#tide reformed

[villains4hire]

@blackstardiopside wanted Lapis

"...Can I help you or something? If not, the Crystal Gems are over there, ask for Steven, you can trust him." Lapis would gesture with a bit of water that'd point over yonder, the tide crashing against the rocks as she stood near the coast, completely unfazed. As Lapis more or less wasn't as aggro toward other gems at this point, at least on Earth. Most were simply like her if coming to this planet, though she did prefer only her friends usually.

[violentdevotion]

people's who's entire brand is ex-___ is the most annoying grift. like did you unlearn all the harmful rhetoric your previous affiliations taught you or did you immediately find a way to monetise it

[better-than-one]

Get to a platform!

-Five

Good idea!

I love solid ground...

I... I don't know what this is. I've never seen it before. Be careful.

...

[reasonsforhope]

"Expanding freedom and opportunity to millions

Over a decade ago, researchers, policymakers, journalists, and individuals and family members harmed by prisons and jails helped define American mass incarceration as one of the fundamental policy challenges of our time. In the years since, policymakers and voters in red, blue, and purple jurisdictions have advanced criminal justice reforms that safely reduced prison and jail populations, expanding freedom and opportunities to tens of millions of Americans.

After nearly forty years of uninterrupted prison population growth, our collective awareness of the costs of mass incarceration has fundamentally shifted–and our sustained efforts to turn the tide have yielded meaningful results.

Since its peak in 2009, the number of people in prison has declined by 24 percent (see figure 1). The total number of people incarcerated has dropped 21 percent since the 2008 peak of almost 2.4 million people, representing over 500,000 fewer people behind bars in 2022. Absent reforms, more than 40 million more people would have been admitted to prison and jail over this period. The number of people on probation and parole supervision has also dropped 27 percent since its peak in 2007, allowing many more people to live their lives free from onerous conditions that impede thriving and, too often, channel them back into incarceration for simple rule violations.1

"Absent reforms, more than 40 million more people would have been admitted to prison and jail over this period. [2008 to 2022]"

Make no mistake: mass incarceration and the racial and economic disparities it drives continue to shape America for the worse. The U.S. locks up more people per capita and imposes longer sentences than most other countries. Nearly 1-in-2 adults in the U.S. have an immediate family member that has been incarcerated, with lifelong, often multigenerational, consequences for family members’ health and financial stability. Yet the past decade of successful reforms demonstrate that we can and must continue to reduce incarceration. These expansions of freedom and justice–and the millions of people they have impacted–help define what is at stake as public safety has reemerged as a dominant theme in American public and political conversation.

...We have a robust body of research built over decades showing that jail stays and long prison sentences do not reduce crime rates. And fortunately, we have an extensive and expanding body of research on what does work to reduce crime and keep communities safe. The evidence is clear: our focus must be on continuing and accelerating reductions in incarceration.

Black imprisonment rate drops by nearly half

People directly impacted by incarceration and other leaders in the criminal justice reform movement have persistently called out how the unequal application of policies such as bail, sentencing, and parole (among others) drive massive racial disparities in incarceration. The concerted effort to reduce our prison population has had the most impact on the group that paid the greatest price during the rise of mass incarceration: Black people, and particularly Black men.

The Black imprisonment rate has declined by nearly 50 percent since the country’s peak imprisonment rate in 2008 (see figure 2). And between 1999 and 2019, the Black male incarceration rate dropped by 44 percent, and notable declines in Black male incarceration rates were seen in all 50 states. For Black men, the lifetime risk of incarceration declined by nearly half from 1999 to 2019—from 1 in 3 Black men imprisoned in their lifetime to 1 in 5.

While still unacceptably high, this reduction in incarceration rates means that Black men are now more likely to graduate college than go to prison, a flip from a decade ago. This change will help disrupt the cycle of incarceration and poverty for generations to come.

Expanding safety and justice together

The past decade-plus of incarceration declines were accompanied by an increase in public safety. From 2009-2022, 45 states saw reductions in crime rates, while imprisoning fewer people, with crime falling faster in states that reduced imprisonment than in states that increased it.

This is in keeping with the extensive body of research showing that incarceration is among the least effective and most expensive means to advance safety. Our extremely long sentences don’t deter or prevent crime. In fact, incarcerating people can increase the likelihood people will return to jail or prison in the future. Public safety and a more fair and just criminal system are not in conflict.

Strong and widespread support for reform

We have also seen dramatic progress on the public opinion front, with a clear understanding from voters that the criminal justice system needs more reform, not less. Recent polling shows that by a nearly 2 to 1 margin respondents prefer addressing social and economic problems over strengthening law enforcement to reduce crime. [In simpler terms: people are twice as likely to prefer non-law-enforcement solutions to crimes.]

Nearly nine-in-ten Black adults say policing, the judicial process, and the prison system need major changes for Black people to be treated fairly. Seventy percent of all voters (see figure 3) and 80 percent of Black voters believe it’s important to reduce the number of people in jail and prison. Eighty percent of all voters, including nearly three-fourths of Republican voters, support criminal justice reforms.

This is not only a blue state phenomenon. Recent polling in Mississippi indicates strong support across the political spectrum for bold policies that reduce incarceration. For example, according to polling from last month, 72 percent of Mississippians, including majorities from both parties, believe it is important to reduce the number of people in prison (see figure 4). Perhaps most tellingly, across the country victims of crime also support further reforms to our criminal justice system over solutions that rely on jail stays and harsh prison sentences...

We are at an inflection point: we can continue to rely on the failed mass incarceration tactics of the past, or chart a new path that takes safety seriously by continuing to reform our broken criminal justice system and strengthening families and communities."

-via FWD.us, May 15, 2024

[bunny584]

For I Have Sinned

“Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God’ For God cannot be tempted by evil.” James 1:13.

But Father Geto can be. 

Newly appointed Chaplain of the Noble Court, Suguru is a reformed sinner. Sanctity, discipline and celibacy are commandments of his choosing. A devout servant of the Lord. Armored with the Breastplate of Righteousness, the Shield of Faith. 

This should be sufficient enough to withstand temptation. 

Right? 

Pairing: Geto x Female reader 

C/W: Religious themes, dark romance, eventual filth. 18+. MDNI. 

A/N: Holy hell. Anon, you sick, twisted genius. You, the puppeteer. Me, the puppet who writes. This one — this story might be the one. Frothing at the mouth to know what you guys think. Going on AO3 for sure. I haven’t decided if I will keep this long fic series here, but since it was an anon ask its only right to honor them with the first chapter. 

Art credit: @ potchi_jpg on X

Music: Garden Kisses x Giveon (this was on a manic repeat for at least an hour. It wrote the chapter. I implore you to listen and levitate like I did).

CHAPTER I. Hello, Duchess.

Andesite. Dacite. Schist. 

Gorgeous. 

Suguru takes a mental note of the rock formations whizzing by just before he spears the Aegean Sea. Tailwind force trailing his feet in an elegant whirl.

Eh, mediocre landing. He’s out of practice. 

It’s true. Seminary did not allow for too much idle time in between biblical studies. Devil’s playground, and such. 

And it’s not in his nature to half-ass any life endeavor, whatever it may be. 

Suguru deftly levels out in the welcoming waves. Loose-limbed and fluid. Choosing to hover below her surface for a few moments longer. The tail end of his thick, singular French braid undulating behind him.

His body flows in tandem with the current. Swimming deep enough to scatter a pool of Fagri. He instinctively captures one in his large hand — not quite as out-of-touch as he thought. 

‘Make it to shore! If Poseidon calls, don’t answer Him, son!’

The gentle fisherman called out each time Suguru dove off their vessel. Still two or three, sometimes up to five miles from the coast, he’d plunge into the waters. Regardless of her mood, Suguru craved to be surrounded by her embrace. 

To be baptized by her tide. 

Showered with her salt of the earth. 

A dampened smile blooms across Suguru’s terse lips. Oxygen bubbles float about, from the muffled chuckle escaping him. 

His father’s voice rings between his ears. A little less clearly, nowadays. 

He always dove deeper than his fellow seafarers. Without the restraints of gear or protective equipment. Unnaturally comfortable in an element more labile than human nature. 

Suguru’s father mused about his Stormborn boy’s true lineage. 

‘Everyday, I prayed for you. Begged for you. And the God of the Ocean delivered a precious gift. Don’t return to His storms too soon.’

Fond memories, a little yellowed now. Callouses from those days have faded. 

Suguru is a different man. Born again. In a new country. With a new home, a new purpose. 

Even still, it’s comforting to know the world is 70% water, 30% land. And the Great Majority has always welcomed him with open arms.

No matter the iteration of his life, he’ll always find a home at Sea.

“Father Geto!”

What? 

Suguru begins his ascent. He is still by the cliff edge. Not nearly far enough for the Sirens to beckon. 

“Chaplain! Are you out there?”

Not even the saltwater penetrates his ears like this melody. 

An ethereal crescendo. With all the grace and beauty of a summer swan. Light enough to lull stoic men to a peaceful, permanent, slumber. 

More alluring. More disorienting than the songs at sea he’s heard and resisted. Potent enough to drown a warship. 

Who is calling for him?

Suguru chases the lethal sound. Careful pauses at each depth-level. To avoid returning to Poseidon’s storms too soon, as his father would say. 

“Father Geto!” 

