#to a large portion of his ships

[diseasedcube]

Saiki: *is aro/ace coded very blatantly*

People who ship him with Teruhashi whom he consistently avoids and hates in canon: noooo he's not ace look at all this EVIDENCE of him being able to experience love and how Teruhashi is special and he's learning to love

People who ship him with Satou whom he's actually canonically interested in: getting told that noooo he's aro ace you can't ship him with Satou, it's just platoniccccc

#rave ramblees #saiki k #kinda sus that a large portion of the fandom will deny his asexuality in order to push a straight ship #but will argue in favor of that sexuality to avoid a gay skip #ship* #despite canon evidence #and like #ship what you want #but don't bash other's ships like this

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

confessions of a swordsman

zoro x reader

summary: Zoro and you are in a thing - what kind of thing? Who knows but Sanji decides to flirt with you to get Zoro jealous.

The laundry line had been put up for the day, Nami and you were on folding duty. A blanket was laid out on the grass, and you sat comfortably folding clothes into piles for each crew member. Nami was taking clothes off the line and placing them in a basket. The two of you had an efficient process and admittedly were having a good time just chatting. The navigator finally pulled down the last article of clothing and joined you on the blanket. She started matching socks and asked what your plans were for the next island docking.

“I need some new clothes,” she sighed, holding up one of her shirts with a large hole in it. “I don’t even know how this happened.”

“I think we could all use some new clothes.” You held up one of Zoro’s shirts and stuck a finger through the tear at the neckline. Nami laughed when you wiggled a finger at her. “He hates picking out clothes though…I’ll probably just pick out a few things for him.”

Nami smirked. “Wow. Are you just so domesticated.”

“It’s not like that,” you shrugged, folding the shirt, and placing it in Zoro’s pile of clothes. Your eyes didn’t meet hers and that’s all she needed.

“Do you want it to be like that?”

 “I’m just happy being on this ship and being by Luffy’s side.”

Your smile was bright and eager, but Nami saw through the feign contentment in your eyes, but she also knew there was truth to my statement. She said nothing else, but you weren’t foolish enough to not think anything of it. For one, you were sure it was obvious to all that Zoro had a place in your heart and maybe, you in his. Not that either of you would ever admit it out loud – whatever was going on between him and you were a mystery to you like everyone else. The swordsman had a one-track mind, and you knew that from the first time you met. In the beginning, the two of you had bonded over trying to keep Luffy alive. Real friendship bloomed through late night drinking and exchanging stories, triumphs, laughter. Then one night, when everyone else went to bed, he kissed you under the moonlight. His kiss was eager but insecure until you kissed him back. You slept together that night and most nights after that – whenever privacy allotted.

But he never called it what it was or could be or should be.

Neither did you.

Now it’s been months of this, and you were trying your best to not want him in ways he wasn’t willing to give. Not that you really knew what his willingness would amount to because you never talked about our relationship. It was confusing. But you also didn’t want to be the one that needed more, who craved more because it felt weak.

“All done.”

You smiled at Nami and divvyed up the piles to deliver the clean laundry. She left with her basket of clothes to take back to our dorms, and you made your way to the guy’s quarters. You knocked first but when no one answered you walked in; you were surprised to see Zoro napping but tiptoed around the room and placed each pile on different beds. When it came to the napping man’s pile of clothes, you moved to his portion of the wardrobe and placed them on a shelf. You nearly made it to the door when he called out your name and you turned.

“What’s up?”

“Come here,” he murmured, eyes hazy with sleep. He was on his back when you approached, and he quickly pulled you down to the bed. You fell on top of him, hands on his chest as he wrapped an arm effortlessly around your waist. His hand snaked around your neck and pulled you down, hair falling over his face. He grinned slightly and yanked you downwards for a kiss. Your body reacted in the way it always did when he touched you, and you wanted nothing more than to let him ruin you, but he kissed you hard once more and released you.

His eyes closed and then he started to snore.

You rolled your eyes and got off the bed, bringing his discarded blanket off the floor to cover him up. His hair was pushed back from his forehead, and you touched his cheek; his skin went warm and red, like he was blushing. He looked peaceful and you left him to his nap; needing something cold to drink to ease the heat of his lips on yours.

…

The kitchen smelled like baked fish and fresh bread; you sauntered toward the kitchen island and asked Sanji if he needed help. He refused but asked you to sit and keep him company, offering up a bread roll when you agreed. The roll was warm and buttery. You groaned and thanked the man, but going quiet as he worked around the stove.

“You’re awfully quiet over there. What did that idiot do to you?”

See, everyone knew.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sanji smirked, lighting a cigarette. He pointed a spatula at you and said you were a bad liar. “You can do better, by the way, but I guess I can’t say I’m blind. Everyone can see the way you two look at each other – as sick as that makes me.”

His dramatics made you smile. “I don’t even know what us is. I mean, we all know how talkative Zoro is.”

The cook laughed with a shrug, deciding you could help, and motioned for you to come help with dicing. You got up and moved around next to him, he handed you a knife and instructed you on how to dice the green onions. You worked side by side for twenty minutes while he gave you advice on how to talk to Zoro – as much as that pained him. “He’s a competitive asshole. So, work with that.”

“How so?”

Sanji watched as you plated the salmon, nodding to the door just as it swung open from the deck. Your eyes went to Luffy who barged in with a smile and Zoro who had followed him, fresh from his nap. “Here, try this.”

The cook had grabbed you by the chin, turning your head gently to him. With his other hand, he spoon fed you a taste of the desert pudding and your cheeks went red. It was delicious but Sanji’s eyes weren’t on you – they were on Zoro’s, who was glaring from the doorway. You grabbed a hold of the spoon and Sanji released you, patting you lightly on the head before announcing that dinner was ready. Unable to even look at Zoro, you wiped your mouth with a kitchen cloth and helped Sanji serve the plates. After making sure everyone had a plate, you sat in the empty spot next to Zoro. He stiffed a little as you sat but then relaxed when you asked how his nap was. He smirked and just asked if you wanted some ale. The rest of the dinner went uneventful. The food was delicious, the drinks cold, and the conversations were lively. You offered to help Sanji with the dishes, but Zoro pointed it you already helped with dinner.

“Let the lazy cook do the dishes.”

Sanji retorted back with a curse but gave you a knowing smile. You stole a peek at Zoro and noted jealously in his eyes – Sanji was right, but you weren’t sure how much you wanted to push it. Instead, you asked Zoro if he wanted to come to the library with you. “I found that book we were talking about.”

“If Mosshead doesn’t want to enjoy literature with you, I’d be happy to after the dishes. We can light some candles, drink some wine…”

You looked over to the counter, where Sanji was arranging the dishes; his eyes were smoldering and kind, you wanted to laugh at his thoughtful attempts to help you, but the way Zoro was fuming next to you – it seemed like he was enjoying torturing his crew mate.

“Do the damn dishes, idiot.” Zoro grumbled, reaching for your hand. His large fingers around your wrist were surprising. He had never touched you in front of the others and everyone, but Brooke and Franky were around now. No one really paid attention or was trying not to, as Zoro pushed back in his chair and got up. His eyes narrowed down to you, but then a softness overcame his entire face, and he asked if you were done.

