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fleetsonourgecentral · 2 years

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I just randomly remembered that in the Archie comics, Tail’s gets his shoes as a birthday gift from Sonic, and he’s so excited about it because they look just like Sonic’s shoes! Like, he just adores Sonic as his big bro and I’m in my feels about this now so I bring you another thought: Fleetway Tails gets a leather jacket that is based off of Scourge’s. Because yes, Scourge is absolutely a terrible influence on both Sonic and Tails, but he’s their terrible influence and Tails adores Scourge just as much now. Maybe it’s more steampunk-ish because he’s an inventor/mechanic? I don’t know, I just don’t really see him going for a flame aesthetic like Scourge. But now I can’t decide which would be better: Tails just walks out of his room one day wearing the jacket and EVERYONE immediately realizes why he’s doing this except Scourge who just thinks the kid is learning good fashion sense from him, or Tails DOES get the jacket as a present (maybe from Scourge himself?), and he and Scourge get to bond. What do you think?

Oh my goddddddd the thoughts you bring me are galaxy brained as always.... consider! What if we do both

Tails grabs the first halfway decent leather jacket that fits him he can find from some kind of bin and brings it home to clean and disinfect it. It's a pretty basic leather jacket, but it's got black studs and spikes on the shoulders and elbows, and some kinda edgy words or imagery printed on the back and it's a liiiiiiiiittle too big for him, but it's fine he can make it work

And he just walks out wearing it one day and everyone IMMEDIATELY clocks what he's doing because no one in the freedom fighters wears a leather jacket anymore, and certainly not a jacket with any decor except Sonic's face plastered on the back, so everyone INSTANTLY knows where this is coming from....

.... except for Scourge, because he's literally never thought it might be possible for someone to look up to him so much they start to mimic him. He just thinks he's started a trend or something, and he gloats about it to Sonic's face, and Sonic has to tell him he's not the first person in the freedom fighters to wear a damn leather jacket (he knows damn well Tails is taking after Scourge and not Porker or something because they had a jacket with Sonic's face on the back and Tails just. Never wore it a lot, and when it finally got destroyed he didn't ask for a new one so they never replaced it)

It probably takes Scourge like at least a week to twig that Tails is not wearing this goth looking leather jacket that does not suit him at all because he's picking up a fashion sense, but when he does figure it out he lowkey feels really honoured bc, again, no one has ever looked up to him that much, if he wanted something like that back in Moebius he had to force it

Because Tails literally found it in the fucking bin tho the quality is not guaranteed, and eventually it gets destroyed in some kinda fight and some of the freedom fighters are sighing in relief bc it was impossible to take Tails seriously in that lil goth jacket trying to claim he wanted it because the spikes made him look tough even though they all knew the real reason. They feel bad though because he looks so sad about it, but he seems to get over it quick enough, bc they're always losing shit like that in fights

Then for his birthday or christmas he finds he has a gift from Scourge, and when he opens it he finds it's a better steampunk leather jacket, one that actually fits him right and suits him and won't be easily destroyed in a fight. Scourge claims it's because he doesn't want to be the only one with good fashion sense around here, but everyone knows the truth. They all just pretend not to see him give advice on how to best care for a leather jacket later

(And Sonic definitely is just developing heart problems, no it is not affection at seeing Tails look up to the guy he loves, and the reason why he's not jealous Tails took after Scourge's jacket and not his own jackets is because those were custom jackets and were too expensive to get made for him anyway. That's it no other reason shut the fuck up Amy)

#sonic the hedgehog #scourge the hedgehog #fleetway sonic #stc sonic #fleet!sonourge #asks #headcanon #fleetway tails #this is so cute omg i swear you keep me fed with your thoughts #sonic really can't bring himself to even be mock jealous bc it's just so damn sweet to see his best friend take such a shine to scourge #not that he would ever tell anyone that of course #the jacket also looks so fucking cool when tails is down in the lab and he likes the aesthetic #and he takes VERY GOOD CARE of the jacket scourge gives him bc he's not losing this one absolutely not #he doesn't necessarily wear it all the time but he wears it a lot especially at home #scourge will spend the rest of his life pretending he's not that bothered about it when really he's screaming internally #he's never had someone REALLY look up to him before but he is very quickly realising he loves it

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therealbeachfox · 3 months

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Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

#gay marriage #gay rights #gay history #gay

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ask-lifeofascourge · 8 months

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Pit: Besides, they've got plenty of love to share with my bandmates. I consider that a massive bonus. Mohawk: Mrs. H does make a mean chicken casserole... Sonic: And Mrs. T's chocolate crunch cake is to die for... Pit: Heh, sounds to me like another holiday visit is in order.

