be a little intimidating, but given how wet you were, it shouldn’t be a problem.

Malleus enclosed you, keeping his arms rigid to prop himself on top of your torso; his ponytail cascaded down his shoulder. You were tempted to reach out and brush your fingers in it. Maybe on another occasion.

A hand went to yours to hold it, which caused you to dart a glance at him, in question. His hand engulfed yours to near completion; if the difference in size wasn’t evident enough from height, this consolidated it. Meanwhile you marveled, Malleus jutted until it was inside of you, pushing your walls to accommodate him. It was no laughing matter—his cock prodded into the deepest part of your cunt, and yet, a couple of inches remained outside.

Malleus squeezed your hand with reassurance, taking note of your breathless state.

Backing down wasn’t an option for you. You needed him. Even if the stretch tiptoed close to pain, this—you wanted it. Even if the buzz from your previous orgasm still thrummed in your body and your clit was tender, you hugged his frame with your legs and offered the final push that remained to take him in until the base. At your encouragement, Malleus huffed from the surge in pleasure, eyes closed to embrace the feeling.

You canted your hips upwards to meet his thrusts; the creaking of the desk’s leg restarted its noise. Malleus gripped your hand with more fervor, lost in pleasure and forgetting about it. In turn, you gave his a firm squeeze. His chest heaved with deep breaths, a low groan making its way out every couple of seconds. He lowered until your chests were squeezed together, the hand that held your hip snaking to the back and grasping your shoulder to impel you harder. The rhythmic onslaught kindled your libido. One step away from the climax.

You came undone beneath him a second time; he didn’t stand a chance with how your pussy clamped down around him. His lips parted with a silent gasp as he came too, viscous cum pumped inside and coating your walls.

“Mal—” Your voice came at a higher pitch than you’re used to. He already came, but his thrusts haven’t stopped. They were slow and deliberate, not allowing a single drop to slip away from your cunt.

He dipped his head to kiss you, his lips encased yours. Albeit less frenetic, it wasn’t any less loving.  Just now, you remember your intertwined hands.

“I’m sorry,” you had dug your nails quite fervently. “I didn’t notice.”

“How do you plan on making it up to me?” 

“Ah…”

“Next time, when you harbor thoughts of such forward nature, I’d appreciate it more if you cofessed them to me only.”

[movingthisblogcelestialtarot11]

Your sexual appeal 18+

Hey friends! Welcome to another PAC. I was feeling generous to do another on top of my busy week :) enjoy! Don’t be afraid to like comment and reblog to share the love! Lol ya’ll are being fed.

Pile 1: Hey pile 1! Kicking off strong, Wild thoughts by Rihanna is playing in my head. So you guys already have such a powerful energy—I feel it does permeate the room that you enter. Instead of everyone else’s energy affecting you, you are the one influencing the energy and it is felt strong! That’s part of your sexual appeal. Your legs can be very sexually appealing, like I’m seeing people would imagine you wearing garters, knee length boots, stockings, ripped tights. Or skirts that show off your legs! Maybe it’s toned and your skin is really smooth, and I heard it gives off an airbrushed appearance so people find that very alluring. I would imagine you guys walk with a powerful stride too, you’re always looking to where you’re going and not necessarily at people which makes them feel intimidated. Definitely not your fault you’re confident! Some of you may also walk delicately and quietly and you may scare people lol. But it’s also part of your allure because you scare people when they least expect it ;) you have them standing on their toes! I feel also you may be surrounded by a lot of people. Everywhere you go, people notice you’re remembered. So that’s hot, seeing other people look up to you and walk up to you shows your confidence! People trust you, right? And I also feel you may be foreign. Your eyes may be different from the rest, your hair color can stand out in a friend group, and your voice as well. Maybe you can speak multiple languages which is sexy to others, they love your cadence and tone. And people may think your cultural background is appealing. I feel as though you guys stand out a lot which is sexually attractive to others—even if you don’t necessarily mean to. Because I’m getting two piles here where one is confident, assertive. And the other appears soft and angelic yes, but also carries an undertone of seduction. Or maybe you play both. Maybe you pull both personas out when it serves you :) super intelligent! I heard their beauty and brains—so your intelligence and when you show off what you know is considered sexy. Thank you for being here pile 1 <3 please like comment and reblog!

Pile 2: Hello there pile 2! Immediately I saw someone countering someones idea, opinion or argument. I feel you know how to argue, and not through yelling or cursing necessarily. But by fact checking people and it puts them in their place. People feel intimidated by your knowledge, and are especially drawn in by the banter you provide. I feel like you’re a diva, and you know this! You know beauty also comes from intelligence as well and maybe you’re an air sign! Libra aquarius and gemini. Or have an air venus. You can earth too, taurus virgo and Capricorn. Ya’ll are sarcastic, and have a dry humor other people find themselves reeling towards. I think people also give off strong reactions around you, whether it be from love bombing to rejecting you, and it’s not because you did anything wrong or you’re “different.” Your ability to alchemize is felt very strong, so maybe you have pluto strong in your chart—but your energy is felt leaking into peoples subconscious. Especially those who haven’t healed from past wounds its enlightened even more when they’re with you, which makes people feel the need to deflect, hide and project onto you. Because your knowledge scares them. And it also turns people on around you, with what you know. I also feel you may prefer to dress modest, simple and it leaves more to the imagination. People may wonder what you look like under neath. When you go to the gym, people may wonder what your progress looks like under that hoodie or sweatpants. They’re enamored by what they can’t see and they love it. Someone here could be muslim, I’m also getting that message. If you wear a hijab, people love your eyes and your features that pop out beautifully. They find your eyes to be striking and this goes for those who wear a hijab or not! Your eyes are deep and piercing. I heard Elena Gilbert from the TVD, so maybe ya’ll like her, or dress like her at times. You guys come across as detached, yet grounded and rooted in. It reminds me of earth & air energy which I already mentioned. You guys keep up with the trends and I think you try to not follow it necessarily, but you adjust it to your advantage. So if you see clothes that are trending you’ll adjust it so it isnt a direct copy, but a mixture of what you like and its sexy. Sexy because it works for you. I feel as though people want to peek into your mind to know what you’re thinking and feeling. How does your mind work? It’s mysterious and hidden which leaves people guessing which adds to your appeal. People also may fantasize about being “chosen” by you. Having your time, energy, attention, smile, jokes, etc. they can feel jealous when you’re giving that to someone else. Thank you pile 2 for being here, I sincerely appreciate it <3 please reblog like and comment for more!

