#the rendering on the skull is so crazy

[archivedzeke]

fucking könig so hard he cant even talk english (i have big brain rot rn im sorry)

that’s hot. nothing’s better than fucking this killing machine dumb is too sexy to fathom.

you’d have him in a mating press, his muscular legs dangling in the air as you drive your thick cock in and out of his sopping hole—the sweat from working him over dripping from your chin

he was at least three orgasms in now and so we’re you, his insides have been pumped full of your cum and he was on the brink of tapping out himself—he’d like to think he had pretty good stamina, but when you’re drilling into him like he’s some two dollar whore, that thought is rendered untrue.

every bit of resolve he was clinging onto breaking instantly. you’re watching it all, you watch in utter fulfillment as his cock twitches once more and a whimper leaves his throat—eyes rolling into the back of his skull as his cum paints his messy abdomen once more and he begins to babble.

“look at that baby. you’re all dumbed out aren’t you king?” — he lets out the most delicious whimper, before answering in a warbled tone. “i-ich werde verrückt!” (i’m going crazy)

“please! please! züchte mich ♡!”, (breed me) his hole clenches around you, pulsing rhythmically around your heavy dick. he wanted your babies. “fuck! you look so pretty love. that’s it! talk to me like a good boy.”

his voice is reduced higher in pitch, and every word he speaks is covered in his heavy german accent.

“füll mich bitte voll! ich will meh!!” (fill me up please! i want more!)

now that really turns you on. when he starts speaking his native tongue, that’s when you know his brain has become nothing but love mush. konig throws out random pleases in german, want and just heavy in his eyes.

“want me to cum in you again pretty boy? fill your sloppy pussy with my kids hm?”

he nods his head and spews out what he can. “y-yess! please please! k-küss mich!”, he manages to get out while drool leaks down his chin. and you comply, laughing into the kiss as he tries his hardest to reciprocate the feeling. (kiss me)

[kozachenko]

[Click image for better quality]

I FIGURED OUT A WAY TO FUCKING MAKE THE IMAGE SMALLER FOR POSTING ON TUMBLR WITHOUT SACRIFICING THE ACTUAL QUALITY OF THE IMAGE OH MY GOD

Ok so, what I did is go into the clip studio paint file, make a new file, copy and paste the group in the original file, merge everything, get rid of the extra stuff outside of the canvas, and then make the flattened image smaller and crop the canvas. Once you have that, export it and you're done. This helps maintain the actual quality of the image and also helps shrink the file size down to something actually postable (if anyone has a better way of doing this please tell me)

[Edit]: Ok I guess posting something to Tumblr just naturally compresses the image a bit more somehow because I'm looking at it now and zooming in too much makes it a bit blurry so I'm still gonna have to futz around with image quality for future pieces oof

Artist's Note:

I'm so glad I figured out a way to do this because I like working on a big canvas so I can get as much detail in as I possibly can. Only problems are how laggy it gets while drawing lol.

I had an idea for a drawing with Reimu and Zanmu because I really like thinking about their potential dynamic a lot. I also wanted an excuse to draw Zanmu again but in my normal rendering style because last time I drew her she was in my more sketchy style with generally flat colours so I wanted to draw her again. Speaking of, looking at the sketch for this is a jumpscare that I never enjoy seeing, like, man am I glad I didn't use those for my final piece.

Also about her spear. I was originally gonna make it like the ones she had in game, but it kinda threw off the whole piece. It was too big, too blue, and too flat, so I just went "fuck it" and gave her a different one instead. My headcanon justifying this is that the ones she uses in game are for danmaku battles whereas in any other fight she just uses a proper yari, or she still uses the yari and just makes it all glowy to power it up, maybe both lol. I pulled as much inspiration as I could from Sengoku era spears, and even put in some blue into the decorative part of the spear and also added a little skull to pay tribute to the original spear. Also, in my research I saw some art of izanami and izanagi making japan and saw that the yari izanagi has had a little decorative tassley thingy on it so I took some inspo from that and just made it one of Zanmu's tassles (Idk when that art was from or if the spear was still accurate to Sengoku period Japan but hey, probably the same reasons Eirin puts little bow ties on her arrows, it's just for personalization purposes).

I love rendering hair and clothes so much omg, while I like the super curly hair Zanmu, the longer, wavier hair suits her better for this drawing (I imagine it only does that like how Ghibli characters hair moves when they feel angry lol). I love making Zanmu's hair all messy and crazy, as well as giving her grey hairs, this woman has aged like a fine wine. Also, if the hem on the ends of her sleeves, top of her shirt, and her pants look like gold to you, that's because it is! It's fairly light so she's not collapsing under the weight, but it's gold! (I don't care how impractical it is, it's just cool). Not the undershirt though, it's made of a gold fabric. I had a cute idea with Reimu's hair to make it have a red shine to it. I also changed up Reimu's outfit so it isn't just a blob of red. I like it a lot when Reimu's skirt and outfit is segmented into different layers, so I wanted to incorporate that.

I tried to draw their hands differently as well, but IDK how noticeable that is. Also, I am super happy with how the side profiles for the two of them turned out, I used to struggle a lot with how to make the side profile of a character actually look like the character, so I'm really happy that they actually look like themselves.

Also added in the tree and rocks in the background as an homage to Zanmu's character art in Touhou 19, just because I was getting kinda stumped on what to do with the background lol.

In terms of a story idea with Reimu and Zanmu, idk why but the potential plotline of Zanmu wanting to ascend to godhood is so fascinating to me. Like, it is very possible that if she just convinced everyone she was a god (which would be very easy for her to do), she would become one in a heartbeat. Also, if she were to become a god, with her ability to return stuff to nothing, could she hypothetically get similar abilities to (Jojo Part 5 spoiler btw) GER? Like, idk about the death timeloop stuff, but the concept has been haunting me every night as I have been trying to find loopholes in GER's ability for a while now ( for no reason in particular). Back to the main topic, I imagine that she would probably tell Reimu that if she were to become a god she would take over the Hakurei shrine since the god there might as well be dead, and Reimu just says to her, "Over my dead body bitch." Like, I have no idea how to summarize their dynamic but like, it's the type of hero-villain dynamic where the phrase "We're not so different, you and I" would definitely be a phrase said during a fight. I think that if another IN style game were to release, Reimu and Zanmu would be in a team together. They could also have an interesting mentor and pupil kind of dynamic. Can you tell that Zanmu has been charging my mind rent these part few months? Like, instead of living in my head rent free, she kinda just uno reversed the whole situation and now she's the one charging me rent. What happens if I get evicted from my own brain? Actually, scratch that, I don't think I wanna know.

[endless-ineffabilities]

your heart's serrated edges are much like mine own (18+)

dark!Aemond Targaryen x dark!fem!reader

synopsis: Prince Aemond Targaryen and his Lady wife may just be the biggest assets of the Greens. Two ruthless, determined and cunning lovers, who are crazy about each other and will stop at nothing to get what they want.

themes/warnings: violence, language, torture, f*cking, choking, it's a slightly dark romance so be warned! - strictly 18+!!!!

recommended listening: angel - massive attack // mad - echos // bottom of the deep blue sea - MISSIO // daydream in blue - I Monster

word count: 2k ▪︎ masterlist

a/n: this delicious little thing had been sitting in my drafts for far too long, so I just had the sudden urge to feed into my Aemond fantasies and finish it! Enjoy.

Aemond twists the knife in further, deeper, causing the spy's eyes to roll back in his skull.

This imbecile, this apparent whisperer, had been caught attempting to lace Queen Alicent's wine with poison. Luckily, you had been there to catch him in the act. You were quick to incapacitate the man with a blow to the head, rendering him unconscious. You never had much patience for the White Worm's lackeys, and this distaste heightened significantly after the atrocities committed by Blood and Cheese.

Aemond found you, sitting prettily in your chambers, a picture of perfect calm. As if you did not have a man gagged and unconscious by the hearth.

"What is this, my darling?" He crooned. "Having a bit of fun?"

"You will find that this is justified, my love. And you will want to take this cunt's head off yourself."

"Is that so?" He questioned, amused at his Lady wife's brazenness.

"Mhmm," you purred, pulling him closer by the lapels of his leather tunic, "I missed you today."

"Council business," His eyes rake over your figure - the only prize that makes everything worth it. "I missed you as well, as always. Come here." He jutted his chin out to you once, beckoning.

His hands wound tightly around your hips, as he kissed you. His tongue found yours, melding against each other. The kiss grew rough, teeth nearly grinding against teeth. He pushed you back onto the table, making you hold onto it with palms outstretched, as he assaulted your neck with peppered bites.

The moment was divine, up until the man regained consciousness, squealing like a wild boar upon taking in his surroundings.

"Fuck's sake," Aemond cursed at the intrusion, still keeping hands on you.

"Well, my love?" You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and dragged a finger along his sharp cheekbone, your query hanging in the air. Will you feed into your darkness with me?

"Hmm," he smirked slightly, lips pursed, "shall we amuse ourselves then, ñuha ābrar?"

My life. It tugged at your very soul when he called you that.

"Let us go play, dear husband."

Which brings us here in this damp cell, poorly lit by a few torches, with Aemond's precious knife buried deep in the thigh of the man who calls himself Bane.

Bane's skin has become so pallid and colourless. Having lost a significant amount of blood, it is only a matter of time before he fully loses consciousness. Or he might die. What difference does it make? Another used-up pawn in this fucked up war.

"Tell us what you know," Aemond growls, his voice dripping with malice, as he crouches in front of the snivelling man, "and we might just let you live." A mere embellishment, you know that Aemond would never let him live either way.

You stand behind Aemond, your left hand stained with Bane's blood. You are responsible for the first incision done on his skin, and that had been many moments ago.

Now, the man is but a husk of what he used to be, but much to your annoyance, he remains defiant, haughtily turning his cheek to you and Aemond when bombarded with questions.

Evidently, he knows more than what he is letting on. He could reveal the identities of the rest of White Worm's spies, the whole lot of them having infiltrated the castle under the guise of regular employment.

You did not know who to trust. Not truly. Except for your husband, and him alone.

"Fuck you." The man spits, blood spilling from his lips. "Fuck all of you. The Blacks are coming for all of you. All of your women and your children. Especially that traitorous cunt of a false King." He should have stopped there, but he makes a grevious error and continues, glaring right at you, "Even you, whore. You think your prince can save you? No. No. You're going to-"

Aemond's fist clashes once again with the remnants of Bane's teeth. Blood splatters on his beautiful, taut face.

The one-eyed prince, your one-eyed prince, with crimson smeared across his enraged face, and his sapphire eye exposed, would be able to strike fear in anyone's heart.

But not yours. The sight of him, unhinged, exhilirates you.

He growls, "You will never speak to my lady again. You will never even so much as glance at her, because I will gouge your eyes out. Then, I will rip you apart, and send the pieces of your mangled corpse to those Blacks whom you are so blindly loyal to."

"It seems that we have no further use for this worm, my love." You crouch beside him, gazing at him in admiration and reaching forward to push a stray strand of silver hair away from his face.

Bane freezes, realizing that he may just be speaking his final words, "I have heard talk about the pair of you... how... how absolutely fucking besotted you are with one another. And now I see why. You both are insane!"

"Oh?" You smile "If loving my Aemond renders me insane then so be it, little worm."

"Hmm," Aemond stands and pulls you with him. He then wastes no time in capturing your lips, snaking his tongue inside, wanting more. Always more of you.

You moan against him, feeling pumped with adrenaline. Reaching down to his breeches, you quickly find out that your dear husband has grown quite hard.

He bites your lip when you squeeze his length, making you groan against his mouth.

"My beautiful, beautiful, wife." He pulls back to look at you, his sapphire eye glinting in the firelight.

"Let me go!!" Bane screams again, unable to stomach what he sees, "Fucking let me go, you cunts!"

Bane continues squirming, his wrists twisting against his metal shackles. Right outside, Ser Criston Cole stands guard, although the need has never arisen before. Aemond and Lady Y/n always knew how to handle themselves. They were skilled in keeping their prey subdued.

Not many knew of the true extent of yours and Aemond's shared madness. The methods you both employ could rival that of Maegor the Cruel.

But the Blacks have forced your hand. At every turn, they have picked and plucked off important people in your lives. Without any shred of clemency.

Sure, it is a war. And it is only fair that you and Aemond would seek to retaliate.

Only you and Aemond could do things so methodical, and so wicked. Aegon does not have the stomach to do all that is necessary, even with him being King.

"Let me go, and I won't tell anyone what happened here." Bane grows desperate. "I... I swear on the Seven!"

Aemond makes a clicking sound of disapproval with his tongue, as if scolding a child. "But as it stands, Bane, we have no reason to trust you."

When Aemond carves Bane's eyes out, he screams his throat bloody, the grating sound echoing mercilessly in the darkness of night.

Until all is quiet, save for the sound of hungry lips devouring each other. Until the final blade has been pushed into Bane's heart, and you and Aemond - two lovers soaked in blood - practically attempt to carve a piece out of each other, with groping hands, biting kisses, his manhood pressed against your covered core.

Tempting, torturing, trembling.

"I need you," he whispers. "I need you now. And forever."

"Then have me."

You blindly find your way through your chambers, only focused on each other. Hurriedly taking off every piece of clothing, every damned hindrance, until skin only meets skin.

