#there IS an explanation but its very dumb and long

[alittlesylphish]

i made nine-ball into a hot humanoid robot, if anyone cares

[sicksorrows]

more nanami hcs & scenarios !! nsfw & sfw

nanami kento who would shove his fingers down your throat while you're fucking, just so he could hear you struggle.

nanami kento who would cook dinner for you every night. if you ask to cook, he'd make you do the very minimal tasks.

nanami kento who dominates you in bed and acts like a submissive man when you finish having sex

nanami kento who would listen your favourite songs and save them to a secret playlist dedicated to you.

nanami kento ROLE PLAYS. (as much as I hate the thought of professor nanami) he would totally do any type of roleplay: teacher/student, boss/employee, pet/owner, doctor/patient, celebrity/fan and yeah you get it. also he would NOT break character at all.

nanami kento who would take pictures of you before you both head out somewhere

nanami kento who fucks you out of pure jealousy when he sees you talking with someone else, even if its just for a second

nanami kento who changes personalities when hes around you

nanami kento who seduces you to bed instead of going at it right away, he loves foreplay and would savour his time with you before getting to the good part

nanami kento who would stroke your hair and hum your favorite melody while you both lay in bed before you going to bed.

nanami kento is an experimentalist idc how much times im gonna say this he is an experimentalist he would literally try anything and would be willing to do anything to you he. is. an. experimentalist.

nanami kento who kisses your forehead every morning and waits for you to wake up so you could brush your teeth together

nanami kento who would pick up the phone even if hes fucking you, he would try to challenge you to stay quiet as he talks to the person on the other side, while also hitting every right spot.

nanami kento who would cuddle you after he's finished a long day of work.

nanami kento loves semi public sex. thats it. no explanation

nanami kento who remembers every single thing about you, if you were to ask him he would answer in a heartbeat

nanami kento who would use you as a stress reliever whenever hes angry.

nanami kento who would constantly talk about you to others and saying how proud he is to have someone like you

nanami kento who loves to dirty talk

nanami kento who would help you understand something without making you sound dumb. even if you both can't understand something he would try to learn it quickly before telling you

nanami kento who would wrap his biceps around your neck as he takes you from the back

nanami kento who's obessed with an unusual attribute of yours, something only he likes

nanami kento who cries during sex

nanami kento who fell in love with you at first sight

you could tell which ones I was excited to write about lol, and if u rmr the other hcs post I made, some of them may be mentioned so sorryyyy anyway some more detailed (ish) extras below !!

extras ++

nanami would definitely fuck you with music in the background, but he'd put it on low just so he could hear your sounds echo through the room. he only thought putting music would make the setting more fitting but he never really wanted to hear someone else when he has you in front of him.

more explanation on the crying during sex, he would have happy tears as he fucks you. its tears of gratefulness that you're there in his life and he's glad to be with someone like you.

he would definitely jerk off to your face when he's all alone and though he seems like an honest person he'd never actually tell you that he did that to your face just so you dont feel uncomfortable.

a really really odd thought I have is pervert Nanami.. now hear me out I know perverts are gross and all but nanami would honestly suit the roll really well. cat calling as you walk by him, staring you up and down in a subway. taking secret pictures of you and getting off at them later. basically being a total creep in general!

stalker nanami. once he finds his new obsession, hes hooked, and he knows you're the one. its dumb but he would first follow you to your house. thats all he needs and hes got it. he would follow your every move, try to break in and steal your things, and eventually "accidentally" create some coincidences so he could get closer to you. basically joe goldberg shit (besides the murdering part)

shower sex! shower sex!!!! he would hold onto you, very carefully, just so you dont slip as he takes you in so perfectly. he would go slow at first but when he can't control himself anymore he would quicken the pace and go FAST.

he loves hearing you say his name and would practically keep bugging you so he could hear you say his name multiple times. or while you guys are having sex he would keep begging you to call his name out, on every thrust btw.

he doesn't share.

though,,, I do see him as a voyeur. he would definitely get off at you masturbating to yourself or listen to the sounds of you doing something sexual, whatever it is.

I said he doesn't share but the thought of him getting jealous at the sight of you getting fucked by anyone else but him is what's so SJNFOSOSJ like imagine he comes home one night and hears sounds from your room and, of course curious, checks out what's going on and sees you getting fucked by another man!!!!!!! ughh the look on his face would probably be soooo hotttt

he's extremely kinky idc what you say he has the most weirdest kinks too and im not complaining.

recording during sex!!! fuck, thats actually so hot.

says I love you on every thrust

[sleepymarimo]

𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕤

summary: he didn't mean to push you away so harshly, to build his walls so high, but he didn't expect you to go running to someone else... pairing: zoro x reader, slight law x reader cw: unrequited feelings (or are they?), angst, no comfort an: set in wano, with some minor tweaks! thought of this last night and had to share my pain...oops also, i plan to have some fluffy straw hat stuff out this weekend ♡( ◡‿◡ ) wc: 3.4k

you'd been harboring feelings for your vice captain, for a while. you never acted on it, his aloof nature making you too nervous to make that jump- to try. even then, you were sure that he had more pressing matters to attend to.

so, you kept it under wraps. you trained and laughed and did everything you were supposed to, did everything right, without letting your feelings get too much in the way. it was manageable, and it made you feel good that you could support your crew, even if it meant holding onto your feelings.

it was the little things that gave you away to him. how your eyes darted away a bit too quickly when he met your gaze, how you sometimes intentionally stood farther away from him in a bid to look inconspicuous, even though it made it so much more obvious. he was as dumb as a rock sometimes, yeah, but not when it came to his crew, not when it came to you. he knew. of course he knew, but he had no reason to call you out on it. clearly you didn't want to discuss it and, as long as it wasn't getting in the way of anything major, he could bear it. it was when your emotions served as a distraction, that things became complicated.

the land of wano brought with it many challenges. most where physical, be it sneaking around the shady capital or handling some rowdy criminals. having crew members split up also made you worried, only heightening your senses and making your brain run rampant with what ifs. it all comes to a sudden standstill when you and brook, on your way to the safe house, walk in on zoro. one of the most beautiful women you've ever seen is snuggled right into his side and you feel a twinge of envy.

your heart does a somersault in your chest, something twisting in your gut at the unusual sight. a part of you, the rational side, knows very well that zoro didn't let people into his personal space with such ease. yet, even with her explanation, your mood can't help but sour. it only worsens when you all sit down and discuss more pressing matters.

the stresses of wano, this whole hiyori situation and her ever present enthusiasm towards the swordsman has you itching to escape. your responses become curt and your hands twitch in your lap. it's not how you should be acting, not given the circumstances, but you can't help it. finally, when there's a break in the conversation, you politely dismiss yourself.

once outside, you take a deep breath and collect your thoughts. leaning against the wall of the safe house, you let out a sigh and stare off at some random point in the distance in a bid to quell your passive aggressive behavior. the sound of the door opening catches you off guard, your arms crossing over your chest as the swordsman approaches you with a hardened expression.

"the hell is up with that look on your face?" he'd grumble, his cold demeanor matching the chill in the air. his arms are crossed, his posture tense. while zoro was one to take things as they came, focusing on the present, he couldn't deny that wano and its secrets were gnawing at him as well. he was irritated, wondering why you'd even bother to think about something as miniscule as feelings while there were enemies and actual threats lurking about. when you don't answer, when he figures you wouldn't even have the guts to bring it up, he huffs. "you think I asked to be cuddled up to like a damn toy?" his eye narrows and he takes a step closer, challenging you. "I don't have feelings for her, or anyone, got it?" the lump in your throat is too large to swallow and you nod, incapable of much else. a torrent of sensations swirl in your chest: embarrassment that he'd been aware of your feelings this whole time, guilt for letting them get in the way, and a bitter resounding sting that came with rejection. with a click of his tongue, he turns back and heads into the safe house, mumbling something about pulling yourself together and focusing on what's important.

you're almost glad when zoro ends up splitting off with hiyori later on, your mind flooded with thoughts. in a bid to defend yourself from further pain, you get your act together and squash down those feelings. you do well to put on a brave and happy face, deciding that, yes, there are some more important matters to attend to.

despite that, it's still hard not to see the samurai a bit differently. you knew he was blunt, even harsh at moments, but his approach to such a sensitive topic was a little much for you to handle. even if his words held some truth, that there were more pressing matters to attend to, the delivery of it just made you feel uneasy and hurt. the rest of your encounters are just as quick, your words just as clipped. if you acted any differently towards him, it wasn't out of malice. subconsciously, you defend yourself from further embarrassment and give him the distance you think he needs. while the chaos ensues, your defense mechanism only serves as a temporary solution. once the dust settled, it would be a different story.

finally, when the horrors of wano are dealt with, you can breathe a minor sigh of relief. in the flower capital, alongside your crew mates, you patiently wait for luffy and zoro to awaken from their slumbers. when they finally do, the air feels lighter

in the wake of it all, your emotions catch up to you, which makes you feel worse since this was supposed to be a joyful moment. it's hard to fight that initial instinct, to head over to zoro and ask if he's alright or if he needs anything. yet, you force yourself to take a step back, even if it does look like his bandages need tending to. it's a lot easier to do so once hiyori reveals that she was the one to help bathe him while he was unconscious, your stomach churning as you look away and walk to a different corner of the room. clearly he had someone looking out for him already. with a polite and slightly forced smile on your face, you find yourself heading over to law, who sits in the corner and chooses to observe the moment rather than partake in any conversation. you'd gotten along well with the surgeon, your relationship only growing stronger as he spent more time with the straw hats. he respected your skills and your perceptiveness, your ability to adapt to the needs of those around you and make them feel at ease. when he hears you approaching, he's naturally wary, but relents and gives you a nod, saying your name as a way of greeting you. satisfied, you take a seat next to him and raise a hand to gesture at his arm. "I know you're a surgeon and all, but d'ya think I can help you with your bandages?" you ask him, sincere and with a soft smile. "y'know, before this whole alliance thing is over and all..." he wants to say no, but the genuine kindness in your eyes has him huffing and looking away. a reddish hue tinges his cheeks and he holds out his arm. "go ahead." his tone fights to maintain its usual indifference, though there's a hint of appreciation laced in. on the opposite side of the room, where hiyori 'fixed' his bandages much too tight, zoro glances over at you. he notes the way you visibly relax around the surgeon, an action that has him growing irritated. he was your crew mate, your nakama, someone who would keep you safe, not that second rate captain. when the bandages cut off his circulation, he growls in frustration and tears some of them off. why weren't you over here doing this for him, when you knew exactly how he liked his bandages? why were you tending to law so gently and giving him that smile, the one you hadn't given him in ages? the swordsman isn't blind. he's been aware of the distance you've put between the two of you, how your 'smile' drops as soon as you turn away from him. as the battles had come to an end, he's now forced to recall the events which occurred at the safe house. he curses as his own shortcomings, his inability to think twice about his actions and how they'll affect the future. turning his attention towards something else, he mentally chides himself. what did he care, after all? he didn't do the whole relationship thing, the whole soft and squishy feelings. he was a swordsman, he had a goal and a crew to protect, including you. his thoughts do little to fight off the twinge of possessiveness he feels when he instinctively looks in your direction and catches sight of you holding law's hand as you secured his bandage. something gnaws at his pride, but he pushes it aside for the sake of maintaining his stoic front.

once everyone is healed, a festival, a grand one, is thrown to celebrate the liberation of wano. lanterns illuminate almost every corner, the scent of food wafting through the air as citizens and samurai and pirates all gather around.

dressed in a lovely kimono of your choice, you're more than eager to join in the revelry. the two bottles of sake that you carry in your hands only highlights your enthusiasm. you'd been hanging around with the crew for a while, smiling and laughing, but your mind was elsewhere. zoro thinks, for a split second, that you'll hand him a bottle. despite his aloof nature, he'd always find himself sharing a drink with you at times like this. yet, when you walk in the opposite direction, your smile beaming, your words have him gritting his teeth. "m'gonna go have a drink with law!" you chirp, your excitement palpable.

zoro's jaw clenches as he watches you walk off, his eyes lingering on your figure before he looks away. something simmers beneath the surface, but he keeps it at bay. it's nami's offhand comment that his frustration threatening to boil over.

"don't have too much fun!" she teases, throwing a cheeky smile your way. the others have the nerve to laugh, to egg you on, all while the swordsman relishes in how the alcohol burns his throat.

his knuckles turn white as he grips the neck of his sake bottle, the glass straining against his hold. a plethora of unfamiliar emotions rattle in his chest, but his bullheadedness and pride have him unwilling to budge, even if he wants to grab your arm and pull you back. it wasn't his place.

even when you're out of sight, his eyes subconsciously work to peer through the crowd in an attempt to catch a glimpse of your kimono, your hair, anything. once again, he scolds himself. he had no place to be so... so what? envious? possessive? he was the one to turn you away, after all. regardless, he can't get your smile out of his head. memories of you flood his mind: the banter and the sparring matches at sunset. all of it. just as quickly, he catches himself, bringing his lips to the bottle in a bid to drown out the bitterness on his tongue.

it's nearly a full hour later when you return to the crew, more than buzzed and clinging to the arm of the raven-haired surgeon. he doesn't seem to mind, his furrowed brows and his apathetic expression doing little to hide the blush dusting his cheeks.

glad to be in the company of your crew mates once more, you turn to law and wrap your arms around his waist, your smile so genuine and radiant it makes zoro's chest ache. "thank you traffy!"

the laughter of the rest of the crew echoes in zoro's ears alongside his own thundering heartbeat and boiling blood. what the hell were you doing? a knot forms in his chest, the unfamiliar sensation bringing him a great sense of unease.

he has to force himself to look away, before he realizes that it's not enough. without excusing himself, he stands and walks off towards a more secluded part of the festival. he needs to get away from whatever all that is. he needs to clear his head and heart and steel himself because he shouldn't be focusing on such things.

if you were any more sober, you would've kept your distance. however, it's in your nature to care, to worry and ensure that your crew mates are okay. that's why, as soon as you register the fact that the swordsman is gone, you release your hold on the surgeon and follow after zoro.

it's almost silent, save for the sounds of the festival off in the distance. the streets in this part of the capital aren't as illuminated, but cast enough of a glow for you to see zoro up ahead.

"zoro?" you mumble, attentive despite the alcohol in your system. "what're you doin' all the way out here?" your words are so genuine and full of concern, which makes it all the harder for zoro to respond.

"huh? what does it look like?" he roughly replies, not even bothering to fully face you as he turns his head to the side. "needed a break from all the noise and drunken idiots."

something bubbles in his throat, a lump of guilt that he swallows for the sake of self-preservation. he knows he has no right to be so callous, but can't help the passive-aggressive comment that slips past his lips. "why don't you just go off with that surgeon of yours? seems like better company."

your stomach drops and you take a step back. something wedges itself into your chest, a sense of anxiety and confusion as your mind briefly flickers back to that moment at the safe house. you'd done everything right, hadn't you? you'd given him space and pushed your feelings aside for the sake of the mission, so why this?

your heart starts to race, unable to look him in the eye as you focus your gaze to the side.

"why're you bein' so mean to me...?" you murmur, your hands nervously fidgeting as you await his answer. you just wanted to make things right.

he has to turn away once he catches the hurt on your face. if you were any more sober, you would've caught how he was the one that was truly nervous. the way you threatened to break down the walls he had built for himself has him needing to take control, even if that meant pushing you away.