Mohawk and Sonic: HELL YES!!!~

#mohawk the hawk #ask lifeofascourge #life of a scourge #ask life of a scourge #ask loas #loas #ask-lifeofascourge #pit the pitbull #fem sonic the hedgehog

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stinkb0mber · 6 months

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here is hope i will actually write on that predator headcanon post today because. he has so many issues.

#i like his backstory because it was the most relatable #dude just wants a purpose in life #is not challenged enough #the dude dealt with an existential crisis until he found the right people #the destructix in general are so interesting to me because #they are basically a crime family #like they are found family #who actually care about each other and i think thats neat #because the only reason predator was bothering with Scourge was because Simian did not crush his head so he #values their opinions too #he is depressed once again when Lightning and Drago left #he's upset over the leaders coming and going #implying that he values loyalty a lot too #they are ALL outcasts and you can tell they are upset about it #take Flying for example #“outcasts...downclass...no cast...hee hee”#and then asks Scourge if he really wants to be around him because he has done things #or is worried that he has been avoiding him #like man these guys are not okay but i hope to write it down properly because i have a lot of thoughts about them

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everythingispirates · 11 days

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🏴‍☠️lowlyseaman

I love not having scurvy 👍

1 note

🦢w3nch

breaking mutuals with @/forgeguy don't ask me about it this is the last I'll say on the matter

🍹jackoff follow

omg did something happen :(

🦢w3nch

shut the fuck up never fucking talk to me again I'm so srs

🍹jackoff follow

kys

12 notes

🦢w3nch

i miss him so fucking much i can't fucking do this anymore

2 notes

🩻bigbarbie

this fucking meeting sucks I'm going to firebomb shipwreck cove

67 notes

👁️raspghetti

little life update I feel like I'm honestly really coming around on this prosthetic eye idk it's really starting to feel like a part of me now :') I hope I never have to lose it or anything

0 notes

🇬🇧kingofenglandofficial follow

piracy is a SCOURGE on these seas!!! EMBARRASSING!

🏴‍☠️iheartstealing follow

give me your stuff

☠️quarterdeckmain follow

omg I can't believe we still have piracy antis on this website to this day like this is literally the high seas piracy website go back to ye olde twitter

🩻bigbarbie

"piracy antis" girl that's the king of england

12,429 notes

⚔️forgeguy

I can't keep going like this I can't believe I did that to her I'm such a failure I should just kms like I literally don't deserve to be on this earth

⚔️forgeguy

just remembered some things. nevermind lol

⚔️forgeguy

remembered some more things and I want to die again I was so fucking wrong

4 notes

🍹jackoff follow

and when I drop the ***** aka ********* receipts then what. lol. lmao even

🦢w3nch

bitch give us a fucking vowel

🩻bigbarbie

yeah um just so everyone knows op literally shot me on isla de muerta so I'm really not interested in their receipts

🎣humblefisherman follow

what the fuck is going on on pirate ye olde tumblr

572 notes

🍹jackoff follow

everyone keeps calling me a liar they just hate to see a wench who tells it like it is

⚔️forgeguy

literal 100+ pages ye olde google doc of times op has lied

104 notes

🦑partofthecrewpartoftheship follow

you would actually not believe how much harder it is to girlblog when your fingers are turning into fucking shrimp or whatever

🦑partofthecrewpartoftheship follow

captain has it fucking easy

🦑partofthecrewpartoftheship follow

they're gonna whip me for this one lads :/

5 notes

🦢w3nch

anyone else riddled by guilt? clap if you're riddled by guilt

2 notes

🦀 follow

the second I'm free of this stupid flesh prison I'm putting a curse on this entire fucking website

🦐morehumblerfisherman follow

op what the fuck is this why do you not have an url

🦀 follow

the sea will claim you in five years. use your remaining time wisely

🦐morehumblerfisherman follow

sure yeah whatever. I'll fucking do that I guess.