Finally, you are both uncovered. You take a few steps back until your ass meets the cold surface of the wooden desk, upon which you sit on the edge haphazardly.

Leaning back, and spreading your legs, every inch of you is bared for Aemond. The lips of your cunt drip with liquid pleasure, aching for only what he can give you.

"Mm." A hundred years could pass of just this, a thousand, forever, and Aemond would never tire of the sight in front of him. His lady, his love, offering herself up to him for the taking.

He takes his time in walking towards you, savouring the sight, as you do him. Your eyes are near pitch-black with desire as you drink him in, the sharp planes of his figure, his endless silver hair, his sapphire eye.

And his long, girthy cock glistening translucent-white at the end. You bite your lip, and whine, "Hurry now, Aemond."

He laughs deeply as he finally reaches you. He licks a stripe on your chest and your collarbones, cleaning off dried streaks of blood. When he kisses you, his tongue tastes of rust. Of the man whose life you just ended.

"Your skin tastes divine," he purrs, as his cock grazes the edges of your folds. He grips your back with one hand, urging you closer, steadying you, and his nails dig into your flesh in their intensity.

"Do not torture me, husband." You plea, for fear that you might explode, and you just might push him down to the floor and ride him until dawn.

He laughs again, almost tauntingly, "Why, dear wife, what is it that you want?" He whispers close to your ear, "Do you wish for me to fuck you? Do you want my cock inside you, my lady?"

You grip his hips and urge him forward until his cock breaches your entrance, only just.

"What the fuck do you think I want?" you growl at your husband. "Fuck me."

"As my lady commands." And with that, and no other word of warning, he enters you to the hilt, the sting of his size only a slight tinge compared to the maddening pleasure.

"Is this what you want?" His voice is deeper now, thick with need. He leans over you as you prop yourself up on your elbows, his pelvis moving relentlessly. His thrusts quickly grew sloppy and unhinged. His palms brace themselves on your back, as he lowers and takes a nipple between his teeth.

"Agh!" You squeal, and he sucks your breast soothingly. "Don't stop."

He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in. He slows the assault of his length inside your increasingly sore pussy. But the thrusts remain deep, his balls slapping wet against your ass each time.

"Can I... shall I...?" He pants, knowing you will understand.

You stare at your lover. Your dark, breathtaking other half. You respond, without a doubt, excitement taking a hold of you. "Yes. Do it, my love."

He seems a tad apprehensive, but equally wanting, so you guide his hand to your neck, gingerly splaying his fingers on your skin.

"Do it," you repeat.

"I love you," he swears, his fingers beginning to tighten, his cock burying deep inside your dripping cunt again and again. "I love you forever."

You feel the familiar pressure on your windpipe. Bearable, with only the mildest hint of discomfort. Aemond would never dare hurt you badly. This serves to spur you on even more, and you grip his forearm.

You tighten your legs around his torso, and use your heels to help propel him forward. Deeper, if that were even possible.

"Harder," you say. "Fuck me, Aemond."

He moans, his lips pulling back from his teeth, eyes glazed over as he looks down upon his love. His hand clenches your neck even tighter, and you welcome it, feeling lightheaded.

"I love you," you gasp with utmost sincerity.

Two deranged lovers, glistening with sweat and cum. Deep maroon patches of dried blood from an hour before, melting on their skin. Writhing, squirming, whimpering against each other as moonlight filters through the sheer forest green curtains.

With strangled cries, they spasm into each other near simultaneously. Prince Aemond Targaryen collapses on top of his wife in bliss. He looks up at her and finds her in the same state.

He rights himself, reaching to the faint impressions of his fingers on her neck. "Are you alright, my love?"

"Am I alright?" She grins, then plants a soft kiss on his lips. "Shall we go again?"

[destructive-path]

Once More Into The Breach - E.W.

summary- you take a risk and put your life in hands that always seem to find their way around your neck.

pairing- raider!ellie x runaway!reader

tags- raider!ellie, runaway!reader,blood,swearing, mentions of non con (nothing crazy), ellie is sick in the head tbh, reader injury, choking,,,,

a/n- I just KNOW Ellie stays strapped w that big ass backback on 24/7! its the only thing she probably consistently wash too tf! anyway….i need Ellie bad in this. this will be a 3 part series! Im a SLOW (bear w me) writer but I will be updating as i go :) but yea no smut in this but there will be in future chapters!

A cacophony of natures most unruly attributes fill your senses. Breaths last life clinging onto nothing but the small bursts of air that invade your lungs with each stomp of your feet on the forest mud. You are running for your life.

The defensive nature of your stature discarded miles ago, you welcome the obstacles that stand in your way. No longer concerned with the “safe” way of maneuvering. You can feel it all as you sprint through the forest. The leaves that smack your skin, doused in rain furthering the sting you feel upon impact. The rain. The heavy, pouring rain muddying your shoes and slowing motive by the second. Blood. Its everywhere. In your mouth, pumping through your ears, dripping down your temples and seeping through new scars superimposed over your old ones. Still you keep running.

“I HEAR YOU.”

Her voice is taunting, shouting threats in a way that renders so playful it’s frightening. She enjoys this. You saw it in her eyes, back when her face was lit up by nothing but the torches of her equally evil posse.

***

You knew coming here was a mistake, but you had no where else to go. You had heard there was paradise on the other side of the forest. Paradise in which you sought out so desperately. Rumors and whispers of a safe haven flooded your ears and tipped over the over the overflowing pool of curiosity inside of you.

Curiosity soon morphed into determination which morphed into a plan. A plan to get to the destination that plagued your thoughts and dreams to no avail. Upon studying your plot further, you discovered that dangerous territory was to be explored if you wanted to reach paradise. A nasty threshold was to be crossed and it brought fear to the deepest parts of you. You remembered what someone told you once, something along the lines of, ”before the rainbow there was the storm.” And storm it did.

The increasing wetness on your body mixed with undying wind caused you to shiver. To be fair you were already quaking with fear, the weather no help to your cause. You had been pushed to your knees with your hands splayed out in front of you, weapons at the ready in case you decide to flee. A loud masculine voice booms in your ear clashing with the sounds of the storm.

“Keep your hands in front of you, or I swear to god I’ll fucking shoot you right here.”

The thought of losing your pathetic little life makes you wince in fear. Shoulders tighten and lock up so that not even the wind could shake you from your current position. The weight of your backpack helps with this process, making you grateful for any help in this moment. Now the only thing that shivers is your head, thoughts of perishing this way bouncing around your skull keeping you remaining completely still.

“Relax yourself soldier, they’re already on their knees.”

This voice is a new one. A woman. You don’t dare to look, too afraid of the scene in front of you. A group of bloodthirsty eyes all pointed in your direction is a sight that will haunt you forever, if you somehow make it out these woods. The hint of mercy that comes from the mystery woman’s lips makes you feel incipient hope. Surely if a woman could give a command, to no retaliation from a man, then the woman had to be in a place of authority. You thought that maybe she would continue to grace you with more mercy. Maybe she would spare your life.

Refusing to break your unwavering stare at the dirt in front of you, a pair of dirty converse enter your field of vision. They step closer and closer until finally the sight of a blue button up clad body crouches in front of you, interrupting your view of the ground. A body sort of small in stature, one you could only think belonged to the woman that showed you a small kindness. You are far too scared to make eye contact. Any movement coming from you was purely involuntary and completely fear induced. You couldn’t lift your head if you tried, undoubtedly frozen in submission.

A tattooed forearm snaps you back to reality. Connected to a hand that has risen from its resting place on the womans knee, to the under side of your chin. Two finger tips under your jaw raise your head slowly to meet the gaze of the woman in front of you. The look on her face is not at all what you were expecting.

Theres something about her eyes….

No. Her mouth. A quivering grin adorns her lips that oozes sinister. It appears as if she wants to smile wide at the sight of you, but her mouth fights in retaliation to let it show. So she beams elation with her eyes. Somehow they are simultaneously dark and wide. Simply put, crazy eyes pierce into you peeling away at what little courage you had left. Her fingers stroke your jaw lightly before falling to her sides.

“You’re shaking you poor thing.”

Theres not an ounce of sympathy that leaves her lips. Its amusement. You can tell the woman in front of you relishes at the sight of you cowering in fear. You dig deep to find whatever sliver of bravery you had left to speak up.

“S-soldier? What kind of army kills innocent people in the middle of the woods?”

You whisper shakily, cold and afraid that that even speaking would seal your fate. Finally a small, but prominent grin forms at the corner of her lips.

“Mmm” She nods. “You’re right. He’s not a soldier, we aren’t an army, and i’m not going to kill you.”

You look at her with curiosity painted on your face. She inches close enough to whisper in your ear, staring out into the forest behind you.

“First, Im going to play with you. If you win, you get to keep your life. If not, then I’ll kill you.”

Any semblance of hope had been officially snuffed out. You cant help but begin to cry. The woman’s face retracts slightly and looks at you feigning pity.

“Shh sh sh shhhh. Don’t cry? You don’t even know the rules of the game yet.”

It’s no use, whatever twisted plot she had in mind would be the death of you. You had lost all strength and the reason to keep fighting was nowhere in sight. You sob a little harder.

“I cant tell you the rules if you don’t quit the god damn crying.”

Your hands clench together collecting a fist full of mud. The pretend sympathy tone discarded for a moment, her commands are stern, threatening. The feeling of the earth in your palms and seeping through your fingers ground you slightly, however you shake harder due to her proximity and harsh demands. After a few measured breaths you find it in you to calm down enough for your sobs to dwindle into an occasional sniffle. Your neck strains fighting off the need to scream.

“Good.” She smooths her hands over her worn, torn, and faded blue jeans. A half grunt half sigh leaves her lips as she uses her knees to reposition to a stand.

“Heres whats going to happen. You’re going to run as fast as you can into these woods, and i’m going to try and catch you. Ill give you a head start obviously, because i’m not totally unfair. But you are literally running for your life so, run fast will you? Let’s make this interesting.”

A light scoff leaves your lips before you can bring yourself to stop it. Everything about this situation seemed totally unfair. She was about to hunt you for sport.

“How do I win?”

Your question comes as a surprise to the woman. Normally any another person would’ve taken off immediately after hearing the rules of her twisted game, seeking out as much time to get away from her before imminent death. A grin forms on her lips as a result of your determination to stay alive.

“You…my poor thing, win if you make it out of these woods. If you hide long enough, I’ll give up and let you go. I will warn you, its never come to that.”

She takes a step closer to you.

“Stand up.”

The pretend sympathetic tone leaves her voice once more at her command. You lean forward in order to unfold your knees from under you using the ground as leverage to stand. The ache of your knees extremely prominent as you straighten your body, you ignore it. It doesn’t matter now. It cant. Any pain that your body suffers was unimportant, you had to endure it all in order to survive.

Once you stand as tall as possible you realize your fists are still full of dirt at the unrelenting grasp you still had there. Your chin is lowered in fear of meeting the woman’s bloodthirsty gaze, afraid the look in her eyes would suck any will to fight out of your system. A few heavy breaths leave you while you do your best to calm yourself and enter the mind of a worthy opponent to her game. However your semi regulated breathing is interrupted once she raises her hand and slithers it around your throat.

Everything in you tenses. At first her touch is light, observant almost. She traces her finger over your pulse like it’s precious to her. A fire she cant wait to put out. Then her fingers strain and engulf your neck with a single hand, she pulls you close. So close that your ear is millimeters away from her lips. A tiny gasp escapes you at the tenderness of it all. You know she wants you dead, so why does she touch you like shes about to make love to you? The thought makes you shiver. Maybe she would, everything was already so fucked it wouldn’t surprise you if she had her way with you before she eventually slit your throat. That was the raider way.

Before you can add anymore weight to that possibility your thoughts were interrupted be the warm tickle of a word leaving the woman’s lips. One word.

“Run.”

Your hips are the first thing to move. A spin of your body sparks the shuffle of your feet that triggers your sprint into the trees behind you. The last thing to move are your arms, in attempt to phase the woman, you toss the dirt grasped in your hand in her face at a speed that renders her blind for a moment. Then you take off as fast as you can in hopes she doesn’t see what direction you run towards. A risky move, but one that works.

You hear the woman scream a pitched “SHIT!” at your diversion. Then it’s followed by a laugh. Her own laughter. It builds in an evil sort of way. Villainously. Amused by your deterrent and impressed by your resourcefulness, the woman shouts a praise that echoes through the forest, voice bouncing off the barks of trees that surround you.

“YOU’RE A TRICKY ONE AREN’T YOU? IM GOING TO ENJOY PLAYING WITH YOU.”

***

You cant remember how long you had been running but you wouldn’t dare stop. Searing pain courses through your body but still, you don’t stop. You haven’t heard many signs that the woman was on your tail so you thought that maybe you could make it out alive. That is until your left arm catches on a low hanging branch, rendering you incapacitated for a moment.

The branch must have snapped due to the storm, due to its broken nature it left behind something similar to a sharp spear/hook. The end of the branch pierces your arm in away that halts your running. Its hooks deep in your arm, the speed of your sprinting making you pull the wound open further before fully realizing you had been injured. Your right hand flies to your mouth, eyes grow wide as you fight the urge to scream in agony.