"m'just being honest." he says, sharper than he means to. "leave me alone. go and enjoy the rest of the damn festival."

regret and longing make his chest throb, but he keeps on his mask of indifference as he takes a step forward and away from you. he wouldn't budge, couldn't.

meanwhile, you stand there, your inhales slowly turning short and ragged. your lips tremble and you fight to hold back sobs, but shortly after, you start to sniffle.

you hated crying, really crying. the crew had seen you shed silly little tears before, maybe over something cute or emotional, but not this. it's something you usually hide away and display in private, but the nature of the situation and the influence of the alcohol have you shedding an uncontrollable amount of tears.

though you shouldn't be, the utter vulnerability of the moment has you feeling embarrassed. you find solace in your sleeves, the kimono becoming damp with tears that don't seem to end. your cheeks sting, rubbed raw as you hide away from him.

zoro's heart drops.

the sound of your sobs is devastating. guilt claws at his chest, threatening to crack him open. when he turns around, all he can feel is regret. the weight of his words, how he treated you, is almost unbearable and makes him feel disgusted with himself.

his mind is racing, wondering what he should do or say to fix this, but he can't come up with an answer. before he can do anything, his mind goes blank at your next words.

"I wish I never got feelings for you." you choke out, unsure if your words are genuine or if you simply wanted to hurt the swordsman. with your shoulders trembling, you continued to cry into your sleeves. "I should've figured that there was nothing in that heart of yours."

deciding that you couldn't stand being in the same vicinity as him anymore, you run off.

he watches you go, his heart screaming at him to go after you, but he can't. the walls crumble and he can't hide anymore, forcing himself to realize that he cares for you so much that it terrifies him. the air is thick with tension, your sobs echoing through the air until they fade away, replaced by the distant sounds of the festival.

regret, self-loathing and longing all swirl in his chest, a torrent of emotion that threatens to swallow him whole.

you don't make it back to the ship that night.

you're too embarrassed and ashamed, not feeling safe enough to be vulnerable. you mentally apologize to the crew, hoping that they aren't too worried.

it isn't until the next morning that you return, or rather, you're returned.

the sun barely peeks over the horizon when law walks aboard the thousand sunny go with you cradled in his arms. you're in a deep sleep, completely exhausted and hungover. you're dressed in some of his clothes, your expression peaceful despite what occurred the night before.

other members of the crew gather around, worried about your well-being, but law is quick to say that you were just hungover and must have gotten lost. however, zoro can tell by the sharp look that law gives him that there was more to the story.

the vice captain grits his teeth, shoulders tensing as he watches law gently carry you over to your quarters.

a part of zoro wants to force law to give him answers, to tear you out of his arms so he could cradle you in his. he should've been the one to care for you, to protect you when you were vulnerable, but he hurt you instead. something else nags at him, the fact that you sought solace in someone else's arms.

law comes out of your room, quietly closing the door before walking down the deck. as he walks by zoro, he doesn't stop, but he shoots him another hardened glare. "you're an idiot, roronoa-ya."

oh, zoro knows.

when you finally awaken, you put on a brave face and tell the rest of the crew that you were sorry about your little slip up. you do well to cover it up with a laugh and smile. you build walls of your own, adamant on not getting hurt again.

it's once the crew is happy and satisfied that you make your way back to your room, your head hanging low as you walk by zoro.

your legs come to a stop and you can only hold his gaze for a second before you look away, just wanting to put this chapter behind you. the ache in your chest grows as you wonder what could've been. your voice is small. "look..." you start, hands bunching up into the borrowed shirt you're wearing. "let's just forget this ever happened and stay friends... alright?"

'forget?' he thinks. 'how can I forget that look on your face? the sounds of your sobs? do you think i'd let you go so easily?'

yet, despite the war raging on inside of him, the words stay stuck in his throat.

"yeah." what am i saying? "just friends."

as he watches you walk back to your room, he feels defeated. pathetic. he wants to say more, to show you that he can be the man you deserve, but for now, he sinks back into his usual habits and wonders what could have been.

he knows that he let something precious slip away.

steeling himself, he holds his heavy heart high. a sliver of determination cuts through his clouded mind and he hopes that, one day, he can make things right.

[yey56]

HARLEY SAWYER X PSYCHOLOGIST READER Pt5

(I'm going to assume the position player had in the factory)

(Player will be third wealing so hard this chapter)

"Don't you realise?!" Poppy said, completely outraged. "They collaborated with him, with-with the doctor" Everybody in the haven was looking at her, some of them with distrust in their gaces.

Poppy had arrived after many years with a very injured Kissy Missy and a ex-employee who they've never heard of. Sure (Y/N) was very involved with the experiments but they had been with them for 15 years in that haven, helping with the mental health of the poor souls living there.

Most of the toys that remained sane have chosen to forget or forgiven Y/N because after all, they never really treated them wrong and they had made themselves useful in that community.

Poppy on the other hand, had disappeared without any explanation and had let them to rot, Doey had to pick up the broken pieces.

The situation wasn't the best and even though both Poppy and the psychologist had a doubtful background, the favoritism was clear.

Y/N was looking at Poppy's direction, with a dark gaze. The sudden reappearance of the doll and the ex-employee had been an unpleasant surprise for the psychologist.

They were hugging Kissy while the pink toy embraced them with her only good arm. The way Y/N was clinging to Kissy was not only for worry about the toys health but also about the presence of that god forsaken doll and the exhausted employee. As far as they had heard, he had already defeated many of the bigger toys. To be honest, they was disappointed that Mommy had been defeated by a mere employee, maybe a little sad about it.

While Doey and Poppy were arguing, the doe defending its parental figure; YN got close to the employee and signaled him to sit in one of the improvised beds.

"I am aware of what I've done, Poppy. I'm not ignorant nor I deny being involved in the experiments" They started "I understand that you don't like me, I'm not fond of you either, no one here is. Not after you just disappeared and left me and Doey to pick up the pieces" They started slowly approaching Poppy, as if she was a prey that was waiting to be attacked

"Pick up the pieces that you destroyed in the first place" The doll retorted

"But now you are here and I believe that you, just as everyone else, deserve a chance to live. I'm assuming you had your reasons, I won't ask for them but I do have questions about you." Y/N kneeled at Poppy's level " So I advise you to be wise and collaborate. If you are so kind, please follow me, I would like to talk to you" Poppy swallowed hard and followed the head psychologist to the generator room.

That toy was not dumb, she knew what YN was doing and she knew how volatile their behaviour and loyalty could be. Probably the only thing keeping them in the heaven was Doey and their need for survival.

There were toys with limbs that didn't belong to their original design, prothesis collected by YN, who had sew them the best she could to their bodies.

Y/N themselve had lost a arm in an unfortunate encounter while trying to reach for a back-pack.

It had been Mommy Long Legs, who blinded by rage and hunger, attacked them brutally. Y/N barely made it out, crawling back to the deeper levels bloodied and dizzy. They could remember how at first they didn't register that an arm was now missing.

The pain came after, the wound became infected and the little arm that was left had to be removed and the wound cauterized. With the little medical equipment on the haven it had been hard for Y/N to recover from the injurie but luckily they had made it out.

They had it replaced by one green hand from the Back-Pack. It had been hard to obtain a tool like that but it had been worth it.

But as much as YN depended on the haven, Poppy still didn't trust that their survival was a strong enough reason to not to turn away if given the chance. And she knew that because she would do the same.

And while Poppy and YN talked in the generator room, the ex employee that had managed to get himself this deep into the factory was both surprised and weary about the other human being in the compound.

On one hand, he had heard the tapes about the dark secrets of the factory and in a lot of them the psychologist was present, both them and the doctor were heavily involved with the crimes commited on the factory. But as well, they were here, with Doey in the haven and Kissy didn't seem to afraid of them.

And to be honest he also wasn't sure in trusting Poppy since her behaviour had been suspicious at best.

The doctor had been playing with him since he put a foot on this damn factory, arranging tests and experiments for him to complete all while finding more information about this cursed place.

He found multiple tapes of Dr (Y/N) and their interviews with the experiments, also some recording of the meetings of the executives in which they could be seen almost always near Sawyer.

Poppy and Y/N finally got out of the generator room, the Doll seemed more calmed and both of them went to Kissy Missy's tent.

While he kept thinking and trying to process the situations, Doey approached him.

"Hey friend! I.. want to talk to you, come to the generator room when you are available" [Player] was certainly curious about what Doey had to say to him so he followed the toy.

"Look, I know Poppy means good, but she pretends to destroy this place! Completely! We've been taking care of the toys here-of Mom and...." He paused, he was conflicted and nervous "This is our home, I don't want to lose the thing we have been working so much to maintain... After you beat the doctor, please consider my proposition, until then, consider the safe haven your home to." Doey pat his shoulder and exited the room.

After a few minutes of resting and reading the many documents he had left, Player went to what he thought it was Y/N tent. He had seen something glowing in there and he wanted to take a look.

The shiny object were a pair of grey and black glasses that were on a wooden box. He examined them for a while until someone snatched them from his finders.

Behind him, he found Y/N who looked irritated by his invasion of their space. But the glance they had changed quickly once they looked at the glasses, the eyes were nostalgic and their eyebrows slightly twitched, accentuating their growing wrinkles.

"So... You like snooping don't you? I bet you have some very interesting things in those pockets of yours" Their good hand fell on his shoulders "Let me accompany you through your little quest, not all the way, of course, I can only go so far..." They joked refering to both her status in the factory and her relationship with the doctor.

"Why, because of doctor Sawyer" [Player] quietly asked, that left Y/N silent, however, they swiftly re-dominated the conversation "I think I remember you [Player]. You were one of those guys on human resources right? The one who stayed late night cleaning the offices even though it wasn't your work. Am I wrong?" You weren't wrong, but he was surprised that after so long you could remember someone as irrelevant as him

"I never thought you or any of the executives knew me" He murmured "I have a good memory, not even this madness of a factory can change that"

"Though I have to thank you for avenging my arm, I've been told what you did with Mommy long legs. I've never though one person along could best her but here you are"- Just as Sawyer, you were recounting his 'achievements' in the factory and added little notes of your own, but unlike him, your tone was less monotonous, more cheerful.

[Player] player looked at Y/N with an unreadable face "If you ever get the chance, are you going to betray the haven for the doctor?" The question was made bluntly and neutrally, Y/N knew that at some point someone would question that, but they didn't expect him to be so direct.

"What kind of question is that? It's like I ask you if you are going to betray the haven just because Poppy tells you to do so." The ex employee seemed surprised by the comeback and quicky went to defend himself but you intervened before that could happend.

"I do not have the advantage of the cameras as Harley has but I have ways of knowing what's happening around" Your gaze now turned serious "I don't care if you trust me or not but do yourself a favour and don't trust Poppy, nothing she says is genuine."

He understood what you were saying, since the train incident he had become very wary of the doll and as time went by, he trusted her less and less.

"How do I know I can trust you? I remember that while working here, you and Sawyer always isolated yourselves in the deeper levels. Hell you are the responsables of this mess!!" The lack of sleep and food had turned [Player] tired and full of rage, not only because of the atrocities that were down here but also for the nonexistent hope of ever making it out.

"You can't." You answer was simple " You cannot trust me, or Poppy or basically anyone down here, and with the red gas, not even yourself" You were both now ok the sewers, on the path to 'The Land Of No One'

"The only thing you can do is keep going and don't trust blindly, I understand that Poppy has helped you somehow until now but, has she been honest? " Scarely enough, your question made sense.

"Has she ever changed plans last minute for them to adjust her personal agenda? Has she ever consulted you about it or cared for your opinion on the matter? Do you even know why was she trapped in that cage?..."

In that moment, [Player] player understood what little he knew about everything, how much had he trusted someone that really hadn't been anything but trouble.

"Are you really Poppy's angel?... Or Poppy's Scapegoat?" That last sentence was said in a whisper with a mocking tone and followed by a deep chuckle. He didn't have words

At this point you had already accessed another part of the factory and that chuckle had caught someone's attention.

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

15 years... In 15 years you had been on sight for at least 7 times and the last one had almost caused him a blackout.

He had seen you getting almost tested apart by Mommy long legs and in his mind there was nothing more than a desperate shout saying 'I told you so'... One day you were going to get teared apart, destroyed, devoured....

You couldn't just listen, no. Always doing things your way. He had been lucky that he was able to mobilise Yarnaby fast enough to distract Mommy long legs and let you make an escape.

He knew you knew he had facilitated you acces to certain door. His original plan was to guide you back to him but sadly Doey and a bunch of other toys found you first and he lost track of you again.

His paranoia and obsession had only grown over the years. A hatred deeply rooted on all of his wires. Hate for that stupid patient of yours 1322 and hatred for the Prototype who wasn't letting him take more control over the situation.

He was angry at you, for leaving him alone in that place, for escaping the situation, for being to prideful. After all he did to get you, how he bargained to maintain you alive

You were a germ that was growing out of control and he hadn't found a vaccine yet.

After so many years together, he felt that, even after so many nights pretending he didn't hear your nonsense; or so many lunch breaks spent on conversation with you, he didn't understood you at all.

Your behaviour had always been unpredictable but now it was even worse. Why would you not accept his offer? Why?

Very deep inside him, he felt hurt. Hurt that you didn't try to reach over the years, hurt that you wouldn't even consider it, hurt that you were basically gone.

He had to crawl for the little and strange times you decided to go into the factory. Causing trouble so you would be sent to try and deal with it. Surviving on little the little glances you would spare to the cameras, knowing he probably was there.

You knew he was watching, you would sometimes get entranced by the cameras, as if trying to figure out if he was there. Edging him into calling you.

You never said anything, you still had his lab coat, and you would caress it in a way he could see it. A little and almost imperceptible 'i still care'

He still had your name tag on the only piece of cloth he owned. His metal fingers would play with it, feeling the engraved letters.

Deep down, you still cared for each other and he knew that, but he was angry, furious even at the fact that you wouldn't just go back to him.

His anger turned into curiosity once he saw the employee enter the factory. Harley saw how he defeated each on the experiments that control the main areas of the factory.

He knew the prototype feared him and he knew that, being with Poppy and Doey, he would meet you at some point.

Sawyer played with him as if he was an experiment, trying to figure him out.

Once he saw [Player] again, he pulled his attention to him, but that attention was short lived as he saw the only other human being in the factory

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

"My germ" Was the phrase that was heard loud and clear through the speakers. "You finally decide to show up. Wonderful"

"Harley" You said in a very deep and low voice, barley above a whisper. "Good to see you to"

That was the first time he had heard your voice in probably ages. He fell silence for a moment, almost as if recording the sound for himself.

After almost half an hour of waking and trying to keep going, Harley spoke again, this time towards [Player].

"Why did you came back? Was there someone you loved in here? Or maybe you just couldn't let go of the mystery of not knowing what happened?" He was taunting the ex employee "Whoever you are searching for is probably gone"

"We are aware of that" You said, as if telling him that he was also as absent as you.

While [Player] continued exploring other rooms, you stopped in front of a TV monitor to talk directly to Harley

"Well, quite responsive are we germ?" The purple eye appeared on the screen "15 years hiding like a rat... That's very much gone" His smug tone was something between entrancing and annoying to you.

"I never knew you as someone who subdued to his own experiments Dr Sawyer" You taunted back "I remember you as someone who fights for control"

"And recall you to be someone who does not hide but that experiment of yours has made you a coward." He bitterly recalled each word.