Ahh, a voice he recognizes. His alter boy, Noel, at the peak.

Helios is kind, today. Because the Sun kisses Suguru as he breaks the surface. If the Ocean is his home, the Sun is certainly his lover. 

“What is it, Noel?” He calls in between strides to the volcanic edge.

“You have a visitor!” A tremble to Noel’s tone. Suguru cant help the low chuckle that leaves him.

Adolescents are always so anxious. Nervous about the most inconsequential, meaningless things. He was once the same. 

Who could be visiting? His schedule is supposed to be cleared today. 

Suguru laments leaving his clothing at the peak of the cliffside. Tossing a glance over his left shoulder - memories of his past life tattooed in various symbols. His back, covered in a sprawling trident. 

A permanent stain from the life he lived before this. It’s unbecoming of a priest to be seen this way. 

Latching onto the unforgiving rocky edges, Suguru scales the steep terrain in long steps and short holds. Serrated earth digs into his damp palms with each grasp.

He savors the pain. It’s familiar. An indication that he’s spent some time in the only other place he finds unfettered peace. 

“Noel, my schedule was cleared. Who could be—“

“Pardon my intrusion, Father Geto.” You seep into Suguru’s sentence, effectively answering his question. 

Music. 

Suguru nearly falls backward off the ledge he just set foot on.

Rumors about your beauty pollenated the compound for weeks. Anxiously anticipating your arrival. Hushed voices between maidens. Whispers within the walls of parlors. Bellowing gossip between court officials. 

All the words, all the speculations roll around Suguru’s skull. Louder than glass shattering in an empty room. 

They were wrong. 

Liars. 

Not even a tenth of the truth can be found in the frivolous ‘she’s a beauty’, ‘what a pretty face’ and comments of the like taking root in the compound. 

No, no. 

You were sculpted by every single Deity Suguru has ever studied.  

Because the One he has chosen to worship couldn’t have possibly crafted you alone. 

The good Lord is simply without the means.

Suguru will have to repent for that blasphemous thought later. 

…but God granted him eyesight, no? 

Eyes that can see underwater with the same clarity as a cloudless day. He trusts his eyes more than any part of his body. 

And they aren’t deceiving him. 

Flushed and turned away, Suguru takes a moment to soak you in, while patting himself dry. Maybe taking a little extra time to step into his khaki slacks and white button up. 

His wind pipe threatens to spasm with each sip of you he takes. 

Exquisite woman. 

You could convert a non believer in an instant. 

The gentle slope of your nose, those warmed soft, high cheeks deserve to be cherished in a museum. 

That dress. 

The tailor must’ve sewn it to your body in real time. Rolling hills and dips of your feminine curves. So quick to surrender to the ride your frame is taking him on. 

Suguru could fall to his knees and praise the Gods right here and now for their attention to detail. 

“Duchess? I’m embarrassed. Forgive my attire, I wasn’t expecting visitors today.”

Still damp but fully clothed, Suguru walks forward with a steady hand outstretched. Intentionally skipping eye contact with Noel, who would’ve interpreted the glance as anger. The boy is practically vibrating in his periphery. 

Concerned about possibly making a mistake, sure. But if Suguru were still a betting man, he’d bet your presence is driving Noel’s rattled nerves. 

“I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness!” Unveiling your face to him with a gorgeous smile, you offer a delicate hand that drowns in his. 

Well.

To call it just a gorgeous smile makes him no better than the rumor mill and its grave underestimation. 

The air around him is sliced to a fraction of what it was. Suddenly gossamer thin and inadequate. 

You are breathtaking. 

“Please.” A deceptively even tone and casual wave of his hand. You wouldn’t know that words taste like sandpaper. 

“How can I serve you, Duchess?” 

“You do not have to address me as such, Father. I’m not wed, yet!”

Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you laugh. Heat scorches Suguru’s ears and you both are presently under shade. 

Do. Not. Covet.

“It’s all the same.” With a restrained smile, Suguru peels his eyes away from yours. 

Resting them on his rectory in the distance. He gestures his hands forward. Noel scrambles ahead of you two, undoubtedly to go tidy the chapel (that is already spotless). 

“You’re quite the swimmer.” 

You could assassinate him, you know. 

With that voice of yours. The way it stuns his senses. Far more dangerous now that it isn’t dampened by unrelenting waves. 

Suguru is a strong swimmer. He knows it. Noel knows it. The whole court knows it. Great Whites know it. 

So why is his spine unraveling at its seams when you say it? 

Why is his heart knocking against his sternum like it’s on the run from something? 

From someone, rather. 

“Mmm.” Suguru hums through closed lips. 

Unable to acknowledge the compliment with decorum. He opts for diversion instead. 

“Duchess, if I may. What prompted your visit to the chapel? How can I serve you?” 

The two of you take lazy strides along the cobblestone path. You ogle at a white rose bush that Suguru is particularly fond of. 

“I was touring the compound and noticed the garden surrounding the Church.” 

A distracted response, while nestling your nose in a pretty bloom. Sun rays fanning your face as if to showcase that you’re God’s favorite. A biblical example of how flowers should be enjoyed.

Is it just the roses? Or are you this beautiful no matter the plant?  

“Ahh. Come, then.” 

You’re being indulgent, Suguru. 

Maybe so. But the Chapel Grounds are his domain. The greenery lives and breathes under his fingertips. He adamantly refused a groundskeeper for the garden. Taking pride in nurturing its needy existence. 

Second only to his eyes, Suguru trusts his hands fully. They’re intelligent. Fast. Expansive. 

Definitive. Firm when the situation calls for it, yet gentle. Quick to learn. 

Attentive. 

He’s never gotten a shortage of compliments on his hands—

“Wisteria!” You torpedo through Suguru’s rapidly disintegrating spiral. And he couldn’t be more grateful. 

Regaining a shred of control, he leads you under the oak archway. Draped in curtains of Wisteria. The billowing lilac petals sway romantically in the sea breeze. 

Your lips hang open in a pretty, shocked ‘Oh.’ Eyes wide, gazing up at him in wonder. Adoration woven into those beautiful features slams hot and heavy into his lower abdomen. Remnant embers warming below his belt line. 

Suguru coughs to reset his over-sensitive senses. A futile gesture because you knock him right back down to his knees. 

“Oh, Father…..please?” A soft plea rolls through the slit in your lips. Pulling his eyes down to your pout.

Fuck. 

The rock formation Suguru took note of earlier suddenly materializes in his throat. You coated his honorific in a new tone. Breathy and desperate. As if he is the only person who could satisfy your needs. 

His skin is half a degree away from melting clear off his skeleton under those big, warm eyes of yours. 

“Specify your request, Duchess.”

Both hands jam into his pockets so he can dig his nails into his thighs unnoticed. The searing pain tethering him to this dimension. 

A deep rose blooms over your cheeks. Realizing you hadn’t actually asked him a question before begging. 

So, prettily. 

“May I please tend to your garden? It’s…I’m far from home and gardening brings me so much joy. Please, Father Geto—“

“Yes.” 

His agreement comes well before Suguru is ready. Or, thought it through. 

Should a noble woman be seen doing tasks as menial as gardening? 

Should you be seen without your fiancée on his grounds? 

What will you look like? 

Kneeling over a bed of sunflowers? 

Kneading the soil with your delicate, small hands—

“How can I thank you?” Your lips curl into an intoxicating smile. And Suguru no longer has the capacity to be in your presence. 

“No need, stay as long as you like. I have to take my leave.”

Suguru offers a curt wave and terse smile before spinning on his heel. Leaving you, a work of art, beneath the masterpiece that is his arc of wisteria. 

He barrels down the Chapel corridors at light speed. The pews, confessional, meeting rooms whirl by his periphery in a drunken haze.

Cold water. Cold water. 

The wooden bathroom door creaks and wails beneath his harsh touch. Suguru fumbles with the two-level lock.

He nearly strips down naked. The fire incinerating him from within is unbearable. If there were scissors within grasp he would’ve cut his braid completely off. Because even the familiar sway of his waist length mane along his back is too much. 

You are too much.

Suguru’s fingers unravel his braid and reposition his locks into a tight bun. Off the damp skin along his neck. 

‘Father….please?’

Your voice echoes from Suguru’s incapacitated brain down to his drooling cock. Icy water splashes against face. 

Suguru’s length has been weeping since you first revealed your face to him. Twitching and thrashing with every single word that came out of that pretty, sinful mouth. He’s never been so grateful that today he chose to swim with compression gear, rather than his usual bared skin. 

Are you doing this on purpose?

Wide eyed and demure. But with a voice more beautiful than any siren that has tried to lure him to his watery grave. 

Is this a test?

Suguru’s fingers desperately grasp the golden cross around his neck. Digging the symbol into his palm. 

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…” He starts. Ignited, smoldering violet eyes staring back at him are unrecognizable. 

They are not of God. 

They are dark. 

Lust filled. 

“Now. And…and at the hour of our death.” Words slip through his gritted teeth. His other hand grips the sink edge. 

‘May I please tend to your Garden?’

“God. Please.” Suguru is the one pleading. To anyone above.

For self-control. For reprieve from the shape of your lips when you beg. His cock bucks against his inner thigh. Demanding attention to the ache between his legs. 

Are you Eve? 

Have you come to destroy his Eden?