It doesn’t work fully. You muffle your sounds as much as you can but its no use. The pain is too much. You breathe with an extreme intensity, whimpering and grunting at the sight of fresh blood pouring out of you. The branch is still intact with your arm. You need to move. You take on last deep breath before removing your hand from your mouth and begin breathing through a pinhole formed between your lips. The shake of your head increases the closer your free hand gets to your arm. When you finally reach it, you place your hand on your elbow and breathe in deep. You needed to do this fast, if you retracted your arm slowly you would definitely scream.

The grip on your elbow tightens then you push up with your right hand, hard. The pain is similar to a bullet wound. It’s a sharp pain coursing through you. You keel forward at the feeling, biting your bicep to keep from shouting. You hold your arm for a moment before realizing bleeding out would leave a trail. So you take your right hand and reach around into your backpack and grab the last amount of gauze you had left.

Once you retrieve the material you hold it up to your arm and brace yourself for impact. You cant find it in you to suppress your extreme painfully induced shaking. You inhale once more before forming a thin line at your lips and begin to wrap your fresh wound. You whine at the feeling. It’s unlike any physical pain you had ever felt. Unenthusiastic to endure this for much longer, you quickly wrap the rest of your gauze and secure it with a small bow on the underside of your forearm.

Before you can close your backpack and begin running, a twig snaps behind you sending you running. Two measly steps is all that you can muster before you trip on a branch and fall to the ground. Contents of your backpack spill out infront of you. Fuck. fuckfuckfuck. You need to get it together. You cant stop now or you were dead.

“I found you.”

A familiar voice rings in your ears bringing a familiar terror that floods your senses. She found you and she was going to kill you. Her words from earlier haunt your brain. You cant move, frozen in place as she begins to make way towards you.

“My poor thing, are you hurt?”

The crunch of each step she makes rings louder and louder until finally an unmistakable step is placed right next to your ear. Face still close to the ground, you can smell the fresh wet dirt as the woman crouches next to you.

“What all this?” She questions observing the array of your items sprawled out on the forrest floor. As she collects your items you notice a particular one (that is favorite to you) had left the safety of your backpack. In fear that she might take it, this one possession you hold so dear, you speak up as she clutches the item in her grasp.

“Please. Dont take that.” You can barely rasp at a volume she can hear. She takes the item in for a moment holding it delicately in both hands.

“Where did you get this?” She asks, focused on the clearly damaged vinyl. It’s an old, dirty little thing now, but when you first found it the condition was mint.

It reads, ‘The Sick Habit’ in a scratchy font. A picture of the bands silhouettes artfully portrayed in white centers the cover with a faded shade of black decorating its background. Splotchy due to water damage from you keeping it in your backpack. The contrast of her fingers on its surface stands out to you. Fully aware of this precious item in her hands, the mere thought of the music you found so comforting passing onto another made your skin crawl.

The nature of this situation prevents you from answering her question. Now that she had found you , what was the point in engaging in trivial matters. You had no need to reminisce on memories that would soon be lost to nothingness. So you resort to silence.

For a moment the woman doesn’t notice your reluctance to speak. To your surprise she’s completely entranced by the vinyl. She crouches in a way so that one hand supports the record’s weight and the other explores its surface with a delicate touch of her finger tips. You watch as she traces its lettering, then swipes its cover with a slow drag of her palm. It’s nurturing, appreciative of its existence. Your gaze lifts to her face which renders you breathless for a moment. She sports a look entirely different from her usual demeanor. Its humanizing almost, a stark contrast to the evil persona shes put forward. The way her face twitches in excitement as she observes further, makes you become almost certain this a vinyl she had seen before. Maybe even one she listened to and liked herself.

“Strange.” You mutter, still wrapped up in the sight of her. Confused on how it was possible for someone like that to share something in common with you. Before you realize you had spoken aloud, the woman snaps out of her trance at the sound of your voice. Her eyes meet yours and you can tell something has changed. Her brows knit and breath doubles at the sight of you. Pink lips begin to part, formulating a sentence, but before she can speak a voice booms throughout the trees.

“ELLIE?”

A mans voice. An aggressive one. You look around for a moment making sure its source wasn’t near. Your eyes widen and your body begins to adjust, kicking into flight mode. However before you can move more than an inch a sharp slap at your neck causes you to freeze. The woman has a stone cold grip on you there now, vinyl no where to be seen. Now all you can look at is her in the eyes.

“ELLIE WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

Another voice, louder than the last. It vibrates through you making you shake, yet you cant move much due to her hand around your throat. The warmth of her palm on your neck radiates through you. The air had been sucked out of you completely leaving you speechless with nothing but a sad look of plead to use on the woman at your disposal. Her eyes lack the same sense of evil from before. This was something else entirely. Her pupils dash back and forth at both of your eyes reading your unspoken, but clearly communicated begs for mercy. The grip on your neck tightens slightly for a moment as you notice the rising of her freehand. You tense at the action, afraid of what she has in store. Too afraid to look away you watch has her free hand slowly shifts into a fist formation with her pointer finger left extended.

“ELLIE!”

Another shout echoes loud, but this time you remain un phased as you watch the woman bring her pointer finger to her lips and breathe out a shaky “Shhhhhhhh.” Theres still that same craze in her eyes except now it’s smaller, replaced with something more cautious. Her hands relax and withdraw from their grip on you as the screams get louder. The eye contact you both share now is a contract of agreement. You were to stay silent and she wouldn’t hurt you. For now that was enough to keep you alive, so for now you obeyed. Not that you would rebel anyway, avoiding the angry men was in your best interest.

“ELLIE FOR FUCKS SAKE. YOU BETTER NOT BE FUCKING AROUND.”

This shout was too close for comfort, snapping you out of your focus on the woman’s eyes. You observe the forest for a moment, checking your surroundings for any sign that you might perish. As you turn your head back to the woman you see the figure of black shadow flying towards your direction before it slams against your skull.

Your vision fades to black and the last thing you see is her.

Before you can completely go numb to your senses your ears fill with loud remarks of one thing. An almost chant like repetition of what you could only assume was the woman’s name due to her ignoring its call.

“ELLIE?”

“ELLIE WHERE ARE YOU?”

“ELLIE?”

“ELLIE ARE YOU OUT THERE?”

“ELLIE.”

“ELLIE?”

“ELLIE!”

It builds louder and louder until finally your ears surrender to silence. The only thing that can leave you during your remaining seconds of consciousness is a pathetic whine of the name-

“Ellie.”

as you become completely numb.

Ellie.

Ellie..

Ellie….

…………

[transfemarmin]

pavitr x gn! reader | part 2.

tw: suicide?

“…what?” pavitr’s eyes threatened to spill tears out, he felt sick; nauseous. miguel placed his hands on his hips and sighed; “ spiderman loses his lover in some variations..there are some exceptions.. like peter’s.” miguel looked down at the heartbroken teenager; his eyes showing the slightest glimpse of sympathy, but was quickly replaced with a cold and stern look; he motioned towards peter b. parker; who averted eye contact from pavitr when he felt the eyes burning holes in his skull, his arms hung low, and he bit his lip; “ …look, I got lucky, pav.. i almost lost my MJ-“ peter was abruptly cut off by pavitr; who yelled.. screamed even.. “ but you didn’t!” his eyes were full of tears, his face scrunched up in anger; and he shook his head, the emotion raw and clear; the boy shook his head and opened his mouth to scream at the older man again; before the moment hit him.. and he let out a pained grunt gripping his hair

there they were… like how so many gwen stacys have died.. they were falling, a look of terror in their eyes, as they plummeted several stories to the ground; pavitr dove down after them, using his webs to grab his partner nearly as they touched the ground; the force making their head bob, and a cracking sound could be heard before they went limp.

when pavitr opened his eyes he had a look of utter and pure horror, “…i..no..no..they cant be a gwen stacy! gayatri was my gwen stacy and she’s alive!” the two weren’t together anymore, obviously their breakup was mutual, but they were still best friends. his eyes were full of hurt and confusion, pained gasps for air were the only thing the poor boy could muster, and those same pained gasps were the only thing that filled the quiet room.

“ …yes.. but that was a disrupted canon event.. so the canon made your new partner.. a gwen stacy variant. “ miguel explained, and as soon as his words were finished miles jumped into the conversation, “ but-..that’s not fair! pavitr already had to endure his canon event, the event being disrupted and his dimension going through an abyss!” …the words of the young boy clearly angered miguel; “ pavitr wouldn’t have to deal with this if you didn’t disrupt his canon event…gayatri or the captain would be dead.. and he would be able to live with [name].” his eyes narrowed at the boy, and his words rendered the boy speechless, fumbling over his words to come up with some sort of comeback.

“ w-what if i die instead?” that was his only answer, to save his lover.. he would die instead, like the peter in miles’ dimension before he became spiderman; those words didn’t seem to settle well with the spiders in the room

“ pav, are you crazy?”

“ man you can’t do that! you can’t die!”

“ pav.. you gotta be joking!”

he wasn’t.. he was serious, his heart hurt, he was searching for ways to make it so his lover wouldn’t die, and he was still thinking once he was back in his own dimension, tears still running down his faces when his lover entered his room.

“ oh no.. what happened to my gorgeous guy?” the hugs he felt from his lover, the worry on their face; made his eyes dull, and he had to quickly wipe them away; and brush it off as something in his eye; his sadness disappeared for a second once he saw the flowers his lover had grabbed for him; usually he would just embrace them for an act of love like this.. but he pulled them in for a tight embrace, tighter than usual and pressed kisses against their cheeks, hearing their giggles, feeling them attempt to kiss him back..

he had to think of some sort of way to make it so he’d always get to hear your laugh, see the glimmer of hope in your eyes that he was gonna be okay. the looks you gave him, and your soft and gentle kisses.

after every kiss you returned to him; the thoughts of how your death was near and inevitable kept popping into his mind; it tore pavitr to pieces, every second he was without you tore him to pieces, he wanted to stop it.. but … his universe. miguel made it very clear that if he even attempted to prevent this from happening… his universe would disappear, he would disappear.. he couldn’t do that to his friends, his auntie, anybody… but he also couldn’t stand by and watch you die.

his plan was selfish.. he will admit, but it was coming from a place of love; the trauma of watching his universe disappear, and then realizing being spiderman wasn’t as easy as he had first assumed led him to this; so when he saw the terror in your eyes as the both of you were plummeting; his arms wrapped around you; as his eyes were closed, his arms wrapped around you, your screams filled his ears and soft cries and pleas for him to stop you two from falling.

“….i can’t.” was the last thing you heard and the last thing he said before the both of you hit the ground.

[f1amboyant]

There's definitely been a shift after the summer break, especially on Charles' part 👀 what happened Charles, did you like have some sort of sudden realisation?

Anon, you are so right! Charles has been throwing longing stares and heart eyes at Carlos like crazy since summer break, it's crazy. It's making me go insane.

Like. What is that?? This is not how you look at a teammate! Charles, get a grip (please don't, I am living for this!)

Something happened during summer break. My theory is that they did meet during the summer break (was it planned or not, I don't know, but something happened in the south of France 👀), they fucked (for the first time) and Charles is now obsessed with that man. And it shows.

Here's a little something for you...

.

They meet in the south of France.

Except for a few texts and one or two silly memes, they haven't been in contact much during the summer break. A like on an Instagram post here and there, keeping up with the other through social media. Kinda. Realizing they are not far from each other and yet they haven't planned to spend a single day together.

They spend enough days together working. This is summer break. This is for fun.

Still. They do meet. Somewhere in the south of France. In a private yet crowded club. Neither wanted to go, dragged by their friends. And yet here they are. Catching eyes from across the room.

Carlos wiggles his eyebrows. Charles giggles.

They go back to their friends.

They meet again later at the bar.

"I didn't know you would be here."

"They dragged me here, it wasn't planned."

They shout over the loud music and the alcohol slowly settling in their veins.

They go back to their friends again. They meet up again later. Much much later. In the bathroom. By accident.

Charles sways (drunk) and collides with Carlos' chest. Carlos laughs (too high, too loud, too drunk).

"Missed me this much, Lord Percival?"

"Maybe," Charles mumbles in Carlos' collar.

Carlos' shirt hangs open almost all the way down. There's only one or two buttons still attached.

"At this point, you should just take it off," Charles slurs.

(Or at least, that's what he is trying to say.) His alcohol-addled brain cannot really form sentences anymore. So he mumbles a few words then proceeds to rip the last two buttons on Carlos' shirt and opens it wide over the expanse of his muscled chest.

"Charles," Carlos groans. In warning. In lust.

But Charles barely listens, hypnotized by the glistening skin of Carlos' stomach, reaching a hand to trace the lines on Carlos' abs. He draws a shiver out of his teammate, a strangled moan, and a visible bulge in his pants.

Charles' mind buzzes with alcohol and the heady feeling of getting this kind of reaction from Carlos. It's exhilarating. He wants more.

He puts his hand on Carlos' crotch. Carlos pushes him back, slamming him back against the bathroom door.

"Charles," he whispers. Another warning.

He sounds wrecked, shaking with desire, rendered helpless from a single touch from Charles. Charles feels all too powerful. He needs more.

"Don't play with me," Carlos says.

"You want this?"