All you could manage was a nod.

Then he helped you up from your chair and led you out of the kitchen, towards the library. He didn’t say a word until you were in the library and then he dropped your hand. He moved toward the wall of books and spoke with his back to you.

“If something’s going on between the cook and you, just tell me. I can take it.”

His back tensed as he waited for you to answer him.

“You’re a real idiot.”

Zoro whipped around and cursed at you. “I’m not an idiot! You’re the one flirting with that – that – Euro trash!”

“I wasn’t flirting but even if I was, why do you care?” He seized at your question. “Well, why do you care, Zoro? We’ve never defined whatever this is.”

It was clear that he was flustered and angry, eyes burning with annoyance, but you stood your ground. All you wanted was to hear it from him; you knew Zoro was a man of action over words, but you needed this. Even if he said he didn’t want you, that he could do without you – at least he would have said it. He owed you that much.

“What the hell do you want from me?”

His voice was husked, desperate for reasoning.

“I love you.”

The words came fumbling out of your mouth with a huge relief to your body. It felt great, airing out your feelings and even if he couldn’t reciprocate, at least you said it. You stood there with the moonlight dancing through the windows and could only see Zoro lost in thought. Then, seconds later, he snapped out of it.

“Don’t move,” he seethed through his teeth before storming out of the library. You stood there in disbelief and for a moment, you were afraid that he wasn’t going to come back. That he was going to walk away from you and that would be the end of it.  For a moment, you felt feign resolve; you’d get through it because you got through everything hard in your life.

Then his voice spoke from the library door and when you turned, he seemed more relaxed. He stared at you; hands crossed against his chest, cheeks a bit marooned. He looked proud and when you asked where he had gone, he smirked.

“I went to tell that cook to stay away from you.”

“You did?”

Zoro grinned, walking toward you with a bit of swagger. “I don’t need to confess anything to the rest of them or anyone, but you needed me to, so I did. I told them all that I loved you and for now on, we belong to each other.”

Your heart swayed as Zoro took your face in his hands, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip. “Don’t play games with me. Just be straightforward, okay? If I catch anyone flirting with you again, I’m kicking their ass, got it?”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you nodded. “I got it. I’m sorry.”

Zoro kissed you roughly on the lips, hand resting at the base of your neck. His kisses turned softer after a minute, and then he pulled away to hold you against him. You felt safe in his arms and relief washed over you, tears forming in your eyes. When he felt a wetness seeping through his shirt, he gently pushed you off him.

“Shit. I didn’t mean for you to cry.”

Panicked filled his voice but you just laughed, brushing away the tears; touching the side of Zoro’s face, you watched as he melted against your touch and smiled. “I’m just really happy.”

Zoro chuckled lightly, pulling you back to him.  “Come here, you little crybaby.”

.....

tagging those who were interested - 💕love you zoro hoes 💕

@posessedbytheinternet @notthemainblog

@smolracoon25 @xentaipriest @xitara666

@rouzuchan @southside-otaku @dimplewonie

#zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece

[darkdemeter]

𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍, 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐈

— BUCKY BARNES COLUMN (ONESHOT)

Dark Pirate! Bucky Barnes x Siren! Female Reader

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

| A/N | DISCRETION |

A/N — Ey yo let’s go! Here it is, part 2!

Dark, pirate Bucky — possessive Bucky, also feat. possessive reader — profanity — angst! — mention of alcohol — pet names ("Siren") — SMUT 18+ Minors DNI — unprotected (given) p in v sex — mention of marks/hickeys — there be depiction of wenches/prostitutes — semi-exhibitionism — mention of memory wipe through magic — minor cigar consumption (not reader) — very brief depiction of harm against a crew member — Rumlow, he's a bit of a sly creep — I think that's it?

| SUMMARY |

You are his siren. Why do you insist on your curiosity when you know it will only get you into trouble? In your captain's search for the ancient treasure, a temple only you know the location of, the voyage will take momentary port in Nassau. Mina, a fellow siren, reveals to you the dark truth that you have been blind to. Lied to. She encourages you to take back the necklace. The time to be a siren is now, to lure your captain into a false sense of devotion, that your sights and desires only draw to him; and not the necklace bound to his hand and the secrets he's been keeping from you.

*6.1𝐤 ────────────────┘

| M-LIST | TAGLIST:

@identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @mostlymarvelgirl @daddy-bucky @thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction @armystay89

────────────────┘

Dawn kisses the horizon’s rolling waters, erasing the wicked hue of intermingling black and blue with colours brighter, more promising, to bloom over sky and sea. A sight that portraits serenity in order to inspire a welling of hope. The flaming orb of heat commands to stir the once slumbering crew into action. Little does it work to awaken your captain, already awake and buried deep in the channel of your cunt, his cock surges forward aggressively, tip kissing your cervix with each powerful snap of his hips. 

  Relentless, he rolls in tandem with the rock of the ship, a string of grunted breaths and deep, stuttering groans thrum in the cavern of his large chest, heart hammering against his ribcage. 

  He pulls from you another countless orgasm to add to another countless hour of this tortuous bliss. A flushing, white and hot, seizes hold of you and beckons your body to respond accordingly, trained in his art of greed your legs drag over the terrain of defined muscle to bring him impossibly closer. Skin melding to inked skin, sweat laced bodies mingling in heated, frictional euphoria. 

  “Y’love that, Siren? Huh,” he pants on the shell of your ear, “love it when I have you full of me?”

  You mewl a small, whiney sound. 

  “Yes—” you intake sharply, “C-Captain…”

  “Aye, say it again.” He growls deeply, teeth nip the lobe of your ear, his nose buried in the crook of your neck inhales deeply the sweet dew of your flushed skin. Rough and strong, his hands have yours pinned, as he does your entire body, pressed against blood-red and snowy white velvets and silks and dark, exotic furs once belonging to pompous princes. Now, they belong to the king of the sea and his siren. Hips rolling together in time, fingers interlacing, woven together in bound strength to hold each other as guarded lifelines, the webbing between your slender digits draws and withdraws from their tucked beds of skin. Pupils conflict between dark, slitted lines and circular globes of blackness blown in pleasure. 

  “Shit… fuck– so fuckin’ tight, Siren!” he hisses, “mine… only mine.”

  Already your core burns enticingly, welcoming another orgasm that follows closely behind your one just prior. His navel arcs to brush your clit, the girth of his cock strikes true each time, he pummels harder and faster, his tip the only portion to remain before he thrusts forward with a moistened glide.

  Corded notes of pleasure are threaded into hitched knots, producing small, hiccuping whines as your abused, slickened walls constrict around his cock to milk him of every drop. The small bridge of your back arches, the smooth surface of your salty skin gliding over the defined divots and scars of his muscular front, inch by inch you feel him everywhere; both outside and inside. 

  He’ll never let you go. As a man who prides himself in the fine freedoms of piracy, he’s a blackened heart that guards you with vigorous possessiveness. Nor do you think you’re capable of ever leaving him. He is all you have. He is yours just as much as you are his. 

  The treasure he covets with unmatched greed. No woman on this earth could ever encounter what you have above you and between your quivering legs that loop tightly over his strong waist. And because of this, you equally covet this treasure of yours. 