Your delectable mounds barely hidden beneath that fucking dress as the Apple?

“Holy…Holy Mary, Mother of God…pray for us sinners.” His vice grip around the cross tightens. Babbling words he hopes can provide him with some restraint, some clarity.

They don’t.

Because his other hand now hovers over the pulsating bulge in his slacks. His manhood starved. Especially having been deprived of touch. Of warmth for longer than Suguru remembers.

“Holy…Mary…fuck.” Blasphemy rolling off his tongue. 

Scorching heat radiating from his hovering palm pierces his clothing. Encasing his cock like a warmed blanket. Enticing him like the soft sex of a woman. Every single muscle is under wire tension. Forcing space between his need and his hand. 

His hands. Don’t forsake him now. He trusts his hands. 

“Father Geto? Are you alright?” Noel’s call from the other side of the door startles Suguru still.

“I’m—“ Suguru clears his dry throat “I’m alright, Noel. What do you need?”

“I saw you run in here and—“

“I’m okay.” Suguru replies, more softly this time. The boy is almost too tender-hearted for his own good.

He doesn’t miss the small sigh of relief. 

“I left your updated schedule on your desk.” 

“And what would I do without you?”

Suguru can almost hear Noel smiling across the barrier. Gleefully padding away. Completely unaware that his presence was the saving grace from disgracing himself. 

Another splash of cold water on his face and multiple deep breaths later, Suguru finally gains enough composure to emerge. 

Curious about the updates to his schedule, he strides to his office. A leather folder awaits with his itinerary.

Saturday: 0800 - 1000- Youth lecture 

Saturday: 1800 - 2000 - Evening mass

Sunday: 0700 - 0900 - Morning mass

Sunday: 1300 - 1400 - Pre-Marital Counseling [CONFIDENTIAL] 

“High court, then.” Suguru muses to himself. Pulling out the envelope with a matching demarcation. Meant for his eyes only. Should the seal be broken en route to the recipient the offender could be sentenced to death for treason. 

And at this moment, Suguru finds that fate less painful than the spear currently piercing his lungs.

His eyes burn into the names written at the bottom of the page.

The Duke Ahriman  & The Duchess-to-Be.

Chapter II

E/N: Hello from [redacted]. I am literally losing my shite. I’m already in love with the plot before it has even fully materialized. And prince-of-the-sea-Suguru? This headcannon has me in a chokehold I fear. Thank you for reading 💋

[mammalsofaction]

Someone pointed out to me in one of my posts that the reason Perry was SO pissed off during OWCA files was bc he's jealous Heinz was spending time with so much of his co-workers, and Ive since been thinking about this and I genuinely hate how much this makes sense.

Obviously that isn't the ONLY reason, but. This is the second recorded time where Heinz ends up working for OWCA and BOTH times Perry spends the entire episode inexplicably grumpy and pissed.

You COULD say it's bc he's wary, he doesn't trust Heinz to behave professionally as an agent when he takes so much pride as an agent himself and incompetency pisses him off (true). Also that Heinz is lumped as his responsibility, and agent Lone Wolf hates being saddled to a person.....but these arguments crumble in light for a few facts.

1. Perry doesn't have THAT much respect for OWCA, and certainly not Francis, ESPECIALLY if they piss him off. See the aftermath of Undercover Carl. Its not a respect issue.

2. Perry knows what Heinz is like. He LIKES spending time with Heinz, and as early as the events in "Come Home Perry," HE knows that he can trust Heinz to always have his back. Its not a trust issue.

3. Perry is hugely supportive of Heinz reforming, and in MML, it's HIS money being the first and foremost funds provider for Heinz to start a time travelling agency. He likes Heinz turning tide fine, so long as he doesn't shut Perry out or leave him behind. It's not a Being Good issue.

So why was he pissed off?? Well. What's the ONE thing that upsets Perry, without fail, when it comes to his loved ones that isn't them being in undeniable danger.

Sharing. Perry hates sharing.

[standfucker]

Gremlin Reader Headcanons - Straw Hats, Whitebeard Pirates, Heart Pirates, Kid Pirates

CW: shenanigans, tomfoolery, and hullabaloo

Straw Hats

You and Luffy are BEST BUDS. You butted heads when you first met just from being a bit too similar, but now you understand each other like no one else.

“Quit eating stuff off the floor!” Nami snaps as you and Luffy reach for a cube of steak that fell from your plate. “Five second rule,” Luffy says. You both smack at each other’s hands, but he ends up maneuvering and grabbing the meat first thanks to his stretchiness. You respond by shoving his entire hand, still holding the steak bit, into your mouth. Luffy shouts, then laughs. Nami yells, “Y/N, ew! That’s even worse!” “You don’t know where that’s been,” Zoro adds. Luffy screams for real when you bite his hand, but he also lets go of the steak, so it’s a win. (It was yours in the first place.)

While your bathing habits are better than Zoros, it’s not by much. If you’re a girl, expect Nami to literally drag you to bathe with her and Robin. She’ll wash your hair for you if you promise to stop using soap bubbles to give yourself a beard and call yourself the “Saponicus the Bath Wizard.” At least Robin finds it funny.

Also, if you’re a girl…you put Sanji through it. Rather than getting a broom to shoo you from your perch on top of the fridge, he tries to coax you down with sweet words and sweeter foods. Instead of yelling at you for eating off the floor, he’ll wash off whatever fell for you. If you try to eat a piece of what he’s cooking, he’ll simply make you a small side plate to tide you over. To Sanji, your weird habits are endearing. But if you’re a guy? He’ll just kick your ass. 

If you occupy that odd space in between genders (or lack thereof,) however, the poor cook does not know how to deal with you. After much stumbling over the subject and at first treating you how you most closely present, he ends up finding a neutral middle ground that makes you both happy.

You play with Franky a lot. You like to climb him like a jungle gym–he’s just shaped so perfectly for it. Sometimes you’ll sneak up behind Franky, jump and reach around to boop his nose to surprise him and change his hair. Every now and then he anticipates your strikes and catches you by the arm, holding you off the ground as penance for your crimes. You swing and wrap your legs around his rectangular arm to retaliate, and he’ll wave his arm to try to jostle you. It’s all fun and games until you get flung off the ship.

Once you discovered how light Brook was, you realized you could pick him up. This led to you plucking him off the ground at random and using him as a jousting lance with which to harass Zoro. Brook started to wisen up to that gleam in your eye, using his cane to keep you at a distance or jab you lightly.

Whitebeard Pirates

There are a lot of crewmates, and you manage, somehow, to be the most feral of them all. Marco calls you “the ship’s pet, Y/N” as a joke.

Unless it’s snowing, you go barefoot everywhere. The soles of your feet have thickened considerably, and you occasionally entertain your brothers by showing off how you can stick safety pins through the very bottom layers of skin. This leads to Marco yelling at you to stop playing with sharps, and that you’re going to accidentally hurt yourself.

Poor Marco has to look out for you often, especially because you do things like get into wrestling matches with the biggest crewmates. You don’t have the size to do much, but if you get pinned, you cheat by biting your opponent. This usually worked for you until you cracked a tooth on Jozu, earning a stern “I told you so” from the first division commander.

Ace is a reformed gremlin and so takes you under his wing. You remind him of Luffy, so he’s quite fond of you compared to the rest. The two of you bring out the worst in each other’s bad habits, indulging the other. If you two are ever spotted together and giggling, the others know to be concerned, as you’re certainly up to something, usually pranks.

The only person who can get you to behave is Whitebeard, and he doesn’t bother most of the time, feeling it better for his children to “sort themselves out”. But he’s not wrong–the crew takes care of you no matter what mischief you get up to.

“I bet you can’t steal Vista’s hat,” Thatch challenges you and Ace one day. You’re always well-mannered toward Thatch, because he’s in charge of the food, but that doesn’t mean you guys won’t challenge each other to dares. “I bet I can steal it before Ace does,” you immediately respond. Ace protests fiercely, and the game is on. Ace takes a straight-forward approach, sprinting down the deck like he’s going to run past Vista, leaping into the air, and going to swipe it off. Vista blocks his hand with a raised arm. “What are you doing?” Vista questions. “Nothing,” Ace says, jumping again and promptly getting grabbed by the arm and tossed aside. This repeats, with Ace making big, energetic attempts to steal that hat and getting thrown around instead, over and over with no success. You wait until Ace has calmed down, then approach Vista. “Can I tell you something?” you ask, motioning him to lean in closer. Vista’s smart enough to know why you want him to bend down, but his reflexes are quick, so he leans over anyway. “Yes?” You stick your fingers up his nose. Vista makes a muffled, indignant shriek, flinching. Completely caught off guard, he’s too slow to stop you from snatching the hat off his head. “Run!” Ace screams, and you book it with Ace joining at your side. You wave the hat and yell, “Burn it, Ace!” mostly joking. “I’ll gut you both!” Vista shouts, hot on your heels, drawing his swords as he chases you two down, the sounds of your crazed laughter echoing through the deck. Marco sighs and gets ready to heal you again.

Heart Pirates

You would tire out Law, but you’ve been a part of the crew for so long that he’s used to your antics. Really, you tire out Bepo, who’s in charge of keeping you in line.