A nod. A step forward. One of them (Charles doesn't remember who) has the presence of mind to lock the door. The click is loud even with the music blasting from the club.

They are alone and Charles' hands are all over Carlos' body, eliciting all sorts of reactions from him and reveling in them all. The power he has over him is heady.

Carlos kisses him, messy and hungry.

Charles' hand slides into Carlos' pants, his fingers wrapping around a hard and leaking cock. Carlos gasps.

It's so so exhilarating.

He gets closer, his pelvis grinding against Carlos' hip as he strokes faster and faster. He drinks in all the little gasps and moans that escape Carlos' mouth. He bites on that plump bottom lip as Carlos exhales and comes right into Charles' palm.

"Charles..." he shudders.

Charles comes in his pants.

.

Charles wakes up the next morning, in his bed, with a headache pounding like crazy inside his skull. The nausea is strong but the dawning feeling as he remembers the previous night is stronger.

He kissed Carlos.

He gave him a handjob.

He came in his pants while doing it.

But most of all...

He wants more.

[the-nysh]

Yes hello, I would deary love to hear your thoughts on Vash grappling E. G. the Mine, please? 👀 I loved your thoughts on his shooting skills and other grappling skills.

Also, any thoughts on Wolfwood? That big cross is so ridiculously big and heavy, but the way he just swings it around is impressive. (Also hnnng, that scene where he uses the laser beam to cut the Grand Worm in half was so cool.)

Omg, mkay lemme try to hunt for a gif of that choke hold real quick...

Because what gets my attention is the way Vash repositions and flexes his arm even tighter, from securely holding him there in a warning, to oh O.O;;; that looks real and he means business. 👀

Because there are 2 basic ways to choke someone out--in a fight!! Or err, a grappling/wrestling situation. The obvious way most people think of is the air tract--the trachea, which is a little awkward and takes longer, so the much faster and efficient (but less obvious) way is a blood choke--where you restrict the neck's artery circulation to the brain, and the person can easily/cleanly lose coordination and black out within moments, regardless of how well they can still breathe.

To do that, you get someone's head in the crook of your arm like Vash here, and flex your bicep and forearm tight around the inner sides of their neck--pressing in where both their pulse points would be (not the air!) at the same time and...yeah. Struggling around makes it harder to get into position (compared to practicing on a consenting still partner, which you can safely try! just remember to either tap out the moment you start feeling light-headed with a headache and/or see black spots in your vision, or better yet, sit while holding both hands raised up and the choker partner should release you the moment your hands start to drop), but once you get it, it happens pretty quick, and beefier guys can easily achieve this type of choke by simply flexing their muscles around a neck--heck they can probably crush the trachea too while they're at it for both chokes at once!

In Vash's case though, he doesn't want to render the guy unconscious just yet cause he still needs information from him, but I'm just saying...from this choke hold position he's in, he can easily do all that (and more) by flexing his real arm strength if he wanted to! 👀👀

----

Now for Wolfwood, ahaha gosh--in contrast to Vash, his ginormous Punisher Cross is so ridiculous (I think it's like 200-300lbs of mercy or something, also the skull design for the grip area is pretty rad, once I recognized what the shape was in the manga I was like oh neat!) that it's basically full on fantasy territory over much realism. :'D In before Vash shows us his over the top fantasy 'guns' too. No like actual person could lug that thing around, let alone effortlessly spin it around with the flair he does. That it's also really funny when he just -bonk- swings it like a heavy battering ram too. He also doesn't really need to dodge or utilize many defensive techs/maneuvers (that I've seen from him yet), beyond using the whole weapon as a body shield sometimes, since he can heal himself.

What his character and fighting style actually remind me of is the Desperado movie (with Antonio Banderas) in fact, one of the manga chapters was named after that too. Where the gunslinging mc comes waltzing out with his buddies who all carry around large guitar cases...that are actually hidden machine guns and fucking rocket launchers. x'D It's as hilarious as it is awesome to see them all just go ham in a wild west shootout with literal guitar-guns. So when Stampede Wolfwood brings out his updated cross-gun to flex a fucking laser beam canon out of it, now that's just lmaoooooooo, going stupid crazy on the 'rule of cool' factor, ohoho. x3

[sketchyonlooker]

[ DMGBeloved has logged in. ]

[ BC Chat Room ]

---

[ The main screen of the stream shows an ominous ghostly green skull hovering above Sacramento City. A berth of destruction could be seen around the California Supreme Court, the only intact building in the area. The roars of monsters and cries of people echo through the thoroughly demolished city. A long wurm-like creature wrapped around the ruins of a skyscraper opens its maw towards the building. Light collects and coalesces into an orb within its mouth - its sweltering heat melts the concrete it's next to. It then swings its head back as if to fire - Only for a lance of neon green to nail the wurm's mouth shut, sending both it and the ruined skyscraper into the ground. The world shakes violently as the orb detonates within the creature's mouth - its light overwhelming the camera. Falling dirt rains from the sky with only a large broad crater to mark the creature's death. Hovering where the creature once stood was a man wearing a green hoodie with a skull similar to the one in the sky. His body glowed with an iridescent green. And in his hand was an ornate spear crackling with neon-colored lightning, the same spear that struck the wurm's mouth shut. With glowing eyes, he gives the remains a final look before zipping out of view in a surge of green. The camera moves to follow.

----

Boomer-oh (v): Okay. I can't watch anymore. Watching how many times I should've died might actually give me a heart attack before this whole thing is over. Thank you, mysterious green man / duel monster / whatever.

BanditKLives (v): God. You're in the Sacramento shelter too? Ugh. I know exactly how you feel.

KuriBoom (v): I'm telling you I saw the angel of Los Angeles in person. She has these like light wings and woooosh, smashing up all those dragons with her hammer like it's nothing.

LordofTheNight (v): Wait. You think that's impressive? We got a giant vampire defending the city in San Francisco. At least I'm pretty sure it's a vampire. Can't really tell because he moves so fast, but holy shit he's tall like small-building tall.

LordofTheNight (v): Anyway, fucking vampires fighting dragons. Still feels like I'm still dreaming.

[ A in-line video is posted in chat from LordofTheNight. A military installation with tanks could be seen in the background. An incredibly tall figure - almost a story tall - slams a tanbo underneath an even taller two-headed dinosaur's chin. The force of the blow lifts the creature up into the air. Despite the dinosaur's speedy snaps and slashes, the dinosaur fails to hit its elusive target every single time. And then a flurry of blows from the tanbo strikes the creature so quickly it seemed like they were all performed at the same time. A moment later, the creature collapses with broken body and shattered limbs. The moment it hits the ground, it shatters into shards of light. An enormous fireball strikes down where the humanoid figure just was immediately after, his figure still blurry from the speed which he moved. Briefly, the camera loses track of the speedy figure, only to hear the sound of another draconic roar. The roar is cut short with the sound of something cracking. And immediately in front of the camera, a long Eastern dragon falls onto the earth with a earth-rendering thud. It too shatters into light. On top of a broken skyscraper and under the backdrop of stormy skies, the tall gray vampire is seen in all of his glory, only to turn into a blur once more.

SunnyDay (v): You think that's crazy? I've got a literal skeleton army fighting dragons and lizards outside. And a freaky green-wearing necromancer controlling them all.

LordofTheNight (v): Don't necromancers wear black or something? Like they're all emo or shit?

SunnyDay (v): Well, clearly someone didn't get the memo. Besides I think if you own a skeleton army that can beat up a bunch of dragons, I think you can wear anything you fucking want.

[ An in-line video is posted by SunnyDay. It's clear that the video was taken from the BC Stream chat. A coastline and an air strip are seen. After a quick zoom-in, several skeletons wearing various sets of clothes are charging the dragons along the skyline. Colorful beams of light blast through the dragons attempting to make landfall, putting large holes into the creatures and shattering them into motes of light. The dragons retaliate similarly with fiery blazes and icy projectiles. Meanwhile, the apparent green-clad necromancer engages up close and dispatches several of the hostile monsters in a flurry of colorful red chef's knives. Another human-sized skeleton, tall and lanky and wearing an orange sweater, slams its foot straight into a scaly blue dragon diving face-first at it. The large dragon immediately contorts and flattens like a train slamming into an immovable wall with the sound of crunching bone accompanying it. The broken dragon begins to fall out of the sky before it shatters into motes of light. ]

ExodiaTheForgottenOne (v): Are we absolutely sure that it's not KaibaCorp's SolidVision gone haywire? Cause that whole shattering light thing is like SolidVision's thing.

BlueEyesBlondeDragon (v): For the last time, SolidVision is incapable of being physical like this. You should know better since you've been on the Sketchy stream for so long. And also if we're sharing end-of-the-world stories...

BlueEyesBlondeDragon (v): I was in an airplane that was headed back to Japan, but after all the monsters appeared, we tried to U-turn and fly back to California. Except we had a whole bunch of angry monsters after us. I'm pretty sure we got saved by the angel of Los Angeles.

BlueEyesBlondeDragon (v): One second.

[ An in-line video is posted in chat by BlueEyesBlondeDragon. The video is clearly taken from a phone camera. Quiet panicked murmurs and prayers could be heard. The camera is looking out the airplane window and at the plane's right wing. A large blue winged dragon, one that could be recognized as the Winged Dragon of Duel Monsters fame, is diving straight for the aircraft. Screaming could be heard within the airplane cabin as the plane attempts to futilely veer away from the quickly approaching monster. And then a yellow flash crashed straight into the creature, slamming it straight towards the sea. The figure hovers briefly with its bright wings of light, hammer in a two-handed grip. Surrounded by light and with stalwart frame, the redheaded angel of Los Angeles strikes a prominent figure against the stormy skies. Another approaching dragon dives for her but is suddenly struck down in a brilliant flash. Only when the thunder was heard did people realize that it was lightning that smote the dragon down. By the time the camera recovers from the glare, the angel of Los Angeles is gone. "We're saved!" "Praise the lord!" ]

[pochapal]

happy october 5, 1986 (+37)!

i do not have a full writeup done yet because i have been busy with starting my phd and contracting diseases and surviving horrors and rotating abstract concepts in my mind etc etc etc but what i do have is a hot off the press raw and rough preview of the chapter 14 writeup to share with you all in order to celebrate umineko day in some form regardless.

so, on this day of slaughter i am sharing with you a small slice of my writeup: the 3rd and 4th twilights that could have been had chapter 14 decided not to go crazy go stupid with it. i hope this is a tasty appetizer to satiate everybody as i continue to work on bringing the full writeup to completion.

happy umineko day and thanks to everyone for supporting the liveblog so far! <3

[...] This leads you to an immediate conclusion: Kanon dying in the basement boiler room was not part of the plan. Or, not part of the Witch Narrative at least. His death marks a point where this scheme has totally gone off the rails, and Genji’s script has been rendered worthless. The presentation of the death is obfuscated, but the truth beneath it is that something went deeply wrong that shouldn’t have.

This is a bold claim I’m making, but I also think I have enough proof in the story to substantiate it. I think, going by everything, the next incident following the deaths of Eva and Hideyoshi was to involve the basement in one form or another. I also think that this was being prepared in parallel with the Second Twilight – Genji and Nanjo leave the kitchen at the same time as Kanon and Kumasawa, but the two men don’t reach the scene until after Kanon has already unlocked the room and Eva and Hideyoshi have been found dead with the stakes in their skulls. Enough time to, say, take a trip down to the basement and set some dominoes in motion.

As to what I think was part of the Witch Narrative, I think everything was on track right up until the moment Kanon set foot in the basement. The foul smell filling the hallway was almost certainly set in motion by Genji and/or Nanjo (perhaps by turning on the boiler while Eva and Hideyoshi were being found in order to time it to make the smell the strongest at the perfect time – this may also have precluded moving Kinzo’s body there depending on where he was before now). Kanon acting bizarrely freaked out was part of the plan. As was Kumasawa screaming about hearing a noise, and the two of them breaking off from the group to rush ahead to investigate. Everything falls apart when Kanon sets foot in the basement and Beatrice shows up and he dies.

So what was the intended plan in the basement involving Kinzo? I think, if I were to hazard a guess based off pre-existing patterns, the boiler room in the basement was going to be used as another locked room, this time featuring Kinzo. I think this would have been a play in two acts. The first act would have Kanon and Kumasawa chase the noise to the basement and “find” the head’s ring on the ground. The family would search the boiler room and find the back door exit locked up, and no sign of Kinzo anywhere in sight (there would be efforts taken to keep anyone from investigating the boiler). The ring alone on the ground in an empty room would stand in for the Third Twilight – Kinzo is without his headship and authority, so it must therefore fall to everyone to praise Beatrice’s noble name in his stead. Dissatisfied and creeped out, everyone leaves the basement – the back door is locked from the inside, and the front door locked with a key placed in Natsuhi’s possession.

From here, this would likely have led to another discussion chapter about how the ring got there. The setup of the scene would be enough that Battler would question whether or not a nineteenth person placed the ring there, or if Kinzo himself actually dropped it there as part of some other ploy. The servants would be questioned and swear up and down there was nobody else in the basement when they entered. The sound would be discussed, as would the impossibility that anybody known to be alive could make that noise. The conversation would then turn to Kinzo as the likely suspect and Natsuhi, who’s been complicit in covering up Kinzo’s death for some time already, would start sweating as this truth grows closer to being uncovered. It’s up in the air as to whether or not the servants would help or hinder Natsuhi here, but I think it’s likely Battler would have started to think on Eva’s words from earlier. More fuel on the Natsuhi culprit fire that she can’t fight because she can’t admit to knowing what he knows. Maria would then laugh and go witchmode and say to everyone that this is obviously Beatrice manipulating things with her magic, and boom, scene.