"And you would've made me into someone fearful, Harley" You were starting to get irritated "If you want to be the henchman of the Prototype go ahead but don't drag me with you"

You didn't mean to be so harsh on that statement but you weren't going to apologise for staying true to yourself. It was late for regretting it.

"Dragging.... " You could hear his distorted tone of voice perfectly. The same tone he used when he had an idea. Maybe you fucked up. He disconnected himself from the TV and silence overcame the room.

"What was that" [Player] asked you, surprised of how you talked to the man that had been making his journey down the factory more difficult.

"Nothing. A tantrum. Let's just keep going, don't listen to him, he's just bitter, maybe so am I so it's better not to stir the pot" You continued walking as you hadn't just had a fight with your ex-lover in front of an ex employee.

Meanwhile, Harley already had a plan in mind. If you thought that he was dragging you so much then he would teach toy what dragging looks like.

It was time for Yarnaby to make himself useful.

While he gave Yarnaby the order to kill the ex employee and capture you, he started organising other arrangements for you and that employee.

And a cloth wet with mixed chemicals sat on the table of his lab.

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

Time had past fast and while you and the employee had managed somehow to get to the doors of his lair, the [Player] had to test his morality in the process and you had been almost abducted more times that you would like to admit.

Thank god you had one hand of the Back-Pack attached to your arm or you wouldn't have had a chance.

Before getting into he wolf's mouth, you grabbed player by the shoulders.

"Look, I will only accompany you until here, but do me a favour, put this USB on the main system before disconnecting the main data base" You said mumbling so the doctor wouldn't hear much.

"You are not going inside?" [Player] asked doubtful "We both know if get in there im not coming out and Doey still needs me, plus I don't trust Poppy to be there unsupervised" You argued

[Player] just looked at you, almost as if believing he wasn't going to make it either. He hugged you as a his last contact with another human. Ironically, while it was going to be his last hug, it had been your first real hug in almost 10 years.

You just pat his back stiffly and stayed on the elevator so if things got messy you could escape.

Due to your exhaustion and the little food you ate down there, you had put your guard down a few seconds, feeling nauseous and supporting yourself with the rail of the elevator.

When you finally put yourself up, you felt a hand on your mouth that was covered on a wet cloth and another hand on your waist, pushing you back against a metallic body.

You started feeling very dizzy and everything around you was spinning, the last thing you heard before falling unconscious was the voice of Harley talking through one of his vessels saying:

"Oh I will be dragging us both, you can be sure of that germ" Finally the last thing you felt was a caress on your jaw, after that your body stopped responding and Harley carried you through another door to the same room where you woke up years ago...

-Unedited fic-

Yarnaby, mom and dad are getting a divorce.

Sorry if this one was shorter than usual, but I'm trying to figure out exactly If I'm giving this a good ending or an angty one.

I also want to work on the dynamics and the character of Y/N and [Player] as the only humans in the factory

Confrontation of Poppy and Y/N (I'll be adding more drawing, maybe)

A little before and after Y/N

[awriterinthenight]

"Is Anyone Else Joining?"-Five Hargreeves

requested: anonymous

words: 954 (sorry its short, might do a part 2 though)

warnings: bickering, siblings inviting themself, swearing, Klaus mentions something about hating gay people (its really funny in context and in character I swear), they also throw things at Five, idk but this was really funny like I laughed the whole time, its so funny and I might do a part two

summary: Five and reader plan a trip, but the Hargreeves siblings just have to crash it

Alone was a word you could not use to describe the Hargreeves siblings. Anywhere one went, another went, then another, then Klaus shows up, so then Ben shows up, and then its a family reunion at that point.

All you and Five wanted was for a day or two alone together, but his siblings had other plans. Your trip was just you two driving a few towns over to go see a museum you were dying to see. The drive there was half a day, so you would drive there, check into the hotel and sleep, then go to the museum the next morning, then drive home that night. It was very simple till the rest of the Hargreeves showed up.

"You got everything?" Five asked, leaning against the driver's side of the car, the car keys in his hand.

You threw your bag with all your clothes and everything you needed into the trunk, "That should be it, you ready to go?" You asked, opening the passenger door to get in the car.

Five followed after, "Do we really need all that? It's only two days," Five said, starting the car.

"You can never be over prepared," you stated, not seeing anything wrong with the two bags you packed for a two day trip.

"I would argue you can be overprepared, which you are," he argued back. This started a small banter between you two, not yet having left the house. You both continued to bicker until a voice startled you.

"As much as I love a little lovers quarrel, let's get this show on the road. Me and Benerino over here are excited to see where we're going."

Of course it was Klaus who was trying to ruin your trip. He managed to sneak his way into the car when you two weren't looking. And of course if he was going, so was Ben.

"Get out, Klaus," Five yelled at him, annoyed at him ruining everything.

You decided to take a nicer approach to getting Klaus to leave, "He's right Klaus, this just a two of us trip. Plus you don't even have a bag packed," you told him.

"That's where you're wrong, my psycho brother's lover. I do have a bag," he claimed, pulling out a child's backpack, "So let's go before I get hungry and have to pee again."

There seemed to be no way to get Klaus to leave, but the two of you kept trying. Unfortunately for you Diego entered the car for some god awful reason.

"Now what are you doing here?" Five complained, hitting the back of his head against the headrest in annoyance.

"Klaus said you guys were going on a trip, thought why not make it a double date, me and Lila haven't been out in awhile," he explained, but something wasn't quite right about his explanation.

You squinted your eyes at him, "Oh really, you haven't been out in so long, so you just decided to crash our trip?" you questioned.

Diego quickly broke though, "Fine," he said, admitting defeat, "I promised Lila I would take her forever ago, but I forgot, so I'm tagging along, and neither of you will tell her anything."

"Great, so our trip is now victim to my brother's dumbness," Five continued to complain, "Is anyone else joining, or can we go now."

As if the universe itself needed to annoy Five even more, Allison entered the van sitting in the third row, "Who's ready for a family vacation," she shouted, making Five groan as you held in your laughter, "What's wrong with him?"

Klaus spoked up first to explain, "Apparently this was supposed to be a "just the two of them trip", but it's going to be so much more fun with us."

"Wait, you told me this was a family trip?" Allison uttered, confused about what was happening.

Five had his head in his hands, already wanting this trip to be over, "Why me?"

As if this already ruined trip needed more people, Luther and Viktor entered the car after the trunk was slammed shut, "We're lucky we caught you, we thought you left without us," Luther said, entering the van.

"This museum seems pretty cool, you have good taste Y/N," Viktor complimented, making you let out a small chuckle.

Once Lila entered the van, sitting next to Diego, Five asked for the final time, "Is that everyone or is the Pope joining us too?"

"I would love it if he did. I have so many questions for him. First off, why do they hate gays-," Klaus started, but was cutoff by Five.

"I will kick you out of this car, if you don't stop talking," he said, now grouchy from the turn of events.

Klaus just put his hands up, acting all innocent, "Wow, someone's grouchy, this is supposed to be a fun family trip, don't be so negative," he said, acting super dramatic.

"Yeah, don't be a dick," Lila shouted at him, throwing some sort of snack she was eating at him. Which started a chorus of 'don't be an asshole' 'this is supposed to be fun' and the favorite 'my tummy is rumbly' from Klaus, who ate the snack thrown at Five that ended up on the floor.

Five let out a long sigh, "This is going to be a long trip," he whispered under his breath, only loud enough for you to hear, making you laugh. Five might've been annoyed that your trip got ruined, but seeing you laugh put a small smile on his face. Maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad. Minimum it would be a good laugh for you, and anything that made you happy, made Five happy.

Current Taglist for all fics (ask to be added)

@almost-gabrielle @scarlett-8 @sarahskywalker-amidala @atashiboba @that1deerpersondownstairs @herondale-lightworm @purplerose291 @mitskiswift99 @crumby-child

[dilatorywriting]

59 Leona, it'd take a lot for him to admit but he would say it eventually. (Also I know you'd recognize me but I'm shy, so anon it is)

Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar Word Count: 1.5k

Prompt 59: "People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you, I think fate was being harsh on you."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

You are nice, and you are stupid. And those things aren’t mutually exclusive.

Sometimes you’re nice because you’re stupid, and sometimes you do stupid things because you’re too nice for your own stupid, stupid good. And it drives Leona half insane.

Which it shouldn’t, because nice, stupid people like you are just as annoying as his brother. Goody-two-shoes with buttoned vests and sparkly, star-shaped stickers on their term papers.

“Did you remember your homework?”

Leona flicked his tail in your face and you scrunched your nose over your notebook.

“Well?”

“Of course I remembered,” he scoffed, lazing back against the roots of one of his favorite trees. This spot used to be so much quieter, so much more peaceful, before you decided to trail after him like a duck quacking for its mother.

“Did you do the homework?” you clarified, and Leona rolled his eyes.

You sighed and starting ruffling around in your bookbag. “I brought a spare copy of the worksheet. You’re going to drive Ruggie insane, y’know. If he winds up stuck with you for another year because you failed for not turning in assignments.”

“Yeah. Sure. Another three-hundred-and-sixty-five days to rifle through my wallet. Worst news of his life.”

You huffed good naturedly and handed him the sheet of crisp, white copy paper and a pen. “Get to work, Kingscholar.”

“Oh?” he drawled, closing his eyes and settling back, loose limbed and all long, lean leisure, against the tree trunk. Clearly ready for an afternoon snooze. “Make me.”

You sighed again and reached over to flick your own well-used pen against his ear. It twitched under your fingers—soft, and tufted. The finest of the pale, tan fur brushing up against your fingertips. “Fine. Be that way. See if I bring you lunch tomorrow.”

“You will,” he scoffed.

“Yeah,” you sighed, sounding resigned and foolishly fond. “I probably will.”

See? Stupid. So easy to manipulate. So willing to let yourself be squashed under his clawed thumb. It was a wonder you’d managed to survive in this school at all. Nevertheless by clinging onto the coattails of someone like him. He’d never made anyone’s existence easier a day in his life, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now, just because you were too soft-hearted and slow to see a looming predator for what it was.

“Just give me that stupid fucking paper,” he snapped, sitting upright and swatting away your poking pen with a sneer. You laughed into your palms like a secret—bright, and merry, and dumb as a fucking rock.

“Whatever you say, Leona.”

.

.

You’d handled his Overblot with a strange sort of aplomb that at first Leona had attributed to perhaps a lingering, hidden confidence that he’d just never bothered to unearth. You were just some herbivore, and even the littlest rabbits could bite back when you put them in a corner. But then he’d come to the decision that that easy conviction was just another symptom of your rampant stupidity.

“I know you guys don’t want to hurt me, or any of us. Not really,” you shrugged around a wad of cotton—the blood dripping from your nose slowly drying up to a tacky, sticky dribble. Leona gaped at you outright.

That was your grand explanation. For why you’d been so eager to charge forward when he’d collapsed in a pool of inky nightmares and self-loathing. And the very same reason apparently thatyou’d felt so comfortable rushing forward to treat Azul Ashengrotto’s blubbering, hysterical, breakdown with the same urgency.

“That octo-prick would have ripped you in half,” he sneered, fingers twitching a nervous rhythm against his palms as he watched the nurse wrap another layer or bandages around your head.

You shrugged. “Not on purpose.”

You were going to give him an aneurism.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he snarled, ignoring the horrible, twisty thing curling like bile through his chest. “And I’m not going to bother paying for some self-sacrificing idiot’s funeral.”

Another shrug.

“That’s alright,” you hummed, a soft sort of crooked smile on your mouth. “Would’ve been a waste of money anyways.”

Leona didn’t talk to you for a week after that. Surely because your stupidity had reached such a fever pitch that it was no doubt contagious, and he needed to protect his far superior and more valuable brain. Not because the image of you smiling and nodding along to his declarations that he wouldn’t put the effort into mourning your death had soured something so deep in his gut that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to scrape it out.

.

.

When he received a letter from home asking him to return for some shitty coronation nonsense for his equally shitty brother, Leona had debated just skipping it outright. Who was going to stop him? You?

Well. Yes, apparently.

“It sounds important,” you hummed, peering over his shoulder at the neat, formal scrawl of the summons. “You should go.”

He snorted. “I don’t want to be there, they don’t want me to be there. What’s the point.”

You frowned, brow crinkling in the middle.

“Well, that’s not true,” you said, perplexed. “They wouldn’t write to you if that was the case.”

Leona snorted, eyes darting away to glare bitterly off into the corner. “Not like they have a choice.”

“Well then you don’t have a choice either,” you argued, firm. “I’ll go with you. See? It says you can have a plus one. You can camp out in your fancy, princey, bedroom. And I can siphon you snacks from the fancy, princey hors d'oeuvres tables. That way we both win. You get to be a reclusive asshole and rub the fact that that you still went in everyone’s faces, and I can get access to some tasty, royal food that I’ll probably never be able to afford again for the rest of my life.”

“Should’ve known you’d be like Ruggie—only using me for the free food,” he sighed, melodramatic and obviously put on.

“Well, also because I thought you could use the emotional support,” you added, a touch too soft and far too genuine. “But I didn’t think you wanted to hear that bit.”

“You’re right,” he scoffed, turning onto his side to hide the strange, miserable heat pricking at his skin. “Don’t ever say corny shit like that again.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you grinned, flicking at his ear, and Leona added another mental tab to his never-ending list of reasons that you were really far too brainless to keep functioning at all.

.

.

You were nice, and you were stupid. And Seven, he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“My brother hasn’t ever brought someone to one of these events before,” Falena had said, to your face. Idiot to idiot communication.  

“I didn’t give him much of an option,” you’d chirped, perfectly pleasant. “I don’t think he wants me anywhere near here, to be fair. Or around him in general. But I’m like a cockroach. Can’t get rid of me.”

And Falena had laughed. Because he was terrible. And said, “I’m sure he must care about you very much, little cockroach.”

And then because you were more terrible, you laughed back and said very assuredly, “Oh, not at all.”

Which was—was—

“Do you really think that?” he snapped, once the two of you were alone. And you blinked back at him with wide, owlish eyes.

“Think what?”

Think at all,he wanted to sneer, but just glared silently and bitterly into the middle distance—fighting the nonsensical, irritated swishing of his tail.

But you just kept staring at him. Like he was the moron here. Which was unacceptable.

“Look,” he frowned, sharp and miserable. “I get it. People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you. Whatever gods exist out there were playing a shitty fucking joke on you when they dropped you in my lap. But you’re stuck with me. So stop—” he bit out, fighting that awful, twisty thing in his gut that never seemed to fully go away. “Stop talking like I can’t stand you.”

“…oh,” you mumbled, whisper quiet—that wide, startled gaze flicking away in embarrassment. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoed, sharp, and you snorted a laugh that seemed to surprise even you.

“You’re stuck with me too then, y’know,” you said after a long moment. “Even when I make you grumpy.”

“You don’t make me grumpy. I am grumpy. You make me—” he cut off quick, eyes darting away petulantly and an absolutely unfair heat rising along his cheekbones.  

“Itchy,” you piped in, and he gaped at you in shock.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, awkward, and reached up to wiggle your fingers. “Cockroach. Many legs. Squirming. Itchy.”

“Never say any of those words again.”

You laughed into your palm—inelegant and a touch too loud. Leona felt his lips quirk.

“Thank you,” you said after a moment, once your giggles were a bit more under control. And leaned forward quick as a whip to press a nervous peck against his cheek. “For being kind to me.”