The Polar Tang has a ventilation system to keep airflow and environmental controls during dives. You like to crawl into the vent shafts for fun and because they’re a cozy, private space away from everyone else. Whenever no one can find you, Law locates you on the ship and uses his power to teleport you out. You’ll be napping peacefully, shirking your duties, and suddenly you’re falling through the air and onto the floor in front of your captain–whoops, busted.

Once you tried to steal Law’s hat as a joke. He removed your hands for the rest of the day, stating you’d lost hand privileges.

“Aw, but Captain, your hair looks so nice,” you whined, and Law’s cheeks turned pink. “You’ll get your hands back tomorrow,” he ignored your statement and tossed your hands into a sack, tying it shut.

After that you had to mop the Polar Tang by biting the mop handle, which your crewmates said you took to way too easily.

You’ll sometimes leap onto Bepo’s back, gently tugging on his ears–they’re so round and cute. Resigned, he just supports your legs and lets you. When you can’t resist and end up biting his ear, he yelps, then states that you remind him of the folks from his home island of Zou, and finds it almost soothing.

You, Penguin and Shachi have an ongoing prank war. It’s one you all keep contained so that it doesn’t reach Law, but is otherwise ruthless. Shachi’s been pantsed by you so many times you’re pretty sure you’ve seen every pattern of underwear he owns, but it’s his fault for letting his guard down so frequently. None of you are safe falling asleep first around the others lest you get your face scribbled on, hence your habit of napping in the air vents.

The Polar Tang doesn’t get visitors, but very rarely will gain a new crewmate. As one of the first handful of people recruited, you liked to make noises in the air vents and had certain newbies convinced the ship was haunted. It didn’t help that you told creepy stories of ghosts of people who died deep underwater, where the ship was currently sailing through… Ikkaku always chided you to stop freaking people out.

Though most would expect Law to get annoyed by you, he actually takes comfort in your antics. You’re consistent, at least, in a chaotic world. He can always count on you to keep spirits up and to keep the rest of the crew on their toes.

You’re settled in an air vent with a flashlight and a book one day. You hear a muffled “Room,” from somewhere, then Law appears next to you, having to hunch over so he can fit. “Oh, hey, Captain,” you say. “You know,” Law says, “I think you’ve actually got the right idea. Some days the Polar Tang, despite everything, feels too big... Some days even my quarters feel too big.” “Is today one of those days?” you ask as Law inspects the vent walls. They’re clean–likely your doing–which surprises him. He nods. “You should try taking a nap. It’s very cave-like and cozy here.” “Do you just lay out on the metal?” he questions. “Yep. But if that’s uncomfortable for you, well…” you pat your lap, completely nonchalant. Law studies your face. You give him a cheery smile. He sighs, and stretches out. It’s more comfortable this way. He rests his head on your lap. You continue reading quietly, angling your book and the light away from Law’s face. He adjusts slightly and deflates, relaxing. Right before falling asleep, he takes off his hat.

Kid Pirates

You fit right in with the Kid pirates. No one gives you so much as a second glance for most of the things that you do. For the most part, your level of gremlin behavior is not that much more intense than some of the other crewmates. 

Though Kid/Killer/Wire will pick you up by your jacket hood when you act up too much. You retaliate by pinching the offender’s nostrils shut. This leads to you getting scolded, but you start laughing because they talk with a “congested” voice. Eventually you get threatened with being thrown overboard, which finally makes you fall in line.

You’re good with electrical work. Aside from using a stun gun in battle, you like to take the little metal creatures that Kid makes and soup them up with lights and sounds. Usually you just add glowing eyes and fins as an accent, but sometimes you use your powers for evil: once you added a timed speaker to a doll that went off in the middle of the night, scaring the bejesus out of the sleeping crew.

Killer is strict about not eating food before it’s ready, but it doesn’t stop you from trying to snack on ingredients. You’ll sneak into the kitchen (poorly–you are not quiet) and try to swipe food when you think he’s not looking. Killer will see your hand reach up in his peripheral vision and feel around the countertop. He plunges a knife into the countertop inches from your fingers, making you freeze before slowly withdrawing. However, you know he would never actually stab you, so you never really give up.

You’re really good at making Kid laugh with your antics. He doesn’t even realize it until much later on in the time he’s known you. You and Kid are watching Killer cook one day, steaks sizzling beautifully on the pan, and more raw meat is piled on a plate on the table before you, waiting for its turn. “Why does raw meat look so appealing?” you say. “I kind of don’t want to wait for it to cook.” “I’m not feeding you raw meat,” Killer says. You open your mouth to make the obvious lewd joke, but Kid shoots you a look that says don’t. You close your mouth. “I know what you mean,” Kid says. You both look at the raw steak. The filets are ruby-red, glistening, with cream streaks of fat that promise to melt once on the pan. “I just want to bite into the whole thing and shake my head like a dog,” you voice your thoughts. “Then do it,” Kid says offhandedly. You pluck a raw steak from the pile, sink your teeth in, and do exactly that, growling as the steak whips from side to side. Kid bursts out laughing, caught by surprise, while Killer snaps out your name, far less amused. As Killer scolds you, Kid thinks about how impulsive you are and how often you make him laugh like that and how much he likes you. And then it hits him–wait, oh god, oh no. You’ve taken the steak out of your mouth and are laughing at yourself, and you look so nice when you’re smiling oh NO. Kid’s gone red in the face while you try to appease Killer. “My mouth germs will burn off when you cook it,” you argue. “That doesn’t matter. You’re going to get sick,” Killer grumbles. “Don’t do it again.” “Okay, fine…Hm? Kid?” you tilt your head at him. “You okay? You look a bit flushed.” “Shut up! I’m fine.” Kid says defensively. “Okaaay, moody. Sheesh, sorry for caring.” And that just makes it worse, because Kid’s now also realizing you do actually care, don’t you? Bringing him things when he’s holed up late at night in his workshop, bothering him when his mood’s down and he needs to be distracted, helping him oil the parts of his metal arm and laughing it off when you get covered in grease. “Don’t get all sweet on me, you little punk.” Kid mutters. “You’re right. I ought to stick to salty things. Like Killer’s mea–” “STOP.”

[robertreich]

The Silent Revolution in American Economics

I don't think you're expecting what I'm about to say, because I have never seen anything like this in fifty years in politics.

For decades I've been sounding an alarm about how our economy has become increasingly rigged for the rich. I've watched it get worse under both Republicans and Democrats, but what President Biden has done in his first term gives me hope I haven't felt in years. It’s a complete sea change.

Here are three key areas where Biden is fundamentally reshaping our economy to make it better for working people.

#1 Trade and industrial policy

Biden is breaking with decades of reliance on free-trade deals and free-market philosophies. He’s instead focusing on domestic policies designed to revive American manufacturing and fortify our own supply chains.

Take three of his signature pieces of legislation so far — the Inflation Reduction Act, the CHIPS Act, and his infrastructure package. This flood of government investment has brought about a new wave in American manufacturing.

Unlike Trump, who just levied tariffs on Chinese imports and used it as a campaign slogan, Biden is actually investing in America’s manufacturing capacity so we don’t have to rely on China in the first place.

He’s turning the tide against deals made by previous administrations, both Democratic and Republican, that helped Wall Street but ended up costing American jobs and lowering American wages.

#2 Monopoly power

Biden is the first president in living memory to take on big monopolies.

Giant firms have come to dominate almost every industry. Four beef packers now control over 80 percent of the market, domestic air travel is dominated by four airlines, and most Americans have no real choice of internet providers.

In a monopolized economy, corporate profits rise, consumers pay higher prices, and workers’ wages shrink.

But under the Biden, the Federal Trade Commission and the Antitrust Division of the Justice Department have become the most aggressive monopoly fighters in more than a half century. They’re going after Amazon and Google, Ticketmaster and Live Nation, JetBlue and Spirit, and a wide range of other giant corporations.  

#3 Labor

Biden is also the most pro-union president I’ve ever seen.

A big reason for the surge in workers organizing and striking for higher wages is the pro-labor course Biden is charting.

The Reagan years blew in a typhoon of union busting across America. Corporations routinely sunk unions and fired workers who attempted to form them. They offshored production or moved to so-called “right-to-work” states that enacted laws making it hard to form unions.

Even though Democratic presidents promised labor law reforms that would strengthen unions, they didn’t follow through. But under Joe Biden, organized labor has received a vital lifeboat. Unionizing has been protected and encouraged. Biden is even the first sitting president to walk a picket line.

Biden’s National Labor Relations Board is stemming the tide of unfair labor practices, requiring companies to bargain with their employees, speeding the period between union petitions and elections, and making it harder to fire workers for organizing.

Americans have every reason to be outraged at how decades of policies that prioritized corporations over people have thrown our economy off-keel.

But these three waves of change — a worker-centered trade and industrial policy, strong anti-monopoly enforcement, and moves to strengthen labor unions — are navigating towards a more equitable economy.

It’s a sea change that’s long overdue.