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🏴‍☠️lowlyseaman

got scurvy 👎

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#pirates of the caribbean #cw suicide

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galebrainrot2024 · 3 months

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Oh boy this one is a little salacious and indulgent. Anyway, we're back!

Summary: Inspired by the image below, gender neutral and unnamed Tav and Gale get a moment alone without their companions. Sexually explicit, denial, mutual masturbation, restraint, voyeurism, oral sex

Read on Ao3 | Master List | NSFW18+

Gale strides to the throne, running his fingers over the spines of the books, admiring the unique craftsmanship. “A bit self serving, if you ask me. Anyone who’s well read wouldn’t require such a gaudy display for their supposed knowledge.” You can’t help to roll your eyes in response and he gives a cheek grin. “Am I wrong?”

The rest of your companions returned to camp while you and Gale scourged the wizards tower, looting what you were able and taking the moment to yourselves. It wasn’t often you had time privately and away from the others. Now, here you were - isolated and contained together.

You watch as the sunlight whispers through the large paneled windows, kissing Gale’s skin and feel yourself spark to life, the tendrils of need licking up your spine. Your cheeks flush, tempted as you watch his fingers continue to run over the books, admiring their skill… you swallow hard.

As he drapes himself into the chair and leans back cooly, you feel gripped with the desire to please him, to get down on your knees in front of him and bring him to the zenith of pleasure. To worship him. He reads the lust on your face and slouches a bit cockily, raising a brow and flicks his wrist to conjures a mage hand in a flash of purple hue. He studies the hand for a moment before tossing a wicked grin your way, his pupils blown wide. When Gale speaks, his voice is low - “Are you alright, my love? Your cheeks are looking rather… flushed.” Gale rests an elbow on the arm of the chair and looks at you as if you were his prey, leaning back in the chair languidly and brushes his bottom lip with his thumb. His legs spread as if in invitation, the familiar mischievous glint evident in his gaze. You feel the tingle of your shared arousal course through your veins and your breath hitches. “It’s not often we find ourselves with such privacy. Might I suggest we take advantage of this gift of serendipitity?”

“What did you have in mind?” You breathe, though your body already seems to know the answer. The voracious urge consumes you, the need to entwine your limbs, the carnal ache for the delirium of bliss by his hands.

“Ah,” he chuckles darkly, raising a brow and leans forward. “Quite a few things, and none of them require this…” he gestures to your body, “extensive armor.” He clicks his tongue and the mage hand extends towards you, brushing through your hair. The movement sends a shudder down your spine. Your lips part as the fingers brush the hollow of your neck and skims your hems, begging to unlace and unbutton the fabric that stands between your naked form and Gale.

The erogenous heat fills your center and he watches you come undone, feeding off your desperation as the mage hand deliberately undresses you. The fingers work unhurried, the throbbing between your thighs growing with every light caress and brush. You shudder and try to shoo the hand away when it then grips your wrists together, Gale’s darker appetites seeping through. You gasp, surprised by the firm, sudden moment. He clicks his tongue again, “it’s unlike you to be uncooperative, my love…” the hand tightens around your wrist and he conjures another to begin to undo the rest. You feel your knees buckle and your lips part, wanting.

Whenever Gale was in this mood, you couldn’t resist pushing back against his hubris and the fixation with making you squirm. To deny you pleasure and inch you closer to the edge without quite giving into you. It is a game, and you will not be the first to yield. You feel your heart thrum wildly, this the first time you’ve been alone since the night in the astral plane. Your eyes drink Gale in, the way his robes cling to his form, highlighting the half formed arousal beneath the robes. It makes your mouth water, wanting to taste every inch of him. You again try to work against the hand and are met with resistance. Another manifests in front of you, tracing idle patterns between your thighs before it continues disrobing you. The air is cold against your bare skin as your armor falls away, leaving you standing stark in only your undergarments.