Kind.

Leona reached up to press a hand against the too-warm skin with a terrible, unfamiliar sensation in his head not unlike the fuzzy, white drone of TV static. And a horrible thought managed to filter its way through the floating, buzzing sensation curling through the whole of him.

Oh, fuck. It is contagious.

.

.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

So uh. I had this super dumb idea and decided to roll with it.

Which I guess is kinda how writing works on the whole but anyway.

Here's the first chapter of a Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB Reader fic that absolutely no one asked for but my brain dumped on me anyway.

Whole first chapter is basically setting the scenario. Bear with me here. I intend for this to be both heartfelt and fcking hilarious in equal measure. As of right now I don't really have plans for it to carry on for more than three or four chapters, but who knows.

Timeline is set to around a decade after Gol D. Roger's death, prior to Mihawk having status as a Warlord of the Sea. He'd be in his late 20s to early 30s (don't ask me to math right now, it's almost five in the morning, I'll be more specific later). So not super-young Mihawk. He definitely already has his silly lil adorable pointy goatee/moustache that we all know and love so very much.

I don't even have a damned title yet. We'll just call it, uh. I don't know. Fucking uh........

Flight Risk

Ch. 1 of who even knows

Next Chapter Link

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader

SFW for now, but not in later chapters

No trigger warnings yet, possible future trigger warnings for imprisonment, mild torture (definitely psychological, maybe physical)

Word Count: 3420

Only a few months had passed since you enlisted with the Marines, and nothing seemed to be going right. You were clumsy with both melee and ranged weapons, not particularly strong physically, and while you had improved through training you weren’t learning at nearly the same rate as the other recruits. It was no help at all that your somehow borderline useless devil fruit abilities had somehow been exposed and you were now the target of constant torment from other cadets, and even some superior officers.

You almost wanted to give up entirely.

You spent most of your free time hiding away from your peers at an old dock on the base to avoid the teasing. It was here you say now, arms wrapped around your knees and glaring out toward the setting sun after another day of being squawked at and offered crackers. All because you had taken a stupid dare from a stupid friend when you were six years old and eaten that stupid fruit.

You let out a heavy sigh at the sound of footsteps behind you, certain that one of your tormentors had discovered your hiding spot.

“Really not in the mood,” you said aloud, not bothering to look over your shoulder. “I’m sure it’s just as much fun talking about me behind my back—”

But instead, a commanding voice that made your breath catch in your throat and your eyes grow wide as saucers answered. You recognized it as its owner spoke your name aloud—anyone on base would have recognized it. You quickly scrambled to your feet and turned around to face Bogard with your hand raised in a salute, trying to keep your knees from shaking.

“S—sorry, sir, I—” He just held up a hand to stop you, and your mouth snapped shut immediately. His own mouth remained turned down in his usual characteristic frown, and after a moment he let out a vaguely frustrated sigh.

“Vice Admiral Garp requires your presence. Please follow me.”

You remained glued to the spot for a moment even as he turned on his heel and began to stride away. Garp and Bogard had shown up at the base a week ago on some business from headquarters that was being kept quiet around the rest of the base. You quickly forced yourself to follow after Bogard, your stomach in knots as you jogged to catch up to his long strides.

He didn’t speak again until you were outside the door of the office the vice admiral was occupying, turning to face you with his arms crossed. You quickly saluted again, your eyes still wide, burning the slightest bit—you were fairly sure you hadn’t blinked a single time since he had first addressed you.

“At ease, cadet.” You swallowed, lowering your hand and folding it behind your back with your other. “The vice admiral has some questions for you,” he said in brief explanation, opening the door. “Come.” You flinched as you followed him in, Garp’s booming voice meeting your ears as he shouted at someone through the den den mushi on his desk. It was clear he wasn’t in a good mood.

“Again?” he was saying, pacing behind the desk. “Yeah, I got it. Why do you think I’m at this shithole of a—” He gave a growl of annoyance, his grip tightening around the speaker. “Yes, Fleet Admiral. I think if I could manage to capture Roger, I can handle some brat calling himself the World’s Stronge—”  He closed his eyes tightly, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I’m well aware of the threat. Doesn’t make him any less of a brat. With all due respect, sir, I know what I’m doing, Yeah. Uh-huh. Yeah. Understood.”

He dropped the handset back onto the den den mushi, sitting heavily in his chair behind the desk, strumming his fingers on the arm for a moment impatiently.

You felt as if you might pass out any second as you stood in front of the desk, trying to keep yourself still but still fidgeting slightly as your nervousness evolved toward something more like abject terror. There was no way this was about anything good. The vice admiral was here on orders handed down directly from his own superiors at Marine Headquarters. Vice Admiral Garp, recognized the world over as the hero of the Marines, the man that had brought Gold Roger to justice barely a decade ago.

An officer of his status wouldn’t waste his time with a lowly cadet like yourself unless the situation was incredibly dire.

When he finally lifted his eyes to look at you, you sprang immediately into a salute, and it was all you could do to keep your knees from buckling. He glanced at Bogard, standing off to the side and idly flipping through a book on one of the shelves along the right side of the office walls. “This the one?” asked Garp.

“It would seem so,” he affirmed.”

“Good.” He leaned back in his chair, his gaze flickering over you. “At ease, cadet.”

Once more you folded your hands behind your back—though in literal terms, you were anything but at ease. Your face flushed and your legs visibly shaking at this point, it was all you could do to keep your eyes on his.

The vice admiral gave a small snort of amusement at your nervous state as he picked up a folder from his desk—a folder with your name written on the tab.

“Calm down, you’re not in any trouble,” he said. You still swallowed nervously, your mouth turning down ina  slight frown. He read your name out loud at the top of the file before going on. “Says here your old man was a Lieutenant. Died in the line of duty among a fleet that took on a division of the Whitebeard pirates.”

“Y—yes, sir,” you said, giving a short nod when he glanced at you from over the top of the folder. “He’s the reason I enlisted.”

“Revenge?” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

“No, sir,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I looked up to him. He wanted to make the world a better place. Safer. That’s...why I enlisted.”

He nodded slowly, observing you for a long moment as he seemed to mull over your answer. “Good to hear,” he said finally, lowering his eyes back down to what you could only assume was your enlistment paperwork. “Revenge is thankless work. Your old man was a damned good Marine. Honorable. Sounds like the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.” You relaxed the slightest bit in the approval at his tone—it was perhaps the first compliment you had gotten from any of your superiors. “Unfortunately, we’re not here to reminisce. This is official business. And confidential.” He set the folder down on his desk, still open, meeting your eyes again. “I’ll need your word right now that you won’t repeat anything we discuss here to anyone.”

Your eyes widened a little, and you nodded quickly. :Of course, Vice Admiral,” you said immediately, your heart hammering in your chest.

He nodded slowly himself, picking up a lowball glass of what appeared to be whiskey from his desk. He gestured with his free hand to the chair across from him. “Then have a seat. We could be here awhile.”

You glanced at the chair behind you, and took a few steps backwards, folding your hands in your lap. You couldn’t begin to imagine what sort of official business he might have with you. You were a new recruit, tended to blend into the background—at least you had, until word had gotten out about….

Your stomach dropped at Garp’s next sentence.

“I understand you’re a devil fruit user?”

“I…am,” you said slowly, almost cautiously. You had received nothing but jeering and taunting for your ability, even before you enlisted. “It’s…not exactly a useful ability, though.”

“You don’t think so?” he said, with a hint of a smirk, and you shook your head, your eyes dropping down to your knees. “‘Omu Omu no Mi,’” he read off from the file. “‘Zoan type devil fruit. Gray parrot.’ You’ve had the ability for…fifteen years?” You nodded shortly, your brow still furrowed in your growing confusion. “You can’t think of any application where that would be useful?”

Your remained silent for some time, wondering if it was a trick question, some sort of joke at your expense. Sure the vice admiral wouldn’t waste his time calling you here for the sake of a joke. After a moment, you shook your head, lifting your gaze, grimacing a little. “It’s, uh…been more of a burden than anything, honestly,” you admitted.

“Yeah, I’ve heard.” Your brow furrowed a bit, and he gestured over to Bogard, still leaning against the bookshelf off to the side. “I’ve had Bogard here keeping an eye on you since we got here.”

That was incredibly surprising news to you. You glanced at Bogard yourself. You had seen him around the base a few times, but it had seemed to be only in passing. While you were still rendered speechless at the claim, Garp when on.

“I read in your file that your mother’s an…ornithologist?” he said, glancing down at the folder once more. Your brow remained furrowed as you nodded slowly, trying to wrap your head around where this could be going. “So I’d guess you have a pretty good understanding of birds. How they behave, interact with humans?”

“I—”

“With all due respect, Garp…” Both you and Garp glanced over at Bogard at his interruption. He lowered the book he had been flipping through, his frown deepening. “This is still the most ridiculous idea I’ve ever heard of.”

“Give me a better idea, then.” After a moment, Bogard rolled his eyes, lifting the book again, still looking quite disgruntled with the situation—whatever the situation was. Garp turned his attention back to you, gesturing with a wave of his hand for you to continue.

“I-I…did learn a lot from her,” you affirmed. “She specializes in parrots and corvids. She runs a veterinary practice and rescue service for them in the East Blue.”

“Think you’d be able fool people into believing you’re the real thing?”

“Wh…wha…”

You felt like you were trapped in some strange fever dream you couldn’t wake from. Garp raised his eyebrows as he waited for your response, as you frowned, struggling to collect your thoughts into something organized enough to allow you to speak.

“I…used to prank my mom into thinking I was one of the birds in our aviary,” you admitted, almost sheepishly.

Garp let out a hearty laugh at that, his smirk spreading into a grin. “Well, if you could fool an expert, then I guess you could fool damn near anyone, huh?” You blinked rapidly as he leaned forward, crossing his arms over the desk. “So. How much do you know about a pirate by the name of Dracule Mihawk?”

Your breath caught as you froze in place, your blood running cold.

There was no Marine, likely no one in the world, that didn’t know that name. It wasn’t long after the execution of Gold Roger that he had begun making the headlines, and not for anything good. Even as a rookie he had quickly gained a reputation for being ruthless and deadly, slaughtering pirates and Marines alike with seemingly no distinction between the two. For a few years now he had gained notoriety for being considered by many to be the world’s most powerful swordsman. You had heard stories of him singlehandedly destroying entire Marine warships without batting an eye.

The man was practically a living nightmare for any Marine.

“I…I’ve heard of him,” you managed to force out weakly.

Garp scoffed at that, taking a sip from his whiskey. “Who the hell hasn’t?” he said. “Especially among us. He’s been responsible for the deaths of more Marines over the past few years than any other pirate sailing the Grand Line. And completely on his own. No crew.” He shook his head, giving another scoff. “Almost no one we’ve sent after the bastard comes back alive. Except, of course, those he lets go willingly to tell us he’ll continue to slaughter anyone that challenges him. It’s a problem we can’t ignore.”

You swallowed, the rising tension in you rendering you as stiff as a statue. You could sense where this was going…and you didn’t like it one bit.

“I’m thinking a different approach could be out best bet in taking care of the problem. Something a little more subtle.” You nodded slowly to indicate you were following what he was saying—what he was suggesting. “I’m sure you don’t want to see any more Marines die at the hands to this monster any more than I do. Am I right?”

Of course he was right—you knew it as well as Garp did. Your father had been enough. Knowing that there were so many other Marines, other men and women that might leave behind broken families, losing their lives at the hands of such a ruthless killer…it sickened you to your core.

Once more, you nodded.

“Then we’re on the same page,” he said. He leaned back in his chair for a moment, taking a sip from his glass, before he set it down and stood up. “You say you think your devil fruit ability is useless. I say it could be exactly what we need.”

“Y…you want me to use my devil fruit to…” He paced slowly behind his desk, his eyes remaining on you, waiting for you to say it. “T…to take down…him?”

“Not…quite,” he said. “Like I said, different approach I want you to use your devil fruit ability against him. But not to take him down. I think you’re probably smart enough to know that you wouldn’t stand a chance in combat against him.” You swallowed, giving a short nod in agreement. “What we really need at this point is information. Any potential weakness that he might possess. Your ability isn’t useless, but it is…unassuming. You could spy on almost anyone you wanted without them knowing. And hey, let’s face it—pirates like parrots.”

You heard Bogard sigh heavily at this statement, and you couldn’t help but agree with his wordless disapproval. Pirates like parrots was a pretty broad generalization to make regarding such a dire situation.

“Look,” Garp said as your brow furrowed once more. He stepped out from behind his desk, slowly circling your chair. “Parrots are smart birds, right?” You nodded. “And they tend to bond pretty easily with humans?” Another nod, your eyes following him as he came around the other side of your chair, stopping right in front of you and leaning back against his desk. “You could get close to him without him having any idea you’re anything but a friendly, intelligent bird.”

“or he could consider her a pest and kill her,” said Bogard dryly—voicing the exact concern that was already forming in your own head.

Garp rolled his eyes. “One, there haven’t been any reports that he makes a habit of killing animals. Two, you’d be a bird. You can fly. He can’t.”

“He can split entire ships in half from at least a hundred yards,” Bogard pointed out.

“Yeah, he can,” agreed Garp—and his confirmation of this claim did absolutely nothing to help your resolve. “But why bother killing a bird that’s already flying away? He’s killing Marines to send a message that we can’t touch him. He’s killing pirates so his competition knows they can’t touch him. What’s he going to kill a goddamned parrot for?” Another sigh came from Bogard—it seemed as if the man had been through this exact same argument before. “Worst case scenario,” Garp continued, “you fly off to safety and consider it a failed mission. No black mark on your record, brownie points for even attempting it. Best case…” He crossed his arms, his mouth spreading into a grin. “You get close to a pirate no one has been able to touch for years, and return with commendation and respect from the entire Navy. Show all these recruits that have been laughing at your abilities that you’re a hell of a lot more useful than any of them.”

You bit your lip, your eyes darting off to the side. You didn’t consider yourself vain…but you had spent fifteen years considering your devil fruit completely useless. Now you had a Marine vice admiral, a man regarded by much of the world as a hero, telling you that you could potentially use your power to save the lives of countless people. It was the exact reason your father told you he had enlisted—to protect innocent lives, to make the world safer.

“I…I’m not much of a fighter,” you said finally. “If he were to figure out that I’m a human…a Marine, I…”

“You’d receive special training before the mission,” said Garp. “Enough to give you a fighting chance at escaping if you had to. Given what we know about Dracule Mihawk, it would still be dangerous, of course. But you’d still stand a better chance alone at gathering intel than an entire fleet of ships would stand facing him in combat. As it stands now,” he said, his expression shifting into a scowl, “there are several high ranking Marine officers that believe the only chance of dealing with him is offering him status as a Warlord. There’s still a problem with that, considering no one can get close enough to him to propose the offer. If nothing else, you could get close enough to do that.”

“Which would likely be the best course of action,” Bogard interjected.

And Garp ignored him.\

“I propose,” said Garp, “that you keep an eye on him for a month. Get as close as you safely can. Search for any potential weakness we could exploit, and report back. If there aren’t any,” he said, tossing a sharp glance at Bogard, before leveling his gaze with yours again, “then you go back with the paperwork in your pocket and propose the offer.”

And possibly be killed the moment you revealed who you were—what you were. That detail remained unspoken, but you had no doubt that both Garp and Bogard had already considered the possibility, if you were already thinking about it yourself.