Pile 3: Hey pile 3, I don’t know why but I saw Mariah Carey singing “its time,” for Christmas 😭 so maybe y’all like that meme a lot, or you love winter and you’re excited to celebrate. Or your energy is super fun! My ear is ringing so—someone has a strong presence of spirit guides and angels here! Or a loved one that passed away is what I heard which I know isn’t a focus of the reading, just needed to say it. Moving on, I feel as though people fantasize about being in your arms. Like, your gaze might be very soft and loving and people fantasize about being held that way when they look at you. You may have a doe eye gaze, so they fantasize about you being below whilst giving them that look. Or holding them and cuddling </3 but also, I feel your sexual appeal is driven by this soft nature. This soft feminine energy which we all have regardless of our gender. So maybe you’ve been working on pampering yourself, going with the flow emotionally, allowing not forcing, etc. all this is very sexually appealing to those around you, and people feel “at home” with you. They feel like it’s a lovely night and it’s sensual with you. I keep getting Christmas memes and concepts 😭 someone here is super excited lol. Its cute. I also feel that people may view you as a present like they need you. They feel like a hopeless romantic around you, because your energy is incredibly nurturing and touches their heart. I also feel that you guys can be witty, sharp with your words which also makes people sexually attracted. It goes straight to their core, so maybe you speak softly, or have an accent that people love. You might prefer to wear light loose fabrics, lots of bright colors, ribbons, or material that is slinky or silky. People feel as though it’s sexy, because it’s soft and feminine like, which adds to your allure. They may imagine you being tied up in ribbons like a present literally. People feel they can escape in your arms—you’re like a drug. People can’t get enough. I feel you already know this, and you come across as sweet as those cute heart candies. Sweethearts. I think thats what you call it! Lol. I think people like when you ask for help even when you know you’ve got it—and when you do the arm brushing thingy, you hold it, people swoon. Your touch is so gentle and yet grounding and they find themselves falling heard over heels <3 People may also think you’re intelligent or skilled in an area of your life which—adds contrast to your softness. And they love it. They’re surprised and turned on by what you know. You may go on rants about your interests and they love to listen! So the more you share your passions it’s such a turn on! Because you’re so deeply involved with your emotions and what makes you feel good internally, that others feel this. They feel your authenticity! I also heard babydoll aesthetic so I have no idea if that is someones theme, blog, way of dressing, etc. thats cool. Thanks pile 3 for being here <3 dont forget to like comment and reblog!

Extra

Paid readings 🤍

[2b4st4r]

hii, would you write an oblivious reader with a little dumb Zoro who shows affection doing the tiniest things (like saving them a chair at the table and napping together) but gets confused when reader thinks they're not dating?

Oblivious Compassion

Zoro x Reader

Words: 5,454

Warnings: uhh..nothing really?? Maybe emotional distress?

✸→→⛤←←✸

A gentle sway of the Thousand Sunny was usually what woke you, a comforting rhythm that had replaced the solid ground you’d once known. Sunlight, filtered through the porthole, painted warm stripes across your bunk. Another day on the Grand Line, another adventure waiting—or so you assumed. You stretched, a soft yawn escaping your lips, completely oblivious to the chaos that often unfolded around you before you even had your first cup of tea.

Life with the Straw Hats was… an experience. Your natural kindness often led you to offer a helping hand, a comforting word, or even just a genuine smile to anyone who seemed to need it. It didn't matter if they were a fearsome pirate captain or a shy reindeer doctor; everyone received the same gentle warmth from you. This genuine compassion was a core part of who you were, a quiet strength that sometimes surprised even the most hardened individuals you encountered. However, it was also inextricably linked to your charming, albeit occasional, unawareness of… well, a lot of things.

You hummed a little tune as you padded out to the galley, ready to see what Sanji had cooked up for breakfast. The aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filled the air, a familiar and delightful scent. You passed Zoro, who was already napping in his usual spot, and Franky, who was tinkering with something shiny. You waved cheerfully, completely missing the exasperated sigh Nami let out as she reviewed a stack of navigation charts, muttering about an impending storm you hadn't even registered. For you, every day was simply a bright, new canvas, waiting for whatever wonderful, bewildering, or completely over-your-head moments the Straw Hats would inevitably bring.

You grabbed a plate, loading it up with a generous serving of pancakes and crispy bacon. Your eyes scanned the bustling galley, a bright smile gracing your lips as you spotted an empty seat beside Zoro. He was already halfway through his meal, a faint scent of sake clinging to him even at this early hour. You slid into the chair, completely missing the subtle shift in his posture, the slight easing of his shoulders that no one else would have noticed.

“Morning, Zoro!” you chirped, taking a big bite of pancake.

He grunted in response, not bothering to look up from his plate. This was a typical exchange for you two. While most of the crew found Zoro intimidating, you had always seen past his gruff exterior. Maybe it was your nature, or maybe it was just that you were truly, wonderfully, utterly oblivious to the subtle cues that screamed "don't bother me" to everyone else. You’d once offered him a flower you found on an island, convinced it would brighten his day, and he’d simply… taken it, tucking it behind his ear without a word. The others had stared, jaws agape, but you hadn’t noticed a thing.

It wasn't that you were unintelligent. Far from it. You could read the shifting winds with an uncanny accuracy that rivaled Nami's, predicting squalls hours before she even saw them on her charts. You were a skilled hand with a rope, could patch a sail faster than Usopp, and your memory for island flora and fauna was encyclopedic. You were, by all accounts, incredibly smart. But when it came to social cues, to reading between the lines, or understanding the unsaid, you were in a league of your own—a league where the only other member was probably Luffy.

The rest of the crew often watched your interactions with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. They saw the way Zoro always seemed to gravitate towards your corner of the deck, the way he’d subtly deflect anyone else who tried to take your usual spot beside him. They saw the little things, the almost imperceptible gestures that spoke volumes about his quiet protectiveness over you. But you? You just saw your friend, Zoro, who always seemed to have a seat saved for you, and honestly, you were just grateful not to have to stand while you ate your breakfast.

"Did you sleep well?" you asked, genuinely curious.

Zoro grunted again, finally looking at you, his single visible eye meeting yours. "Hn."

You beamed, taking it as a resounding "yes." Some things, it seemed, were just meant to remain a mystery to you.

As you chatted happily, a stray blob of pancake syrup decided to make a break for it, landing squarely on your cheek. Before you could even register it, a calloused thumb, surprisingly gentle, brushed against your skin, wiping the sticky sweetness away. You blinked, a wide, easy smile blooming on your face.

"Thanks, Zoro!" you said, and then, without another thought, went back to devouring your breakfast.

It had always been like this. Small, almost imperceptible gestures from him, met with your genuine, innocent appreciation. Zoro would do things for you that he wouldn't dream of doing for anyone else, and you, in your beautiful oblivion, would simply accept them as the natural order of things. He always saved you a seat next to him at meals, on deck, or even during their rare moments of downtime. You never once wondered why that spot was always open, or why his gaze would subtly track you until you settled beside him.

The others saw it, of course. They saw how you could drape yourself over his broad shoulders during a particularly intense nap, your head tucked comfortably against his neck, while he remained perfectly still, a silent guardian. They’d seen him, after a grueling battle, his own body bruised and battered, seek you out first, his lone eye scanning for any sign of injury on you before allowing himself to collapse.

“Rough one, huh?” you’d said once, gently dabbing a cut on his arm with a damp cloth after a skirmish, completely oblivious to the protective glint in his eye as he watched your focused expression. He’d just grunted, letting you fuss over him, a privilege he granted no one else.

There were countless times, during long voyages or after too much celebratory sake, that you’d simply curled up in the nearest available space, which often happened to be Zoro’s bed. You’d wake up tangled in his limbs, or with your head on his chest, completely unperturbed. He’d just be there, a warm, solid presence, and you’d simply stretch, offer a sleepy "Morning, Zoro," and go about your day. No awkwardness, no questions, just a comfortable familiarity.

He even let you nap on him during those lazy afternoons at sea. You'd be reading, or simply enjoying the sun, and inevitably, your eyelids would grow heavy. Without a word, you’d just lean over, rest your head on his lap or shoulder, and drift off. He never moved, never complained, just stayed there, a silent anchor in your drifting world. He was the only one on the entire ship allowed such liberties. For everyone else, it was a mystery how you managed it. For you, it was just… Zoro. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

But god, how oblivious you were. You didn’t even notice the sheer gentleness in his large, scarred hands as he’d brush that syrup from your cheek, a touch he reserved solely for you. You didn't register the subtle tightening of his muscles, the way his lone eye would narrow just a fraction, whenever anyone got too close to you, a silent warning only the truly observant could decipher. He was fiercely protective, a silent sentinel, and you simply saw a friend.