Gale rests back, his head tilted against the chair and you see him stir to life, his eyes frenzied with insatiable need. Gale licks his lips and a smirk dances at the corners of his mouth as he manipulates the hand with deft twists, and you stand dumbfounded - goosebumps rise across your body from the cold and your nipples stand alert. The hand brushes up your torso and up your chest, barely tracing your neck. You shudder and Gale leans forward hungrily. “Is something the matter?” His voice is thick with lust and he bites the tip of his finger as he uses the mage hand to caress your body. You feel the fire bloom within and your core pools with frenzied longing, squirming as the hand finds its way between your thighs. You hear yourself whimper and a plea falls from your lips. Gale leans forward more, his legs spread wide as he rests on his knees.

Your eyes lock on one another, profound craving and an almost punishing thrill of what was to come charging the air between you. Your underwear betray your sweet arousal and the hand barely brushes over your clothed sex. You inhale through your teeth, “Gale please…”

Gale leans back again, one of his hands snaking between his thighs to hold the evident bulge under his robes. “Please what?” He asks, his eyes flicking to the arousal between your thighs and you hear him groan. The wait is exquisite. “Use your words, darling.”

You try and as you do, the mage had around your wrists tightens and begins to push you forward and you oblige. Gale’s legs seem to spread wider as you approach and he leans back, beckoning you. As you approach, your body undulates with torturous need, the arousal between your thighs severe. He flashes his brows and flicks his gaze to the floor before him. You fall to your knees, and he leans forward, taking your chin in his hands and brings his lips to yours. The kiss is lecherous, his tongue forcibly parting your lips to roll over yours. You whimper and moan, squeezing your thighs together and another hand materializes. The hands spread your legs and work one thigh each, your hands still restrained by the first.

When Gale pulls out of the kiss you are both breathing deliriously, his black pupils revealing his craving for more. He stands in front of you and disrobes, the thick bulge in his briefs begging to be freed. Your body responds, lips parted and mouth watering. You lean forward and lick across where his briefs meet his lower torso. His hand holds the back of your head as you do this and a guttural moan escapes him.

Your carnivorous excitement takes over and you grip his briefs with your teeth, pulling them down his body. He laughs darkly, “Very good…” he purrs and you look up at him, eyes wide and eager. Gale sits back in the chair and you are entranced - he releases your wrists and the hands caress your lower body. With your hands freed they find their way to Gale’s thighs and you grip them tightly as your lips graze along in tandem. You can sense the hands massaging your butt, the source of your arousal as if to encourage you to please him.

His pulsating erection demands to be sated and you eye him, your tongue flicking higher and closer to the source of his pleasure. You hear him moan, his hand still lithely guiding your head between his thighs. The saliva in your mouth pools yet before you are able to take him, he pushes your head away. You whimper and feel the hands beginning to massage and pleasure you, your eyes flutter and you hear Gale sigh as he watches you.

Gale’s hand guides you forward now, succumbing to you and you meet him eagerly, your grip firm on the arms of the throne. Your lips wrap around the tip of his erection and saliva pools downward onto his shaft. He grunts and you roll your tongue over the sensitive tip and he squirms as you take him deeper into your mouth. Gale rewards you with a groan and thrust, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat deliciously. You suck as if famished, your voracious thirst for him fueling the skill of your mouth and tongue. The grip on the back of your head tightens and he begins to push harder into your mouth and you feel the hands between your thighs increase their tempo and firmness. You moan against his cock and the vibration makes him twitch, his body slick with sweat as you take him and indulge. You lick across his shaft and fondle the bridge between his ass and penis which causes him to writhe beautifully. You smirk and use your hand to grip the base of him, bringing your lips to meet your hand as you work him.

Gale comes undone, the grip in your hair sending you reeling and the hands torment you, bringing you closer and closer to bliss. Each time you feel yourself close to release, the hands pull back and you cry out desperately, your mouth full of Gale as he retreats. You suck harder, frantic, seeking the full flavor of Gale’s arousal. He is salty, warm in your wet mouth and his movements begin to grow more urgent, volatile. Your jaw aches and tears form at the corners of your eyes and your saliva covers his throbbing erection as he bucks into your mouth. You relax your throat, allowing him to plunge deeper into you and he moans louder, the sound anguishing music as he continues his retreat from your pleasure.