Something would then happen in the next chapter to turn attention back to the boiler room. Perhaps the smell grows stronger. Perhaps the conversation about Kinzo grows to a fever pitch. Perhaps a servant fakes hearing another noise from the basement. Whatever the case, we would return to the boiler room a second time. There would be a point made of showing Natsuhi pulling out the only key to the boiler room and everyone stepping inside to find Kinzo’s body on the floor, burned up with an icepick stake in his forehead. The inner lock for the back door would still be set. Genji and Nanjo would confirm the body’s identity via the polydactyly. Somehow, Kinzo’s dead body appeared in the middle of a perfectly locked room.

Likely there would then be discussions of who could have killed Kinzo, given that at the time of his “death” everyone was yet again together (minus Kanon/Genji slipping in and out of the parlor to get food and drinks). The assumption would be that Kinzo was alive in there all along, and then killed himself for some reason – contradicted by the fact that if he launched himself into the boiler, how did he drag himself back out into the middle of the floor? The mystery would stump Battler, because the only major solution would be to assume a nineteenth person was also already hiding in the locked basement, and killed Kinzo and displayed the corpse, but Battler would chessboard himself out of leaning on that option. Out of options and stumped, we would stay at another stalemate where there’s no proof that Beatrice exists, but no way that the surviving humans could have set up this scene (there are of course ways, such as a back door that wasn’t really locked or a second key/master key with which to return to the boiler room and set things up, but nobody will think of them). The horrors would escalate. The Witch Narrative would persist. And so on. And so on.

This scenario, believable as it is, never came to happen. Instead we got what we got, and we need to figure out why. Why did Kinzo show up like this? Why did Kanon die, despite all known logic and reasoning stating that the contrary would be ideal? Why are things speeding up at such an exponential rate? What on earth is actually going on?

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: Death of Legends (Issue 33)

Moon Knight, Issue # 33: Exploding Myths

Bonus preview image!: 

BANGER. 

We start with a good old fashioned newsstand. On the side is a poster: 

"Exploding myths. Titans for our times. A continuing series by Joy Mercado. Upcoming features on: 

Druid Walsh and Moon Knight. 

Only in the Daily Times". 

A huge muscle bound man that is obviously Druid Walsh punches his first through the image of Moon Knight, proclaiming: "He ain't nothin'. He's nothin' but meat. Dead meat." 

And like myth, we see people talking about Druid. 

They talk about rumors and stories of his strength. 

About how he once stole a grand piano off the back of a truck then carried it up to a roof and tossed it down to crush a cop car. Another talks about how he ripped bricks out of a wall to crush the skulls of mobsters. 

More still talk about more and more acts of strength and rage. 

"He's so mean, Lady. The Druid is so mean he ain't real." 

Joy Mercado is the source of their discussion. 

She pauses to consider their information then asks "Where can I meet this Druid Walsh?" 

"Ain't you been listenin' Lady? You gotta be crazy to wanna-" 

"I'm not crazy--I'm a reporter, and I'm going to do a piece on the Druid whether you help me or not." 

They point her to the local bar and grill. 

Sure enough, inside is the towering Druid and he's running a protection racket. 

He threatens the bartender for payment but the bartender has hired his own protection. 

He beats down the gang of men without flinching then turns on the bartender. He lifts up the bar itself and throws it down on the beaten men. 

Joy Mercado stands in the doorway. She's been admiring his work. 

She compliments him and introduces herself. 

She's flirty and invites him to dinner. It's a fancy expensive place and apparently she goes there a lot to conduct her interviews. She bribes the wait staff to let in the mountain of a man and seat them in the back. 

One of the waiters compliments her most recent articles about Daredevil and Detective Flint. (Oh? What's Flint getting up to? He hanging with DD now? This poor man. No wonder he looks so done with everything all the time). 

Of course she didn’t tell Druid she was a reporter and he instantly is dismayed to realize she didn’t pick him up for a date but for an interview. 

She admits that she's working on a series about mythical figure of their time. He thought it was a date. 

She back pedals. "Well of course it's a date in a sense. A dinner date, but I...I hoped you might also consider it an interview..." 

She finds him interesting and assures him that if she is willing to want to write about him then perhaps she might want to see him again. 

He agrees to it! After all, he has taken a real shine to her. 

So she starts with the rumor about him throwing a whole grand piano off a roof. 

"That wasn't no piano--It was just a big empty crate." 

And it goes on like that. The bricks weren't rendered from a wall but were just laying there. And of course he didn't rip a street lamp out of the ground. 

Each debunked myth leaves our reporter friend more and more dismayed. 

As they talk, a pompous rich guy bumps into their table. He apologizes till he notices the look of the Druid. 

"Yugh. It would be nice if some people would learn how to bathe..." 

This upsets Druid. He gets up and picks up the guy and threatens to throw him out the window. 

This excites the reporter who suddenly has a story happening in front of her. 

"Naw... You're a jerk all right, but not the kind who deserves to go out a plate glass window...." He instead sets the guy down in a large three tier cake. 

Disappointed, Joy's enthusiasm has vanished. They leave the restaurant and she turns to go. Druid asks if she wants to see him again sometime. 

"Anything is possible, Mr. Walsh. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to make the late edition... Perhaps we'll bump into each other again sometime." 

"And Druid Walsh is left to gape at her stiff retreat. What happened to her slow and easy walk like when her hip kept rubbing his? What happened to her smile? What happened?" 

The next day! Jack Lockley buys a newspaper and heads into Gena's. 

I must say I do love the fact that EVERY SINGLE TIME Jake sees Gena, he always asks her how the kids are doing. 

A while back, Moon Knight wanted a way for people and police to reach him so he gave them Gena's diner's number. I mean... They sort of know who he is by means of Jake, and Jake can always be found there. 

Gena, I'm sure, found it thrilling at first. Poor Gena. 

"By the way Lockley, ever since you let it be known that Moon Knight can be contacted through this establishment, that phone of mine's been takin' some mighty weird rings... But there's one you should know about--From your detective friend Flint, relaying a call from someone named Joy Mercado... SHe says she's gotta see you today-matter of life and death." 

Hmmmm...

Jake is familiar with Joy and is skeptical. 

"Yeah, sure, she might miss a deadline. Some matter of life and death." 

Crawley points to the latest article. "If Druid Walsh peruses her column today, Jake, it could well be." 

Jake takes a look. Whoopse. Must not be a nice one. He decides he might need to see Joy after all. 

(I love Gena. How many cups do you think Jake has in his cab?) 

Meanwhile, Druid has one of his thugs read him the article. 

It can't be that bad, can it? 

"It says: 'My encounter with the allegedly mythic figure known as Druid Walsh began promisingly enough, in the aftermath of an epic bar fight more suited to a Hollywood back lot than to 29th street...But it soon became apparent that the Druid was little more than an ignorant scapegoat for the collective yearning of our mundane society: The pervasive need for myths, real or imagined.'" 

I'm sure once he has that explained to him, he's going to be quite upset. 

"--Can only conclude that the fabled Druid Walsh is all fable and no substance. As such, he qualifies as nothing more than a cheap thug, somewhat bizarre and certainly oafish, yet another titan with feet of clay, another modern myth exploded. Tomorrow's feature on Moon Knight, however, should prove to be a different story." 

He's pretty upset. And you know what? It's a pretty shit piece. 

Druid heads out to have a word with Joy. 

Joy is at the Daily Times taking praise for her recent piece. 

Moon Knight strides in and up to her desk. 

"You wanted to see me?" 

She asks him to take a seat for an interview. 

"And your quaint way of securing an interview with me was to cry wolf--to scream life and death, is THAT it?" 

"Ah, well... If your entire career isn't one long matter of life and death, then I don't know what--" 

"You don't know anything, Ms. Mercado!" 

Yeah... I'm not surprised that it struck a nerve. 

Just as Moon Knight is feeling pretty pissed, Druid busts in, looking for revenge.

He yells about her using him and pretending to be on a date with him. He grabs her and Moon Knight steps in. 

Druid is less than thrilled by 'the real myth' and takes a swing. He's a hard hitter. 

Moon Knight hits back, but it hardly phases this mountain of muscles. 

While Moon Knight takes a minute to recover, Druid takes the moment to kidnap Joy. 

This man knows how to take a hit. 

Out on the street, Druid is gone. 

Moon Knight calls in Frenchie. 

"Frenchie--Keep an eye out for a ten-foot tall Gorilla who's just abducted a woman." 

"Zis is a joke, oui, Marc?"

"You hear me chuckling?"

I love Frenchie. 

Druid has taken Joy to a back alley where he uncovers a picnic basket? 

"We're gonna have dinner again, Baby. Another date. But this time we're gonna be alone--And it's gonna be done the right way..." 

Lady and basket in hand, he busts into the fancy restaurant they went to before. He pulls a shotgun from the basket and tells everyone to get out. 

That’s a pretty good reference, honestly. And he has a pretty good grasp on the concept of myths. 

He goes on a rant. 

He learned to handle himself in almost any situation because of how big and tough he was and he had no fear. 

Coming back from 'nam, he tried to be a professional wrestler. Changed his look and got fangs to try to make a trademark. It backfired and his look got him kicked out of the wrestling business. 

Moon Knight gets the police report from Frenchie about the disturbance at the restaurant and heads over. 

Hey! Flint! 

"So it boils down to a fairy tale. Princess captured by ogre. Held prisoner in tower." 

"And the white knight has to rescue her, Flint." 

"Not this time, Moon Knight. This one's not just a matter of you and me. The whole special hostage unit is here. I can't--" 

Oh, Flint. You know better than to try to reason with Moon Knight. 

Up in the restaurant, Druid is ready to dine. 

What's this? The basket is filled with Dynamite! 

He sets the timer for 30 minutes. Time enough to get to know one another. 

But wait! What's this? 

His favorite way to make an entrance. (Adds a talley to the ‘busts through window’ counter. We’re at 4 here people.) 

Rematch time! 

They exchange blows. 

It'a always interesting to watch Moon Knight actually fight against badguys that also know how to fight and get close and personal. 

Marc's ability to take the worst hits and keep going are legendary. His complete lack of concern for the body and his own well being make him a wild card on the battle field and no one really knows how to deal with it. They always underestimate him. 

They exchange blow for blow. 

Down on the ground Flint faces his boss. 

"What's the matter with you, Flint? Didn't you know Moon Knight would try a grandstand play like this?!" 

"Yep. But consider this, Boss. You ever try to stop Moon Knight?" 

(I love Flint. I need more of this man in the comics) 

(This man has been through so much). 

Druid and Moon Knight continue to fight as the timer of the bomb ticks down. 

He knocks Druid down and gets Joy to the moon copter ladder. 

They fight up to the roof top, exhausted and barely able to stand. 

Druid refuses to flee. "She wanted an exploding myth!" He is determined to see out the explosion. 

Seconds left, Frenchie yells for Marc to jump. Druid collapses. Moon Knight jumps and the bombs go off. 

Druid goes up with the explosion. 

They land safe on the docks. 

Joy notices Moon Knight is wounded and bleeding. 

"And Druid Walsh is Dead. Contrary to media-shaped public opinion, we weren't immortal...Invulnerable. And you, pity you, you've missed your precious deadline." 

(Something he's grappled with time and time again in later comics and the Mackay run. The notion that he can't die. Considering where the current run is openly heading, I'm curious to see how that plays out.) 

Joy tries to defend herself, saying it wasn't like that. 

"You said it yourself-The Druid was just a dumb thug who never hurt anybody until he was pushed. Then you came along and bumped him harder than he'd ever been pushed before--All without laying a finger on him." 

"B-But he tried to kill you." 

"Only because I tried to stop him from killing himself." 

"What about me?" 

"All right...He snapped. And you'd better do some hard thinking about why he snapped. All I know is that before you came along he was largely harmless. Maybe he shouldn't have been loose in the streets...But he shouldn't be dead either." 

Give it to her, Moon Knight! 

He calls her an instigator and tells her to go back to her city room. 

He leaves her there, the building fire in the background. 

I think this particular story is really fascinating. And I might be biased, because modern myths and how they develop in places like a city are a special interest of mine. 

What makes a myth? Is there a timeline involved? How long does it take to build a legend? 

We have a large strong and temperamental man that went to war and learned how to become a survivor. Called dumb all his life and failing out of school, he learned skills and how to use his own abilities to his advantage. Clearly painted to look like an Oaf, not reading, not picking up social cues immediately, and quick to anger, he demonstrates knowledge and understanding. He notes Olypus and knows where it comes from. He knows the stories of the old Greek lores. He is no dummy. 

What’s interesting is that Moon Knight recognizes this. He doesn’t see Druid as a threat. He is obviously aware of his presence in the streets and his reputation, but he doesn’t bother him. I’m sure Jake Lockley had heard about him, since Jake keeps his eyes on the streets. 