  His cock ruts your cervix roughly, tugging forth a long, high noted yelp underlined with a breathy huff, the rhythm of his hips stutters at the sound. His pink lips find yours, tongue drawing over your own, your submission allowing him to do as he pleased. He feeds off the chorus of your breathless song, a song meant just for him. Because of him. 

  “Fuckin’ hell…” His voice rasps, teeth sinking into the bend where your shoulder and neck meet. “Love it when y’sing for m— me.” A gut-emitted groan reverberates in his chest, Skin meets skin in synchronised slapping, raw and primal with need. Wooden legs rub and claw the floorboards with heavy creaks. 

  “L–look atcha… huh, whiney and cock drunk– mmm, gonna make you scream for me, Love.”

  His thrusts grow as ruthless as the brewing storms of the sea, lashing and rocking you beyond the point of refusal. There is no denying, no pushing away. Not when it comes to your captain. 

  “C’mon, Siren—” He pants with a series of rushing thrusts that pin you down. “Sing for me.” 

  The erected peeks of your breasts are tender as they push against his chest. You whimper softly. 

  “Captain…”

  “Aye, louder,” he growls. Of his flesh hand, his knuckles whiten dangerously until the skin melts over bone. Another harsh snap of his hips sends you spiralling on the verge of your orgasm.

  “Captain—” you gasp and he bites down into the bevel between your collarbone with a rasping growl. “Captain!”

  Your velvety walls tighten around the hardened length penetrating you, filling you, his cock encumbered by the vice of your cunt. The blinding flash covers your vision and heat spreads through every corner of your body, leaving nothing but a siren blinded in lustful bliss. He groans with each drag and push, muscles glistening in the soft glow of the rising sun. The flowing wave of his precious seed finds purchase in your lower abdomen. 

  It’s not until he completely empties his hot load, does he finally slow his pace to a stop. Above you he pants heavily, each breath reminding you of the sea’s spray and sun-tainted breeze that tousles the darkened locks of his hair. 

  Your energy sapped from the unbridled temper of your beloved captain, you find reprieve in the gentleness of his tongue tracing the numerous dark marks covering your skin - his marks. 

  “Know this…” His voice rumbles lowly, his flesh hand harbouring the necklace dangles it mere inches over your parted lips. “There is nothing for you to find in a dried pearl, Siren. I am all you need.” 

  Metal squeezes your jawline, pursuing your understanding. The pink tip of his tongue wets his lips and he arches a brow.

  “Yes…”

  You needn’t be jostled twice by the threat of his grasp, you whisper, voice barely audible, “…Captain.”

  “Atta girl.” 

   Arriving at port in Nassau means safe haven for the crew of The Avenger, a chance to rekindle spirits with a few dozen barrels of liquor and a woman’s belly to keep any weathered sailor happy. In the Caribbean’s turning and heating morn, gulls scavenge for pickings of food, the white banks of sand converging with the blue tinged tide bathe the nudity of your feet with absorbed heat, it brings an irate wince to cross your features. Over the vast stretch of beach and headed further inland, the jolly tune of harboured pirates emit from the wooden, creaky shacks, if not counting the ruckus of noisy patrons enjoying their paid company. 

  Never did your captain have need for such sleaziness, such lazed women who lounge in wait for coins to fill the near-always empty drawstring bag tied to their thigh. He had you.   To hold you close to the scorching warmth of his battle hardened body, to passionately entangle your limbs in an endless thread of desire, and to bask in the radiance that is one another; the possession of a companion no other can have.

  And your own guard for your beloved captain doesn’t go unnoticed, by either him or the hungering gazes of those women yet in wait, your arms encircling around the bulk of Bucky’s flesh arm, in your neck the muscles strain as your fangs become elongated in a threatening display, the disguise of your eyes falters into narrow strips of glaring obsidian. 

  These women are no strangers to the presence of sirens, in spite of the limited number of population, a siren’s prize is never to be taken from her. 

  “Easy, Lass,” Bucky coos, lips drawn on either side into a charming grin. “There’s none suiting my fancy but you.”

  His assurances brighten refocused pupils and the lines around your mouth pull into a smirk. The now scornful glares of ladies unworthy of his time burn into you, and you in turn purse the tip of your tongue between your lips in retaliation. Behind, you hear a few members of the crew huff in their amusement. 

  With the crew tailing loyally behind their captain, each body a weighted husk ready to drown themselves in all that Nassau offers, the striking colour of a scarlet coat saunters forward in the corner of your vision. In a briefly stolen glance to your side, the brilliance of her green irises invade you with a soulless engagement, full lips drawn into a thin line and below the crimson stripe of her bandana, her brows are furrowed. 

  It comes to mind Bucky’s attendance on deck to anchor the ship at port, and so too does the possible thought that during that increment amount of time, Bucky could have very well informed Wanda of your curious skirmish ending in upheaval, caught red handed in the act. 

  And yet the events, the memory of what you experienced - the estranged bond you shared with the necklace - all of it remains. No bouts of stomach churning nausea or blurred hazes that leave you to stumble on your two feet, abandoning you to the mindless plane of confusion where memory is your worst and forgotten enemy. 

  And you prefer to keep it that way. These invasions that leave you more curious, sensing something greatly amiss the more of its occurrence is known, perhaps it’s best if you surrender the search. Your captain is all you need. Nevermind the ghostly songs that haunt the realm beneath the surface. Maybe, just maybe, there is good reason why you don’t remember anything. And if you cease this affair, then maybe with the grace of your beloved, that there will be no need to be swallowed into the misty thicket of her dark, scarlet magic. 

  I am my captain’s siren. I must remain with him. He is all I have. All I want to have…

    ‘Mm hm, mm hm, mm~hmm~hm~mm… mhm.,.’

  The melody chimes to lure your attention, the trickery of the voices blooms thickly throughout the forefront of your mind. You press to ignore the empty promise of their secrets revealed. This search ends now. No more. In defiance to the woeful, bleeding song of murmured hums, your arms hold tighter to Bucky, his chin dips low as his blue eyes look you over, gorgeous eyes of the ocean, captured within the handsome sculpture of his visage. A forbidden make of marble, carven with perfection in mind. 

  ‘Mm hm, mm hm, mm~hm—’

  “Something the matter, Siren?” thrums the husky drawl of your captain. You turn your eyes - your entire form of attention - to him, devoting it to him alone, and not to the tune that wanes with grieving cries that drown in the mists of that plane. You shake your head with refined elegance and bring a smile to grace him with. 

  “Nothing, my Captain,” you purr sweetly. Voice soft enough to easily die in the crashing of heavy waves, but so throbbing to the heart that the lilted beat of your voice could never be lost to him. Bucky grins at your words, respite is found in the security of your vow. Not only does your answer satisfy him immensely, but it draws Wanda’s intense focus away from you. 

  The quartermaster, Steve Rogers, is met in an engulfing embrace by a striking brunette with bouncy curls, lips bright and red and grinning, brown eyes sparkling in the Nassau’s brimming sun. Truth be told, she was far too pretty to be a mere human, her beauty akin to a glistening ruby, and maybe it saddens you the littlest bit that she foresees you with eyes of weariness rather than friendliness. 