[charlesoberonn]

A quick alternate history scenario I made for the r/AlternateHistory subreddit:

In 1796, George Washington reluctantly runs for a third term as president to prevent Jefferson and the Democratic-Republicans from taking hold of government. His third and final term is more rocky than the first two, with the south being especially unhappy with some of his reforms, though they associate them with his vice-president John Adams and Secretary of State Alexander Hamilton. On December 14th, 1799, George Washington dies in office. The nation is in turmoil and mourning. The Democratic-Republicans call for a special election, but vice-president John Adams is declared president instead. On Christmas 1799 a protest march on DC turns violent when federal forces clash with protestors and revolutionary war veterans. Jefferson declares Adams an illegitimate usurper. Adams calls off next year's election. Several state legislatures , especially in the South, declare Jefferson as a provisional emergency leader for the purpose of ousting the Federalist regime. The American Civil War has begun. On January 15, with DC about to be overtaken, an internal vote within the Federalist war cabinet decide to oust Adams and appoint his vice president and war hero Alexander Hamilton as president instead. The tide of the war turns, with the Federalist forces able to protect the north and much of their territory, but it is short lived. The Federalist are forced to abandon DC on April and retreat to New York City as a provisional capital. Hamilton himself refuses to go. He is captured by the Democratic-Republicans along with Adams. Jefferson is appointed president on April 19th. In July, Senator Gouverneur Morris is appointed as temporary leader of the Federalist forces in New York. The war stalls for several months as the Democratic-Republican forces fail to make inroads into the north. Meanwhile Jefferson's administration is poorly received and he is compared poorly to the Reign of Terror in France, especially after the public executions of Adams and Hamilton, and after the French Revolutionary government acknowledges him as the legitimate president. The British back Morris and the Federalists and provide military assistance in return for territorial concessions out west. Despite the Democratic-Republicans trying to paint Morris as a traitor for his British support, the public hates Jefferson more, compounded by a series of military defeats. On December 14th, during a public memorial service for the 1 year anniversary of Washington's death, Jefferson presents himself as the true heir to the venerated general. This creates outrage and leads to a 6 days siege of the White House, at the end of which Jefferson is dragged out and beaten to death by the public and some of his own soldiers. The Democratic-Republican forces subsequently surrender and the capital is captured by Federalist and British forces. Morris is appointed president and his first act is to call in a new Constitutional Convention in order to draft a new constitution, one with the primary aim of preventing another civil war.

[blackkatmagic]

Kat you’re planning on writing/publishing a book!?! Could we perhaps have a hint about the genre …👀? Either way I’m so excited and hope to hear more about it in the future.

:3

There's water dripping somewhere close, echoing off the broken stone, and Grey’s breath rasps in his throat, too loud, too harsh, too noticeable. Jagged edges of stone dig deep into his spine where he’s pressed up tight against a fallen column, and the world swims like a heat haze.

At the edge of the cracked column, sprawled out and twisted, still twitching, is the commander’s hand. Grey knows it is because he saw the man fall there, but—

It hardly looks like a hand at all anymore, and fear beats harsh and bloody in the back of Grey’s throat as he strains his ears, tries to quiet his breathing. Nothing is moving but the dripping water, and somehow, that’s a thousand times more frightening than the screams that rose a moment ago.

In the echoing darkness, something shifts. It drags, scraping and crunching and liquid all at once, and blind panic rises, almost drives Grey to his feet to make a run for the distant dot of light that is the entrance. The limp, twisted forms of those who tried are scattered across the temple’s floor, though, and at the last moment Grey forces himself back down, digging his fingers hard into the stone as he tries desperately not to move.

The dragging slide of something too large and misshapen pauses, and then there's a high, thready, terrified moan. Armor scrapes across the stone, a desperate attempt to crawl to safety, but a bare second later there’s a hiss, too deep and multifaceted to come from any mortal throat. It rises and falls like a tide, and the paladin screams, bare and weak and full of nothing but terror—

The cry cuts off so sharply it makes Grey’s stomach turn, and something wet and meaty cracks, cracks again, thumps back to stone and metal and drags like a flayed corpse rolled across the floor.

The door, Grey thinks, that unbearable fear clawing at his insides. He needs to get to the door. They came to fight a god and failed, and now there’s no one left standing but him. If he can just get to the door while it’s distracted by the bodies—

“Please,” a thin, reedy voice calls, cracking in the middle of the word, falling away in fear. “Please, Ylthos, please—”

The fear doesn’t abate. Nothing changes. Ylthos doesn’t answer her paladin’s cries, even though Grey holds his breath, waiting. There's another hiss, another dragging, scraping slide as the thing moves, and nothing happens.

That paladin, or maybe another, is crying, and the thin sobs echo in the hidden temple, drowned out a moment later by the sound of a body twisting, breaking, reforming into something horrific. A wash of blood slides across the floor, stained black in thick ripples as it moves, and Grey squeezes his eyes closed, then forces them open again.

His sword fell into the water, back when the thing first hit them. It vanished into the deep pool, and if Grey turns his head, he can just see the edge of the water, still perfectly clear in the guttering light. All the other weapons the paladins bore in here were twisted, or changed, or broken, but—his sword wasn’t. If he can just get to it, there might be a chance.

Ylthos isn't answering their prayers, but the light of that last blessing is still there. Grey can feel her kiss against his forehead, can see the lights of the Sun Temple if he closes his eyes. Ylthos isn't answering, but maybe she can't. Maybe Grey is the only one who can do anything.

And then, dragging, slick and wet and heavy, something moves on the other side of the broken column.

This isn't how it’s supposed to go. This isn't how it happened.

Grey wrenches to his feet, but instead of bolting for the pool, he turns. In the same moment, a hand closes over cracked stone, and the thing that they came to contain hauls itself up, a dark, twisted shape that only shares the vaguest similarities with a human form. It drags itself along with its hands, long nails scoring deep into the stone as it hauls itself up and over the column, keening, reaching. Grey recoils with a shout, reaching for the blessing, the flame inside him—

Even as light kindles, pure white and blazing, the creature cries, the sound scraping Grey’s flesh raw, sinking barbs into his mind. He stumbles, goes down, sprawled out on the wet stone, and the creatures surges up, grabbing, pinning him even as he struggles. It’s like struggling against a tree, though, or a mountain, and his fingers slip on raw flesh that oozes black blood. With a surge of terror, Grey grabs for that light, throws it up between them like a barrier, and the thing wails. Ichor splatters Grey’s face, drips into his mouth as flesh singes, and he looks up into burning red eyes that are fixed solely on him.

Dark, limp, stringy hanks of hair tumble around them as the thing lowers its head, those long, broken spidery fingers clamping down tight around his arms. A mouth opens, too many teeth, another splatter of ichor that burns sharp enough to make Grey scream, and then—

A voice, wavering, broken, as sharp as needles and knives. It keens, right next to Grey’s ears, so loud it burns. None of the sounds it’s made have ever had words before, but now there are. Now there’s something in the midst of the rage and hatred and fear, and it inscribes itself into Grey’s bones like a vast hand is writing it with a red-hot quill.

Save me, the god says, and Grey stares up into red eyes, the perfect mirror of his own, as it leans in, claws digging in all the way to the bone. Save me save me save me save me—

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Eri Reader x Straw Hats Part 25- Wano Part 3

-Sasaki was nothing but nice to you, keeping you safe from the raiders who were storming the castle, wanting to stop Kaido, grinning down at you as you sat on his lap as he was keeping watch in a long hallway.

-Your eyes went wide when you saw Shinobu and Yamato, with Momo and you froze when Sasaki attacked them- it felt like your heart stopped for a moment.

-When you tried to jump down off Sasaki’s lap, he caught you, not wanting you to hurt yourself as you struggled to get away, “Don’t hurt my friends!”

-Momo shouted out your name, thinking you were being held hostage before Yamato ran forward, attacking Sasaki, being able to get you away from him, holding you up on his hip, holding you closely, “I’m returning Y/N to her brothers- I swear it!”

-A familiar voice then spoke up, “I agree!” you turned, seeing the General Franky and you lit up, “Franky!!” the robot’s giant hand lifted, greeting you warmly before he focused on Sasaki and his men.

-Yamato gave you to Shinobu, as she was trying to get both you and Momo to safety, and Yamato told Franky he was going after Kaido, “Luffy might be racing you there!” which made Yamato race off, wanting to get to Kaido first.

-Shinobu did her best, but after she was betrayed by one of her friends, he took both you and Momo, giving Momo to Orochi to finally wipe out the Kozuki line.

-Kanjuro was keeping you in his arms as you watched Momo being beaten, “No! Stop hurting him!!” Kanjuro wanted to keep you safe, as Kaido would be pleased with him after he dealt with all these invaders, trying to keep you calm, telling you Momo deserved this.

-Your horn flared to life as you glared, “Nobody deserves to be hurt!!” a wave of energy, much like at the Whitebeard War, flowed from you, shooting Kanjuro back as well as Orochi as he was going to kill Momo.

-You were glaring hard as two figures reformed, one male and one female and as Orochi sat up, his eyes went wide, seeing two people returning from the dead as Oden and Toki took their first breaths in 20 years.

-Many were screaming, including Orochi who saw it as a bad omen as the two were shocked to see they were alive again before they saw Momo as well as the state of everything around him.

-Toki turned, sensing your energy, seeing that you were the one to bring them back to life as Oden charged, punching Orochi hard across the face before grabbing his son, “Warriors! Your Oden has returned- fight on! This battle isn’t over yet!!”

-While a bit freaked out to see him alive again, the warriors loyal to him all lifted their swords, giving out loud war cries, ready to follow their Shogun once more.