The depth of his care, the quiet affection that bordered on something far more profound, was completely lost on you. He’d sit there, unwavering, as you slept soundly on his lap, his fingers occasionally, almost unconsciously, tangling in your hair. He’d carefully separate strands, twirl them around his fingers, or simply let them sift through his grasp, a quiet, tender gesture that spoke volumes. You were just so immune to it, so oblivious to the subtle currents of emotion that swirled around him whenever you were near. It was just Zoro, your friend, letting you get comfortable.

As the day continued, it unfolded as normally as any day on the Thousand Sunny could. Luffy dragged Usopp and Chopper into a game of "extreme hide-and-seek" that mostly involved loud shouting and crashing noises. Sanji, ever the gentleman, flitted around Nami and Robin, offering them fresh juice and compliments, while grumbling at Zoro for breathing in his general direction. Franky was still super-tinkering, sparks flying from his latest invention.

You spent some time helping Nami chart their course, your surprising meteorological instincts proving invaluable. You laughed easily at Usopp’s outlandish tales, completely believing every word. Later, you found yourself on the deck, sharing a quiet moment with Robin, discussing the various types of flowers you'd seen on their last island. All the while, Zoro was never far. He was either training, or simply lounging nearby, his gaze occasionally drifting your way, a silent guardian in your beautifully oblivious world.

And through it all, as was often the case, you found yourself with Zoro for most of the day. Whether you were helping Nami with her charts, listening to Usopp's latest tall tale, or just enjoying the salty air on deck, he was there. A silent presence, a steady shadow, always somehow within arm's reach. He was on your side, not in a way that screamed for attention, but in a quiet, unwavering devotion that you, in your typical fashion, barely registered.

As the afternoon wore on, however, Zoro's patience, never his strongest suit, began to wane. He’d been observing the usual chaos of the Straw Hats, his boredom slowly morphing into a familiar irritation. Luffy was now attempting to teach Chopper how to "fly" off the mast, much to the reindeer's terrified squeals. Sanji was still openly bickering with him across the deck, a constant, low hum of annoyance.

With a long, suffering sigh that went completely unnoticed by anyone but the keenest ears, Zoro finally reached out. Before you could even register his intent, his calloused fingers closed around your wrist, his grip firm but not painful.

"Come on," he grunted, pulling you away from whatever benign activity you were engaged in. You stumbled slightly, caught off guard.

"Huh? Where are we going, Zoro?" you asked, looking up at him with innocent curiosity.

He didn't bother to answer, simply tugging you steadily towards his usual napping spot on the deck, a patch of sun-drenched wood near the mast that was surprisingly comfortable. He dropped down with a thud, leaning back against the cool wood.

"Need a nap," he declared, his voice gruff. His single eye fixed on you. "You're joining me."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, an order even, delivered with the absolute certainty that you would comply. And because it was Zoro, and because that's just how things were, you simply settled down beside him, completely unaware of the subtle possessiveness in his gesture, or the way the tension had visibly drained from his shoulders the moment you were by his side.

You blinked, sunlight dappling through the mast sails, and the gentle rocking of the Sunny was the first thing you registered. Your head was resting comfortably on something firm yet yielding, and a warmth enveloped you. You stretched, a soft sigh escaping your lips, and then realized you were draped across Zoro's lap, his arm slung loosely around your waist, holding you close. It was a familiar position, one you’d found yourself in countless times.

You started to stir, pushing yourself up slightly. "Morning, Zoro," you murmured, thinking he was still deep in slumber. You went to carefully extract yourself, not wanting to disturb him, but as you shifted, his arm tightened.

"Just a few more minutes," his voice rumbled, rough with sleep, pressing you gently back down. He didn't even open his eye, just tightened his hold, keeping you exactly where you were. You settled back, completely unperturbed. It was just Zoro, being Zoro. You weren't in a rush anyway.

You relaxed against him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest a soothing rhythm. You could hear the muffled sounds of the ship slowly coming to life—Luffy’s boisterous laugh somewhere in the distance, Sanji’s pots clattering in the galley. But in Zoro’s arms, the world felt still and peaceful. You just lay there, content, completely at ease in the quiet cocoon of his presence. You never once questioned why he held you so securely, or why his proximity always felt like the safest place on the entire Grand Line. It was just Zoro, and this was just another morning.

The tranquility of your morning cuddle was abruptly shattered by the familiar, brisk voice of Nami. "There you are, Y/N!" she declared, her footsteps echoing sharply on the deck as she approached. "I need your eyes on these charts. We're approaching a tricky current."

Before you could even fully process her words, Nami had skillfully pried Zoro's arm from around you. "Sorry, Zoro," she said, though her tone held no real apology, "but Y/N can't be with you every minute of the day. The ship actually needs her."

Zoro merely grunted, a low, guttural sound. His eye, still heavy with sleep, flickered open to glare at the navigator. "Shut up, witch," he mumbled, though he made no move to retrieve you.

You, meanwhile, were already standing, your mind shifting gears with remarkable ease. "Oh, charts! Of course, Nami!" You beamed, completely missing the loaded exchange between your two crewmates. "What kind of current are we looking at? Is it one of those swirly ones that makes the compass go crazy?"

Nami, already pulling you towards the navigation room, couldn't help but sigh. Sometimes, your obliviousness was a blessing; it certainly made getting you to work easier. "Something like that, Y/N. Come on, let's go over it."

As you disappeared into the cabin with Nami, completely engrossed in the prospect of analyzing currents, Zoro remained on the deck, a silent, brooding presence. The warmth where you had been on his lap had already begun to fade, and he let out another, softer grunt, a sound of quiet displeasure at the interruption. But he knew, of course, that Nami was right. You couldn't be with him every minute of the day. Even if he wished you could.

You and Nami spent the next few hours poring over charts, your keen eye for weather patterns proving invaluable. You pointed out subtle shifts in wind direction Nami had almost missed, and together, you plotted a course that would deftly navigate them around a series of unpredictable whirlpools. You were so engrossed, the time seemed to fly by.

Just as you were finalizing the last coordinates, a booming voice echoed across the deck, making you both jump. "DINNER'S READY, MY BELOVED LADIES! SANJI-SAMA HAS PREPARED A FEAST FIT FOR GODDESSES!"

Nami rolled her eyes, but a smile touched her lips. "Finally! I'm starving." She stretched, then gestured for you to follow. "Come on, Y/N, let's go get some food before Luffy eats it all."

You grinned, your stomach rumbling in agreement. "Oh, I hope it's Sanji's special meat stew! It's so good when he adds those tiny mushrooms."

As you and Nami made your way towards the delicious aromas wafting from the galley, the day's earlier events faded into the background. Your brief cuddle with Zoro, his possessive grip, Nami's pointed comment—all were just fleeting moments, already eclipsed by the simple, comforting promise of a warm meal with your friends. You were just happy to be there, another day on the Grand Line, surrounded by the crew you loved, completely oblivious to the silent warrior who, even now, was probably making his way to the galley, ensuring there was still a seat open right next to his.

As you and Nami stepped into the bustling galley, the comforting clamor of plates and cheerful chatter immediately embraced you. The rich scent of Sanji’s cooking, a symphony of herbs and sizzling meat, filled the air, making your stomach rumble happily. Your eyes, as always, scanned the crowded tables for a familiar face, and there it was: the empty spot beside Zoro.

Without a second thought, you headed straight for it. Zoro was already deep into his meal, his usual focused intensity applied to devouring his food. You slid onto the bench beside him, your presence acknowledged by a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head.

"Looks delicious, Sanji!" you chirped, reaching for a serving spoon.

Zoro didn't reply, just continued eating, but you could feel the subtle shift in the air around him, a quiet settling of his presence as you took your rightful place beside him. It was a familiar comfort, an unspoken understanding that had always existed between you two, a silent current that you, in your beautiful obliviousness, simply flowed with. For you, it was just another meal, another moment, with your friend. For him, it was exactly where you belonged.