  Perhaps if she were a siren herself, you’d both have settled together rather fondly as friends - as bonded sisters. But alas, with her own treasure now ashore for now, she takes to him and welcomes him with moaning cords and absorbing kisses, Bucky chuckles slyly with a wink to his exhausted friend. 

  Weather-beaten tables score the large deck of the tavern, most of them being vacant outside, but given the beginnings of your skin drying out, Bucky takes care to situate you as close to a shaded spot. Something you are noticeably grateful for with your cheek nuzzling into the openly revealed space of his chest, the belted strips of leather strapped over his chest warm your skin as well as his skin. 

  Casting you in flittering shadows are the swaying palms, their long and prickly spine leaves howling in the sea’s constant winds driven ashore. While other members of the crew flee to their own affairs to relax, those of Bucky’s inner circle remain close, like cards held to his chest, and you being the winning ace of his games, are held the closest. 

  “Restock of the ship’s supplies will take all day, not to mention, the girl needs a few restorations herself,” says Bruce, spectacles resting low upon the bridge of his nose, eyes finalising his scrawlings as his voice confirms. His hand runs over the plump of his cheek with a drained sigh, middle finger pushing the brass loop of his glasses upwards. 

  “And that’ll spend us… half our funds.”

  “Wouldn’t need to waste so much coin on crackers ‘nd other shite, had someone not snuck ‘round like a rat.” Clint’s eyes squint in his accusation towards none other than the master of maps and navigation, Stark, who partakes in defending himself behind a weak shrug. 

  “There’s actual rats aboard. T’wasn’t me.”

Clint’s upper lip curls into a sneer, the ship’s cook primed to render Stark into salted meatloaf, a dullened knife he took to using in both battle and kitchen is held in his nimble fingers. 

  “Fuckin’ thievin’—”

  “Quit your squabbling,” rumbles your captain, “strike what isn’t needed for the voyage. Double on reinforcements and armoury.” His gruff voice sends tingles through your still connected cheek to his front, content in hearing its booming and steady beat. Bruce nods and returns his gaze downward to his leatherbound companion, quill resipping ink, he scribbles into his book once again, humming and murmuring to himself. 

  Bruce Banner, though quite brutal in the midst of battles, is a relatively quiet man who tends to keep to himself for most of his membership as a crewmate. Often he dwells below decks, counting stock, taking note of damages and overall engaging the skin of parchment rather than a woman. 

   Not to completely disregard the sometimes scarce glances between himself and the fiery, flintlock dancer herself, Natasha, eyes meeting between the wooden blanks separating their worlds from dark to light. If history is planted there, there is little to know in your knowledge - your hazy knowledge. From what you’ve gathered, Natasha has a tongue that leaves many of the males on board chest torn and heart bleeding, in dire need for her to bandage them with a moment of her time. Time that she rather spent either dancing in the heat of conflict, pulling the ship in order or occupy herself with you. 

  In comparison to the neighbouring woman often skulking silently by Bucky’s heel like a prowling animal on a leash, Natasha offered you what nobody else truly had; a connection. Someone you can maybe call friend. 

  By no means is she completely softened around you, she pushes you beyond your limits, but in her interactions with you, she layers herself with a bout of steadiness and calm to keep you level headed at best. She even takes the time to teach you letters and words of human speech. Too nervous to ask such a tedious task of your own captain, it had been Natasha called upon to teach you.

   Under her mentorship, she had governed you away from the native tongue of your sea dwelling folk, and what had at first been mistaken as the ship’s adored feline, Alpine coughing up a fish bone, had just been you taking the first step in learning to speak the language of humans. Only then and afterwards did your captain also take part in your teaching, albeit through a more erotic means of lessons behind the closed door of his cabin. 

  Steve returns with a sway to his step, Peggy held snug to his hip, the two bound by invisible, sticky sap that glues them together. “We’ve drinks comin’, Cap!” He laughs with a clap to Bucky’s broad shoulder, jostling you forward with a startled whine, eyes stinging and dry in alertness. 

  You miss catching it at first, the sharpened glare of ice in his eyes towards Steve for his abrupt disturbance of you, the blonde haired man, lass-drunken already, clicks his tongue with a grimace of offered sincerity, uttering a quiet apology under his heated breath.

  Bucky is only willing to let his scowl go after you assure the quartermaster that there is no harm done, excusing yourself that your fatigue had gotten the better of your guard. 

  Flared tempers now cooled, Steve leans back against the rickety stage of the deck’s plank railing. The ruffled skirts of his companion’s dress ride a little higher on her thigh as she rests it over his lap, drawstring bag visible… and fattened with coin. Paid very early in advance. Paid full with at least three weeks worth of salary strapped to her leg. 

  A chorus of cheers spill out into the open air when tankards of foam-headed refreshments are delivered. Tony’s chapped lips bend around a cigar stick, catching a flame to his match by the heel of his boot, he lights it and puffs a smog that brings your nose to wrinkle and lungs to jump. 

  “Right,” he says, the end of the word lost in its pronunciation, “Down ter business.” The master of maps of navigation procures from his coat rolled parchments and lays them flat to the wooden rot, he knocks a knuckle hard in indication of the pirate’s haven. 

  “We’re here, Lassy. Show us where it is.” Silence falls over those of the inner circle, each pair of eyes lace between the strewn papers and your expression, gauging the lines around your eyes that speak of your concentration. In wait for either your truthful answer or another lie. 

  The tips of your fingers run the inked lines that describe the landmarks of islands, points of interest, known ship routes and x marks, whilst your captain’s own fingers trace along the outer of your thigh teasingly beneath the cover of your robe and the table. His touch is distracting you, but could you be to blame for their failure in search of the ancient treasure? After all, your memory wasn’t of best quality these days. 

  Tony rolls his fingers in a drumming pattern, each minute it grows louder and pounds in your eardrums, the wafting curtain of thick, cigar smoke clouds your senses. 

  Your captain, scowling at this, shoots his metal arm forward and plucks the cigar from Tony’s mouth and pushes the burning ash and tobacco into the veiny hide of his bare hand. Tony bites a string of curses as his hand retracts. 

  “Next time, it’s shoved down your fuckin’ throat, got it?” 

  “Aye, Cap…,” mutters Tony. He shoots you a seething glare but nevertheless, relinquishes his attempts to intimidate you into answering. 

  “You forget, sirens speak a certain way.” Comes the low purr of his lilt, breath hot against the shell of your ear, the encouragement of his hand snakes your thigh over into his lap, leaving your core, though hidden to others, exposed to his addictive touch. Your breath becomes latched in your lungs, struggling to be free and your toes curl as his flesh hand slips between your parted legs. “You just need to know how…” 

  You barely hide the hiccup in your erupting breath. His thumb, rough and firm, toys with the delicate bud that spurs the welling of arousal to moisten your folds. Behind the sealed line of his lips, he breezes a rich chuckle that courts you with promised, devoting attention to your clit, circling it slowly as the long, thick body of his middle finger runs further down your folds. The chill of gold grinds into your skin gently, the pearl hums lowly in the deep reverie of your mind once more, grazing your skin with a harmonic resurgence against the combating of Bucky’s explorative touch. 