-Toki held you as your nose started bleeding, the aura fading as you nearly collapsed, a fever quickly taking hold and Momo called out, “Y/N!” ignoring his own wounds, he wrenched himself from his father’s arms, dropping down and ran for you, looking terrified to see you in such a state.

-Another voice then spoke up, “Oi Y/N- you sure know how to make people worry.” You lifted your head, feeling a bit delirious and you smiled softly, “Marco…” the phoenix landed and quickly rushed towards you, taking you into his arms and instantly surrounded the two of you with flames.

-Momo was trying not to cry, after his father punched out Kanjuro for betraying them, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as Oden kneeled, “It is not weak to cry, son.” Momo shook his head, “I can cry later- we need to help our allies and friends now!”

-Toki cupped her son’s cheek softly, proud of him as the flames around Marco slowly died down, leaving him winded, but he healed you so you wouldn’t collapse like last time.

-You were still feeling weak as you looked up as Marco grinned down at you, “Izo told us of your plans- and calvary’s here Y/N!” your eyes went wide, realizing that Whitebeard and his crew was there to help, turning the tides in this battle.

-You knew that Luffy and Ace were going after Kaido, as was Yamato and you told him this, and Marco looked a bit annoyed, “Yeah I saw them on top of the skull- Big Mom is with them.”

-Your eyes went wide before you looked determined, “I need to go and help them!” you had changed a lot in these past two years, you were more confident now and he was going to refuse you, but there was something there- something that told him you were right.

-Oden agreed to take you, giving you a grin, “If there’s a fight with Kaido then I’m joining! Toki- take Momonosuke and get someplace safer. I just got you back- I’m not losing you two again!” Toki nodded and Marco grinned, rushing to help Chopper and Sanji against Queen.

-As Oden ran, trying to get to the top as quickly as possible, he held you on his shoulders, “So are you the one I am to thank for bringing me back to life?” you nodded softly, despite him not being able to see it, “I’m Y/N- when I saw Momo being hurt I got mad and wanted him to be safe.” Oden chuckled softly, knowing you were a kind soul.

-When he arrived at the battle, he took you off his shoulders, so he could rush in after announcing himself, “Kaido!! I have returned to end your reign and take back Wano!!”

-Kaido looked like he was close to tears, seeing Oden there, “Oden- is it really you?” Oden wasn’t prepared, none of them were, including Kidd and Law who were also there, for Kaido to burst into tears, crying loudly.

-Big Mom looked annoyed by his antics before she saw you, her eyes going wide, “Y/N! You’re okay!!” you tensed lightly, looking a little scared of her as she beamed, “Come to Mama and we will return to Whole Cake Island!”

-You hesitated, looking a little scared before, “I want to stay with Luffy!” she looked surprised by your answer before she smiled, realizing that she just needed to take your false family out, so they couldn’t brainwash you anymore, and you would behave.

-Big Mom ran towards you, but Law and Kidd were the ones to attack her, sending her through the roof and the roof collapsed where you were, causing you to fall, but Law caught you, something Luffy and Ace both saw, and they knew you were in safe hands.

-As Big Mom was falling, she called out Hera to catch her and Law shouted, “Eustass-ya!” the red-head looked over and immediately almost panicked as Law tossed you to him and he grabbed you, “Oi what are you doing idiot?!”

-Law pulled out his sword and launched an attack, sending Big Mom down even further, “We need to keep those two Yonko apart!” Kidd looked annoyed as your little arms were around his neck, “I meant you giving me the kid!”

-You were a little scared, being with these two against Big Mom as you hung onto Kidd’s jacket over his shoulder, but the two of them were able to keep Big Mom occupied, using powerful attacks.

-When she launched her own attack, Kidd was quick to grab you by the back of your kimono and tossed you to the side as the two got hit, getting serious injured.

-You rolled only a few feet from the force, but you were fine, other than a few scrapes as Big Mom looked furious, “I’m going to kill you both- you hurt my little Y/N!!”

-You ran forward, your horn flaring to life again as you touched each of the men, healing their wounds, much to their surprise. Seeing you being disobedient again, Big Mom was getting less patient with you, growing angry with you.

-Kidd stood, putting his good hand on your head, “Thanks brat- now we can keep going.” Law agreed as he stood up, “Stay back Y/N- we’re going to get serious!”

-You nodded and quickly retreated to a fallen stone column behind them, peeking out, watching them all fight. You looked up to the roof, seeing bright flashes of light and lightning as well as blasts of fire, worried about your three big brothers and Momo’s dad.

-You were stunned when Kidd and Law beat Big Mom- send her down into the volcano. As they both were panting you ran out, “Big Brother Law! Big Brother Kidd!” Kidd instantly froze, turning like he was a statue towards you, hearing your words as you leapt up, hugging his leg, “You both were so cool! You were so strong!”

-Kidd looked like he was panicking, having you cling to him as his face was bright red, something Law didn’t even hesitate to tease him for. He turned to Law, “Oi you bastard you-” WHACK!!

-Kidd was instantly squatting, holding the back of his head where a huge lump now was, as Law was holding you in his arms, as you looked confused, “What’s a bastard?” Law sighed softly, walking away from Kidd, “It’s a naughty word- Kidd says a lot of them so don’t ever repeat them.”

-You held your hands to your lips, worried you were in trouble, but when he said nothing, you calmed down a bit as Kidd caught up, scowling at Law as they rushed to help their crew with the fighting.

-You heard Sanji screaming out for Robin’s help and you gasped softly, thinking Sanji was in trouble but Law kept you with him, “Nico-ya can handle herself Y/N- she’s strong.” You looked proud, beaming brightly, “Mama is strong!”

-As the fighting went on, one by one the Beast Pirates fell, and you heard from Marco that Oden, Ace, and Yamato were working on keeping Onigashima from falling on the Flower Capital, Yamato and Ace using their Devil Fruit abilities and Oden using his strength.

-You felt a sudden sense of dread filling you, it felt like you were burning from the inside as you were quickly in tears, like something bad had happened as you heard drums- they were so loud, like they were ringing in your ears.

-Kidd was holding you when you started this, concerning him, “Oi what’s wrong? Y/N?!” your hands were over your ears as your eyes were clenched tightly shut before, “LUFFY!!!”

-As quickly as it came, the feeling left, leaving you gasping as you felt like something happened before you saw Luffy, but he looked like a cartoon- he was massive in size and his hair was now white as everyone was freaking out, their eyes popping from their head.

-You were just stunned, looking up at your brother, who was now going hard against Kaido, bent on taking him out once and for all.

-The last of the Beast Pirates fell after a hard-won battle and Onigashima was redirected, the threat of it falling on the Flower Capital was now over. Kaido and Big Mom were both defeated, and Wano was now free of both Orochi and Kaido- after Toki and Hiyori both took out Orochi, after she found her daughter trying to attack Orochi.

-Your whole family were injured, some more than others- like Luffy, Ace, and Zoro, who were unconscious for days, while Usopp, Nami, and Robin had severe injuries but with some medical attention between Chopper, Marco, and Law, they were all soon back on their feet.

-You had been elated to see Whitebeard, running towards him after all of the enemies were taken care of, “Grandpa!” and he grinned broadly, kneeling down to scoop you up, holding you close as you beamed, happy tears in your eyes, “I missed you grandpa!”

-The feast was massive once everyone was awake, as Oden had agreed with Yamato, to not celebrate until those who helped make this possible were awake.

-You cried loudly, being sandwiched between Luffy and Ace, once they woke up, after you hugged Zoro, as he woke up first, overwhelmed that they were all okay, as you weren’t allowed to use your ability- you brought two people back plus you healed others during the battle- you couldn’t risk overdoing it and putting yourself at risk, no matter how much you wanted to.

-You were elated to learn that Jinbei joined the crew, as you surprised him by running and leaping into his arms, “I’m so happy you’re a part of my family now Jinbei!” he held you close, feeling touched of your joy and words as he beamed brightly, “And I’m happy to know someone like you Y/N.”

-There was another issue, however, much to the dismay of all your brothers, when Oden and Toki called you over, where you saw Momo as well, beaming brightly, “I’m so happy you’re okay Momo!” his face flushed red, turning from you and several heads, including Whitebeard’s snapped over, seeing this.

-Oden was beaming brightly, “Y/N- you gave not only my wife’s life but my own life back- we are eternally grateful to you for this. We would like to reward you by inviting you to be a part of our family!”

-Your brothers calmed, only for a moment, thinking it was like the other families you had been adopted by before Toki beamed, “We would be delighted to have you as our daughter-in-law! You and Momonosuke can marry once you’re both old enough!”

-Instantly the banquet hall was filled with yelling and screaming as Luffy was quick to snatch you back, holding you too him as your family were quick to deny this, shouting that Momo wasn’t going to marry you.

-Oden was quickly standing, “Are you saying my son isn’t good enough!” Brook and Sanji had no issues throwing the child under the bus, telling them how Momo took baths with Nami and Robin and slept in the same bed with you, Robin, and Nami- which only led to more shouting and arguing as you were just staring, a bit in shock.

-Oden wasn’t going to give up, telling Luffy to come back as they were all going to work together to rebuild Wano, something Luffy agreed to.

-At the harbor you clung to Kidd’s leg, as his arms were folded, trying to deny that he was flushed bright red at your affections, saying goodbye to him.