You could be killed. In the blink of an eye. Without any warning. You could die attempting thing. It was almost insane to even consider what Garp was proposing.

But you couldn’t ignore the possibility that it could work. That it could save countless lives from ending.

Save countless families from the same grief you and your mother had endured.

You pulled in a slow, deep breath, lifting your eyes and meeting Garp’s.

And you nodded.

“I’ll do it.” His eyebrows shot up at your acceptance. “I’ll do anything I can to help.”

His surprised expression slowly split into a grin.

“You’re under no obligation to accept.” You turned your head as Bogard snapped his book shut, leveling his dark eyes with yours. Garp was already chuckling to himself, but Bogard’s expression remained grave as he went on. “You’re aware of the risk, I’m sure. The pirate in question has killed thousands of Marines to date, and I wish that was an exaggeration. This could very well be a suicide mission. If you’re doing this for recognition, I suggest you walk out of this office and forget every detail of this conversation.”

“I don’t care about recognition.” You shook your head as Bogard continued to regard you with a frown, lifting an eyebrow; as Garp tossed a glance at him that very clearly said told you so. “And I know the risk.I know I could die.” He crossed his arms, waiting for you to continue. You swallowed, going on quietly, “But…if it succeeds, then it could stop thousands of others from dying.” You lifted your gaze to meet his, straightening your back in the chair. “That’s all I care about.”

Though Bogard didn’t look entirely convinced, he wasn’t given any further opportunity to protest, as Garp let out a laugh. “You heard the girl, Bogard,” he said, reaching behind him and picking up the receiver from the den den mushi on the desk once more. “I say it’s time to get the ball rolling and finally give this madman a run for his money.”

Next Chapter Link again, for your convenience

[livelaughlovesubs]

Heeeeya, Nini! How's it going? I can't believe its already been a year! I've been here since before that time you accidentally deleted your blog XD. Congrats! you've dominated the sub! bsd tag for forever and I'm living for it XD. For the event, can I please request Fyodor (bsd) with the prompt, 'Keeping their hands bound to make basic tasks difficult or impossible. Bonus: punish them for failing or making a mess'. Bro, I have an inability to be all that sadistic, even in fiction TwT, so for the punishment part, can I request something like tickling? Is that allowed?! LMAO- As always, feel free to delete/decline this if it makes you uncomfy, and have an awesome day. And again, congrats on one year!

AHHHHH DONT REMIND ME OF THAT TIME can’t believe how dumb I was 🥲 but thank you for being a long time follower hehe, the idea with tickling is very cute I love it

Dom!reader x sub!fyodor - reader is gn

Warning: humiliation, teasing, a tiny bit of degrading, tickling >:)

Anniversary event

Thud thud thud

Someone was hammering on your door in the middle of the night, and they just didn’t stop. You’ve been trying to ignore it for the past minutes, but the sound only got louder.

Thud thud thud

“Ahhhh which fucker is it?!” In the end, you gave in and cursed, stomping to the front door before opening a small crack. “What is-” to your surprise you knew the person behind the door, it was fyodor, your boyfriend. “Huh?? Fedya? Why didn’t you use the bell?” You immediately swung the door open and invited him in, he gave you a bashful smile before entering. Then you shut the door behind him.

“You see…” he said, while he let his coat slip from his shoulders, revealing his hands which were bound tightly behind his back. “It proved to be pretty difficult to ring the bell three times, so I thought kicking the door would suffice.” That was the secret code you two agreed on, so that you’d know if it was him who’s standing on your doorway. “Ah…” you stared at his restricted limps, then at him, giving him a questioning glance. He didn’t provide any explanation or answers.

The male turned around to face you, who were still standing next to the door. “Well? Aren’t you going to help me?” He rushed you, but kept his soft smile. “Actually no, not yet.” You replied, crossing your arms in font of your chest. That attitude, were you mad with him? “…y/n, what do you want.” Finally he dropped the good-guy act, seemingly irritated by your behaviour. Normally you’d help without being this difficult, except when you aren’t in a good mood, something that seems to be the case here.

You walked past him and sat down on the couch, making yourself comfortable before saying, “bring me the remote.” Fyodor looked a tad baffled, though he didn’t think too much about it and walked to the shelf to the left of you, pondering for a moment on how to grab it, before using his mouth to bite the object. Then he brought it to you like an obedient puppy, right into your hand and cheeks flushed a bright shade of red. “Good job.” You praised him, scratching the underside of his chin a bit, intensifying his blush.

“Now bring me a scissor to cut those ropes. You can find it in the kitchen.” He glared at you when you didn’t stop ordering him around, especially since he found his actions pretty shameful. Nevertheless, he bit back his complains and went to the other room to get whatever you wanted. Once he found the scissor, he bit the handle of the tool, and carefully got back to your side. “That took you a while.” You chuckled, to which he scoffed, “are you done with the games now?” How furious he sounded, he wasn’t having half the fun you had huh?

You tilted your head to the side, acting like you were thinking about it, then said, “one last thing.” Before giving him a big smile. The male rolled his eyes at that, at least internally. “Bring me a glass of water, that’s my last request, promise.” After you finished your sentence, you raised your pinky finger, then said, “ah silly me, you can’t reciprocate it after all.” Fyodor mumbled, “you are unbelievable.” Then he made his way back to the kitchen. What else was he supposed to do, he needed your help.

Through much resilience and great efforts, he managed to get a cup out of your shelves. And he even managed to fill it with tap water! Afterwards he bit the handle of the cup, finding that to be the easiest course of action, and slowly walked over to you. This was now his third time running a stupid errand for you, and he really hoped this would be the last. On his way back, he accidentally spilled the water in the cup all over himself and the floor, causing him to yelp a little, “hmmm..!”

You turned your head to the source of the noise, giggling at the sight but not helping him. His blush darkened even more, and he closed the last bit of distance between you two. Without any commentary, you took the cup and put it on the table, grabbing the scissors and cutting through his binds. He didn’t expect you to not make fun of him, so consider him grateful.

Though after you were done, you got up from your seat, grabbing his shoulders as you sneered, “gosh, fyodor, you couldn’t even bring me a glass of water?” Guess he jinxed it. Even though considering the circumstances he was in, failing his task was a very possible outcome, he still felt humiliated by your words, or at least embarrassed. He wanted to argue, to try and keep some shreds of dignity when you bested him to it, saying, “shouldn’t you get a punishment for that?”

“A punishment?” As soon as these words left his mouth, you pushed him into the couch and tickled him. Attacking his stomach while responding through a huge grin, “yep! A punishment you can’t evade!” “What- ha- ahaha.. no, wait haha…! Stop!” He laughed involuntarily, kicking his legs around and trying to peel your hands off his body. “Haha.. s-stop, hahh.. really, hahaha~ I can’t-!!” Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes already, his clothes and hair all disheveled. “Hehe.. alright, the punishment is over.” You eventually said, reaching out to his face to wipe his tears away.

As if hit by the realisation, he abruptly stopped smiling, still blushing furiously as he gasped for air. When he breathing calmed down, he pouted, then wrapped his arms around your neck as he gave you a quick kiss on the lips, “you-… you better make it up to me for being mean.”

[mischievousskin]

a field of geranium - yuuji itadori

--

summary ! you and itadori have been together since middle school. when he randomly breaks up with you and disappears from school, you're left heartbroken and completely alone.

warnings / tags ! angst to fluff , exes to lovers , non-sorcerer reader, hopeful ending! implied fem reader, written with a poc reader in mind (skin tone and race unspecified!), past bullying, yuuji is lowkey dumb, reader is stated to be intelligent, lonely reader .. lots of angst. probably not very canon accurate to how curses work but shush.. reader curses a lot lol.

a/n ! hope you guys like this! i loveee yuuji sm .. this probably isnt good i haven't written in a while ;;

--

you remember a time when it felt like yuuji would always be around.

when he would kiss your forehead before classes and during lunch, hold your hand as he walked you to class and write you childish love notes during maths.

you never expected him to break up with you, let alone over text. you'd planned on confronting him at school after he had repeatedly dodged your frantic calls, but when you entered the school, yuuji didn't go there anymore.

it stung. yuuji had been your best friend since middle school, defending you from the bullies who'd pick on you for various things that'd later become insecurities of yours. (sometimes you wonder if those things are why yuuji left.)

going back to eating alone in the single stall bathrooms and having nobody to talk to during passing periods was a hard transition. your parents weren't any help either, telling you that high school relationships never lasted.

(you can't bring yourself to throw away the promise ring he gave you.)

you see him out one day, with a pretty brunette girl, carrying shopping bags for her. you go up to him; he's clearly moved on. (you can understand why. she's gorgeous.) he doesn't seem to notice you.

--

you're sitting alone the class garden for your botanicals class. you remember a time this was your favourite class (it was one with yuuji; go figure.)

now it's filled with bittersweet memories and the grief over someone you know isn't dead.

you're calm as a boy you've never seen before approaches you. your hands are gloved and your hair is a bit messy as you look up at him.

“be careful around here, please. it's class policy not to walk on the soil.” you scold a bit, his boots having crushed one of the plants.

he looks down at you, his face a bit stoic, “sorry.”

“it's alright- did you need something?” you smile at him politely.

he snaps his fingers, frowns a bit, then says “nope,” and walks off.

you'd never seen him before. he didn't even have the right uniform on.

--

“i cannot believe you just made me do that.” megumi rolls his eyes.

yuuji frowns a bit, “i'm sorry but- i can't go up to her.” megumi rolls his eyes as nobara fumes a bit.

“you broke up with her over text. no wonder no girls like you.” she snarks and yuuji just glares at her.

“i had just eaten sukuna's finger! i thought i was gonna die soon anyways!” he argues back,

“well then why haven't you tried to talk to her again? not that she should take you back- i pity the fact that she dated you at all.” nobara speaks as they walk away from the school.

“she probably has new friends anyways, plus she could get hurt, she's not a sorcerer.” yuuji says, his face looking almost like a kicked puppy.

nobara looks at him and raises an eyebrow, “didn't you say you were her only friend? that curse probably attached to her cause she's lonely.” she pops her gum after saying the last sentence.

“even more proof that me being around her is dangerous! plus- what if sukuna gets out around her while i sleep or something?!” he sighs, looking back and sneaking a peak at you in the botanical garden, “she's better off.”

megumi looks at him a bit, “i'm not surprised. you are the self sacrificing type after all.”

“i just think its rude to break up over text with no explanation, you guys were together for so long too.” nobara shrugs a bit.

“if i had spoken to her any more than that, i think i would've tried to stay.“ yuuji frowns.

--

two weeks after the boy approached you in class, your botany teacher dies in a freak accident, or at least that's what the police said. you aren't too sure.

ms. woods was a smart woman. you knew from the lunches you'd spend in her classroom to avoid bullies that she seriously loved plants.

so dying by ingesting a poisonous plant? out of character and frankly, insulting. you know that can't be the whole story.

that boy had something to do with it; it has to be. you look through your yearbooks after he had left; no sight of him. you go through all of your classes, all grades, you ask around. nothing. he didn't go to your school but he walked up to you during botany class and then two weeks later your teacher dies.

it can't be a coincidence. you go nearly crazy over it. you stay up multiple nights. you cry.

you remember when ms. woods called you smart, when she understood your grief over itadori and let you extend your onion cell project. you cry; something horrible happened to her, you just know it.

so, the night you stay in the school way too late studying poisonous plants in her room, you have a good excuse for why you see a huge monster in the hallway.

at first, you think you're seeing things from the sleep deprivation. you blink, rub your eyes and squint. it's still there.

“holy shit!” you jump out of your seat, going for the door to the garden before realizing they're locked, only able to be unlocked via a key- which you don't have.

the monster, a disgusting bipedal amalgamation of red roses, vegetables, cacti and other odd plants was slowly walking towards you.

“what the fuck.. oh my god- what the fuck?!” you shout, your hands shaking as you go to grab the nearest object to defend yourself as you press your body against the door. you grab a glass flask and hold it out as if it's at all a threat to the 8 foot creature in front of you.

the creature groans and you begin to tear up. this is it- you're about to die the same way ms. woods must have. nobody is going to mourn you besides your parents. you're going to die with people thinking you injested a poisonous fucking plant. you shut your eyes tight in preparation as it approaches.

it never does. you hear the creature use ms. woods' voice to cry out as someone attacks it. you peek to look.

its yuuji. and the girl from the mall. and the boy you thought killed ms. woods.

you gasp as they use all sorts of stuff against the thing and- are those bunnies?

“what.” is all you can gasp out as the brunette and the black haired boy run off, chasing the monster.

yuuji looks at you with his puppy dog eyes and you resist the urge to slap his stupid kissable face.

“yuuji, what the hell is going on.” you say, but it comes out as more of a statement than a question.

“i.. um..” he looks back at the two he came with who are now chasing the monster down the science hall, “that's the curse ms. woods left behind.. we're getting rid of it.”

“a curse? and- and you're fighting it?” you ask, puzzled.

“i promise i can explain but,” he pulls you into a tight, squeezing hug, “I was so worried. A special grade curse against you- I was terrified that we'd be too late. We didn't notice in time to get it before it tried to hurt you.”

“did it kill ms. woods?” you ask.

he shakes his head, “no- the grief from her death created that.” you gasp.

“I made that?” tears spill as the adrenaline settles.

“no!” yuuji pulls away a bit, looking at you put still holding onto you, “no. you didn't- it's not your fault. oh my god, it's not your fault- i love you please don't blame yourself!” he hurries to reassure you.

you sob into the crook of his neck, “yuuji- you.. why did you go? i was so lonely. it's been so hard.”

he can feel his heart break as he squeezes you once more in his embrace, “i'm sorry baby- i'm sorry.” yuuji soothes you, rubbing circles into your back, “i didn't want you to get hurt but- it happened anyways.”

after several minutes of silent comfort, you pull away, wiping your tears before giggling.

“where'd you get those face tattoos?” you sniffle and laugh.

yuuji laughs too.

“it's a long story.“

you smile, “tell me about it. i wanna hear.”

[howi99]

Follow up to the prison post

Cinder: *still looking at her own reflection in the mirror* How? His semblance is supposed to be Aura amplification! How did he?

The door of her cell open

Jaune: *seeing her looking at the mirror* Still wondering about my little magic trick?

Cinder: *turning around to face him, almost growling* What do you want, Arc?

Jaune: *shaking his head, putting a journal on the bed alongside some books* Giving you a taste of the outside? You know, the one you almost destroyed?

Cinder: *angry* Because you honestly think i had a choice!?

Jaune: *rolling his eyes* Yes. Many times in fact. In fact, every time i fought you after i came back from the ever after, i gave you a chance.

Cinder: Ah! As if you would have let me live!

Jaune: ... *Sigh* Cinder, i don't think you understand what i lived through. How long i lived through it. *Sitting on a chair next to the bed* I stopped hating you a long, very long time ago.

Cinder: Stop lying, we both know you want me dead.

Jaune: *nod* I do want you dead, yes. I want you dead, because that's what you deserve. It's a fact, a truth. *Pause for a moment, seeming to think about his words* You are alone, Cinder. Nobody wants you and nobody will ever want you. I could give you your old beauty, it wouldn't even matter. And honestly? *Lean forward* I find that infinitely sad.

Cinder: *surprised* What's that supposed to mean?