Mid-dinner, the usual, familiar spat between Zoro and Sanji inevitably erupted. It started with a muttered insult from Zoro about Sanji's cooking being "too frilly," which, of course, sent the cook into a furious, pirouetting rage.

"What was that, Marimo?! My exquisite cuisine is a work of art, unlike your pathetic sense of direction!" Sanji shrieked, twirling a fork menacingly.

Zoro scoffed, leaning back in his seat. "At least I know where I'm going, unlike some love-struck perv."

"Love-struck?! You think you can talk about love, you muscle-brained oaf?! At least I know how to treat a lady, unlike you, who probably thinks your girlfriend here is just another one of your weights!" Sanji yelled, gesturing wildly towards you.

You, who had been happily munching on a piece of chicken, paused. Then, a bright, genuine laugh bubbled out of you. "Huh? Zoro's my boyfriend? No way!" You chuckled, shaking your head. "We're not dating, Sanji! That's silly!"

The entire galley went utterly silent. The clatter of plates, the general chatter, even Luffy's enthusiastic chewing, all ceased. Nami's jaw dropped, Usopp choked on his drink, and Chopper's eyes went wide. Even Robin had a small, surprised smile on her face.

Every single eye in the room, except for yours, snapped to Zoro. He had frozen mid-chew, his fork hovering inches from his mouth. His single eye, usually so stoic, was wide, almost panicked. A slow, dark flush began to creep up his neck, staining his ears.

Then, in a voice that was uncharacteristically high-pitched and strained, he blurted out, "Uhh... yes, we are?"

You stared at Zoro, your fork still halfway to your mouth, a perplexed frown creasing your brow. "No, we're not, Zoro," you stated, as if explaining something incredibly simple to a particularly slow child. "We're just friends. Like... like you and Luffy are friends! Or me and Chopper are friends!" You gestured around the silent galley, utterly bewildered by his claim. "We don't go on dates. We don't hold hands like that." You wiggled your fingers in the air. "We just hang out!"

The silence in the galley became deafening. Sanji looked like his brain had short-circuited, Nami slapped a hand to her forehead, and Usopp slid slowly under the table. Even Luffy, for once, was speechless, his eyes wide.

Zoro's face, now a deep shade of crimson, looked like he was wrestling with a particularly stubborn sea king in his head. He cleared his throat, a rough, grating sound. "We... we do too go on dates," he mumbled, avoiding everyone's gaze, including yours. "We went to that island with the cherry blossoms. And that one with the giant mushrooms."

You tilted your head. "But we went with everyone! And we were looking for food!"

"No, that was a date!" Zoro insisted, his voice gaining a desperate edge. He gestured vaguely between the two of you. "And we... we sleep in the same bed!"

Your eyes widened, a genuine, innocent shock coloring your features. "Yes, but not like that! You just let me nap there sometimes because the floor is cold, or I fall asleep reading!" You looked genuinely mortified, clearly thinking he was implying something scandalous. "Zoro, are you feeling okay? You're acting really weird!"

The rest of the Straw Hats couldn't take it anymore.

Usopp burst out from under the table, pointing dramatically. "He's in love, Y/N! He's been in love with you for ages!"

Nami, pinching the bridge of her nose, sighed. "Y/N, Zoro constantly saves you seats, he only lets you nap on him, he carries you after battles... it's not exactly subtle."

Chopper whimpered. "He protects you like his own treasure, Y/N!"

Robin chuckled softly, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Indeed, Y/N. The signs have been rather… evident for quite some time."

Zoro, by this point, looked like he wanted the Thousand Sunny to swallow him whole. He slammed his fist on the table, making the plates jump. "Shut up, all of you!" he roared, then turned his blazing red face to you. "Look, I... I thought... you... we..." He trailed off, utterly defeated by your pure, unadulterated obliviousness. He just sat there, breathing heavily, as if he’d just fought a thousand men.

You, however, were still stuck on his earlier statement. "Wait," you said slowly, your brow furrowing in confusion. "So… when Sanji called us 'girlfriend and boyfriend'… he meant that seriously? And you… you think we are dating?"

The silence returned, thicker than ever. Zoro finally managed a small, miserable nod.

Your mind, usually a calm and clear lake, suddenly became a churning storm. The puzzle pieces, scattered and seemingly unrelated for so long, slammed together with dizzying speed. The saved seats, the gentle touches, the shared naps, the quiet protectiveness… it all made a horrifying, mortifying, obvious kind of sense now. Your face, usually so open and bright, paled, then flushed a furious scarlet that rivaled Zoro's own.

"W-what?!" you stammered, scrambling away from him on the bench, nearly knocking over your plate. "You... you think we're dating?! But... but that means... oh my god! All this time?!"

You shot to your feet, pacing wildly in the now completely silent galley, your hands flapping in disbelief. "But I thought we were just... best friends! Like, the bestest friends ever! I thought you were just being... well, you! You let me nap on you because you're comfy! You saved me seats because you're polite! I thought I was in the friend zone! I thought you just saw me as your buddy, your pal! I even told Chopper last week that you were 'the most reliable friend a girl could ask for'!"

Your rant continued, growing in speed and volume. "And the cherry blossoms! I thought you just liked flowers! And the mushrooms! We needed food! Oh my god! This is mortifying! You actually like me like that?! And I've just been... here! Completely oblivious! How could I be so dumb?!" You smacked yourself lightly on the forehead. "I like you too, Zoro! Of course, I like you! But I just thought you were my really, really good friend and I just accepted all your kindness like it was nothing! Oh, this is so awkward!"

The reactions were immediate and varied:

Zoro, who had been frozen in mortified silence, suddenly bolted upright. His crimson face contorted into a mix of utter shock and a flicker of… something else. Hope? Relief? His eye widened, staring at you as if seeing you for the first time. "You... you like me?" he blurted out, the question barely a whisper.

Sanji finally snapped out of his stupor, letting out a delighted, albeit bewildered, squawk. "She likes him?! The Marimo actually pulled it off?!" He immediately started spinning, offering you a handkerchief. "My dearest Y/N-chan, calm yourself! It seems love has blossomed in the most unexpected of places!"

Nami, who had been watching the entire spectacle with growing amusement, burst into laughter. "I told you, Y/N! You're ridiculously oblivious! But at least we finally got somewhere!" She patted your shoulder, still chuckling.

Usopp and Chopper, who had emerged from under the table, exchanged wide-eyed glances. "She likes him back!" Chopper whispered, tears welling in his eyes. Usopp clapped him on the back, grinning. "I knew it! My keen sniper's eye saw through it all!" (He had seen absolutely nothing).

Robin simply smiled, a serene, knowing expression on her face. "It appears," she mused softly, "that even the most tangled of threads can eventually find their way to each other."

And Luffy, ever the direct one, just stared at you and Zoro with a wide grin. "Shishishi! So you guys are dating! Awesome! Now can we have dessert?"

You, meanwhile, were still processing, your face buried in your hands, the weight of years of unspoken affection and your own charming unawareness crashing down on you in a wave of utter, embarrassing realization.

You slowly sank back onto the bench, your face still burning. The earlier joyous clamor of dinner had been replaced by the crew's hushed murmurs and occasional stifled giggles. You felt like every single eye on the Thousand Sunny was fixed on you, dissecting every oblivious moment of your existence. This wasn't just embarrassment; this was full-blown, existential mortification. Your entire past with Zoro, once so comfortably platonic, was now replaying in your mind like a horribly awkward highlight reel. Every shared nap, every saved seat, every gentle touch now screamed "romantic gesture" instead of "friendly gesture."