-You ran towards Law, and he smiled softly, kneeling but you bypassed him, running to Bepo instead, leaping into his arms, “I’ll miss you Bepo!” Law’s eyelid twitched lightly, seeing that you had slighted in him favor of Bepo, which got Kidd laughing, teasing him.

-You hugged Law afterwards before running to Whitebeard, “I’ll miss you grandpa- come visit again soon!” he promised, patting your head before you boarded your ship, waving goodbye to Yamato, Momo, Tama, and your other new friends.

-Once back out to sea, the newspaper was quick to arrive, showing multiple alliances, including Crocodile, Mihawk, and Buggy, as well as new bounty posters.

-Luffy and Ace were both comically pouting, sitting on their rears as they were looking at their posters, as Nami was scolding them, leaving them both covered in lumps as they were now both 3 billion beris, but they were pouting more because you were now worth 5 billion, getting the highest bounty, as the government were growing concerned with your abilities, seeing who you’ve brought back to life, not wanting that to happen with others- because if you did the world would fall into disarray.

-You beamed brightly as everyone was comparing their bounties, some were happier than others to see such high bounties. You couldn’t wait to see what would happen next on your next adventure!

[villains4hire]

@shireentheunburnt wanted their Marvel Verse with Lapis.

A harsh gaze given, very brief and short with the other as she hovered above. Water swirling around her, quite clearly unamused to the approach at a few things ruined. Lapis was not having it with anyone that got in the way, but more or less was curious as well, "Hey... if you come any closer without saying your intent? I'll break you. So... speak up. Now, what do you want?" It seems this was the alien causing trouble, but more or less wandering from what it seems in the reports.

[achromant]

AND HERE WE ARE! My project for the gw2 'zine!

Featuring Baruhn, reflecting on his life so far, the challenges, the small sparks of joy, the horrors, loss and gain.

For clarification's sake; I did in fact plan to depict every stage of Baruhn's life, but uuh. File was already too big.

Might do a series of short comics (graphic novels?) though, because i fking love storytelling.

Let's look at my idiotic level of detail a bit, eh?

[Long Text Ahead]

Baruhn's story begins in the Plains of Ashford. An unsuccessful attempt to stem the tide of Ascalonian Ghosts leads to the demise of many year-long allies. Dozens of brave soldiers gave their life for a mere week of peace until the ghosts reformed. They always do. Soldiers don't.

Shaken in his faith in the Legions, the first seeds of doubt arise.

Until finally he found someone to trust with his pain. In a tavern at the edge of the Black Citadel, he gets to know this odd fellow, who is continuosly follow by the faint smell of sulfur. Although Baruhn knew where that path led, the warmth radiating from the old veteran in front of him was not only a physical, but an emotional one.

With the Three Legions busy with their internal quarrels, fighting over an empty promise, Baruhn took the first steps down a previously thought to be dark path.

Surprisingly, die Flame Legion was welcoming, their fires offered light and guidance, the embers igniting the skies like stars. Surely this was better than the cold metal over the Black Citadel.

Baruhn took to learning first, handling the small flames with ease after years of throwing fireballs at ghostly shapes. Then, he figured out how to teach, and that is where the real magic comes from. Nurturing a flame, protecting it from harsh winds, adding a bit of kindling and coal here and there. He even taught the more elusive ways of magic that wield smoke and ash.

Baruhn knew about the war, the countless lifes lost on the other side of the fence. But those were humans, and here he was among family.

That is, until he met Molly.

After a small recon mission that was assured not to be much of a hurdle, Baruhn found himself alone in a forest. The small fires he conjured for light and warmth only drew in the nearby villagers. Those with pitchforks and torches, with crude swords and a thirst for blood. He couldn't really bring himself to hate them, this was war after all. But at what cost are these battles to be won?

Trying to escape the villagers was a futile attempt. He sank to the ground, his own hot blood dousing the little flames beneath his weary head.

For some reason - maybe hope, maybe resignation - he forced open his heavy eyes, only to discover his wounds cleaned and bandaged with fragile white cloth. A small human girl, of all things in this damned forest, tried to help. Even in his weakened state, even with just one hand, Baruhn could have easily grabbed her and cracked her skull. But the only thing he did was listen. He listened to the ramblings of the small human, going on and on about faries made of leaves and gnomes of stone. She called him "bear".

When the villagers came, they saw the girl at his side. That was all it took for them to turn on her. She was to be executed like that beast that now slowly stepped in front of her. For the first time, Baruhn spoke to the girl. "close your eyes."

Fire roared, not red, not orange. not a warm, welcoming fire. Not one that belongs in a hearth, that thrives in the arms of a family. This was so much worse. This was years of inner conflict, of doubt, of closing his eyes on the other side of the fence. For the first time in his life, this was the only thing that he wanted to do, protect the little insignificant human behind him. Fire roared, and it burned wood and it burned flesh.

Baruhn picked up the little girl, she held tight to his horns, nestled in his mane. He ran for hours, years of military training finally useful. The little girl, Molly, lost her mother years ago. She burned in the fires of a war she tried to escape. "And your father? What about your family?", he asked between deep breaths. Molly was quiet for a while, then whispered, her voice barely audible, "My father burned today."

They stayed together, for quite a while. He protected her, and she, with her head full of stories, and a book full of dreams, protected him.

Things came, things went. Baruhn rejoined the High Legions, acting as a spy for Ash, keeping an eye on Iron and Blood.

Baruhn ultimately took on his role as Novice, then Archivist, then Commander. He helped during the struggles against Scarlet. A small flame here and there, some shrouding smoke, a well timed lightning strike. It was other people that finally defeated Scarlet, but he was always in the background, with all the small things at just the right time.

Mordremoth came, but with him new allies.

It was but a small tangent in the grand scheme of things. Watching the fragile sapling while waging war on the jungle itself.

Their relation was something more than friendship, something else than love. They were there for each other when they needed to be. Be it only to keep a flame burning or to banish the voices to the back of the head again, they walked the same path for a long time.

Tarir, the Egg. Aurene. A new flame entrusted to him, his to nurture, his to raise. A gamble, again. What if that little flame would some day devour the world? But Baruhn did, what he could do best. Teach.

Darker times came. Caudecus and the White Mantle. The raid on the Mursaat's prison. Then facing the last Mursaat himself.

Balthazar came, and in his wake a new kind of fire. A war, similar to the ones Baruhn had seen before, but still different. A war without a cause, war for war's sake. War against nature, against the world, like a child lashing out when there were none to help them up. Maybe Balthazar's flames were not too different from his.

After the festering swamp that Joko was, came the mountain, Kralkatorrik. Death was not a hindrance anymore, not for the Commander and his dragon. The story went as the story goes.

When it came to face the frost, the whispers, Jormag. Everything fell apart. Jormag pried into the deepest, darkest corners of Baruhn's life, dragged every doubt, small as it may have been, into the light. In the ice, every truth was warped, encased in whispers, in lies. It suffocated any hope and planted even darker seeds than anyone thought possible.

It was the spirit of the Raven that aided Baruhn. Even the black feathers of its wings were shimmering like rainbows in the moonlight.

A small piece stayed with him, just a fragment. Nevermore.

After that, the stars themselves. Astralaria.

So many stories that make a life, so many pieces. Every encounter, every step along the way is another fragment of the whole. People are made of other people, that is what it means to be alive.

[truth4ourfreedom]

GEORGE SOROS SPENT $117M TO ELECT AND CONTROL LEFTIST DAs AND PROSECUTERS!!!

From: Judicial Watch

Augusta 14, 2024

Soros Spends $117 Million to Elect, Control Leftist County Prosecutors Throughout U.S.

In a scheme to promote a radical leftwing overhaul of the U.S. justice system, billionaire George Soros has spent about $117 million in the last few years to elect then control dozens of liberal county prosecutors throughout the nation, a new report reveals. Once elected the prosecutors, typically known as district attorneys who represent the government in criminal cases, meet regularly with representatives from Soros-funded nonprofits that coordinate and manage the chief officials responsible for upholding and enforcing the law in their respective districts. The Soros machine orders prosecutors to practice leftist policies that are soft on crime, target police and political opponents. The district attorneys are also directed not to enforce certain laws such as those protecting children from chemical castration and genital mutilation, procedures justified by the left as “life-saving gender-affirming” for transgender individuals.

The extraordinary details of the robust Soros effort to overhaul the nation’s justice system by embedding leftist prosecutors throughout the country were uncovered during a year-long investigation by the Media Research Center (MRS). Dedicated to documenting and combating the falsehoods and censorship of the news media, the Washington D.C.-based group examined thousands of pages of documents that show a “shocking level” of control by the Soros-funded nonprofits over many county prosecutors. “The Soros machine sets their policies and priorities, staffs their offices with hand-picked leftists, dictates media narratives, lobbies government officials and perverts the American justice system,” the MRC probe found. The investigation determined that the Soros enterprise dedicated at least $40 million to help elect 126 prosecutors and an additional $77,663,316 to the leftist nonprofits that issue their marching orders once they are in office.