Jaune: *lean back* Exactly what i'm saying. You are a remnant of the past, a past everyone is now trying to forget and move on from. *Points to his head* Everyone will forget about you. *Chuckle* Well, everyone but me.

Cinder: Tsk... *Goes to sit on the other chair* Can you tell me how you did it?

Jaune: *feigning ignorance* Hm? Did what?

Cinder: *angry muttering* You know damn well what I'm talking about... *Sigh* How did you bring back my eye?

Jaune: *smirking* The ever after was a prison, yes. *Wave his hand, making a ball of light which turned into a kaleidoscope of colors* And a great place to learn and harvest magic. *Taking a pensive look* When i think about it, it's a good thing you didn't fall back then. Or we probably would have been all doomed.

Cinder: ... That's it? Magic? That's the explanation?

Jaune: *scratching his beard* The short answer? Yes. The long answer is that i used the memory your own soul has of your body. Your body may change, but your aura, your soul doesn't. *Waving off* I could have used my semblance, but instead of being instantaneous, it would have taken a week... Oh and you would have suffered all the way through.

Cinder: Then why give it back?

Jaune: *shrug* You kick puppies for fun, i heal them. Nothing more, nothing less.

Cinder: ... I never hurt animals.

Jaune: Not.... The point i was trying to make, but a nice tidbit to know about you. Other than your casualties counts and your hatred of Atlas, it's not like i know a lot about you.

Cinder: *angry* That place deserved to burn!

Jaune: Maybe. Atlas was a corrupted den of nepotism, but i don't think the common folks deserved to die.

Cinder: *bark a single laugh# Ah! As if your team didn't bring its share of destruction to the place! Remember Ironwood? THAT wasn't me.

Jaune: *sigh* Oh don't worry, i know that too well. But i can't blame a bunch of kids for making bad calls. Hell, the adults were as dumb as us.

Cinder: *chuckle* At least you can see your own mistakes.

Jaune: I had time to learn from them.

Cinder: ... Since you are going to be my jailer for the foreseeable future... How long exactly did you stay in the ever after? Or whatever that place's called.

Jaune: *seeming to think about the question* Well, the gods were already gone from the place, but it was before humanity's downfall. Take the fact time goes faster in the ever after.... Maybe centuries? Though i'd say a millennium would be accurate-

Cinder: *surprised, getting up of the chair* I THOUGHT YOU WERE TRAPPED 20 YEARS!?

Jaune: Hm? Oh yeah, when team RWBY arrived, my body was probably in its forty. I age incredibly slowly, but i still do age.

Cinder: *completely bewildered, sit back down* Wow... I... I never expected that! How did you stay sane?

Jaune: ... I didn't? I mean, I spent the last 50 years of my life there saving the same village over and over again. Day after day... I don't hear voices, if you were wondering. But i lost a good part of myself there. In a way, the Jaune you knew died a long time ago, only leaving a rusted husk at his place. One that was repaired, yes, but can never be the same.

Cinder: *sigh* Great, then i guess i'll turn mad before seeing the bright sky again.

Jaune: *taking his scroll out* With good conduct and if you seem repented enough, you'll probably be out in a little hundred years. Beside, you will have interaction with the outside. Books, journal and whatnot. Oh, and me, of course. And for the sky part, you get 6 hours of free time, it's not like you can't go in the courtyard during that time.

Cinder: *silent for a moment* Why did you choose to be my jailor? Instead of letting someone else do it?

Jaune: *Thinking over the question* Hm... Because i can? Because if i can at least change you, make you a better person, maybe then my friends death won't have been in vain? Because i know what being alone feels like and even if i hate you, i wouldn't wish that to anyone? Maybe... Maybe i just want to help a child who never knew better? *Shrug* Who knows?

Cinder: ...

Jaune: *get up, walking to the door* You are alone outside those walls... But, as long as you will be here, i won't let you go. Even if we both hate each other, i'll always be there for you when you need it.*smile* I'm still the Rusted Knight after all. *Leave, closing the door*

Cinder: *Sigh* You should have been here for me a long time ago then... When i still believed in him. *Looking at the books, one in particular picking her attention, an old book with burned marks on it* That book... *She picks it up, turns a page and sees her own signature* ... *Tears form in her eyes, as she begins reading The girl who fell through the world, like she used to*

[reidreaders]

For the next insta post what if y/n wants a cat to be Spock’s best friend 👀

I LOVE THIS IDEA THANK U ANON💕💕 MASTERLIST

Liked by babygirlpg, emprentiss, and 205 others

y/n @/drreid don't be too mad

View all 37 comments

drreid I've been gone for two days and you brought a cat home???

-> y/n Spock made me! He said he needed a friend!

-> drreid Can I at least name the cat?

-> y/n sure thing baby 😘

chocthunder oh pretty boy is not gonna be happy ab that

-> emprentiss ikr im living for this

davidrossi This is what long term relationships are like kid! Get used to it...

-> drreid Gee thanks Rossi

Liked by drreid, jenniferj, and 192 others

y/n UPDATE! Spence loves the cat and he named him Newton!

View all 23 comments

drreid As mad as I was I do love the cat (I also love you).

-> y/n shut up I love you too

-> babygirlpg I LOVE YOUR CAT! when cat I meet him??

-> y/n come over anytime!

ssahotchner Jack wants to come over and meet Newton. He also says its been too long since he's seen Spock.

-> jenniferj Henry said the same thing!!

-> y/n I guess we'll just have to have everyone over!

Liked by davidrossi, emprentiss, and 156 others

y/n got to see professor Reid in action today!

View all 29 comments

drreid It was so much to have you there! You should come more often :)

babygirlpg you guys are the best couple fr

-> jenniferj what about me and will?

-> y/n nah me n spence 4eva

chocthunder awww were u bored??

-> emprentiss HA

Liked by ssahotchner, emprentiss, and 167 others

y/n pretty dumb for an actual genius

View all 34 comments

drreid Yeah I don't even have an explanation for this.

ssahotchner Sometimes I forget how young he is

-> davidrossi me too

emprentiss how many times did he fall?

-> y/n 3x he swore the laws of physics would help him but they did not

-> drreid They would have! I just don't have very good balance...

Liked by babygirlpg, chocthunder, and 187 others

y/n y'all are WRONG for not telling him this was there all day

View all 45 comments

drreid I agree! I was at crime scenes with this on my face!

babygirlpg Spencer I swear I wanted to but Derek swore me to secrecy im sorry

-> chocthunder im sorry pretty boy it was just too funny

-> emprentiss I am not sorry but I agree it was funny

-> drreid I hate all of you.

every time I post one of these my brain is like "ahh yes feed your children" lmaoo anywaysss hope you guys liked this one!! send more requests!

[lu-is-not-ok]

This is just a dumb theory, but given what Xichun has said about the elders of their family seeking immortality of the mind and the ruthless competition they've got going between their grandkids, this might be the simplest and easiest explanation we have, so I'm probably wrong, but it's still a thought:

What if the elders are attempting some sort of Get Out style body hijacking scheme? Whoever the strongest, fittest, most ruthless of the kids is deemed worthy to have an elder live inside of them?

I've been mulling over how to respond to this because there's both a lot to say and not that much at the same time.

Because, on the one hand, yeah you are absolutely correct. The search for the Immortality of the mind is absolutely very likely going to lead to the exposure of new and inventive ways for the elders to exploit the younger members of the Jia Family.

This would be further corroberated by my Two in One/Daiyu-Baoyu theory, as it implies that the reason why Baoyu was so valuable to the Family and why the elders are now invested in getting him back is because the fact he was able to keep on living via a version of body hijacking could be exactly what they were looking for. And, well, if they can't achieve Immortality themselves, they still want to have their One Immortal back to force him into doing what they want.

However, I do feel like this isn't all there is to it.

My main point of contention is that I don't believe that the seeking of Immortality and the competition between siblings are inherently this closely connected. I think that, at the very least, they weren't at first.

The competition for the spot as the head of the Family feels like a kind of tradition that would go back for many generations, way before whatever kind of Immortality scheme the current elders are cooking.

After all, note the difference in how Xichun and Hong Lu talk about those two concepts. Neither of them ever really question the competition between siblings, they're fully expecting murder attempts as if they were normal facts of life. There is no judgement of it, it's as natural to them as gravity causing things to fall or plants needing water.

On the other hand, this kind of idea of normalcy is not afforded to the search for Immortality by them. In fact, they both seem to see it as kind of a bother. Xichun calls it an "old, tiresome thing", while Hong Lu is clearly not even really taking part in it, with his writing in the Rose Hunter log implying he believes it to be the beliefs of a select few specific people in his Family.

While it's implied that both concepts have been around for a long while, the normalization of the sibling competition and the lack thereof for the search for Immortality suggests that the former is an established tradition of the Family, while the latter is only a development as recent as the current elders being the ones in power.

But... there is a deeper, thematic way that the two ideas connect together, despite their in-universe connection not being as close as you posit.

Both the sibling competition and the search for Immortality, and even Baoyu being kept within the Jias' grasp - they all serve a single purpose.

To allow for the endless and cyclical perpetuation of the Jia Family and its legacy of abuse and violence.

The competition between siblings isn't just to find the strongest and most ruthless child to become the next head, it's specifically to find an heir whose personal values are the most like the values the Jia Family itself holds, and which thus can continue to perpetuate it.

The search for Immortality then is just another incarnation of this attempt to continue perpetuating the Jia Family, but in this case in a more "efficient" manner. Instead of relying on the random chance of hoping that the one heir who comes out on top will share the values of the elders, the elders can just ensure the Jia Family remains as it is by always being the ones in power. Its legacy can't die if its head never dies after all.

And then, of course, is the one Immortal in question - Baoyu. The Family likely "treasures" him so much because he's their one sure way to never let the Jia Family die. As long as they can keep him locked, as long as they can shape him into the kind of person who would blindly follow what they say, they can ensure he can keep the legacy alive forevermore.

It's... an interesting and kind of poignant smaller scale parallel to how Project Moon portrays the City itself.

Both the City and the Jia Family are, in a way, their own "living" beings independent of any of the people that are a part of it, and yet which can only continue to live on in perpetuity because those same people are the ones who perpetuate their systems of abuse.

It's not a single person's fault that they both continue to live on and cause harm. ...But there's also very few who aren't at least in part to blame for keeping them alive. Even those who are being actively exploited by those in power and have no choice but to perpetuate those cycles... well, they're still perpetuating them all the same.

[forsetti]

On American Exceptionalism: Stupid Is As Stupid Does

“We are drowning in information but starved for knowledge.” -John Naisbitt

Right after the 2016 election, the dominant hot take from pundits was Hillary lost because Democrats failed to understand Rural America. This explanation was complete nonsense. Liberals who grew up or lived/live in Rural America very much understand them. That wasn’t the problem. As I wrote about at the time, the problem with Rural America was/is the racism and misogyny that are deeply embedded in their culture and religion and their willingness to all these to dictate their choices, even at their own expense.

Here we are eight years later and with Kamala Harris’ loss to Trump, the stupid hot takes are again flying off the shelves. This time around, the reason for Trump winning was Democrats didn’t care about the working class. As with “Dems don’t understand Rural America,” the reasons behind why Trump won were racism, misogyny, and stupidity. “Dems don’t care about the working class,” is a flat-out lie, no matter who says it, (I’m looking at you Bernie Sanders.) All the evidence shows America has done better than every other major country responding to the pandemic and EVERY economic indicator is better now than just about any time in the past fifty years regarding unemployment, job creation, DOW, wage growth… Trump’s reelection showed how much facts and evidence don’t matter in America.

As long as people “feel” a certain way, that is all that matters. Any argument that hinges on “feelings,” or “vibes,” is intellectual laziness at its finest. Why do people feel a certain way? Are these feelings justified? These questions are completely ignored or quickly glossed over because no one wants to know or discuss the answers to these questions.

No one wants to discuss why a large number of Americans are willing to believe a Five-Star, chronic liar. No one wants to know why these same people are willing to vote for a self-serving billionaire who has a long record of fucking over working-class people who have done work for him. No one wants to know why “good Christians,” happily support an adulterer who paid off a porn star not to divulge he had sex with her four months after his wife gave birth to their youngest child. No one wants to ask why these same, “good Christians,” are gleeful about fucking over immigrants and asylum seekers. No one really wants to know why Republicans are hell-bent on stripping women of rights and economic opportunities. No one really wants to admit that “The Greatest Nation On Earth,” “The Shining Beacon On The Hill,” and “God’s Country,” is very much racist, misogynist, and really stupid.

"A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals and you know it." -Agent K

People are generally stupid. Stupid people are easy to manipulate, especially when it comes to their feelings. Most of the “feelings” about “economic anxiety,” are rooted in racism, bigotry, and misogyny.

In America, truth and evidence have been replaced with feelings and vibes because it takes no effort to feel something, to believe something. It takes a lot of work to understand and know something. There are too many Americans who are intellectually lazy and poorly educated and are either convinced they are smart or know they aren’t and overcompensate by gish galloping and talking very loudly. The only thing more dangerous than a stupid person is a stupid person who is convinced they are smart.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had little to no tolerance for stupidity. As a kid, I would often come home from school or church and complain vociferously to my mom about the stupidity I’d encountered. Her advice to me was always, “You can’t fight every battle against stupid people, there are too many of them. Even if you “win” against one, there will always be another to take their place.”

Whenever she would tell me this, it would remind me of something I once heard the population of China was so large and growing so rapidly, that they could walk ten-abreast into the ocean and the line would NEVER end.

That is how I few stupid people. Never ending.

Instead of constantly battling against stupidity, I tried to carve out niches of smartness and sanity wherever I could. It is why I felt the need to leave America and go to Japan for a couple of years. It is why I studied philosophy. It is why I ended up in grad school at a Big 10 school in a very progressive town. It is why I’ve always surrounded myself with a very small but incredibly smart group of friends.

For a long time, this way of dealing with stupidity worked. Then social media brought the stupidity I’d fought so hard to avoid to my door with a vengeance.

Nobody was more excited for the internet than me. I’m an information junkie. My “hobby” as a kid was reading the Encyclopedia Britannica every night until the wee hours of the morning. Having all the information readily available was amazing. At least it was amazing until the Libertarian Tech Bros decided to create social media platforms to “democratize” information and bad-faith actors realized how easily they could manipulate a poorly educated population.

Thomas Jefferson knew that democracy could only truly function and succeed with an educated citizenry. Poorly educated people cannot make truly informed decisions. This is why mentally incompetent people and children cannot enter contracts. It is why people on certain drugs in hospitals are not allowed to make decisions about their health care. A democracy of idiots isn’t a real democracy (and if you tell me America is a Republic, not a democracy, I’ll send a civics teacher to your house to beat you about the head and neck with the largest textbook in their library.)

You can’t have a functioning democratic government with un/misinformed people. The exact thing is true when it comes to “democratizing,” information. It might sound like a good idea to open up information to any and all because good/sound ideas will rise to the top and win out in the end. To quote from, “A Stress Analysis Of A Strapless Evening Gown: Essays For A Scientific Age,” “There goes another wonderful theory about to be murdered by a brutal gang of facts.”

When you “democratize” information you automatically give everything equal weight of legitimacy and truth value. Then, somehow, the right/true things become apparent and win out. This treats facts as opinions. The answer to, “Which is better, Coke or Pepsi?” is not a factual statement. It contains no truth (even though anyone with any taste buds knows the correct answer is, “Coke.”) When scientific theories and data are treated the same as opinions and opinions are treated as facts, we are beyond fucked.