You pull back and you feel Gale’s hand resist and he groans, almost in frustration. He tries to press you back to him and you resist, you grip him tightly with your hand and you gaze up at him as you lick across his shaft. His lips fall open and his head tilts back. Suddenly, you feel a hand manipulate you aggressively, so close to allowing you release that you fold your entire mouth over Gale and he cries out in animalistic pleasure, plunging into your mouth as the hands work you. “Oh fuck…” he grips the back of your head almost too hard, his cock slipping deep into your throat and you moan as the warm, sticky cascade of his climax shoots into your mouth and you suck violently, tasting every part of his pleasure as he allows the hands to bring you to your own rapture while you taste the fruit of your labor.

He collapses into the chair and you onto his lap, resting your head on his thigh - both of your breathing is ragged and shallow, the calm settling between as your breath comes back to you. He brushes his fingers through your hair and across your cheeks and you look up at him. He is flushed and grins, almost sheepishly as you say: “You are full of surprises,” you murmur and kiss thigh before pulling yourself up to kiss him.

It is slow, tender, and you see him thrum to life again. You raise a brow and he shrugs before murmuring, “Well… we have time for a bit more, wouldn’t you agree?”

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veala2 · 8 months

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“ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.”

SYNOPSIS - It was just a simple day at the market, and yet something about him seemed off than what you usually know. Not a bad off, just an off… and then you realized something more.

CW - fluff to the max, fem!reader (no mention of certain physical attributes), just a sweet read before you go to sleep. (´∀｀)♡

A/N - life is getting tough once again, so this was a good pick me up to write. hope you all enjoy it as I did making it!

Sometimes it’s often forgotten how bustling an island market can be while on a ship. The many vendors exhaustingly attempting to sell their goods, customers haggling and bargaining while they can, the loud noises and over all craziness that can ensue in just one day. It was easy not to miss.

So, when your dear cook asked if you’d like to come along with him to get groceries, you agreed in the hopes of a quiet day. But that was far from the case, at the moment.

“Damn, I forgot how crazy this place can be.” You said, astounded and a little nervous. Sanji simply laughed and motioned his hand towards you.

“If you feel overwhelmed, just grab my hand. I promise I won’t let go, Y/N- swan~”

You giggled at his sweet advances and intertwined your fingers with his. Making his eyes go wide and blood start spilling down from his face. You laughed once again at his silliness, and the two of you made your way through the bustling markets. Hand in loving hand.

The day seemed to go by like a breeze. It was funny how a simple day of buying groceries was as adventurous as discovering a new island. Sanji taught you which fruits and vegetables were ripe and firm, using charm to get the best deal on food, and enjoying the many food stalls scattered throughout the marketplace. With the sun shining brightly up in the sky, and not a single cloud in sight, today was starting to look like one of the best days you’ve ever had since joining the Strawhats.

Though, something peculiar was noticed by you as the day went on. Something that was unusual for anybody who knew Sanji.

During the duration on your trip, not once did the- usually love- sick- cook fawn or glance up at another woman. Which was strange, because even you could notice there wasn’t a lack of them. Women who, once Sanji noticed on his mental radar, would be engrossed by his antics until the moment he sailed off the island.

The chef simply kept his hand in yours. Doing his business and having a good time with you. It was sweet, but suspicious.

You thought maybe there was something more, but never thought deeply about it.

Curiously, you made your way up towards a stall selling different pieces of jewellery. Eyeing them all, almost mesmerised. The love cook noticed how your eyes glistened with the bright and colourful gems and stones.

“Fancy anything you see, dearie?” The elderly vendor asked, a gentle smile on his face. You smiled back and nodded, examining a particular pair of jewels that caught your eye. It wasn’t too heavy, and looked amazing against the colour of your skin. That smile of yours slowly dropped knowing you had just spent all your money on all the other vendors you passed.

Sanji noticed the expression on your face, thinking both to how cute you looked with that puppy-like pout and how many berries he managed to save in his pockets. He fiddled around before scourging up just enough money to pay the man.