You risked a quick glance at Zoro. He was still sitting rigid beside you, his ears still a furious red, but his gaze was no longer on the floor. It was on you, a strange, intense mixture of disbelief, hope, and something akin to awe in his single visible eye. It was almost too much to bear.

You let out a groan, a sound of pure, unadulterated despair. "Oh my god," you mumbled, burying your face in your hands. "This is it. This is how I die. From sheer, utter mortification." The idea of facing Zoro, or any of the crew, ever again felt impossible. The Grand Line had thrown countless dangers at you, but none compared to the crushing weight of realizing you had been spectacularly, monumentally oblivious to the affections of one of your closest friends for what now felt like an eternity.

As soon as dinner was mercifully over, you made a beeline for the deck, practically fleeing the galley. The bewildered and amused faces of your crewmates, the lingering scent of cooked food mixed with the thick, palpable awkwardness, was too much to bear. You needed air, and you needed it now.

The cool night breeze was a welcome relief against your still-flushed cheeks. You stood at the railing, gazing out at the endless, star-dusted ocean, the vastness of it doing little to calm the chaotic storm in your mind. Ten minutes stretched into an eternity, your internal monologue a frantic loop of "How could I be so blind?!" and "He liked me?!"

Just as you were contemplating whether you could just… jump overboard and swim to the nearest uncharted island, you heard them: slow, deliberate footsteps approaching. You didn't need to turn around. You knew the familiar, heavy tread. It was Zoro.

Sure, here is the story:

You kept your back to him, gripping the railing so tightly your knuckles turned white. The silence stretched, thick and charged with unspoken words, heavier than any sword Zoro had ever wielded. You could feel his presence behind you, a silent, unmoving force.

Finally, his deep voice, softer than you’d ever heard it, broke the quiet. "Y/N."

You flinched, but didn't turn. "Don't, Zoro," you mumbled, your voice muffled. "I can't believe I was so... so stupid."

He sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of years of unacknowledged affection. "You're not stupid." He took another step closer, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him. "Just... oblivious."

You finally turned, slowly, reluctantly, to face him. In the soft moonlight, his expression was unreadable, but his single eye held a raw vulnerability you'd never seen before. "Oblivious?! Zoro, you just told me you thought we were dating! And I thought we were just friends! How am I supposed to ever look anyone in the eye again?!"

He rubbed the back of his neck, a rare sign of discomfort from him. "It's… my fault too," he admitted, surprisingly. "I thought… you knew. Or that you just… accepted it. I'm not good with words." He shifted his weight. "Or with… feelings. I just… did things. I thought that was enough."

You stared at him. "You did things? Like saving me seats? And letting me sleep on you?"

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Yeah. And making sure you're okay after a fight. And… other stuff." He paused, then, with a surprising amount of courage, added, "I like having you around. More than just a friend. I thought… that was obvious."

A fresh wave of mortification washed over you, but beneath it, a tiny, hesitant warmth began to spread. He truly had been trying, in his own, Zoro way.

"I… I said I like you too," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper, your eyes fixed on the deck. "I really do. You're… you're important to me, Zoro. But I just… never thought of it like that. I just thought… that’s how we were. Best friends." You looked up at him, a tremor in your voice. "So… what does that make us now?"

Zoro took another step, closing the distance between you. He looked down at you, his gaze intense. "It makes us... whatever you want us to be," he said, his voice low and earnest. "But if you're asking if I want to keep being... more than friends... then yeah. I do." He hesitated, then, with a rare, almost shy gesture, reached out and gently took your hand, his calloused thumb stroking the back of your knuckles. "I'm tired of waiting, Y/N."

The simple, honest admission, combined with the gentle touch, finally pierced through your overwhelming embarrassment. You felt a blush creep up your neck again, but this time, it wasn't just from mortification. It was something else entirely. Something new, and exciting, and terrifyingly real. You looked at your intertwined hands, then up at his earnest, hopeful face.

You looked at your intertwined hands, then up at his earnest, hopeful face, a warmth blooming in your chest that chased away the last vestiges of embarrassment. The Grand Line had always been full of surprises, but this one… this was the most astonishing of all.

"Okay," you whispered, a soft smile finally gracing your lips. "Okay, Zoro. Let's… let's go on an official date."

A faint, almost imperceptible tremor went through him, and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards in what might have been the closest thing to a genuine smile you'd ever seen from him. His grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, a silent affirmation.

The next morning, the Thousand Sunny sailed under a clear blue sky, the air filled with the usual cheerful chaos. Luffy was loudly declaring his intention to find an island made entirely of meat, Usopp was attempting to fish with a slingshot, and Sanji was already planning dinner.

You were on deck, helping Nami adjust a sail, when you felt a familiar presence beside you. Zoro was there, leaning against the mast, ostensibly napping, but his single eye was discreetly open, watching you.

Later that afternoon, you found yourself sitting beside him in his usual napping spot, not sleeping, but simply enjoying the quiet companionship. He had his swords resting beside him, and you were idly braiding a piece of rope. He didn't speak, but every now and then, his gaze would drift to you, lingering for a moment longer than it used to.

As the sun began to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues, Zoro shifted. "That island we're heading to," he rumbled, his voice low. "They said it has a good sake brewery."

You looked at him, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "Oh! And Nami said there's a big festival there too! With fireworks!"

He nodded, a flicker of something new, something almost tender, in his eye. "Sounds like a date."

You chuckled, leaning your head against his shoulder. This time, you knew exactly what he meant. The Grand Line was vast, full of unknown adventures, and you were ready for all of them, especially the ones that now included, in a surprisingly official capacity, your quiet, protective swordsman.

[fear-is-truth]

THE 5 LOVE LANGUAGES 𝔵 JASON TODD

ⓘ love language : a person's characteristic means of expressing and experiencing love. note. got covid so i wrote the majority of this in bed lol

❝ ACTS OF SERVICE ❞ ⸻⸻⸻⸻ ⸻ ﹒

jason’s dominant expression of attachment is through action, often coded as protection. now he doesn’t articulate affection directly, but his decisions (frequently violent, morally ambiguous, or self-endangering) reveal an ingrained instinct to shield others. from early adolescence, he understood that love, if it meant anything, had to be proven with action.

under bruce, he learned to channel this drive into something more structured: protect the innocent, follow through, serve justice. jason internalised that, but filtered it through his own experiences. his ethic of care was shaped by loss, abandonment, and death. to jason, if you care about someone, you fucking do something about it. after the lazarus pit, this trait only intensified; he became more militant about protecting people he saw as his responsibility. this goes without saying that he’ll kill for you—has, and will again. notably, he may reject help from others, perceiving self-reliance as a survival mechanism. when he allows others to assist him, it signifies a very deep trust.

❝ PHYSICAL TOUCH ❞ ⸻⸻⸻⸻ ⸻

complicated. pre-trauma (pre-death), anecdotal evidence suggests jason was physically affectionate. post-resurrection though, physical touch may trigger hypervigilance or dissociation. he’s not exactly avoidant. on some deeper level, he wants it, craves it, even. but only on his terms and without surprise. if he’s letting you touch him, he’s already made a conscious choice. contact tends to trigger fight-or-flight unless it’s from someone he’s mentally filed as “safe.” even then, it takes time because he needs to assess the intent and pattern first. you’ve learned not to startle jason. when you do reach for him, he won’t always meet you halfway, but he won’t stop you either. sometimes, he’ll even lean into it, let your hand cradle his jaw or your knee press lightly against his under the table. when initiated by him, physical touch is always intentional and super rare.