MRC used public records requests to obtain 7,785 pages of internal communications from dozens of Soros-backed prosecutors and examined official files as well as electronic mail, text messages, chats, and other communications. The documents expose how the Hungarian billionaire’s groups directed the liberal prosecutors to manipulate laws involving drugs, abortion, illegal immigration, election integrity, capital punishment and even childhood sex changes. One of the key groups directing the local prosecutors is Fair and Justice Prosecution (FJP), a nonprofit committed to promoting a justice system grounded in fairness, equity and compassion. “Great strides have been made in promoting justice reforms that recognize that prior ‘tough on crime’ and incarceration-driven practices have not always resulted in safer or healthier communities,” according to FJP. The group is a sponsored project of the Tides Center, another Soros-funded conglomerate dedicated to advancing social justice. “FJP held at least 51 private meetings and published 33 formal statements and pledges that contained signatures from prosecutors within its network between 2021 and 2022 alone,” the MRC report states.

Examples include 508 communications—emails, virtual meetings, in-person conversations—between San Francisco District Attorney Chesa Boudin’s office and FJP during an 18-month period, averaging at least one communication a day. Five county prosecutors in Texas worked so closely that they created a shared group chat to strategize on refusing to enforce statutes that ran afoul of their leftist political views. Combined the elected officials represent over seven million Texans and the documents reviewed by MRC show they strategized to undermine political opponents, including the state’s Republican attorney general. “At least 30 percent of the U.S. population currently lives under the boot of the Soros prosecutors who were pressured to sign pledges vowing to adhere to various Soros priorities,” the report says, adding that the “Soros machine” arranged dozens of joint statements and pledges signed by 123 of the 126 prosecutors vowing to adhere to the leftist billionaire’s priorities.

Besides embedding like-minded county prosecutors nationwide, the records obtained by MRC show that Soros also spent at least $35 million to support anti-police groups and causes in one year alone after George Floyd’s death. His beloved FJP defended the violence and racial unrest triggered by the Black Lives Matter (BLM) and Antifa movements, accusing the American criminal justice system of being systemically racist. Soros’s Open Society Foundations (OSF) also dedicated $220 million for racial justice and black empowerment in the aftermath of Floyd’s death.

[riddlesrose]

on the chest of another

w/ astarion

cw; none but maybe mild ooc astarion

hi yeah i haven't posted in 13 months my bad enjoy

He doesn't know the last time he felt truly comfortable with another living person, he’d been turned into a blood-thirsty vampire hundreds of years ago, he slowly learnt that the people he attempts to love will wither away while he stays put, same age, same face, though he can’t see it. Astarion watches the world change and reform around him while he retains memories of those he loved before they were either taken by the cold hands of death itself or he was forced to sacrifice them to his evil lord, Cazador. 

When he’d been taken, kidnapped, vampnapped off the streets of Baldur’s Gate, he’d never been so thankful, he was free, albeit trapped in a flying ship with aliens and other kidnapees, he was free from Cazador and the horrible treatment he’d endured for years upon years. He felt unrestricted until they threw him into a pod, then forcefully inserted an alien-type creature into his eye. He writhed in pain, attempting to free his arms, hands or legs to fight back, but it proved fruitless, he was stuck, and now, he had no idea what was going to happen to him. 

Astarion doesn’t know how long he’d been out, unconscious but before he could collect his thoughts, he realized that the flying ship he was, unfortunately, still on, was on fire, being actively attacked. 

After the ship had been knocked around a few times, set more on fire, he noticed a person, they were free, walking around like nothing was happening, or maybe looking for an exit, but they were definitely too far for anything to be heard had he banged on the front of his pod. That’s it, this is his end, he’ll probably just die when this ship inevitably crashes. Oh well, it’s a better outcome than being Cazador’s slave for the rest of his miserable life. 

Astarion stirred, feeling the sun warm his body, wait, the sun? He shot up, he should be turning to ash, he lifted his hands to check he really wasn’t chipping away in the sunlight. This has to be a cruel joke, Cazador or someone of his likes toying with him, teasing him with what he misses and has missed for the past 200 years. That and maybe his own reflection. But oh dear, how he’s missed the sun. The feeling, how it makes him feel, he feels happy, momentarily, until he remembers what just happened. First, getting kidnapped, then having some kind of tadpole inserted into his brain, now, he’s in the sun. What the hell. 

Then he also remembers the lone traveller that wandered free upon the ship, they’re probably around here somewhere, he better lure them out, question them. 

Many weeks passed by, Astarion ended up joining forces with the traveller he almost attacked, whom he learned goes by Tav, a Githyanki, a wizard, a cleric, a Tiefling, a druid and a warlock. He’d fought in many battles, some great, some his companions dragged him to, earned himself a few new friends, shared many stories with the camp, and shared his secret. The camp was very accepting of his condition, as long as he didn’t feed on an unwilling target. Tav was a dear on the night he almost starved, he’d gotten so hungry he thought he’d be able to sneak a quick bite without Tav noticing, guess guards were still too high and they noticed as soon as he got too close at night. After exposing himself on accident, Tav had offered a small amount of their blood to aid him. Now, it’s almost nightly he’ll go find Tav in their tent or bedroll and sate his hunger. Rats and boars just don’t tide him over anymore now that he has his own food source, willing food source. 

“Astarion?” Tav stirred, cracking their eyes, while searching for his. 

“Yes, my dear?” He hovered over them, looking as if he was going to feed but almost backing away this time. 

“I can feel you hesitating, why?” Tav had always been able to feel when he made his way into their tent for his needs, sometimes they woke but never pushed him away or forced him to take less than he needed. 

“Why, I am not! I am simply… going to wait for you to go back to sleep.” He looked proud with his excuse. 

“Lies. There’s another reason.” 

“There is not.”

“Yes there is.”

“No-”

“I’m not going to argue this, Astarion, is there something wrong?” 

He sighed, moved himself to sit by Tav’s legs and looked away, not bashfully, he was embarrassed. Tav sat up as well, but scooted closer to Astarion so he didn’t have to speak above a whisper if he did not see it fit.

“I feel greedy.” His demeanor of wit and confidence melted away as the bugs and frogs sang their night songs in the nearby pond. The night was cold, usually lonely, but he felt a sort of comfort with Tav that he hadn’t felt in years, he vowed to himself after he was turned that all mortals were never to be loved by him. They were going to die and he wasn’t. It wasn’t fair, he wanted to grow old with someone he loved deeply, he wanted more than to be someone’s pawn, a spawn of evil intent, born to do no good. 

Tav did not say anything, only tilting their head to the side with empathy shining in their eyes. 

“Now, I’m not asking for pity, dear, don’t give me that look.” 

“I know, I was simply allowing you to continue without interrupting, but look where we are.” 

“Cheeky. Fine,” He took a breath, thinking for a moment, “I haven’t been free of Cazador in two hundred years, I am unsure how to feel, how to live, frankly. I have been his slave, I’ve done his dirty work for as long as I can remember, I had no way out, I was underfed, mistreated, beaten, used, abused, everything you can think of darling, I experienced it under Cazador’s orders.” Sometime during his small rant you had moved closer, draping a blanket around his shoulders, and rested a hand on his shoulder, showing support without interrupting him. Astarion looked over to you with pain and sadness in his glossy red eyes. 

“Why don’t you stay for a while, you can leave before the sun comes up, no one has to know the witty and confident Astarion we all know stayed the night in another’s tent.” Tav proposed. They moved back onto the bedding they had tucked into the most private part of their tent, allowing him to follow if he chose to. He was not pressured, not forced, but given complete free will of his actions, something he still could not fully capture the grasp of because of his past. He thought on the choices he was proposed, 

“Only for a few minutes.” He decided since he doesn’t really sleep anyways, he’s an elf. He crept a few inches closer, unsure of where to go, Tav lied down and patted their chest, colour rose to Astarion’s pale cheeks, he was thankful it was dark. He took a few awkward seconds of staring at Tav before snapping out of his trance and shuffling back a few inches so his head could rest on their chest, he felt out of place, inconvenient, a burden to Tav’s sleeping. He was about to get up and thank Tav for their time before they brushed their hand through his messy curls and he stopped. His heart began beating a tad bit faster, he promised, no swore, that no mortal would make him feel this comfortable, loved, cared for, he knew what was inevitable… 

After many minutes, Tav could feel his breathing slow as they continued to rake their hand through his hair, untangling pieces every so often, they watched his eyelashes flutter before his breathing fell in tempo with their own. Tav guessed it had been a while since he’d felt comfortable, given his history and all. It was true, so for the first time in many, many years, Astarion fell asleep to the sound of a heart beating in the chest of another. 

[navybrat817]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒖

✧˚ · . a collaboration between @navybrat817 and @sgt-seabass

After his escape from a life of captivity, and the fall of Hydra, Bucky Barnes thought he finally had a chance at happiness. The problem is, if you cut off one head, three shall take it's place. A new Hydra had risen, and their ruthless path will leave destruction in it's wake.

A/N: We're very excited to share this series with you. It's going to be a rough and bumpy road for our reader, but we hope you enjoy the ride.

This AU is dark and 18+. Heed the warnings on each post.

𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒂 | AO3

Bucky returns home after a mission, ready to spend time with his two favourite people, you and Alpine.

𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔 | AO3

Is this the way it's got to be? Ignite the fire inside of me. Embrace the life of tragedy. A tide of war and broken dreams.

𝑬𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 | AO3

Stay reformed. Erase this perfect world. Hate left below. The dark stray dog of war.

𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒅 | AO3

I just wanna see you bleed. Open you and set you free

More to come...