  If the air had been thick with the sun’s heat before, then it was downright unbreathable now, your skin aches and itches to be submerged in the tranquil waters. You all but claw a single rocky formation on the far edge of the map. All eyes zero in on the point, taking in the towering form of inked rocks. 

  “You’ve to be jokin’,” Clint hisses quietly. Sam Wilson is the next to speak with a sigh, “That’s a death wish, Captain.”

  “Siren, you’re sure?” Your head bows slowly to Bucky’s question and his thumb ceases its movement. Your finger situated over the landmark trembles, your throat is dry, saliva collects in thick rivulets and makes it difficult to swallow your despair. 

  Hushed whispers fall over the crew as Bucky’s smouldering eyes darken in thought, contemplating the high stakes. For your finger lands not just on the precise location of the temple harbouring the world’s greatest treasure horde any pirate or king alike could dream of. 

  It spans over into dangerous, uncharted territory. Territory that resides as a mass graveyard for ships and souls. The Misted Song Isles. 

  A bedded corner of the world untouched by sunlight, forever shrouded in a mist that never falters in its opacity, leaving many blinded to the ambushing predators that await them. 

  These cousins are the cause of your repulsion. They are not sirens. They do not possess the ability to sing beautifully anymore. That which haunts the mists are not curated melodies to turn a heart soft and a man stirred in longing, no, but devilish shrieks and wallowing howls that scream in revel of their kill.

  “Captain, think about this for a sec—” The quartermaster, as is everyone else, silenced within an instant. You yelp and pull your hand close to your chest as the sharpened point of a blade punctures right where your finger had been. Your heart races against your ribcage. 

  “We set sail at dawn.” 

  His command goes unchallenged and hangs in the eeriness of uncertainty. His lips formulate into that smirk, daring of the course ahead, ready to face whatever thrilling adventure awaits him and his hardened crew. 

  “Prepare yourselves. We’ll soon amass a fortune like no other. Riches beyond belief,” Bucky preaches with a deepened, growling cord, thumb reviving the pleasing buzz between your thighs. Your head presses back into his shoulder, arching your core slightly into his hand. “I’ve never known those of my crew to shrink away from glory and plunder. So what of it, mates? Are you lot ready to take what’s ours?”

  “Aye!” erupts a booming throng of cheers and hollering, tankards fly skyward with trickling, foamy ales, and fists pound the tables enthusiastically. From you, Bucky draws a softened, pleasured whine only captured by his ears, a musical note he licks his teeth in savouring delight. 

  “What a rousing speech, Captain Barnes. Touches my own heart.” The inner circle becomes disrupted, parting into a narrow corridor to give their captain sight of the outsider. Bucky’s thumb comes to pause again, much to the displeasure of your quiet grumbling, your eyes seek out the intruder and gape with widened eyes. 

    “Rumlow,” growls Bucky. His hand bares upon your thigh a tightening squeeze. 

  Brock Rumlow, captain of The Lady Strike, stands present, brown coat beaten and done in by the rough life at sea, tricorn equal in match to the rest of his dishevelled attire. Dark, matted and oily hair is swept behind his ears, stubble very much unkempt and in need of a shave. His brown eyes take in the near bareness of your form, your hand pulls the robe’s fabric over your already covered breasts, and Bucky curls you further inward, protecting you from the fowl leering of Rumlow’s dark eyes. His jaw is set hard as a deep, possessive growl emits from his large chest, the storm of his jealousy on the rise. 

  With a cock of his head, Tony shoves the plans back into the confines of his coat with a huff, missing the tangy flavour of his cigar.

  By now, those of Rumlow’s crew move in behind him, a battle of glares and curled snarls, only one amongst the opposing crew brings a grin to fall over your face, eyes brightened in relief. Long, raven black hair sweeping down the curve of her back, strips of plaits are decorated with beads and small shells, A tall and lean build of a woman a few years older of your age, eyes the shape of almonds and disguised as kindly, sparkling hazels of greens and browns. 

  Her thin lips form a smile to match her tender features. You barely have another chance to second guess your next move, taking care to keep the intricately patterned robe around to protect your modesty, you push yourself away from your captain and fly into her open arms, her embrace a welcomed one after all these weeks. 

  “Mina!” 

  She greets your name with a softened breath, the calming lull of a siren’s power. The prodding of shells poke into your chest, but you pay little heed to them, too much absorbed into a fellow siren’s hold. To be held and nurtured by one so connected to the sea as you, and who is also held prisoner above its beckoning tides. 

  “My dear, your skin!” she gasps. Her lithe fingers skim the lengths of your exposed shoulders, shoving under the flowy sleeves to do the same along your arms. “How long has it been since—”

  “She does not speak that way anymore.” 

  The voice of your captain is sharp, cutting right through to the bone, it chills you. You know you did wrong by your actions, caught in the flurry of your excitement to meet Mina. He hadn’t expressed his permission for you to leave his side.

  Her eyes forecast the irritated slits, the ridge of her mouth shifting. You shake your head quickly. “Don’t…”

  She listens to your plea and directs her gaze aside, retrieving back a more composed appearance. “Apologies, Captain Barnes. I forget her tongue falters and is now consumed by human speech. Please, forgive me.”

  His eyes stare point blank akin to the barrel of his flintlock, finger locked ahold of the trigger and primed to fire a metal ball right between her eyes. He takes into account that her voice is dry in its sincere case that begs forgiveness. A case he finds unmoving. 

  And so it falls to you. Her arms fall from around you reluctantly, you press on towards Bucky, hands caressing the carved shape of his jawline. “Please, Captain… forgiveness?”

  For a moment he is silent, his stare unwavering and unblinking, it churns your innards unassuredly. “Aye.” His response brings you to breathe again with a smile. You swallow thickly, steadying yourself with the words you have become accustomed to, at first rehearing it over in your thoughts before you speak.

  “May I go to the Pools? My skin… is dry.” As if to further accentuate, the inflection of your voice matches your statement, having to clear your throat gently. 

  He nods. “Very well, Love. Hour’s half.” Ingratiating yourself in his good graces, you capture his lips in yours, his own chase after your brief kiss but the embarrassment that they give away just how parched your body is steers you away quickly. 

  You are blind to the narrowing of cold, steely eyes following Mina who walks at your side, arms encircling around you protectively, her own eyes meeting the ferocity of Bucky’s glare, her own hardened stare watered down to save you from being caught in the crossfire for her temper. She knows that you would suffer just as well as her if Bucky turned his decision around. 

  The conversing crews are drowned out noise in the back of your head, Mina guides you along the dirt path towards the haven’s centre. 

  The Pools, a central hub that extends low into the island’s heart, and a system of interconnected tunnels for sirens to rejuvenate their exerted bodies, confining them to an enclosure with no means to swim directly back into the ocean. By all means, it was a natural formation turned into a cage. 

  Peering over the rocky lips, the inviting waters below reflect minute glimpses of the sun, a portion of it concealed under the shrubbery and towering palms. The hue of bright blue blankets the surface before the long stretch of abyssal black that cascades down the rock walls.

  The waters, as expected, are vacant of any other sirens, and those scarce few could only be seen in flashes of shining scales and shadows moving beneath, dipping into the mouths of the tunnels. Hidden from sight.