❝ WORDS OF AFFIRMATION ❞ ⸻ ⸻⸻⸻

he generally distrusts verbal assurances. years of emotional inconsistency, perceived abandonment, and betrayal have rendered language hollow in his worldview. when someone tries to express affection verbally, his first instinct is suspicion. compliments may be deflected or mocked. and when he does offer verbal affection, it’s often oblique—dry humor, begrudging respect, dark jokes. moments of direct affirmation are intensely vulnerable and often framed through anger or defiance (e.g., “i never stopped caring, that’s the problem”). receiving affirmation may cause him visible discomfort, though it still registers.

❝ RECEIVING GIFTS❞ ⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

selective, but significant. the paperback you tracked down (the out-of-print edition he’d mentioned only once, in passing.) the gloves you left folded on the counter after noticing the ones he wore were splitting at the seams. jason doesn’t view objects as inherently meaningful—he doesn’t assign value to things, only to the intent behind them. he’s not effusive in return. most of what he gives is pragmatic, given without ceremony or explanation. a stun gun mysteriously appears in your bag after he walked you home one night. a second helmet on his motorbike. his hoodie folded on your bed because he’s seen you shiver in the mornings and doesn’t want you to have to ask.

when it isn’t strictly practical, it still has function. a dog-eared copy of the latest novel he read—left on your nightstand, filled with underline passages and margin notes that read like he’s talking directly to you. his gifts are silent acknowledgments: i see you. you matter to me.

❝ QUALITY TIME ❞ ⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

jason’s used to solitude. silence doesn’t unsettle him—it’s the baseline. you people either stick around or they don’t. most don’t. being around him isn’t easy, he’s aware of that too. if you choose to stay near him, you’re exposing yourself to his volatility, the sharp edge that never fully dulled. it’s not an easy choice to make.

he doesn’t require conversation. half the time, jason prefers the silence. he’s comfortable with proximity without pressure (e.g., watching crappy TV, eating takeout on a fire escape etc.)

the more time you spend with jason consistently, the more he lets down the armor. not all at once of course; but in increments. when he starts talking unprompted—thoughts he normally keeps to himself, tidbits of his past.

 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑-𝐈𝐒-𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 2025 — do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content. ꕀ

[atomicrebelfire]

✍️Tommy Kinard: Speculating His Rank in the LAFD (Canon + Structural Analysis) 📊📋🧵

📍TL;DR: Based on canon clues and real-world LAFD structure, Tommy Kinard is most likely a 🎖️Fire Helicopter Pilot V—the highest pilot classification. His career path is unusual: he started in suppression at the 118 before transitioning into Air Ops using his Army flight experience.

-----------------At your own risk- Lets Spiral-----------------------------

While the show hasn’t explicitly stated his rank, there are enough visual, behavioral, and contextual clues/crumbs to build a solid case for where he fits within the LAFD—especially given the real-world structure of Air Operations.

Similar to Tommy’s military-to-LAFD career timeline, this is meant to be both canon-compliant and grounded in how the real LAFD operates, in order to build a plausible theory around Tommy’s role, rank, and seniority. It’s part character study, part structural breakdown.

🔍 Canon Facts/Clues (What We Know)

Tommy is introduced in S2 as a ground firefighter at the 118, and reintroduced in S7 as a helicopter pilot at Harbour Station.

In 7x04, he tells Buck that he used to be a pilot in the Army.

He has over 20 years of service in the LAFD (stated on-screen based of begins episodes).

He has taken helicopters out without formal clearance (7x03, 8x15). While reprimanded afterward, the fact that he has the access and autonomy to do so is notable.

He is seen launching without escort, clearly trusted to operate independently and justify his decisions after the fact.

He casually offers to teach Buck how to fly (7x04), suggesting he holds—or is qualified for—a trainer or flight instructor designation.

In 7x06, Tommy arrives at the hospital in turnout gear, soot-covered, after a fire at Angeles Crest. Raising questions about whether he was working suppression or Air Ops.

In 8x15, Tommy performs evasive maneuvers while being pursued by military helicopters—diving low, climbing high, and weaving between towers—as part of an aerial diversion to buy time and deflect pursuit.

In 7x03, Tommy helps Hen bypass red tape by taking a helicopter without official approval, offering only a vague line about Central Bureau and brushing off objections from Melton.

🚁 How Most LAFD Pilots Get There

In real life, becoming a helicopter pilot in the LAFD follows a specific and highly competitive path:

Most candidates begin with military flight experience or are already civilian-rated pilots (e.g., with commercial or instructor licenses).

However, even military pilots must first complete four years of full-time suppression duty within LAFD before becoming eligible for Air Ops roles—there are no direct-entry exceptions.

That said, their military flight hours and FAA qualifications do count toward pilot certification requirements, making them strong candidates once they transition.

They are hired into pilot trainee roles (Fire Helicopter Pilot I or II) and must pass rigorous evaluations.

Air Operations is a separate track—pilots do not typically come from suppression (ground firefighting) units.

As a result, most LAFD pilots have never served on engines or trucks.

Pilots usually work 12-hour shifts (day or night), typically on a 4-on, 4-off schedule, and remain on-call at the airport rather than responding on the ground.

🧩 Real-World LAFD Air Operations Structure

LAFD helicopter pilots are classified under the following civil service ranks:

Fire Helicopter Pilot I or II - Pilot Trainee Roles

Fire Helicopter Pilot III – Entry-level pilot

Fire Helicopter Pilot IV – Senior operational pilot

Fire Helicopter Pilot V – Training/lead pilot (sometimes informally called “chief pilot”)

These ranks are lateral to suppression-side ranks like Firefighter, Engineer, or Captain. While pilots typically don’t carry the "Captain" title unless cross-trained—but senior pilots often operate with comparable authority within their unit.

🧭 Why Tommy’s Path Is Unusual

Tommy’s trajectory breaks the mold in several important ways:

He began his LAFD career in suppression, working as a firefighter at the 118.

Only later did he transition to Air Ops, requalifying based on his Army flight experience.

This kind of cross-track shift is rare—most suppression-side firefighters never move into aviation roles, especially after years on the ground.

🔄 Update (Post-Publication): As clarified by a kind commenter, all LAFD helicopter pilots must begin in suppression roles. So Tommy’s path actually aligns with departmental requirements.

What still makes him stand out, though, is how long he remained in suppression—over a decade—before switching tracks. That kind of deep dual experience is rare.

He’s probably one of the few who might have earned credibility in both areas: the fireground and the flight deck.

This dual-track background probably makes him a unique versatile asset with extensive experience to the department.

🧵 What That Tells Us About Tommy

Tommy’s military aviation experience likely included high-risk flying, tactical decision-making, and possibly training roles—skills that directly translate to LAFD Air Ops.

He entered the LAFD through standard firefighter routes—like all Air Ops pilots must—but instead of transitioning to aviation early, he stayed in suppression for over a decade before requalifying as a pilot. (But why?! 💭🤔)

That makes his path both rare and earned.

His ability to take out helicopters independently, despite the fallout, signals a level of seniority and operational trust only afforded to top-tier personnel.

His offer to teach suggests a CFI (Certified Flight Instructor) license or LAFD-equivalent designation, reinforcing that he may also serve in a training or mentoring role.

Tommy might still be dual-certified (implied by full turnout gear after the Angeles Crest response. (Or the show forgot he’s a pilot?!)🫨🤐)

His evasive flying during the diversion mission —dodging military helicopters —points to tactical or combat-style flight training. Possibly special ops. (So sexy.😘)

He’s senior enough and holds enough field authority or just bold enough to fake it to casually override protocol with a “You didn’t get the call?” deflection.