The other thing “democratizing” information either takes for granted, completely ignores, or willfully denies is, in order for their notion of a “free marketplace of ideas,” to work, people need to have the skill sets necessary to properly understand and process the information, in order to make informed decisions.

The tech bros don’t have these skill sets. Libertarians, by nature, are idiots. The best description of Libertarians is from Tom Morrow - “"Libertarians are like house cats: absolutely convinced of their fierce independence while utterly dependent on a system they don't appreciate or understand.” Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg don’t give one fuck about the well-being of people. They care about their egos. They care about how much data about you they can extract to sell to other amoral dicks. They care about how many toys they can buy and how many expensive, unique experiences they can have to brag about to their other equally amoral dick friends.

Truth isn’t contingent on popularity or who has the most followers or poll numbers. To treat truth this way obliterates any and all standards of evidence, validity, and soundness. It does away with the need for truth. To pretend otherwise is to either not understand a functioning view of truth or to understand it and use the destruction of truth to your advantage.

When you combine a completely misguided idea like democratizing information with a poorly educated population, the result is the stupid become proudly and arrogantly stupid. It becomes the perfect breeding ground for conspiracy theories.

Social media sites always kind of were this way but two events really showed just how problematic and dangerous they were: The election of Barack Obama and the pandemic.

The amount of sheer bullshit spread on social media about Obama’s birth certificate and the Affordable Care Act was staggering in volume and stupidity. Stupidity that is still believed as absolute gospel by a good chunk of the right. This really isn’t surprising since many of these same people deeply believe Jesus was white and apparently a vindictive, gun-toting he-man.

However, as stupid and awful as the lies about Obama and the ACA were, they paled in comparison to those spread about the pandemic. The propaganda about the pandemic was unbelievably widespread and very dangerous. Literally, hundreds of thousands of people died from the lies spread, mostly on social media, about COVID-19 and the vaccines.

I have people I know very well and some I love deeply who adamantly believe the stupidest nonsense about the virus and vaccines for no other reason than the propaganda they read/heard on social media, pundits, and their social groups… The more people passed along something they’d heard/read, the more it turned into a very dangerous Purple Monkey Dishwasher situation:

Once people believe untrue things, especially if those things are closely tied to their self-identity, it is almost impossible to unscrew that pooch because it would mean they have to admit they were not just misled and wrong but adamantly so. It takes humility to admit you are wrong. This is why, no matter how many times we are promised that the “Republican Fever,” of Trumpism will break, it will never happen because it isn’t Trumpism, it is Republicanism, and because the right will NEVER FUCKING EVER admit they were wrong about anything, especially if the liberals were right. It just isn’t in their fundamentalist, white supremacist, misogynist, Manifest Destiny DNA.

The past few election cycles have been nothing but a constant barrage of well-designed, well-placed propaganda from bad-faith actors here and abroad. Fear, hatred, lies...all get more attention and traction with people, especially stupid people, than facts and the truth. Anyone who has a basic understanding of human psychology has to know this. The entire field of advertising hinges and relies on people being easily manipulated.

The culmination of decades of underfunding, undercutting, lying about, and demonizing education by the right and the proliferation of social media outlets resulted in the election of the most unqualified, uncaring, self-absorbed, chronic liar to run the world’s largest economy and military not once but twice.

I keep hearing people blame Hillary Clinton and Kamala Harris for losing to Trump because, based on who Trump is, “the race should never have been close.” This is a stupid take. It absolutely shouldn’t have been close, either time. The problem wasn’t Hillary or Clinton or anything they did/didn’t do. The problem is Americans are fucking stupid and since America is a representative government, their votes are a direct reflection of who/what they are.

The day right before this year’s election, all the left-wing pod bros and Never Trumpers, to a person, talked about how Kamala ran the most perfect campaign they’d ever seen. The day after the election, every single one of them rushed to get on the “Dems don’t care about the working class” bandwagon like they were trying to get front-row tickets to Taylor Swift.

In my lifetime, ALL of the evidence from jobs created, unemployment, wages, and the DOW… shows Democratic administrations greatly outperform Republican ones. Yet, the narrative has always been that Republicans are better at handling the economy.

Why is there such a gap between facts and feelings when it comes to the economy?

One answer is propaganda. The right has a massive media advantage when it comes to pushing whatever narrative they want. AM radio, FOX NEWS, and Sinclair Corp… do nothing but pump out right-wing talking points all day, every day. If you hear/read nonstop that the economy is in crisis, no matter what the facts are, you will start to believe it. This is why, when Republicans were polled about the economy pre-election, the majority said they were in a good economic situation but the country was not. This also explains why, right after the election, when the “bad economy” propaganda was no longer being pushed, the very same people who claimed the US economy was in shambles a week prior, now think the economy is doing fine.

The same thing is true about crime rates, welfare, immigration… You name it and there has been/is a massive propaganda effort from the right that has made a whole lot of Americans “reprogrammable meatbags” (hat tip Driftglass.)

Let’s just put aside the fact the Biden administration did more for workers than any administration since LBJ and possibly all the way back to FDR. When it comes to Democrats “ignoring the working class,” every single economic crisis in my lifetime happened while a Republican was in the White House. And, every single one of the times this happened, it was a Democratic president who fixed the mess only to be replaced by another Republican who once again fucked up the economy.

The reasons why Trump won in 2016 and again in 2024 had nothing to do with Dem messaging or policies. The reasons are racism, misogyny, widespread propaganda, and Americans are unbelievably stupid. Full stop.

I’m not surprised Trump won again because I understand the American electorate. I’ve also been warning for at least the past three decades that as white, male Americans become less culturally and demographically significant, they are going to do and rationalize whatever it takes to hold onto their artificially created sense of importance and self-worth. They will not just fight like hell to protect what they deem their God-given place in society, they will burn it all to the ground and salt the earth behind them rather than see anyone they deem unworthy get a damn thing.

In one of my undergraduate philosophy classes, I can’t remember which one or the context, one of my professors brought up a hypothetical scenario where a wise king had a difficult choice to make. The public well in the village he ruled over had been tainted and anyone who drank from it went mad. The choice the king had to make was to either not drink from the well and rule over a bunch of raving lunatics or drink and become one of them.

The general consensus among the students was the right choice was for the king to drink the tainted water because, no matter how wise you are, you can’t rule idiots.

I completely disagreed with this and thought the entire thing was a false dilemma (an either/or fallacy.) The smart/right thing for the king to do would be to find another village to rule over or head to the wilderness. Trying to rule idiots is a waste of time and talent. However, idiots aren’t going to be any more easy to rule if you are also an idiot. Find a new place for your talents and/or get the fuck out of Dodge.

I’m certainly not a wise king. I’m just a lowly villager but I have the same choice to make because the public well of information has been tainted and those who drink from it are getting stupider by the day.

What does this all mean?

It means I’m out. I’m getting the fuck out of Dodge, not in the physical sense but intellectually and emotionally. I can no longer be a part of the public square of information because it has been overrun by idiots and bad-faith actors.

I’ve been out of fucks to give for some time and barely running on fumes. Watching 70+ million of my fellow Americans vote for chaos, white supremacy, lies, misogyny, and sheer stupidity and a whole lot of other Americans not even be bothered to vote for whatever reasons they tell themselves to feel better about themselves has completely exhausted whatever was in my public engagement tank.

I am going to completely stop using social media and pretty much avoid as much other media as possible. I know a lot of people who are leaving Facebook and Twitter and setting up shop at sites like Bluesky. I have a Bluesky account but won’t be using it. When I say I’m taking myself out of the public square, I mean all of it. If the public has access to something, the well of information that hasn’t been poisoned eventually will be.

There is a part of me that wants nothing more than to hang around and watch people who voted for the Face Eating Leopard Party get their faces eaten by leopards. Nobody loves the Find Out portion of Fuck Around And Find Out as much as I do. However, I can’t enjoy the Schadenfreude of people who voted for or enabled Trump to get exactly what they deserve because a lot of people who did the right thing for the right reasons are going to suffer as much, if not much more.

I also can’t watch people who keep telling me they are allies continue to make horrible choices, bitch about the consequences of their choices, and then make the same choices again. Every single person on the left who says things like, “Both parties are the same,” or “Dems have ignored the working class,” needs to go back and take a remedial civics class.

There is ONE AND ONLY ONE principle progressives need to come to terms with. If you want FDR-like policies, you HAVE TO HAVE FDR-like majorities in Congress. There is no fucking third or fourth or fifth option. The surefire way to not get these kinds of majorities is to sit out elections, vote third-party, and spend more time and energy attacking would-be allies than opponents.

I can no longer watch people be more concerned about coming across as “independent thinkers,” than being intellectually honest.

I can no longer watch people monetize anger, grief, racism, misogyny, bigotry, and stupidity.

I can no longer watch people care more about how many followers they have than facts.

I can no longer listen to people talk about “Christian values,” when their actions and words would make Jesus weep.

I can no longer hear people complain about “elites,” but continue to cater to billionaires and be fine with tax cuts for the wealthy.

I can no longer listen to people who do not understand basic economics, basic civics, and basic logic. I can no longer deal with people saying, "It's no big deal, it's just politics."

I can no longer watch people “punch down” on people/groups that are the most vulnerable in our society.

I can no longer watch women and minorities be treated as second-class citizens.

I can no longer tolerate the left being a shining example of “the perfect is the enemy of the good.”

I can no longer watch people who claim that women and minorities are high priorities to them but who constantly don’t do what is necessary to protect them.

I can no longer watch the hypocrisy of people who claim to be “Christian,” exude so much hate and anger towards people their Jesus would have taken in and washed their feet.

I can no longer watch people with little to no critical thinking skills carry more influence and weight than experts in their field. Sorry Uncle Freedom, but you don’t know Jack about virology or tariffs or Ukraine or gas production or (fill in the blank.) You don’t have the critical thinking skill set to even know why you don’t know what you don’t know and neither do the idiots you listen to on AM radio, FOX NEWS, Rumble, or OAN.

All of this probably comes across as “sour grapes,” and/or “arrogance.” I don’t fucking care. I haven’t been wrong about this stuff yet and I don’t believe I am now. I really want to be wrong. However, over the past few years, Americans generally haven’t done anything to prove me wrong.

Someone might think I’m, “just another elite liberal talking down to “Real Americans©.” First, despite all my scholastic training, I’m very much blue-collar. Second, I’m not being judgmental, I’m being purely descriptive. Finally, the Fuck Your Feelings Crowd don’t get to complain about what people think/say about them. If you are a liberal and think I’m being too harsh, get a backbone and stop pretending Republicans are something they are not, and stop wasting your time trying to convince them. No amount of evidence or arguments is going to make a meaningful dent. The ONLY thing that has a chance of making them change their beliefs is if they personally suffer from their choices, and even then that isn't a guarantee.

I saw a very popular Tweet from someone lecturing the left for “mocking people who are concerned about the price of eggs and bacon.” I’m not mocking them for their concerns. I’m mocking them for not understanding the very easily understandable reasons why certain things cost what they do at any given moment in time. Don’t wrap yourself in a flag of capitalism if you don’t understand the basics of supply and demand. Don’t be fucking stupid and certainly don’t let your stupidity lead to even stupider consequences.

It isn’t the fault of Joe Biden or Kamala Harris or liberals that a lot of Americans don’t understand the consequences of a worldwide pandemic, deregulations, supply-side issues, how the need to maximize stock dividends led to a shortage of warehouses or dozens of other economic factors. They tried. A FUCKING LOT. Somehow, it just seemed easier for a lot of people to believe the person who lies about his wealth, lies about his crowd sizes, has a long list of failed businesses, including two casinos (BANKRUPTED... TWO... FUCKING... CASINOS something that no one thought was even possible,) than the President and VP who oversaw the largest growth in US manufacturing, wage growth, jobs, and saved pensions in the past 60+ years.

To call what happened on Nov 5th stupid is an insult to stupid. What it sure the fuck wasn’t, just like in 2016, was a result of “economic anxiety.”

I have to take myself out of the public square because I see no end to the stupidity. I only see it getting worse. It is going to get worse because too many billionaires are more concerned with their placement on the Top 100 Biggest Pricks List than making things better for anyone other than themselves. It’s going to get worse because white men and their enablers are going to fight even harder to hold on to the bullshit worldview of their stature and importance. It’s going to get worse because AI is going to further dumb down an already poorly educated population. It’s going to get worse because people running social media platforms are more concerned with algorithms that will generate profits than what those algorithms contain or their consequences. It’s going to get worse because young people don’t have the skill sets necessary to process the amount of misinformation and disinformation they are exposed to on a daily basis.

It is going to get worse because there is no more fragile substance in the known universe than the male ego.

It is going to get a lot worse because when fundamentalists think they have the upper hand, they ALWAYS make things worse.

It is going to get worse right away because the worst person and president in my lifetime, and possibly American history, isn’t going to have the people or guardrails around him like he did the first time. The upcoming administration is going to be a clown show. Not a Bozo or Krusty The Clown show but Pennywise and John Wayne Gacy clown show because every single person being singled out for top positions is not just grossly unqualified but a rabid nut job.

Germany turned to fascism largely because of economic factors. Between a decimated manufacturing sector, severe reparations due to Great Britain and France, hyperinflation, and the effects of The Great Depression, Germany was an economic disaster post-WWI. Hitler capitalized on this economic strife by telling Germans he’d make Germany Great Again.

America has the world’s greatest, most stable economy. The lives of everyday Americans are infinitely better now than they were a generation ago. Many of the problems we do have can easily be corrected with some basic regulations on our poorly regulated capitalism. Yet, despite this, Americans are turning towards fascism because they can’t buy whatever they want whenever they want for as little as possible, and, most importantly, white men see their self-appointed place at the top of the social/cultural pyramid, threatened. American White Christian Male Exceptionalism and Hitler’s Aryan Master Race are both based on pseudoscientific bullshit. They aren’t the exactly same but the Venn Diagram of the two overlaps a lot more than Americans care to admit.

Other than exiting from the public square, I really don’t know what I’m going to do. The last time I felt this way, to a much lesser degree, I moved out of the country. This is certainly something I’ve thought about and a serious option but due to personal responsibilities, it wouldn’t be for a few years.

When I lived in Japan, they might have been as stupid and conspiratorial as Americans (I don’t believe they were) but I didn’t know the language well enough to find out. There is something sadly true about the quote from “Bull Durham,”-“The world is made for people who aren't cursed with self-awareness.”

I’d really like to get back into writing but I haven’t figured out what to write about if I’m self-exiled. Writing about the Village Gone Stupid would defeat the reasons I’ve decided to leave the village. No matter how little you expose yourself to poison, it is still poisonous.

Whatever happens, I want to thank everyone who has read, tolerated and appreciated what I have posted and written.

I initially thought about ending with a quote from Douglas Adams- ”So long and thanks for all the fish,” but that doesn’t really capture how I feel. A better ending would be to post the entire lyrics to “Amused To Death,” by Roger Waters. However, that is too long and I’ve gone on enough. Instead, I’ll end with the lyrics from another song by Roger Waters from the same album.

Muslim or Christian, Mullah or Pope Preacher or poet who was it wrote Give any one species too much rope And they'll fuck it up -Roger Waters “Too Much Rope”

[neurospring]

History and Basics of Language Models: How Transformers Changed AI Forever - and Led to Neuro-sama

I have seen a lot of misunderstandings and myths about Neuro-sama's language model. I have decided to write a short post, going into the history of and current state of large language models and providing some explanation about how they work, and how Neuro-sama works! To begin, let's start with some history.