  You shed the covering of your robe and set it aside, its luxurious fabric smelling of yours and Bucky’s intermingling scents, the decorative stitchwork and colours flaunt it as one of a kind, a nabbed piece from a Japanese merchant schooner Bucky and his crew pillaged, and which your captain presented to you as a gift. The first of many he would later present. Intriguing artefacts.

  Mina didn’t have need to discard herself of human-given clothing, plunging into the heavenly waters before you, her attire made with the natural ingredients of the sea, leather strips and woven cords stretch around her chest and back with rings of shells to fasten over it, keeping her breasts pushed together. The wispy lengths of her skirt flows with sheeted seaweed, circling around her slim waist as a ghostly curtain. You follow not long after with an eager dive, your nude skin is soothed by the cool waters. Your legs morph together into the singular, powerful tendril of your trail, the webbed fins attached to your lower back flutter like the wings of a dove finding freedom on the winds. 

  Your bodies take refuge below the surface, skin no longer assaulted by the lacerations of the sun’s light and blazing scorch. How sailors could idle by whilst under the cruelty of it, you will never understand. Your back arches into a spiralling twist, a high pitched chirp bouncing from your throat and coursing through your gills. 

  You bask in the excitement with Mina who twists and bends, circling you with a teasing swish of her tail, she gargles a sweet note that bubbles around her lips, her forehead presses to yours affectionately. 

  She intends to regard you with the native speech of your kind but stops, brows falling into a firm, saddened line over her eyes. In shame, your head bows. 

  Those of your crew may have stripped you of your right to recollect the siren dialect, but if she can count on anything, it is the motion of her hands and arms. The common communication of one’s body. 

  In a sequence of expertise, her arms rotate and her fingers stretch and curl. 

  What do you remember?

  Your eyes analyse her movement, careful to decipher her code. Not as fluent, given the occasional puzzled twist of her head, followed by a nod of understanding and correcting signal, she encourages through your hesitation, wanting for your answer. 

  I… remember a necklace. Bound to my Captain’s wrist.

  And what did this necklace look like?

  Again, it takes you a moment to find the rhythm of your response, her eyes narrow in their deep seated concentration, almond curved eyes that widen upon realisation.

  You tell her of the golden chain, sleek and elegantly thin yet strengthened, the many, tiny crystallised pearls that line the gilded netting over one larger pearl, with a finer shaped one looped beneath it that dangles.

  Given her momentary pause, you nervously motion. 

  What is it? 

  She raises her hand over her head, webbed fingers fused together, she rotates her wrist in circles.

  Royalty. Pearls represent royalty. 

  The sudden confusion presently blinking in your eyes gives Mina reason to continue. She moves quickly, it’s hard to exactly understand, you motion for her to pace herself, that you’re struggling. With an apologetic chirp, she starts over. 

  You must get it back. That necklace is more significant to you than you realise. Undoubtedly, a gift from your late mother—

I don’t understand! What… of my mother?

  Mina truly sees the sickening infection of your hazy memory, all too aware that it’s the doing of that scarlet witch, tainted by the dark magics that spawn from the mangroves, the teachers there no strangers to utilising sirens as part of their rituals. And all by the order of your captain. A crew lacing you with deceit. 

  Her waterline is touched by tears that form into uplifting bubbles. She organises her words slowly. Each one brings a sharp pang to your chest and your stomach to drop further and further down into the abyss below. 

  Your mother - the Queen - is dead. 

  Your heart is scored by the penetrating daggers of Poseidon's trident, the creeping of unnatural coldness sweeps the back of your neck and down over your shoulders, you huddle into yourself. You shake your head and it ensues into a maddening display of denial, your body trembles, the water grows increasingly troubled, once a calm settlement over the surface now laps at the surrounding edges of the enclosure. 

  This cannot be right, this cannot be the truth. No, you don’t wish to believe it. A weight is crushing around your chest, you want to resurface. For the first time, you crave to be out of the water. All you seek now is the scent of your captain washing over you, drowning you passionately in his possessive devotion, to be treasured by him and him alone, bathed in his dominating presence. His shadow. 

  At this point, you’d happily let him fuck the knowledge out of you. 

  In your abrupt desperation you take to moving swiftly, your head breaches through the barrier with a sputtering fit of coughs and gulps, but Mina follows you. Her webbed hand catches your wrist, her voice plucks through the ripples like the baritone string of a guitar. She calls for you to wait. Gently, she coaxes you to delve below once more, her eyes imploring you to remain, to not go running off to the very same man who wants for you and holds you captive. 

  The milky glaze of your eyes brim with tears, tiny bubbles run to the corners before they float upwards. 

  She rests her head to yours, silky thumbs caring over the form of your cheeks, running smoothly under the bend of your tearful eyes. When she believes you have calmed, she asks another question. 

  What else about this necklace can you tell me?

  I hear… voices. A-a melody. I don’t– don’t understand the words. It plays faintly.

  If the crew who harbours you stays for the festivities tonight, get the necklace and bring it to me. I may be able to appraise it.

  A lump catches in your throat, eyes bearing your terror, the harrowing thought of being caught again. You aren’t sure if the potential of another scarlet mist is worth the risk. 

  Steal it? I-I can’t! He’d know if I stole—

  You cannot steal what’s already yours, young one. Besides, you know just the way to get it from him. I saw the softened regard in his gaze for you. 

  What she suggests is laughable, and your disagreement shows, your head shaking and throat bobbing in motion akin to a scoff. But still, her insinuation brings warmth to bloom in your cheeks. Her brows furrow at this display, tail idly swaying, the length of her hair creating a dark, winding halo behind her. She dissects the gestures of your words. 

  His gaze never softens to me…

  In spite of this, she rolls her eyes, but they are hopeful in their stare towards you. You were done with the search… before. Now, you want answers. 

  “Siren!” A familiar voice booms, tone muffled by the watery barrier. Answering his summons, you return to the world above, sighing a deep breath of air, the few faces you recognise are mere blurs, unfocused in your vision. Your eyes meet the wintery cold of his eyes, not softened, and clouded in their ever present desire to have you under him - pinned skin to skin to him - and his beautiful lips shaped into a smirk. His stance high above you dominates you in his darker shadow that casts over the water. 

  “Hope you’re in a festive mood, my little Siren.”

#bucky barnes x reader #female reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky smut #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky x reader smut #pirate au #siren reader #pirate bucky #bucky barnes x reader smut

[love-fictional-ppl]

I have a request for One Piece Men (Monster Trio + Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid) having a S/O who is a tiny little lady who has a high metabolism and thusly has an appetite that could rival Luffy’s.

I imagine them sitting in a restaurant eating dinner, and their S/O is eating a steak half the size of the table and comes with a side of prawns and a baked potato, and some uppity “Almond Mom” sitting at the table next to them says out loud that “Women shouldn’t eat such large portions, because it’s unladylike and makes men feel uncomfortable.” And Reader replies to this with “Oh, I’m very sorry if I made YOU uncomfortable ma’am. You see, I have a high metabolism, and I need the energy for later cause I plan on banging my boyfriend here like a screen door in a hurricane later.”