“We’ll take it, sir.” He said. You were shocked and confused, grabbing Sanji by the shoulder.

“Sanji! It’s fine, I don’t need it.” You whispered. The old man had already packaged it and handed it to you. Sanji gave you a toothy smile, pulling you closer towards him by putting his arm around your shoulder. You made contact with the side of his body, taking note of his scent. Fresh, warm and spicy cologne. A cool aftershave. And the lingering of his signature cigarettes that somehow added to his incredible smell.

“It’s my treat, don’t worry about it. Any man would buy jewelry for such a beautiful woman as yourself.” He insisted, already thanking the man and walking away with you by his side.

A warm and fuzzy feeling grew from inside the pit of your stomach. You peeked inside the bag, a smile forming on your face. Cheeks round and glowing. That adorable smile that made the love cook fawn over you. Causing yet another round of nose bleeding. It was a safe bet to say there was nothing wrong with Sanji today, but the fact that he wasn’t swooning over the latest women he found in the market had you suspicious. But, you decided to put this off until later. Maybe then you’d figure out why he was being so… himself, but not himself.

As the night started to fall, the crew had rallied up and taken their positions at the dining table for their 5- star meal tonight. As per usual, since their chef wouldn’t make anything but. You peeked around the corner of the kitchen, noticing Sanji adding the finishing touches to the food. The delicious aroma wafting through the air and into your nostrils. If you hadn’t come to the kitchen specifically for Sanji, then you most certainly would have just a taste of his latest dish.

“Sanji!” you called, jumping up from around the corner. The man spun around, his eyes turning to hearts at the sight of you in front of him.

“Mon cheri! I’m so happy you’ve come to see me!” he announced, a stupidly cute grin plastered on his face. He noticed something shine from near you, stopping and gawking at what it was. The piece of jewellery looked even better on you than he ever could have thought or even dreamed. His face said everything it ever could have, and you couldn’t help smiling like an idiot, too.

“I take it, you fancy it?” You asked, in the same manner the vendor. He shook his head up and down fast. Going down to grasp one of your free hands and planting a soft kiss on it. You felt the heat rise up inside of you.

“You look like a true goddess, an enchantress of another world! My dear, you truly don’t know what kind of hold you have on me.”

God, could he be more idiotically charming?

“Do you mean that? Cause I saw how you weren’t really… yourself in the market today. You didn’t fawn or swoon over all the girls there like you usually would.” You expressed, awkwardly shuffling your feet and gazing at the ground. He gave you a look of confusion, tilting his face to the side, puppy- like.

“Why would I when I already have a beautiful lady here, right by my side?”

It felt like your heart was about to explode. Explode into small bits as cupid’s arrows have struck you right in the centre. You lunged at him, engulfing him in a bear hug. Hiding your face in his shoulder and taking in that scent that you loved so dearly. Sanji soothingly patted the back of your head and caressed your back with loving circles.

“Your stupid, you know that…” was all you could mutter, still hiding in his shoulder. He simply laughed and held you tighter.

“Sweetheart, the food is starting to get cold. So let’s go enjoy it before that happens.” He advised, having you quickly agree and already start to drool at the thought of eating. Sanji couldn’t help but laugh some more at your antics.

The entirety of the night, you couldn’t help but glance at Sanji at the dinner table. Him doing the exact same. Besides Luffy’s grabby hands at the others' foods, and Brook causing Nami to yet another angry punch, and everybody else’s antics, you felt as if it was just the two of you at the dinner table. Neither of you knew, but you were both thinking about how lucky you were to have each other in this lifetime.

Turns out there was something more. And you loved it.

#one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece #one piece x you #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji #blackleg sanji #op sanji #funny little french man is stealing #stealing hearts!