Before the beginning

Before the language models we are used to today, models like RNNs (Recurrent Neural Networks) and LSTMs (Long Short-Term Memory networks) were used for natural language processing, but they had a lot of limitations. Both of these architectures process words sequentially, meaning they read text one word at a time in order. This made them struggle with long sentences, they could almost forget the beginning by the time they reach the end.

Another major limitation was computational efficiency. Since RNNs and LSTMs process text one step at a time, they can't take full advantage of modern parallel computing harware like GPUs. All these fundamental limitations mean that these models could never be nearly as smart as today's models.

The beginning of modern language models

In 2017, a paper titled "Attention is All You Need" introduced the transformer architecture. It was received positively for its innovation, but no one truly knew just how important it is going to be. This paper is what made modern language models possible.

The transformer's key innovation was the attention mechanism, which allows the model to focus on the most relevant parts of a text. Instead of processing words sequentially, transformers process all words at once, capturing relationships between words no matter how far apart they are in the text. This change made models faster, and better at understanding context.

The full potential of transformers became clearer over the next few years as researchers scaled them up.

The Scale of Modern Language Models

A major factor in an LLM's performance is the number of parameters - which are like the model's "neurons" that store learned information. The more parameters, the more powerful the model can be. The first GPT (generative pre-trained transformer) model, GPT-1, was released in 2018 and had 117 million parameters. It was small and not very capable - but a good proof of concept. GPT-2 (2019) had 1.5 billion parameters - which was a huge leap in quality, but it was still really dumb compared to the models we are used to today. GPT-3 (2020) had 175 billion parameters, and it was really the first model that felt actually kinda smart. This model required 4.6 million dollars for training, in compute expenses alone.

Recently, models have become more efficient: smaller models can achieve similar performance to bigger models from the past. This efficiency means that smarter and smarter models can run on consumer hardware. However, training costs still remain high.

How Are Language Models Trained?

Pre-training: The model is trained on a massive dataset to predict the next token. A token is a piece of text a language model can process, it can be a word, word fragment, or character. Even training relatively small models with a few billion parameters requires trillions of tokens, and a lot of computational resources which cost millions of dollars.

Post-training, including fine-tuning: After pre-training, the model can be customized for specific tasks, like answering questions, writing code, casual conversation, etc. Certain post-training methods can help improve the model's alignment with certain values or update its knowledge of specific domains. This requires far less data and computational power compared to pre-training.

The Cost of Training Large Language Models

Pre-training models over a certain size requires vast amounts of computational power and high-quality data. While advancements in efficiency have made it possible to get better performance with smaller models, models can still require millions of dollars to train, even if they have far fewer parameters than GPT-3.

The Rise of Open-Source Language Models

Many language models are closed-source, you can't download or run them locally. For example ChatGPT models from OpenAI and Claude models from Anthropic are all closed-source.

However, some companies release a number of their models as open-source, allowing anyone to download, run, and modify them.

While the larger models can not be run on consumer hardware, smaller open-source models can be used on high-end consumer PCs.

An advantage of smaller models is that they have lower latency, meaning they can generate responses much faster. They are not as powerful as the largest closed-source models, but their accessibility and speed make them highly useful for some applications.

So What is Neuro-sama?

Basically no details are shared about the model by Vedal, and I will only share what can be confidently concluded and only information that wouldn't reveal any sort of "trade secret". What can be known is that Neuro-sama would not exist without open-source large language models. Vedal can't train a model from scratch, but what Vedal can do - and can be confidently assumed he did do - is post-training an open-source model. Post-training a model on additional data can change the way the model acts and can add some new knowledge - however, the core intelligence of Neuro-sama comes from the base model she was built on. Since huge models can't be run on consumer hardware and would be prohibitively expensive to run through API, we can also say that Neuro-sama is a smaller model - which has the disadvantage of being less powerful, having more limitations, but has the advantage of low latency. Latency and cost are always going to pose some pretty strict limitations, but because LLMs just keep getting more efficient and better hardware is becoming more available, Neuro can be expected to become smarter and smarter in the future. To end, I have to at least mention that Neuro-sama is more than just her language model, though we have only talked about the language model in this post. She can be looked at as a system of different parts. Her TTS, her VTuber avatar, her vision model, her long-term memory, even her Minecraft AI, and so on, all come together to make Neuro-sama.

Wrapping up - Thanks for Reading!

This post was meant to provide a brief introduction to language models, covering some history and explaining how Neuro-sama can work. Of course, this post is just scratching the surface, but hopefully it gave you a clearer understanding about how language models function and their history!

[pursuitseternal]

Hi! 13 - 19 Raphael x reader (if its still open)

thanks!💕

“Punishment:”

Raphael x f!Reader | Smut Ask Prompts

CW: BDSM, mean Mdom, bondage, suspension, orgasm denial, punishment, rough sex, possessive devil behavior

“Can you tell me what you did wrong, little mouse?”

The question hands heavy in the air, almost as heavy as you feel, suspended in silken tendrils of rope in his boudoir. Shadows lick at the corners of your vision, the burgundy, scarlet, and gold tints of his room seem darker as he extends his great, leathery wings for a moment. He purrs at you, tail twitching like a cat… like a predator, ready to pounce and devour his prey.

Hanging from his cage, bound for his pleasure, every one of your prey instincts makes your numb digits twitch and your body writhe.

You tremble, trying to catch the floor with more than the tips of your toes to take pressure off your aching shoulders. But whatever relief you find is minimal. Your struggle just makes the Devil’s laughter ring in your sensitive ears, the pain of your body heightening all your senses to their limits. “Master,” you whine, “I… only…”

Raphael’s fingers lift your chin, nails like daggers as he turns your face into his. Gods, you forget how much taller he is in this form, his wide wings fanning into the shadows, his horned head arching like a crown far above his stature. “I want no excuses, no tiring explanations. One word, one simple word for what you’ve done wrong, like the dumb slut you are.”

“Disobeyed,” you reply, shivers raking down your spine as his claws grip tighter, as his cherry red face cracks into a fanged smile.

His thick brow arches. “Ah, so the slut can follow orders. How refreshing,” he chuckles, releasing your chin. “Now, beg me for my forgiveness, for my magnanimous mercy,” he slips his searingly hot fingers inside your cunt, easing some of the quivering ache he’s let fester there for too long. “Where are your manners for your master?” he croons.

You fight for air, the ache of your arms lessens as pleasure roils in your belly. “P… Please…” you stammer, too quickly lost to the sensations of pure hellfire racing in your veins. Breathing rough in your parched throat, you arch your back, swaying from the ropes as your feet barely touch the ground. Closer and closer he drives you, burning fingers buried deep inside, making your very cunt boil. Fuck, it’s good…

Until he pulls his hand from you with a snarl. “Oh, naughty mouse, where are those pretty little apologies? If you stop, I’ll stop.”

The pathetic whimper from your lips makes him roll his shoulders and sway with sadistic joy, his long forked tongue licking your juices from his fingers one by one. “Well, don’t keep me waiting. I’m not known for my patience, after all.”

“I’m sorry,” you let the words fly from your lips, a melancholic chant, a pitiful refrain over and over again as he does nothing but suck his fiendish digits clean. “I’m sorry,” you keep repeating until the words mean next to nothing, until your body simply says them on its own, like your need to breathe.

“You made a fool of me,” he hisses, damp hand clawing around your neck and squeezing. You gasp and gag as his hand closes harder. “In front of clients, in front mortals so easily swayed… you decided to tout your own victories against the Brain. Think of all the souls I could have reaped as my reward for… deigning to give you aid.”

Your head pounds, stars and darkness clouding your vision. This is it, your end… not a tenday in his bed and you’re paying for it….

Air rushes into your lungs as he releases you, and your shoulders find relief as he picks your body up and instantly spears you on his long, ridged cock. You scream, the pressure of him deep inside you splits you apart, but it also grants you that antidote to the burning ache left smoldering for so long. Summoning the last dregs of your strength, you cling to the ropes around your arms, pulling yourself up as he pounds up into you. Claws dig into your ass, your weight cradled by his arms wrapped under your thighs.

“Mine… you’re all mine…” you hear his voice rumbling, a final tether to keep you bound to consciousness.

“Hmm?” You barely mutter through your lust drunk, blissed out stupor as your orgasm threatens to tear you apart.

“Say it,” Raphael hisses, nails drawing blood as he clutches tighter. “Say it!” He commands, no room or argument, no tolerance for disobedience.

You manage to raise your head, arms shaking as you keep a hold. Those black and yellow eyes bore into your soul, branding you as his forevermore. More than your arrogant, flagrant, foolish disobedience could challenge. Pleasure coils to bursting as he bottoms out inside you, your legs quaking as you shatter in a million broken prices for him. “Yours!” you scream. “I’m yours.”

His grunts deafen you, your body numb as you let go of the rope. As you hang limp, suspended for his use, he pummels you. The snap of his strong hips steadies, his breathing rough and rasping in your ear, his own climax so close. A few growls, a punishingly deep thrust, and he stills, flooding your insides with hot, scalding cum. “There now, mouse,” he pants, capturing your lips in a kiss so tender, you forget the numbing pain-pleasure that consumed you at his hands. “The pools await. Let’s get you presentable once more…”

A smile crosses your lips, your body settling in his arms, as you drift off asleep against the warm flush of his chest.

A/N: While I didn’t manage to get all the prompt lines in there, I weaseled several in for your enjoyment 😈

[tvheit]

wait I'm dumb 😭 can you explain what you mean with the femininity post? specifically about Drew and his awkwardness around women, like do you mean in kayfabe or?

hello! you are so not dumb at all; i was intentionally not clear. but thinking about it i do want to share this so thank u for giving me an excuse to do so LOL here is the drew mcintyre feminism essay you didn’t ask for. special thanks to my darling finance and phd grad in drew studies @paladinofmoonlight who read it over and who i plagarised for some of this

to begin with: the unspoken part of that post is that they are both mocked and ridiculed for expressing 'femininity' in their own ways. people smarter than me have written lots on seth and expression, so this is completely about drew with just some relationship to him sometimes.

the second part: i point out seth's overt, conscious expression vs drew's covert, subconscious expression because everything i talk about here i firmly believe drew doesn't even realise is happening. hes just doing all of this subconsciously LOL

the short explanation: a lot of drew (and seth's!) femininity is perceived. in actuality, what is referred to as 'feminine' about them is judged deviation from a norm, which for seth is his queerness and for drew is his foreignness + neurodivergence (and also queerness but like fork found in kitchen)

and the long explanation:

its fun to read drew in wwe as someone who is trying and mostly succeeding to live up to an american ideal of masculinity. his first run is full of moments where he is considered less 'manly' (being called young lady, joking about the kilt as a skirt, his long hair, hysterics, his sudden favoured position in the company, 3mb, etc). and it is fascinating to see how he deliberately tries to combat this visually in his second run.

i think a big part of drew is that he is so intrinsically defined by his mother; you cannot separate the love and respect he has for her from anything he does. she is his first and biggest idol, before any famous male wrestler or celebrity, and that is such a core aspect of his entire being. and then he comes to the wwe from a foreign small town (the culture shock of leaving ayr, scotland sounds funny but i promise it's relevant), with this deep sensitivity towards women (in particular, disabled women), and experiences the demeaning misogynistic culture of the wwe in the late 2000s firsthand.

this is why i think it’s important to point out that drew is being ridiculed for societal femininity; this is a perspective very different to his upbringing as someone who idolises women in his life. difference is punished by allusion to being womanly, which is undesirable and lesser. his heritage is mocked as feminine (the kilt is a skirt joke haha funny), he is misgendered (diversity win! the cis male is forcibly referred to as a woman to degrade him!), his outbursts are childish and irrational (and WOMANLY). even though he’s the chosen one, the one who doesn’t HAVE to prove himself — i’d argue that this also came with a lot of implication about drew that normally happens to women (and this is something that also happens to seth); being chosen for his looks, his ability to be manipulated, humiliated, etc. it also, like what happens to seth, establishes him as expendable.

here’s where kayfabe blurs galloway and mcintyre a little bit more: he’s a victim of domestic violence that leads to his divorce around 2010/11. multiple fans discuss and ridicule him for not fighting back, for being a sissy, for being less of a man. i don’t think it is unrealistic at all to attribute this to his sudden lack of direction, role as a jokester in 3mb (a sort of humiliation to someone who only ever wanted to be a serious wrestler), and his eventual release.

after drew’s release (which is a whole other can of worms) he starts to build himself into a very masculine figure — literally. darkening his hair (the blonde helpless woman vs the tall dark and handsome stranger), building muscle and holding his stature very differently, etc. he’s now authoritative, a real man, not some sissy from scotland but a highland warrior. and this presentation of drew mcintyre is extremely careful. everything from the way he walks to his voice is very, very carefully done to exude masculinity. no longer does his voice crack with emotion; which he barely shows outside of anger or glee. you can throw the kilt as a skirt line at him now (and they still do) but doesn't it feel sillier when he’s built like a bear? now, he is there to prove that he IS what the wwe wants, wholly and completely.

but this is where drew is wrong; combatting it visually doesn't seem to change how people perceive his behaviour. drew is extremely careful not to cry on camera, even leaving an interview when sheamus starts making him tear up (about his mum! always his mum.). all that work since 2017 to be a masculine ideal, but as soon as he starts exhibiting destructive behaviour every possible perceived fault is dragged out by the audience and wrestlers alike, and inexplicably, framed as feminine.

now, when he waves his hands, pouts, and giggles, all these mannerisms are suddenly labelled as negative (queer, psychotic, and therefore, in the wwe, unspokenly 'female') when it comes from him. the man who is so careful to hide his tears, so careful to perform masculinity, is told he cries too much RIGHT AFTER a promo about how it’s okay for men to cry! he’s called a crazy-ex girlfriend (twice!), obsessive, bitchy, hysterical, hypocritical — all of which is dismissive language commonly used against women (particularly against disabled women, do you see where i'm going here), and it is both fascinating and horrifying to see this openly and unquestioningly applied to a cis male wrestler by everyone. wwe is so misogynistic that even a cis, white, handsome man straying even minutely behaviourally from the 'manly' norm is treated and viewed in a feminine manner. i jest but he really does have female rage LOL they really said drew you're a crying, emotional, whiny, unreasonable little bitch, like a WOMAN (unspoken but implied).

this is a buildup of something larger; the automatic othering of anything different, and the perception of any undesirable trait as feminine in the wwe. both drew and seth have very similar pasts as victims of manipulation by authority figures who come out of it with unpalatable personalities, mental issues, and no support for any of their trauma. it doesn’t absolve them of all wrongdoing, but it is a larger critical view of the company that they both are now specifically vilified through what wwe perceives, overtly or not, as womanly behaviour in their identity. seth embraces his and uses it as a weapon, while drew builds up his masculinity to offset it. so to come back to your ask: its not drew being awkward around women. he's the opposite, actually. it's about him looking at his performance of masculinity in wwe and his genuine respect for women as capable equals, and deciding that it doesn't suit to mix the two. he (like seth) is already punished enough for whatever behaviour of his the universe decides to code as feminine, and i think that is a sadder comment on what wwe’s treatment of women is than anything to do with drew's individual character.