This is a common thing with Moon Knight. The lesser villains and even a few of the big ones. He sympathizes with them. Respects them. Mourns them. 

What does Moon Knight see in the Druid? Lost dreams and survival? A man trying to find his life? A man filled with anger but still able to get by? 

There is so much Marc in so many of the villains that have unhappy endings. 

It has ALSO come to my attention that this is the LAST official Moon Knight written by Doug Moench. (He comes back briefly later on for a short run and a cameo, but this is it.)

With the jab Moon Knight takes against the reporter and publishing, I wonder what terms Moench left Marvel on. I wonder if this was the story he wanted to finish on or if he had a script that was left behind for the 1980s run. I'll get more into this later...

[grandhotelabyss]

—Adam Lehrer, “Away from Arthouse Horror”

The right-wing social democrats (but I repeat myself) at Compact have really led me astray here. I watched the pointless Terrifier and the endless Terrifier 2 and don’t see why they deserve a commendation from this particular constituency—or any other. 

Lehrer says these films, especially the two-and-a-half-hour “mega slasher” sequel, signal a departure from increasingly middlebrow arthouse horror of the A24 variety, with its social conscience and its attempts at emotional depth. I think he exaggerates both sides of the contrast, however. Terrifier 2 perhaps indicates a cyclical return to the 2000s torture-porn era, itself a recapitulation of ’80s slashers, but in its thematic concerns and even aspects of its tone it follows on naturally enough from Hereditary, whose own gore is more naturalistically rendered and therefore more disturbing, even if I find the scenery-chewing family melodrama at its core banal. 

Lehrer also calls Peele’s Us a “hollowly political” falling away from Get Out’s effective subversions, but this is exactly backward. Get Out is an easy political cartoon; everybody loves it because everybody already hates its satirical target, elite white liberals, including elite white liberals themselves. Us is a far more searchingly anxious self-satire of the black bourgeoisie—an actually suspenseful movie since you’re never sure where its aggression and complicity will go next. But the cognoscenti couldn’t wring a portable political message out of this and popular audiences probably didn’t understand it, so the film was unjustly demoted. 

Anyway, “cruelty without apology,” Lehrer says. I thought, “These must be some intriguingly fucked-up people,” so I headed to the social media profiles of the filmmaker and performers, as one does these days, but found only the dispiritingly familiar. A symptomatic example, one that parts the curtain of ideology: the director, whom Leher associates with Artaud and Wyndham Lewis, was on Twitter offering critical support to the lead actress as she/they joined others in accusing “incels” who complained about the film’s (relative) lack of nudity of being “pedophiles.” The mind reels. Leaving aside the fact that our heroine is all but nude in several scenes, and leaving aside too the “pedophile” nonsequitor (she is and looks like a full-grown adult), what stands revealed here is a telling arbitrariness about where moral lines are drawn.

This is a film where a female character is slashed and scalped, her arm torn off at the elbow, gouts of blood erupting out of the flesh of her back. Half-flayed, her skull exposed, she is doused in bleach, her wounds packed with salt as she howls and moans. The camera lovingly lingers on her backside as she crawls helplessly along her pink bedroom’s carpet, a mass of blood and gore. According to director and performer, no epithet need attach to the devisers or enjoyers of this spectacle. It’s wholesome entertainment, “without apology.” But any male who wishes to see an adult woman’s breasts, sans gaping wound or spouting blood? Incel! Pedophile! 

My point is not to advocate for nudity nor even to deny that a (male) spectator who requires a full-frontal shot of the body before he can enjoy its dismemberment may earn himself a legitimate suspicion or two. (Though the decadent frisson of the body’s robustness preceding its obliteration may be healthier than a not-even-decadent destruction-without-beauty.) But on ideological grounds, Lehrer appears to be wrong that these films depart from 2010s ideology: the strange, crazy-making moralism that greeted something like Midsommar still applies. (I once described Midsommar on here as “advertising the white ethnostate to sad white city girls sick of their insensitive ‘Cat Person’ boyfriends.”) Every deviation from some imagined norm, no matter how baroque, must be celebrated as a triumphant emancipation; every desire once thought to reside within this norm must be castigated as retrogressive, monstrous. Flaying the body? Righteous. Appreciating the body? Heinous. 

Skip the Terrifers and watch Us. Or, if you want something that more closely resembles what Lehrer describes, I renew my claim that the Rob Zombie Halloween movies fit the bill with the indescribable and impossible tenderness that somehow arises from their indeed unapologetic cruelty. For my part, I’m not squeamish but I am easily bored by the mere meatphysics of the slasher film. Inside this particular genre and out of it, we have surely heard enough by now about the body. What we need in horror is a new metaphysics. 

[baddingtonbitch]

don’t reblog obvi i just need to get this out of my head or it’s gonna pop.

it’s so crazy how hard your body and mind work to protect you but also how unsophisticated and flawed those protective measures can be like sometimes the things it put in place to distance you from pain can end up backfiring like i put on this movie because i was like oh yeah acid and dancing those used to be huge parts of my life i wonder if anything in this feels true or well rendered. and i did it so flippantly because that chapter in my life, for self protective reasons has basically been heavily redacted and minimised in my memory as my “stupid silly tripper days lol” and the only things i ever draw on from that time are the wild anecdotes or funny stories. but i literally have such massive life altering trauma associated with hallucinogens and the things that happened to me while i was on them, like one of the worst things that has ever happened to me happened while i was in no state to be dealing with it and to see such hideous things happen to people when they’re that raw and disoriented and the experience is so indescribably magnified, and to have it filmed so evocatively and performed so convincingly (mostly) is just like. insanely triggering! and i should have known that, like there was no deception this movie is very clear about what it is and i should have known what i was getting into given noe’s other films. but it’s just like a really stupid brain error that my mind is still working so hard to keep me from re-experiencing that trauma that it almost lulled me into acting like it was never there. which left me really vulnerable to stepping on it like a landmine. i just ambled head on into this movie like ooh voguing drugs and pretty colours lalala :) and then that thing my mind is still trying to shield me from after all these years later is like. still there. because of course it is! and instead of feeling fully retraumatised i’m just dumbfounded, shocked and believe it or not GRATEFUL to my brain, even though it made a mistake, for trying so hard to protect me. like i talk shit about her a lot but that grey thing in my skull really has my back in a lot of ways that really really matter like maybe she can’t get me to sleep at the right time or do the dishes or remember what day it is but it’s because she’s been taking bullets for me my whole life and she still is because she loves me so much. like i’m still here because of everything my brain does for me even after everything i’ve done to my brain it’s a primal animal system that would do anything for me in the only ways it knows how it’s like those dogs that die getting bitten while protecting little kids from snakes i’m like literally crying rn

[mewtonian-physics]

I think it’s very funny how many fans haven’t played MGS the Saga. It’s not a bad thing! It gives Konami even more incentive to release remasters and remakes (if only they’d stop making so much money on mobile games they might do it…). Plus it means more people watch them as movies, which is ideal in some cases. If you ever want a solid (heh) long play, George Salonikh on YouTube does a great job.

I think probably the weirdest kind of fan is the newest wave of Revengence fan though, hot off the 2021-22 meme propagation of Armstrong and Sam. It’s not the point of origin for SamxRaiden, but I’ve been looking at the numbers and they’re rising like a tide. Also the newest people who take Armstrong’s message seriously because he’s a funny meme man. They intimidate me.

Maybe I’m just a fan from a bygone era though. Fandom has changed, as Old Snake said probably. I’m probably gonna do something with that quote.

What are your thoughts? If any? I know you said you haven’t played the games

i would play them if only i had a playstation or the tech ability to actually successfully emulate them. but i do not. still. if they rerelease mgs2 with updated graphics i will cry and scream and wail and just in general have a great but insane time about it. Perhaps a less great time if they don't change anything about the skull suit. I need it to be rendered in a way that isn't... That.

i don't usually watch other people play games it's... difficult for a couple reasons that i won't get into because it's hard to explain succinctly and you probably don't want to know anyway. but the game movies... beloveds. kefka productions has my whole heart

YOU'RE NOT WRONG AT ALL like... it's weird especially because it often feels like that's the only game that exists to them. obviously not everyone who's gotten into it recently is like that (catch me out here having gotten into it recently though revengeance wasn't my gateway to the series so who knows) but it seems to be the case for a lot of them and like... i do think this helps contribute to the massively skewed perception of raiden people seem to have lately. look i get he's super badass in revengeance but some people act like he's never been in any other games which is just doing him a disservice. revengeance doesn't showcase his entire character and i think this definitely helps lead to the bizarre viewpoint that he's literally just a trigger-happy sadomasochistic lunatic who only pretends to be 'normal'. i mean it's not as if that's even how revengeance presents him in full but without the other games i can see more easily how people have been coming to that conclusion. i like revengeance but i do wish people would shut up about it sometimes because mgs2 and mgs4 are right there and are equally excellent wells of information and characterization.

...but yeah also i think that a lot of people who got into it through the memes just aren't taking it seriously. again this is not always the case but the fact that these are genuinely serious and horrifying topics and the game is actually making a great deal of relevant sociopolitical commentary seems to go right over a lot of people's heads in favor of STANDING HERE I REALIZE YOU ARE JUST LIKE ME TRYING TO MAKE HISTORY et cetera et cetera et cetera. (which... is probably also another reason why raiden gets painted so unflatteringly because if you aren't acknowledging the deeply horrifying nature of the things he's fighting against of course he's just going to look like some ax-crazy homicidal maniac.) viewing it entirely through the lens of memes (the funny internet kind, of course) destroys the entire point of the game.

also it's weird seeing sam get painted as just a Haha Funny Guy when if you ask me his storyline is absolutely chilling. and it's extra weird seeing armstrong get painted as a Haha Funny Guy considering how we've dealt with the results of someone concerningly similar to him actually being president. like were people not paying attention during the entire 2016-2020 period or

to say nothing of the people who agree with him. those people are terrifying. are they just not thinking about the ramifications of his belief system or have they considered it and deemed it acceptable? either way

some of the memes are really funny i'll freely admit it and some of the game is really funny (look. 'memes. the dna of the soul' is never going to be anything but funny.) but also i think a lot of people are focusing on the wrong kind of meme and ignoring the actual message [shrugs] that's just what i've observed, anyway.

[the-whispers-of-death]

Oh peanuts!

This is gonna get crazy

And gorey

And just not safe for kids

So in my universe I also have

Sirens; (or their scientific name: Armonikos incantator) which are categorized into four groups but have one thing in common. They sing to entrance and charm their prey so they can eat. They can open their mouths extremely wide like a snake because they have flexible skulls that allow them to consume prey much larger than the size of their head and their lower jaw is not fused to their skull, allowing it to move independently on either side. they can also dislocate their jaw bones, enabling them to open their mouths wide. they usually sing in groups, have great hearing, and they have more females than males (behaviors towards males differ from siren species to siren species)

Sea sirens

They're what you expect. They look mermaid adjacent, and they sing to hypnotize their prey. They usually swim in schools of 6 to 15. The only time you see one sea siren is near beach shores and late at night because having multiple sea sirens near the shore is dangerous for them since people who are beyond their vocal range can call in a lot more human reinforcements. They will also eat kelpies and mermaids. They actually ate mermaids into extinction. (sea sirens have a distinctive singing tone that holds a strong resemblance to opera but they also incorporate different music genres in their singing because near the shore they can hear all the different music even from underwater and in the middleof the ocean boats will pass by and music play from those boats more often than not. They even go thru music trends. The main thing that sea sirens like singing is Ska music)

They have a 68% female population and see male sea sirens as blessings become male sea sirens have a lot of bass and reverberation that can render prey physically immobile

Avian sirens

Avian sirens are not harpies!(which do exist in my universe)

Avian sirens have a lot of bird like features and can even fully transform into birds. They travel in flocks of three and only three

They will sing to lure in prey, then snatch em up with their sharp talons, and if they don't bleed out and die when they get to the avian sirens nest, the avians will eat their prey alive

Avian sirens are slower than harpies, and it is believed that avian sirens were created by a sapien siren and a harpy having children together, but it's just a theory and there's no proof behind it

Avians are very territorial and will put what's left of their prey around their territory as a warning

Avians are also extremely cannibalistic

Male Avian sirens are weaker and smaller than females. females will often eat their male children when their babies for nutrition or so they can try again to get a girl

sapien sirens

Imagine a human

Now imagine a human that could hypnotize other humans and ate them

Except they aren't humans

They travel and hunt in groups up to 80

They don't have the same bone structure

Sapien sirens have longer necks, and they have spikes on each end of their vertebrae that grow out of their skin, so they have spikes on their back

They can rotate their head 270 degrees, and they are more flexible than humans because their heads are only connected by one socket pivot.