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httpsserene · 3 months

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𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐬 (𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐬𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠!) - 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: maybe this time, the natural distance between them concerning their now different job requirements would help max get over his small, miniscule, tiny, fractional, microscopic, miniature, little, itty-bitty crush on daniel. it didn’t work the first time, when younger-max had avoided his ex-teammate like the plague after his move to a different team—if anything that absence made his heart ache for daniel more, even though he tried his hardest to hate him. so now, maybe that max isn’t the one causing the growing gap between him and daniel, this space might dissolve max’s fondness. 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. idiots in love. mild angst. fluff. happy ending. attempt at humor. plot with a side of porn. the timeline is mostly accurate. max verstappen is an oblivious idiot. daniel ricciardo is an obvious idiot. 5+1 things (in a way). the three musketeers: charles, pierre, and lando. light praise kink. light dom/sub undertones. mild orgasm delay/denial. 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 9.5k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: max verstappen x daniel ricciardo

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: so....how's life been treating y'all while i disappeared for two months :) ? no, um, sorry for ghosting you guys; i know, i'm surprised that i didn't forget my login info. life started being life for a good amount of time and i got really sucked into school and work. aside from the boring everyday stuff, i've got an internship this summer (yay!), i'm pretty sure i have a bit of a mutual-crush with this boy in my morning lecture, and i've started playing final fantasy sixteen.

anyways, this is my longest work ever! and i'm dedicating it to one of my sweetest betas, bianca. you requested this long before my disappearing act in december, and i told you i was nearly finished with a 6k-word fic for your request. to make up for my unexplained absence, i rewrote the entire thing into a near ten-thousand word feel-good masterpiece.

i hope this fic is of good enough quality for all of you wonderful f1-stans to forgive me because, i'm back, and hopefuily here to stay lol. enjoy reading, loves < 3.

requested & written by/for @biancathecool

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milton keynes, red bull racing headquarters, pre-season 2023

daniel looks happy. max doesn’t know why that surprises him—maybe he’s projecting his emotions (his therapist says he does that quite often) onto the man. the surprise makes sense though, max thinks, as he watches the australian chatter away with the engineers, the largest toothy smile spread across his face like he never left red bull behind in 2018. if it were max who had gone through the mclaren bullshit along with not having a guaranteed seat for the upcoming 2023 season, and he had to settle for a third driver position: he would scourge the world with his fury.

but: it’s not max, it’s daniel. it’s daniel, who was warmly welcomed back into navy blue (papaya did not suit him), it’s daniel, who doesn’t snap at the marketing team when they ask how he’s “coping” with not being on the grid. it’s daniel, who becomes friends with checo easily. it’s daniel, who’s scheduled to fulfill the pr activities that the two red bull drivers refuse to complete. it’s daniel, who has clocked in insane hours in the sim and factory while max has been enjoying his off-season.

it’s daniel, who hasn’t shown any signs of disappointment about not having a seat this year.

if he won’t show or admit it, max will. having a race weekend without daniel doesn’t feel right. max knows this, even though the season hasn’t started yet: he’s going to be miserable. it’s like when daniel left him the team. of course, max had pushed daniel away after he signed with renault. what was he supposed to do? react calmly with the emotional intelligence he didn’t have? max thought the man hated him when he didn’t tell him that he was leaving before the news was released.

regardless, instead of the australian leaving, this time around he’s coming back, which max had originally believed was the best thing to ever happen. he’s not so sure of that anymore. daniel belongs in the car chasing him with the smell of burning rubber and petrol surrounding them. max doesn’t appreciate how the smell of race tracks has already disappeared from him. he could tell it was missing when daniel made a show of giving max the biggest hug as soon as he stepped foot in the factory.

maybe this time, the natural distance between them concerning their now different job requirements would help max get over his small, miniscule, tiny, fractional, microscopic, miniature, little, itty-bitty crush on daniel. it didn’t work the first time, when younger-max had avoided his ex-teammate like the plague after his move to a different team—if anything that absence made his heart ache for daniel more, even though he tried his hardest to hate him. so now, maybe that max isn’t the one causing the growing gap between him and daniel, this space might dissolve max’s fondness.

“max, kid,” christian waves a hand in front of max’s face with an unimpressed look, “did you hear a single thing i said or were you too distracted by the sight of daniel in red bull gear again?”

the tips of max’s ears redden, and he snaps his head away from where it was turned to watch daniel’s constant smile, to face his team principal. max doesn’t know what he was thinking; his crush is going nowhere.

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑.

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35

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