🧠💥 Conclusion: Most Likely Rank 🎖️

Tommy Kinard is almost certainly a Fire Helicopter Pilot V, or at the very least, a senior Pilot IV on the cusp of promotion. He’s not formally titled “Chief Pilot,” but functionally operates as one—with over two decades in LAFD, firsthand suppression experience, and the kind of authority and autonomy that reflects a deeply trusted position and seniority to push limits.

He may not wear Captain’s bars, but between his dual-track career, leadership instincts, and ability to push protocol when it counts, he clearly stands shoulder-to-shoulder with the station’s most senior personnel. 💬 If I missed something or misread a clue, feel free to correct me (kindly)—or share your own version. Always open to digging deeper. After all… the writers clearly aren't worried about consistency. 😌

📎PS: 🤷‍♂️ All of this is, of course, pure speculation—built off canon clues/crumbs, real-world LAFD structure, and my completely healthy, not-at-all obsessive need to spiral over every background detail the show refuses to explain. I know 9-1-1 isn’t always that deep (and sometimes barely tries). Don’t worry, I’m seeking a therapist. 🙃👩‍⚕️ learning to chill.😎🪭

if you read till the end 🫡 & don't ask why we needed to know all this!

✨ Update: Added more canon evidence from 8x15 and 7x03 that reinforce Tommy’s seniority + elite training 👀🚁 (That somehow got lost in my Excel-to-Tumblr exchange. Damn. I need to stop. I’m putting myself in a time-out. Bye.) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- PS 2: Okay, so I did mess that up🤣—turns out all LAFD pilots need to start in suppression for 4 years, and someone kindly pointed that out (thank you!! 🙏). Just to clarify, this post isn’t absolute fact—I don’t have a firefighting background, just sharing what I could find. Also, I am not from USA. please take all of this with a grain of salt. this is just a fun exercise. I've now learned even more about fire department structures than I ever planned to.

Seriously guys, stop enabling me 😭 I should be updating my resume, not drafting municipal org charts for fictional men.

[frombookstoretobookstore]

Call Sign: Half Caff : Part One

(Alright I’m new to writing please don’t judge me. I HAD to start writing because of The Pitt. Mild spoilers if you haven’t finished the show)

TW: reader is attacked at the end. I had to make it dramatic sorry.

Part Two : Masterlist

She’s putting almost all of her focus into refilling her coffee mug, she hardly notices him entering the small cafe. It isn’t until he plops his travel mug onto the counter before her that she looks up from staring at the precious coffee falling into her mug. She raises an eyebrow at him as she sets her mug down and holds her hand out for his.

“Evening Half Caff.” He smirks, using his call sign for her. Her short stature and reliance on caffeine had only caused him to double down on the nickname. When she had first protested it.

She only grunts as she fills his mug from the coffee pot sitting on the edge of the counter. She hands it off to him as she grabs a tray of various baked goods sitting on top of the espresso machine and he follows her as she moves to set them up at the folding table that’s dragged out for these meetings.

Every Thursday night the local coffee shop closes its doors to customers and opens it for the local Veteran’s Affair office. One a week, veterans of all ages and branches gather. Part of the night is devoted to mingling, friends old and new talking about their week. The second part of the night has a darker hue. Chairs are dragged to the middle of the shop and set up in a circle. It reminds y/n of an alcoholics anonymous meeting: everyone sharing the tragedies they’ve witnessed, the fellow comrades they’ve lost both overseas and at home, and the struggle of integrating back into civilian life after having been in some of the toughest conditions the world has to offer.

It’s how her and Jack met. Not that she’d ever seen combat or boot camp. Not in terms of military service at least. After struggling with her mental health, her therapist had recommended volunteer work, something routine and low stakes that wasn’t another job. She’d offered to donate her time to her local coffee shop, setting up and taking down for group activities twice a week. A book club on Tuesdays, and the veteran meetings on Thursdays. She’d often help set up and take down for special events the café held; like when the middle school’s theater club had asked to borrow the space for brainstorming set design.

Jack’s eyebrows furrow as he looks at her, noting her usual cheery appearance gone and replaced with sharp sarcasm and deflection.

“Not enough caffeine?” He asks her, noting her usual grace being replaced with something that resembles stomping.

“You’ve got another one tonight. Blue sweatshirt on your six.” She nods over to where a newcomer has caught one of the older vets in conversation.

“Oh no. That’ll be the third one this month.” Jack groans as he notices the cocky behavior of the kid who must only be twenty. His army buzz haircut still fresh. He leans against the wall next to the table. Trying to hide his smirk behind his cup as she continues to grumble while setting out more muffins and scones next to the containers of coffee.

They referred to these kind of people as “OMBs” or ‘one-month babies’. These individuals got the wrong idea of war from obsessing over army video games as young kids and teenagers. Often coming from heavy right leaning families, these individuals joined the numerous branches of armed service not to serve their country, but to fuel their ego. These meetings had been hosts to numerous individuals who were more upset that they hadn’t had the chance to shoot someone, than they were over the small stipend they received once back on US soil.

“How bad?” Jack said, turning to her as she braces her hands on the table. She winces and sighs.

“Three weeks on a German base as custodial. I think boot camp has been the hardest thing he’s been through.” She turns and crosses her arms, glaring at the back of the kid.

“So, nothing compared to the rest of these guys.” He smiles and raises his coffee mug as a familiar army buddy of his passes to grab a seat.

“Oh, my fucking god.” She hisses though gritted teeth. Jack winces as he watches the kid toss a muffin wrapper on the floor as he continues talking, the two vets he’s dragged into conversation raise their eyebrows and share a look.

“Damn, if I didn’t work, I’d take you to dinner tonight to make up for his bullshit.” She laughs at his joke. They’ve made this joke for months; often joking about getting dinner after the meetings despite Jack working the nightshift at the hospital just down the road. Y/n gives him a once over, secretly enjoying the way Jack’s black scrubs look, his white badge a stark contrast to the rest of his outfit.

“Hit him with the one two guilt trip.” She all but sneers, causing Jack to laugh into his mug. He holds it out and she refills it.

“That bad huh?” He turns to her with a smile, she smirks up at him.

“He called me ‘coffee girl’. If you don’t take it off, I’m ripping it off and throwing it at him after a fat knuckle sandwich.”

“Alright easy Half Caff, go read your book behind the register and I’ll see what I can do.” He bumps her with his shoulder as he shoots her a smile and makes his way to gather with everyone else in the middle of the dining area.

The meeting starts as they usually do. Jeremy, a navy veteran who did two tours, opens the conversation with his usual story. How he lost three of his friends overseas to violence, and one here in the states as they succumbed to their PTSD and trauma.

Jack shoots a look over to y/n behind the register as the new kid, Ben, immediately starts a rant about how more violence is needed. Jack starts to see red as Ben goes on about using violence to thwart foreign governments and the need for additional troops to bring down resistance to US soldiers. 

Jack leans forward in his chair, rubbing at his calf. He interrupts Ben, “What’s the worst thing you saw while over there in Germany?” He doesn’t look up to see Ben’s reaction as he rolls his pant leg up slowly.

When he’s met with silence he looks up and finds the new kid staring at his leg as Jack slowly removes his prosthetic. He massages the spot where his mid-calf and the prosthetic rub, an irritant he knows will never go away. The new kid only opens and closes his mouth like a fish.

“That bad huh?” Jeremy says, covering a small laugh with a cough as he catches on to what Jack is doing. Ben clears his throat and looks away as Jack replaces the prosthetic, offering the kid a small smile. Another vet launches into a story on his struggles reintegrating into civilian life, having only been back from Iraq for two weeks. 

Jack glances back to the register where y/n offers a small smirk and mouths ‘thank you’ to him, he nods. He’s thankful for her, not many civilians understand the struggles of coming back, of facing the music. She’s dealt with OMBs almost as much as he has, something he struggles to accept. He often brings these individuals up to his therapist. How can someone who got so lucky in their overseas assignment get so angry they didn’t see the true horrors of war?