YESSS I personally can relate to this other than being a tiny little lady😭🤞 I decided to make this 2 parts so in the second part will be sabo law and kid. I hope you like this and ty for the request🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Petite!Fem!Reader w/ a high metabolism

Summary: look at the request silly goose🤭

Pairings: Monkey D. Luffy x fem!reader, Roronoa Zoro x fem!reader, Vinsmoke Sanji x fem!reader, Portgas D. Ace x fem!reader,

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, drinking, kinda crack

Monkey D. Luffy:

Honestly seeing you scarf down almost everything Sanji cooked turned him on is what peeked his interest

Food will be one of your few common interests, but food has definitely started arguments

One time you took a potato off his plate without asking… he yelled, borderline barking, at you

Next week the roles were reversed…

If he knows you haven’t eaten in awhile he’ll run to you wherever you are on the ship, handing you a piece of meat

But now to the good stuff😎

After stopping on an island and wandering in the local town for a hour or so you and Luffy decide to stop somewhere to eat.

Upon arrival, you and Luffy sit at a table together and order almost everything in the restaurant’s supply. The face on many of the customers and even workers were shocked to see how much you two ordered. Neither you nor Luffy had a care in the world while you devoured your food.

While taking a moment to wipe your mouth, you hear a woman say, “Girls like her are the reason we use our manners. it’s unlady like and makes men uncomfortable-“

“My boyfriend doesn’t seem uncomfortable. Matter of fact, the only one here who looks uncomfortable is you. See, right now I’m storing as much energy as possible because me and my boyfriend are going to be fucking like rabbits. Teach your daughter to be cunt if you want but don’t bring me into it.”

After hearing you respond the woman sat there shocked for a good minute then, she snatched up her daughter’s arm and dragged her out the restaurant, fuming.

Luffy simply chuckled, “That was hot. Can we go back now?”

Roronoa Zoro:

At first he thought you were just a female Luffy

Honestly he probably only got to know you because he saw you kick a grown man off his feet (Zoro thought it was hot)

After getting to know you and understand why you eat so much, he would start giving you food

Once you two become a couple tho he especiallyyyyy makes sure you eat

Now for the story

After a long day of Zoro getting you both lost, he decided that he needed a drink. Upon that revelation you found a nearby cavern.

Zoro ordered himself a couple rounds of drink while ordering you almost everything on the menu. Zoro every now and then snatched a couple fries but mostly left the food to you.

While you’re both enjoying your company, you hear a shrill voice say, “women like her are the reason we use our table manners, girls aren’t supposed to eat like that, it makes men uncomfortable-“

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Zoro quickly responds.

“The only uncomfortable one is you, miss. Now if you don’t mind me I need as much energy for tonight as I can get, because my very much so not uncomfortable boyfriend is going to rock my world.”

The woman simply kept her mouth shut and went back to eating.

Zoro laughs heartily, “that lady has never seen Luffy eat, that’s actually disturbing compared to you eating. Let’s pay and go home though, so I can ‘rock your world’”

Vinsmoke Sanji:

When he first met you he used his cooking skills to try to win your heart

It worked

He honestly loves to cook for you tho

Brings you with him to shop for food so that you can pick what you want him to cook

Which tbh is how yall would get into the situation

“Woahhhh!” You say mesmerized by all the different products. “Look, Sanji, that would be super yummy.”

Sanji who will do whatever you ask, picks up the item you were looking at. Arms full of food, you’re talking about everything you want Sanji to cook for dinner.

All of a sudden you hear a woman say, “hear what she’s saying? No girl is supposed to eat that much food. It’s unhealthy and men find it disturbing.” The little girl she’s talking to simply nods.

Aggravated by the woman’s words, you respond, “It actually is healthy thank you. Girls can eat however much they want. Men don’t find eating disturbing and I can tell you that, because my boyfriend right here plans to cook this food for me and our crew.”

“Damn straight,” Sanji back you up proudly.

Having nothing more to say, you both walk away from the woman and head toward the docks for the ship.

Portgas D. Ace:

The first thing he said to you was “got quite the appetite, huh?” With a smirk on his face ofc

Like 30 seconds later he accidentally fell asleep

Overall just likes to tease you about your appetite (in a nice way tho🫶)

Has compared the way you eat to Luffy

One time asked if you can unhinge your jaw to eat

Similar to Zoro tho he probably was just going to get a drink with you when some cunt said something

Honestly in your opinion you ordered less food than usual, more than most people would order, but less than you would get.

You and Ace are talking about your latest adventure over some food and drinks, when you hear, “You see how much she’s eating? It’s unnatural and makes men feel uncomfortable.”

“Who’s uncomfortable you?” Ace asks. The woman looks up just to see Ace fell asleep right after speaking.

You decided it was your turn to say something, “it’s not unnatural, I have a high metabolism and I need my energy at that because tonight I plan on taking him for a ride.”

You turn back to your food and continue eating, after a minute or so, Ace woke up. He had asked what happened and you filled him in on what you said.

He laughed, “that’s my girl.”

Part 2

#one piece #opla #monkey d. luffy #black leg sanji #monkey d luffy x reader #straw hat pirates #straw hat luffy #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader

[antimony-medusa]

*I emerge from scrolling tags to avoid writing an essay about learning styles, staring madly and with my hair torn out of my head*

okay so btw, Phil is the top requested QSMP character for the exchanges I run, usually followed by Chayanne (and then spiderbit/parrot duo, usually only like one or two votes behind).

Pissa is the 7th most popular QSMP ship, with 299 fics of this writing, and Phil & Chayanne is the 10th most popular ship, with 265 fics. Phil is the single most popular QSMP character on Ao3, tagged in 2,354 fics.

Speaking as someone who regularly goes into both the Phil and the Etoiles tags to queue art, Phil has tons of awesome art. People liveblog his lore streams. I personally saw the Cellbit discord doing a primer on his hardcore lore the other day because someone had the theory that it was going to be applicable to general QSMP lore. If I see a cool moment on stream, I can open up the tag six hours later and there's art of it.

Do you know how many fandoms would absolutely kill for that?

Phil is not sidelined by the fandom. He is doing FINE. That is the opposite of the problem we are having, we are having the problem where Phil is popular enough that people show up to other people's lore like "let me make this about my guy" and I scream and claw my face and apologize for them. We are having the problem where while MOST people in the tag are well behaved, just by laws of percentages, even a very small portion of the fandom acting badly makes fans of other characters clutch their blorbos to their chest and mutter darkly about "phil fans".

It might seem a little less if you're used to DSMP at its peak, but I assure you, DSMP at its peak was a megafandom. We are a healthy midsized-to-large fandoms and Phil is one of the big characters. I promise you.

Let me put this in DSMP terms. Phil crows? We are the inniters of QSMP. We are doing FINE. I assure you. Trust me.

Do I agree with the characterization everyone is bringing to the table for my blorbo? No. Popular characters get misrepresented. Is every fic in the tag a masterpiece? No. Baby writers get to have fun too. Do I sometimes go "aw I'd love to see more art of phil and [x] because I love their dynamic"? Yes. The nature of being human is to want more of your blorbo and for your takes about your blorbo to reign supreme.