They can open their mouths bigger than other sirens and several rows of teeth

Females have 7, Males have 9

93% of sapien sirens live among humans and and since they group up in such large numbers, they can charm a lot of humans and thus eat a lot and because they have so much food they grow really big like up to 9 feet tall. In 1960, the tallest sapien siren was 12 feet (2 sapien sirens have joined the NBA)

And banshees

Possibly the physically weakest of the sirens

They can't fly or swim or rotate their heads 270 degrees but you know what they can do

Scream

Loudly

Sirens usually sing and have beautiful melodies

Banshee's are like heavy metal singers

Screaming

They can hit frequencies that can cause their prey to bleed from every orifice and have you deaf and dizzy

When banshee's are in the middle of puberty, they can release power earbleeding soundwaves that can cause actual physical damage

Punctured lungs

Cerebral damage

Skull fractures

Concussions

Organ damage

Some are even so powerful that you can straight-up be blown to bits

And if you live to tell the tale about how you survived a banshee, you're probably not gonna want to live long anyway because the mental effects of a banshee scream are terrible. All of their victims who live their attacks kill themselves

You experience major sleep loss

Depression

Paranoia

Intense fear and extreme anxiety

Lashing out and even committing murder

11 percent of people who lived after a banshee scream started suicide cults a month after

11 percent

Their saliva is extremely poisonous, and they are perhaps the most attractive sirens

They have very intricate markings from birth, with males having more colorful markings while females have inky black markings

They can't run fast at all, and if they can't use their voices, they could easily be killed by a humans, and they can't build up muscle easily

But they do turn to stone when they're asleep as a defense mechanism

Supposedly, banshee's can release shadow demon like creatures from the depths of their throat

They also have cute fluffy deer ears :>

I deeply apologize for how long this is

I am so sorry

-🥜

I love how detailed you are with your universe, as you should be.

[pellucid-constellations]

Divine Retribution

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: Nobody touches Bucky’s girl. He was going to make that very clear.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Canon level violence, language 

a/n: This is based off this request from @lafleaurie! 

Masterlist

The leaky pipe in the left corner of the room was your only hint as to your whereabouts. It dripped every 47 seconds and it sounded like there was a pretty large puddle amassing. That meant you’d been there… awhile. Normally, you wouldn’t need to resort to counting water droplets to tell the time, but with a scratchy blindfold obscuring your vision and your hands rendered useless by thick metal bars, desperate times called for desperate measures. 

You knew you were somewhere in Italy. At least, that’s where you were supposed to be. You and Bucky had been given a recon mission in Sicily to scout out arms dealers within the mafia. The Avengers tended to stay out of mafia business, but when they began to formulate weapons from old Hydra blueprints, the case quickly landed on Tony’s desk. And then Tony quickly handed it off to you. 

This was meant to be Bucky’s first mission back after a long stint of recovery. There had been far more hostiles on his last solo operation than expected, leaving him outnumbered and under armed. He had walked off the jet upon his return, battered and bruised from head to toe with his left arm hanging from his shoulder at an odd angle. Even with his advanced healing, it took him a month to fully recover. Needless to say, you were a little overprotective after that. 

Up until this point, you had turned down every mission intended to be Bucky’s “reintroduction” to fieldwork. You read through each casefile and could see your boyfriend’s broken body in between the lines of text. Every identified threat taunted you on the page, menacing mugshots a danger to your Bucky. 

After the tenth manilla folder was placed in your hands, you made it explicitly clear that you wouldn’t accept anything other than recon. Bucky didn’t know that, of course. After all, the doctors had cleared him to work ages ago; he just thought there was no work on the table. 

You chose this case because it was supposed to be easy, no confrontations. You’d fly to Italy, find the Russo family, stake out from the safety of a van, and then spend the next few days making out with your boyfriend in the Italian countryside. You hadn’t run that last part by Bucky yet, but you were sure he wouldn’t mind. 

The first two steps went off without a hitch. Bucky had been buzzing with excitement on the jet, eager to get back to work and help the team. He held your hand for most of the trip and talked to you for the rest of it. You honestly couldn’t remember a time when Bucky had said so many words at once. It seemed that in your mad dash to find him the safest mission, you missed how stir crazy he had gotten in the compound. 

’M feeling better than ever, pretty girl. You don’t need to worry about me anymore. He had told you, sitting in the van outside of the shoddy warehouse. But his fingers still twitched when he said it, so you did worry about him. You didn’t think there would ever be a time that you wouldn’t worry about Bucky. Maybe that's the reason you found yourself bound and blindfolded in a musty room, a dripping pipe your only point of reference. 

The events leading up to your current situation were still somewhat unclear, your head foggy from whatever had caused the dull ache blooming across your skull. The one thing you could remember, however, was the look of devastation and pure wrath on Bucky’s face before you got knocked out. 

An army of Russo’s men had attacked you from behind, blindsiding you both. Amidst the chaos of guns and flying fists, a switch flipped in your brain; the only thing that mattered was protecting Bucky. Your self-preservation was thrown out the window and you fought through man after man to get to him. When he was finally in your sights, it all went black.

The switch that had flipped for you was then turned on for Bucky as well, but his was driven by unbridled rage. Nobody touches his girl, and he was going to make that very clear. With an angered scream, he began pummeling everyone in his sights, desperate to find an outlet for the emotion that coursed through him when he saw you go down. His metal arm stretched and groaned with his movements as he fought to get to you. His knuckles split with the sheer force behind his punches.  

He found himself glad that you had not been awake to see him; his actions were brutal and unrelenting, like that of the man he used to be. It dawned on him half way through the fight that he had a gun strapped to his hip, forgotten in his initial frenzy to seek retribution. When he looked down to grab for it, a thick fog invaded the parking garage. It was suffocating and had Bucky on his knees before he could even identify its source. When he came to moments later, the men were gone and so were you. 

~~

The creak of rusty hinges pulled you to attention. You turned your head towards the sound and waited as languid footsteps made their way towards you, stopping with a scuffle. 

“So this is the bitch we are supposed to be worried about? She’s…underwhelming.” A thick Italian accent bounced off the walls of the room. 

“Boss says she’s an Avenger. You know, those little American’s who go around thinking they run the place,” a second voice chimed in. The first man made a sound of disapproval. 

“So what? We are supposed to be afraid of her or something? Took down that big guy easy enough. She’s just a little thing compared to him and his freak arm.” Your blood ran cold. You began to pull at the confinements at your wrists, begging them to just snap so that you could find Bucky. 

“Ah, ah, ah. No getting out of those, little thing. What, are you upset we got one over on your boyfriend? It wasn’t hard. He went all crazy eyes after we knocked you out. Didn’t even notice the gas cans.” 

“Take the gag off her, Leo. I wanna hear the little Avenger beg us to let her go.” The stale cloth was removed from your mouth, granting you some reprieve. The blindfold still left you visionless. 

“Where is he?” You yelled. Your throat ached, another indication of the time that had passed since your capture. 

“You think we wasted time trying to drag that lug with us? We left him right where we found him, nice and sleepy on the concrete floor,” one of the men teased. You let out a small, relieved breath. At least he was free. You just hoped whatever they gassed him with wasn’t too potent. 

“That was a mistake,” you croaked out. “He’s going to come find me, and he’s not going to be very happy.”

“Yeah? Well we’ll just gas him again, girl. And I wish him luck trying to find this place. Nearly impossible to spot, even for the locals.” The men were closer now, their footsteps sending vibrations into the soles of your feet. 

“If you didn’t want to use me as bait, then why take me? Wouldn’t it have been easier to just kill us?” You asked. 

“Possibly,” he replied. “But then how would we send a message to the Avengers to stay out of our business?” You scoffed in disbelief. 

“You think making the Avengers mad will go well for you? They’re literal superhumans, you know that right?” Your face was thrown to the side, one of the men’s harsh slaps splitting your lip open. You took a second to right yourself, the unexpected assault jarring.

“Maybe you should watch your tone. You don’t know what we have planned for you, and being a brat is going to make it a whole lot worse.” 

“What you have planned for me?” You asked, tasting the blood on your tongue. “You both sound so sure of yourselves and yet, you can’t even trust me without a blindfold on. Seems like you’re a little scared your plan isn't going to work.” The material was ripped from your eyes then, burning your face as it slid against your skin. 

“Happy now? We don’t care if you see. Was just fun to make you sit in the dark forever,” the man barked. You recognized him as Alexander, one of the Russo family’s middle men. 

Blinking, you took a look at your surroundings. It was basically what you had expected. Empty concrete walls connected to dirt and grime coated floors. Red light illuminated every surface, a single lamp in the corner of the room. To the left, you saw the culprit of your earlier musings, the leaking sink creating a puddle on the ground. 

“Nice place,” you remarked. “Though, it's escaping me why you would think the former Winter Soldier wouldn’t be able to find it.” Alexander sneered at you, obviously fed up with your sarcasm. 

“I’ll have you know this place is heavily fortified. Hidden behind thick walls of steel, with a patrol every 15 minutes. Even that door is pure iron.” 

“That’s a lot of effort for one—what was it you called me? Oh right. Underwhelming girl,” you taunted. The other man, Leo you remembered, spoke then. 

“It’s not just for you, stupid girl. This is the location of our more delicate matters. I suppose you fall under that umbrella now that you serve a purpose for our—” Deafening booms erupted in the distance, cutting off his spiel. “What the hell was that?” 

Alexander whipped around to face you, skin pale and eyes frantic. He re-gagged you and fought with your thrashing head to cover your eyes once again. “The boss can’t know we were in here, Leo. He said to leave her alone until he needed her for the videos. Come, we need to get out of here before anyone sees us.” 

More banging sounded off in the hall, this time accompanied by distant screams. The two men stopped abruptly. Rushed Italian whispers hit your ears, panicked and unintelligible. You wished you had paid more attention when Bucky was teaching you Italian on the jet. 

“Your boyfriend, the Winter Soldier,” Alexander began, after a pause between the two. “He loves you very much, yes?” Your face scrunched up in confusion under the bindings. Unsure of their motives, you shrugged your shoulders. 

“Don’t play coy,” Leo bit out. “You said he would come find you. So he must love you, no?” You remained quiet. 

“She’s not going to tell us anything. We will stay here. He won’t hurt us if we have her. And no one’s getting through that door without a key,” he concluded. 

“What! But if we’re found in this room we will be punished by the—”

“You think any of that matters now?” Alexander seethed. Fear seeped through his voice. “Do you have any idea what that man can do? If he’s already gotten this far into the base, he will do far worse to us than anything anyone could do here.” 

Your groggy mind was slowly putting the pieces together. Bucky had found you, most likely more pissed than ever, and was destroying the base from the inside. If the chaos and screaming on the other side of the iron door was any indication, he was succeeding. 

You ached to break out of the chair and help him. Images of his last month still raced through your mind, and you would do anything to prevent that from happening again. But you weren’t cognizant enough of your surroundings to make any moves, and you certainly weren’t strong enough to break past the metal confining your wrists. So instead, you did the one thing you could do. You sucked in a profound breath, and you screamed. 

The hall went silent; the air so still it was almost palpable. It reminded you of being underwater, pressure building from all sides. The screams and crashes were then replaced by a single set of harrowing, steady footsteps. Bucky’s footsteps. You could recognize them anywhere. 

“You bitch,” one of the men hissed. You didn’t care to keep track anymore, Bucky was coming to get you. 

“It’s fine. It's fine, Alexander. You said it yourself, there’s no way anyone is getting through that door without a key.” But the first man was still fuming. Your blindfold was hurled from your face when another hit was directed at your temple. This one left the room spinning. 

The sound of his hand connecting with your skin quickened the footsteps outside. You briefly wondered if the man knew about Bucky’s enhanced hearing; if he still would have hit you had he known. The desperate pounding on the door began just as quickly as the footsteps stopped. 

“Is he seriously going to try and punch the door out?” One of the men quaked. You had a hard time hearing him though. Bucky’s metal arm was making direct contact with the door; his screams of fury were resonating around the concrete walls. The men began inching their way towards you, seeking refuge behind your chair as if that would protect them from wrath they were about to face. 

When the iron door finally gave, slamming into the far wall with an ear-splitting clang, Bucky was livid. His chest heaved violently—shoulders back and broad—and his fists were clenched so tightly you feared he would dent the metal. He moved his gaze to you, eyes flitting over the bruises and cuts and the dirty rag that had been forced into your mouth. A softness found a way onto his face, love laced with concern. But then his eyes flickered up to the two men cowering behind you, and that softness vanished. 

He was on the men faster than you could turn your head to look, metal arm groaning with the force of his grip. “You fucking touch her?” Bucky raged, his hand pressing harder and harder into the man’s neck. His boot kept the other man pinned to the ground. “Huh? Answer me!” 

“N-No. No we didn’t,” the man gasped. “D-Didn’t touch her, swear.” Bucky didn’t believe him. He slammed the man to the ground, lying him next to the one under the sole of his boot. 

“And what about you, huh?” Bucky taunted, right arm resting on his bent knee,  boot pressing firmly into the man’s sternum. “You gonna lie and say you didn’t touch my girl?” 

The man groaned, unable to respond with the pressure on his ribs. Bucky clenched his jaw, the force so great it sent pulses through his head. 

“Nobody’s gonna tell the truth? Well somebody better speak up because she’s over there covered in bruises, and I sure as hell didn’t put them there.” 

“Him! He did! I-I didn’t touch her,” Leo whimpered, desperate to quell the pain in his chest. Bucky narrowed his eyes. 

“So you’re a coward and an idiot.” Bucky pushed harder. “Way I see it, I heard my girl scream. I gotta say, nothing I hate more than hearing that sound. Then I get in here and see the two of you, hiding behind her like that would somehow stop me from beating your ass. 