The meeting wraps up and he stands to stretch his back. He makes his way back to y/n for one last top off on his coffee mug. She fills his mug over the register and smiles.

“Be safe Lance Corporal.” She says with a smirk, he smiles. She often throws out whatever army rank she can remember when referring to him. Something he’s sure is payback for her Half Caff nickname. Something he considers her callsign.

“Always am Half Caff. See you next Thursday.” He secures the lid on his travel mug and raises it in thanks. He leaves the café and turns right, making his way towards the hospital to relieve the day shift workers.

She chuckles and shakes her head as he leaves. She begins to busy herself with clean up, gladly accepting help from Jeremy as she and the café owner, GiGi, start to put everything back into its rightful place.

Sometime later, the café is back to normal, chairs and tables back to their places, dishes washed, and coffee mugs stacked neatly and ready for the following morning rush.

“Can you grab the trash? I’ll take out the recycling in a bit before I lock up.” GiGi says, sweeping her hair out of her face as she jots down notes for the morning crew.

“On it!” Y/n calls as she grabs one of the bags and swings the other over her shoulder, backing into the back room to toss the garbage out into the dumpsters of the back alley. 

She’s too busy making a to-do list in her head to see it coming. She tosses one bag into the open dumpster from the top of the small staircase and is about to throw the other when she’s grabbed from behind and wrenched into the guardrails.

She groans as she’s thrown down the rest of the stairs, a well-aimed punch lands on her jaw, and she sees white as the pain burns through her body. She’s so out of it she barely feels the two kicks bash her ribs in, her breath becoming ragged.

She gasps on the ground, gravel digging into her side and cutting her face. Her vision swims as she sees the quickly receding footsteps as whoever attacked her runs off. She wheezes, her mouth gaping as she tries to call for help.

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

Idk, y'all want part two?

[cmaidaartworkblog]

This video showcases my Blender model of the planet that the Scud aliens call home, the fourth and final world I've mapped out for @jayrockin's "Runaway to the Stars" project. A *lot* of maps were created in service of this final render, and also in service of presenting the special qualities of this planet. I intend to show you as many of these as I can under the cut, and also in subsequent posts focusing on some of the more interstitial, ancillary maps and figures that played a part in producing the primary maps you'll see in this main post.

Before I show the first maps I made for this project, what you see below are the satellite-style maps for the Equinoxes and Solstices, in order of (Northern) Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter, the latter serving as the texture for the Blender object you saw in the video.

__________

With that matter covered, our next focus is this project's foundation: Geology. While I didn't spin as elaborate a tectonic history for this planet as I did for the Ayrum commission, I did work out as much detail as I could for the more recent geological activity, to set the stage for the elevation data - including a narrower focus on the coastal shallows that host the Scud populations.

__________

Once I could move on to climate, my first step was finding this planet's relative Insolation, which I managed thanks to @reversedumbrella's code and coaching. With an obliquity of only 16 degrees, this planet's yearly maximum Insolation levels stick close to the equator, compared to pole-to-pole oscillation we see on Earth

__________

Having a rough sense of where heat would concentrate seasonally and how the landmasses would deflect water in light of the planet's retrograde spin, I was able to set down the bi-annual ocean currents (Northern Summer above and Northern Winter below), then the monthly water temperatures pushed around by said currents, and finally -after factoring in many other considerations- the monthly land temperatures as well (combined in the second gif)

__________

Next came the seasonal air pressure maps and subsequent wind patterns (my first time creating those from scratch), which later factored into the precipitation maps. The incredible temperatures at the largest continent's interior make a desert of most of it, and the other interiors are fairly dry too, but all that heat on the equatorial ocean generates a *lot* of evaporation which ends up coming down elsewhere.

__________

With temperatures and precipitation mapped out for each month, I was able to find how the accumulation and melt of ice and snow played out, too. Given such a hot equator it's surprising to see freezing temperatures hold out in some places, but low obliquity and high elevation shield what areas they can, it seems.

__________

All this monthly data was then painstakingly combined and compared and plugged into equations to produce maps of discrete climate zones, using both the Köppen (left) and Trewartha (right) classification systems. The higher latitudes see some overlap with Earth's conditions, but the Tropics...

__________

I never really finished the map I wanted to make with my own loosely customized classification system, but I *did* get as far as this breakdown of the areas that sometimes surpass 56.7 degrees Celsius, Earth's record for highest surface temperature ever directly measured. And as you can see, that earthly record is broken by a *significant* fraction of this planet's surface, and far exceeded by the equatorial continent's deep interior

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The final phase of this project dealt with creating satellite maps of this planet's surface (which you saw at the top of this post), which started with a map of dry and submerged substrate, then a density map of the vegetation that sits atop it, then the colors of that vegetation under annual average conditions (demonstrating how they would appear in-person, rather than the area's appearance from orbit), and finally plant colors under seasonal conditions (same conceit as previous). In concert with the seasonal ice and snow maps, it was the four maps in the last sequence which were overlaid on the Substrate map, using the plant density map as raster masks, to produce the final Satellite-Style maps.

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This planet's sophonts being a marine species, it was then worth focusing on the conditions underwater, which included monthly seafloor temperatures (first gif), annual discharge of sediment from rivers (magenta in the 2nd gif), and seasonal upwelling of nutrients from deeper water (blue in the 2nd gif).

The creation of all my maps seen in this post was possible thanks to Photopea, which has been my go-to for several years now. The resolution kinda got crunched when I uploaded these here, so when I share them on Reddit later I'll add those links under this. These have also already been posted on Twitter, which you can see here if you like. Thanks for scrolling all the way down here!

[theplotmage]

Writing a Manipulative Character

- A manipulative character is a master of influence, skilled at bending others to their will without them even realizing it. Show their ability to read people, understanding their desires, fears, and weaknesses, and then use this knowledge to subtly guide their actions and decisions.

- These characters often present a facade of charm and trustworthiness. Highlight their charismatic nature and how they can easily win people over, making others believe that they have their best interests at heart, while secretly pulling the strings.

- A manipulative character is adept at creating and controlling narratives. Demonstrate their talent for spinning stories, spreading misinformation, and planting seeds of doubt to achieve their objectives. They always have a backup plan and can think several steps ahead.

- They thrive on secrecy and deception. Illustrate how they carefully conceal their true intentions and motives, keeping their schemes hidden while appearing innocent or even benevolent. They might use half-truths and strategic omissions to maintain control.

- Show their capacity for patience and strategic thinking. A manipulative character knows that some plans take time to come to fruition. They are willing to wait, gradually nudging events and people in their desired direction until they achieve their goal.

- Highlight their emotional intelligence. These characters can read a room, detect subtle shifts in mood, and adjust their approach accordingly. They know exactly when to apply pressure, offer comfort, or feign vulnerability to manipulate others.

- They often exploit relationships and social dynamics. Depict how they use friendships, family ties, and professional connections to their advantage, playing people against each other or leveraging loyalty and trust to further their own ends.

- A manipulative character is skilled at deflecting blame and responsibility. Show how they can twist situations to make others seem at fault, creating scapegoats or diverting attention from their own actions. They are experts at maintaining a clean image while orchestrating chaos behind the scenes.

- They use flattery and validation as tools. Illustrate their ability to make others feel special, understood, and valued, all the while steering them towards choices that serve the manipulator's agenda.

- Lastly, demonstrate the manipulative character's adaptability. They can quickly change tactics if their initial approach fails, always finding new ways to influence and control those around them. They are chameleons, constantly adjusting their persona to fit the needs of the moment.