“Now, I only got a list the size of my pinky of people I care about, but unfortunately for you, she's at the top of it. I don’t like to follow the rules much, but there’s this one little rule I can never seem to shake,” his eyes flashed. You’d never seen him look so primal. “You touch my girl, and I kill you.” 

And as much as you hated the two men, you loved Bucky more. He had already given so much of himself up to Hydra, killing and torturing for others upon their command. You couldn’t—no, you wouldn’t—allow him to do those same things for you.

Mouth still bound, you let out a sound of disapproval. His head snapped over his shoulder, panic in his eyes as he surveyed the area. When he saw no immediate threats, he threw you a look of confusion. You gave him a brief shake of your head, furrowing your brows and trying to convey that you were okay. He didn’t need to do this. 

Bucky looked conflicted, a silent battle raging through his mind. His instincts told him to attack; to hurt the people who laid their hands on the one person he held so close to his heart. But you were telling him something different. You were telling him he didn’t need to fight. With a grunt, he pulled away from the men, leaving them gasping and curled up on the cement floor. 

“Guess it’s your lucky day,” Bucky spit out. “I don't wanna get my hands dirty. But you put your hands anywhere near her again, and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” He silenced their pained moans with two swift kicks, effectively knocking them out. 

And then, a different Bucky—the one that kisses your nose and wipes away your tears when you cry—emerged. His breathing evened out as soon as the last man was rendered unconscious, delicate hands then tracing the bruises on your cheekbones.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he cooed, removing the material from your mouth. “You okay? Can you say something for me?” You blinked up at him, his sudden shift paired with your minor concussion disorienting. “Y/n? Come on, doll, give me something to work with.” He began ripping off your bindings. 

“You never have to do that for me,” you finally said, your voice gravelly. He paused his movements, the metal rods covering your wrists momentarily forgotten. 

“What was that, doll?” He whispered. He ran a gentle hand down your head, fingers trickling through your hair like silk. 

“You never have to kill like that. Not for me, Bucky. Not for anyone.” He looked pained at your words and let out a sorrowful breath. 

“I would do anything for you, y/n. Anything,” he responded. He looked down again, freeing your hands and rubbing his thumbs across the bruises on your arms. “And it wouldn’t be because you made me.” 

“I know, Buck. But I’d rather have you whole than have you breaking apart from revenge. I just need you. Everything else is just noise,” you begged him to hear you. He looked up from your lap and placed a tender hand on your cheek, eyes still assessing the severity of your injuries. 

“I already told you, pretty girl, you don’t have to worry about me. S’long as I got you safe, I’m fine.” 

“But, Bucky, you’re not hearing me. You never have to—” 

“I’m hearin’ you just fine, doll. I always hear you,” he comforted. He stood then, reaching for your weaker body to hold you close as he walked down the hall. “But what I do when you're hurt? That’s not a part of me that can listen to that logic your spoutin’. Took everything in me not to give those guys what they deserved. When I woke up and you were gone—God, doll, never felt like that before.” 

You hummed in sympathy, your head throbbing from Bucky’s quick gait. “Just wanted you to know, Buck,” you slurred, eyes growing heavy. “I’d never ask you to do that for me. Love you too much to do that.” Bucky’s grip around you tightened, his fingers brushing circles into your arm. 

“I know, doll. But it’s because you love me that I’d do it anyway.”

[eirist]

In the Heat of the Moment

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: For Day 3—Nami’s Day—of the ZoNa Days event (at @zonamievents). I’m already late but still posting it. It’s unfair if it’s only Zoro who gets an entry.

In the Heat of the Moment is by Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds. I still have The Umbrella playlist to thank for being such a good company.

Summary: "You're getting sappy witch. Sounds like you care about me."

The rain hadn’t let up from the moment it began to pour down.

Which should not have been a problem in the first place… the Straw Hats have their very own weather expert-slash-navigator extraordinaire after all.

If only said weather expert-slash-navigator extraordinaire didn't get distracted, arguing with a certain green-haired swordsman.

"This is your fault!" Nami complained, rubbing her arms with her hands in a poor attempt to keep the emerging chill away.

​Somehow satisfied, she folded her arms across her chest as she sulkily glared at the rain which has now completely turned into a steady downpour.

​Luckily she was able to pull the man with her towards an alcove in the town's wall before they got drenched. It was an uncomfortable fit, as they were almost pressed to each other, but it'll do.

​Zoro was snarling beside her. "This rain is MY fault?" He huffed. "Right! It's my fault coz I absolutely can make it rain on a whim!"

Nami turned sharply towards him, glaring daggers. "If you hadn't gotten lost—" 

"I DON'T GET LOST!" 

"—like the idiot that you are," she continued ignoring Zoro's outburst, deliberately raising her tone and effectively drowning his retort with her shrill voice. "Then we wouldn't be stuck in here ZORO!" Her voice jumped another octave when she said his name. "In. HERE!" She repeated the words, making sure to emphasize them and hoping to drill it straight into his thick, dumb skull. 

"Tch! Then you shouldn't have followed me!" The former bounty hunter groused.

​"Besides, aren't you supposed to be good at predicting the weather?" He commented sardonically. "Shouldn't you have known that it’s going to rain today?" 

Nami gaped at him disbelievingly. ​And heat rose to her cheeks.

​She gave his shin a good kick for that.

​​"Ite!" 

​"I know that!" Nami practically shrieked at him. "That's why I followed you here to tell you about it! Is this the thanks I get from making sure you don't get your dumb self lost in this island while a storm is brewing?!"

"Again woman, I DON'T GET LOST!" Not the one to be deterred, Zoro raised his own voice to match hers. "And damn it! Stop kicking me!"

​"Bullshit!" The ever-feisty navigator exclaimed. "That a load of crap and you know it!"

​She angrily poked his chest with her finger. "If I leave you to your own devices... We. Would. Never. Find. You!" She punctuated each word with a prod on his torso. As if that would actually make the idea sink unto him. "I don't want Luffy and Chopper whining about how you are lost and that we should find you!

​Zoro grabbed her hand to stop her from poking a hole in him. Grasping it firmly he all but shouted back at her. "I will be fine! I will find my way back to the Sunny!"

“Hah! Fat chance of that happening!” 

​They were almost nose to nose by this time; all the while scowling at each other, both waiting for the other to back down.

Now only the sound of the rain falling heavily down the soaked earth can be heard as they continued their stare off. Along with the sharp intake of breaths coming from the two of them because honestly, their shouting matches can be quite arduous.

​As the glowering continued; Zoro thought he caught a glint, a spark from behind Nami's eyes before those warm brown orbs widened.

​In what could only be a realization that their current position is leaning towards… precarious. It was also not helping that his own eye had darted all over her face, taking in the flush on her cheeks. Despite it coming from indignation, she still looks...

 ... pretty.

​He almost choked at his thoughts. When did he turn into that shit cook?

Zoro inhaled sharply and realized what a wrong move that was. He caught a whiff of Nami’s signature scent. Sweet with an undertone of zestiness that reminds him of her mikan fruits at their peak of ripeness—that certain moment that makes you want to steal one so you can taste them...

​The color on her face deepened and Zoro wasn't sure if it was because she was getting angrier and angrier by the minute.

Or... If it was because she saw that his stare lingered for more than a second or two at her lips. ​"Screw this!" He grunted, instantly averting his gaze. He felt his face heating up and to get out of their rather 'awkward' situation, he immediately resorted to his favorite defense mechanism whenever he faces off against this orange-haired devil incarnate.

Losing his temper on her. 

"You are not my keeper woman!" He snapped at her before immediately stepping out of their sanctuary and into the rain.

That made Nami snap to attention. "Hey!"

​Without another word Zoro turn around and started walking away from her despite the torrential rain.

WALKING. AWAY. FROM. HER.

While it’s raining cats and dogs. 

 "Zorooo!!!" He heard Nami screeched his name, horrified that he would actually leave her alone. There was no way he was getting back in there with her. Not when it occurred to him that he was only a second away from grabbing her...

...and kissing her.

​He walked in faster strides when she called him again. He had to get away from her. He needed to get away from her.

Far away.

​Because honestly she was driving him crazy lately with all these thoughts of wanting to kiss her surfacing every moment whenever he was with her.  

And who knows what the repercussions are? This is Nami they're talking about. She would probably sic ero-cook and even Luffy if he dared to even try. Or rat him out to either Robin or Usopp or both.

Or charge him more than what his current bounty is.

He winced at that.

​For now he needed to get away and calm himself so he can reflect...

​There was no warning as something collided at his back, almost making him stumble down the wet ground.

Did someone just attack him?

​But the presence wasn't threatening, even if its arms were wrapped around his neck in a chokehold, throttling him.

"YOU DID NOT JUST LEAVE ME ALONE THERE RORONOA ZORO!" Nami deliberately yelled at his ear, probably making his ear drum shatter and rendering him forever deaf. In a split second the Supernova realized that Nami… had jumped him.

​"Hey! Get off witch!"

"No!" "Get off!" "I said no!"

​"Get off now or I'll--"

Her hold around his neck tightened. "Or you'll what?" Nami hissed right in his ear in a tone so dangerously low that an actual chill ran down Zoro's spine. He gave her arm a light slap, a silent gesture to loosen her hold because she was cutting off his air. When she didn't relent, he effortlessly bounced her up his back.

​With a squeak of surprise, her arms slackened and he was able to finally draw in some air.

Nami’s hands grabbed at his shirt in an attempt to prevent herself from slipping from his back. Zoro tried to shake her off him. But the cat burglar swiftly clung onto him by locking her legs around his waist.

His remaining eye widened at that. 

"Nami!"  ​ "Stop trying to shake me off Zoro!" Nami protested as she held on to him tightly. Her knee knocked against his katanas and he scowled. "Then stop strangling me damn it!" "You deserve it you ass! Leaving me alone like that! Wait until the others hear about this you brute!" ​ Zoro muttered an expletive under his breath. Nami is a real witch!

He can feel her sliding down his back again. She was having a hard time clinging onto him because his shirt and her arms and legs were all wet from the rain water.

"I'm charging you for all these Zoro!" She muttered against his ear, her breath hot against his skin… a stark contrast from the cold rain water falling down on them. "The hell you are!" He managed to retort. She was speaking from his blind side and even as he tilted his head, he cannot see her face or her expression.

The next thing he knew… her fist had descended on his head.

“The hell! Why did you hit me?!”

“Because you are a moron.”

“That’s it get off me!”

“No!!”

​They continued struggling against each other, right in the middle of the rain that was soaking them to the bone.

​And Zoro realized then and there that Nami was quite nimble. She had quickly managed to change her position from his back to his side with her legs still locked around him.

He really didn't know what to do with that information, except it's going to be really handy once he gets the chance to...

​​​Fuck! ​​ She had hit him on the head with her fist ​again.​ That’s twice already.  Why are her punches hurting him so much? Was it clad in haki?? "Argh! Nami stop it!" He tilted his head towards her so he can growl and glare at her all at the same time.

She just gave him a haughty serves-you-right grin.

In retaliation he bounced her against him again. 

​Which was a wrong move. Because all it did was rubbed her breasts against him and press her closer to him.

It was a good thing the rain was drowning them.   Though it did made her yelp in surprise. He’s good with that.

​"Argh! Stay still Zoro! I swear if you drop me down I'm going to—"

“To what?” His steely eye met hers. This time it was his turn to challenge her.

Nami’s hold around his neck tightened, probably because her grip on him was slipping again because she was just as wet as he is and also because she still wants to choke the shit out of him for leaving her alone earlier.

She lifted her chin slightly so she could gaze back at him even as the rain water continued trickling down her face.

Was it just him or Nami’s quite comfortable where she is right now?

He knew she was trying to give him the evil eye. But it was hard to do that when the droplets of rain keep clinging to her lashes and she had to blink them away in a manner that affects him greatly.

And there was it… that familiar glint, that spark he saw when they were back in the alcove taking shelter from this rain.

“Look Zoro,” she finally sighed. “I just wanted to make sure you will come back to the Sunny in one piece and not get stranded in this weather."

​Zoro blinked. He was not expecting that.

​Then his face broke into a smirk. "You're getting sappy witch. Sounds like you care about me."

“Y-y-ou!” She stammered.

He grinned at her as she sputtered, her face turn absolutely and adorably red.

To think, he actually high-tailed it out of there earlier with his tail between his legs all because he can't face the realization that he wanted this woman.

But there was no denying it now. Amidst this rain it was very clear. That was all he needed.

He finally decided to take a chance instead of running away from it like a coward. ​

He tucked a strand of her wet hair behind her ear. "You can punch me or charge me later Nami," was all he said before he pressed his lips on hers.

Her body jerked in surprised. His arm instantly wrapped around her waist to secure her as one of her hands grasp at his shirt tightly.

​He swore he heard and felt her murmur 'oh fuck' against his lips before she deepened their kiss.

​They pulled apart slightly for air. Zoro hauled her up a little and Nami was about to lean down to for another kiss…

“A-choo!”

They looked at each other in surprise. Nami’s hand automatically covered her mouth as her face turned red again… this time for a very different reason.

“Ehem!”

They both turn their heads towards the sound and saw an elderly man standing a few feet away from them under an umbrella.

He was shaking his head as he looked at them.

“You youngsters should just get a room you know. You risk getting sick doing things out here in the open that should be done privately.”