But if you were kind of going "I want to see more of my blorbo :(" and thinking that represented that the fandom was not paying attention to the blorbo, I assure you, I've run the numbers, Phil is not being sidelined.

#philza #Look I am a Phil Crow in the extreme and he is my fave cubito #I rotate him like 18 hours a day #But I saw a post today and fully record scratched at that #I lived through DSMP #I saw what happened to phil's character #I still read DSMP #It's still happening #We have ENTIRELY DIFFERENT problems in qsmp #You can't import your reactions 1-to-1 from the previous fandom and have them make sense #Guys come ON #You're making us look like whiney babies

[delirious-donna]

Soft [Kakashi Hatake]

an: based on some thoughts I had after seeing this beautiful art of Mr Hatake looking a little more soft in physique.

pairing: Kakashi Hatake x female reader

warnings: self ship coded, established relationship with mentions of marriage and a child, rokudaime Kakashi au, fluff, flirting, suggestive at best, body positivity, reader is assumed to be curvy

Kakashi is a strong man. He always has been and probably always will, if he has any say in the matter. However, gone are the days when the defined ridges of his abdominals could cut glass.

The dips of his Adonis belt are less pronounced, and his biceps are still large but not carved from marble as they were even five years ago. A lot had changed but that’s life, and in the end, contentment brought him here.

Gone were the days when he could work out for hours in the early morning, greeting the new day covered in sweat on his way to a much-needed shower before the working day began. Now he had responsibilities to tend to and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

A wife to rouse from slumber, a hard task at the best of times, and a son to watch like a hawk as he propels through the house like a mini tornado with an eye for destruction. There were breakfasts to be made, lunches to be prepped, hair to be wrestled into some semblance of neatness and kisses to be shared. Wet kisses pressed messily to his cheek from his son as he heads out for work. Lingering kisses with his beloved that make him stay a few seconds longer just to taste you thoroughly.

Your love never wavered for the silver-haired shinobi, and even now as darker grey peppers throughout the messy strands, you still found them as enticing to run your fingers through as you always had. Age was especially kind to Kakashi, the lines around his eyes were from laughter and not stress and the weight of his responsibilities no longer dragged down his shoulders and slumped his spine.

It was amazing how easy it was to deal with the daily grind that accompanied his role when he knew he would return to the love and warmth that was his home. Everything was easier when love was in the mix, who knew?

So yes, he wasn’t as trim anymore. There was a slight pudge to his stomach and you could grab a good portion of his sides in the midst of being railed into the mattress, but fuck, was it sexy.

The silver hairs that formed his happy trail now extended higher towards his belly button and his butt hugged his sweatpants a little tighter and fuller than before. You had never shied away from the attraction you felt for him, but now it made Kakashi chuckle when you eyed him like some tasty treat to be devoured whole.

“See something you like, sweetheart?”

“Damn right, I do. When did you start getting even more handsome? Should be criminal this late in life.”

He huffed a laugh, eyes narrowing at your teasing words and the insinuation that he was getting on in years. He was still in the prime of his life, far from past it and he’d remind you of that.

“Well…” he murmured against the shell of your ear. “You know how fond I am of your softness.” Kakashi trailed his calloused fingertips over the gentle swell of your stomach, stopping to massage your hips and waist. “Thought you’d like to snuggle with someone a little less unyielding.”

How quickly your hands wandered across the expanse of his strong abdomen, a fingertip tracing the muscles. A familiar melody forced his eyelids to droop low, the hum in your throat as enchanting as the very first time he heard it.

You took your time in exploring a body you were intimately familiar with, pawing at him like the needy feline you always were until two strong arms banded around your waist.

“I might be a little more soft, but I’m still the man you fell for and I can still carry you to the bedroom with ease.”

Your chin dipped in agreement, gaze lifting to meet the desire swirling in his charcoal eyes. “Your heart has always been soft, Kakashi, whether you knew it or not. Your body simply matches it now and I’ll love you no matter what shape you take.”

#delirious writes #kakashi x reader #kakashi fluff #kakashi hatake

[starqueensthings]

Episode 12 open discussion under the cut 👇🏼 BEWARE SPOILERS.

The loss of Crosshair’s helmet is so significant. The fact that he didn’t even bother to look for it, even more so.

The animators have always used helmets to represent a dichotomy. Pre Order-66, it was a symbol of a soldier’s individualism, as most troopers opted to paint their helmet to their liking; something to make them easily distinguishable from their brothers. Post Order-66, helmet-wear was used to signify the loss of a soldier’s autonomy. Yes, obviously for cranial protection as well (keep the melon safe during battle, you know), but once Order 66 was issued, aside from Batch members, seeing a clone trooper without their helmet on was a very rare sight.

In Season 1 Episode 1, Crosshair opted to keep his helmet on during the flight back to Kamino after Order-66 on Kaller, and through the halls of Tipoca city until they reached their barracks. I think the writers and animators were trying to symbolize that he had lost a large portion of his control.

Through the rest of the first season, Crosshair was largely hidden behind his new imperial helmet; one that was completely lacking resemblance or connection to his past as a member of CF-99. I think his Imp helmet was something that, at least in the beginning, he wore proudly; it was a symbol of his new role, his new rank, his future, his new ideology.

But in The Solitary Clone (S2 E3), after a poignant discussion with Cody, we see Crosshair look at his helmet with implied contempt, regret, and even possibly, repulsion. This was new.

In the first minutes of Season 2 Episode 12, we see him reprimanded by an imperial superior officer for not wearing it, which I found interesting. Keep in mind, Crosshair was also helmet-less when he met with Cody before their mission to Desix. Same scenario: waiting by the ship for a debrief from his commander before leaving for the mission. But this time, the writers opted to emphasize that his face was exposed.

Now, his helmet is completely gone. In a mission gone sour, it was eaten by an avalanche. And I found it very interesting that Crosshair’s first thought after emerging from the snow, was to find and save Mayday, a reg commander who he’d met only hours previously, and who took all of Crosshair’s imperial ideology and challenged it. He carefully puts Mayday’s helmet back on him, but doesn’t even spare a thought for his own.

In the final minutes of E12, we see Crosshair, and his face in all its glory, shoot his Lieutenant. An angry murder noodle move, yes... but also a desperate, frustrated one.

The presence of Imperial Crosshair feels diminished. The reemergence of Bad Batch Crosshair feels imminent.

*pls note that I used the term “reg” to reference Crosshair’s previous intolerance for regular clones, and was not meant in any derogatory sense*

#these are just my initial thoughts and opinions #there are flaws in this logic for sure #I’m interested to hear what you guys think! #the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #tbb season 2 #bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #bad batch season 2 #bad batch spoilers #tbb crosshair #Crosshair tbb #bad batch Crosshair

[avocadorablepirate]

What Do We Call This? - 02

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Pairing: Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Summary: On a quest to find what you've been looking for, you acquire the help of the Straw Hat pirates, who've agreed to let you temporarily join them. There are however many challenges that come along with your temporary recruitment - an alliance with a certain Trafalgar Law being one of them.

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: fluff, angst, kinda slow burn, mild swearing, the occasional OP spoiler

A/N: Okay, not gonna lie, this chapter turned out better than I expected it to be, so I hope you like it too. Also, I still don't know what to call this =⁠_⁠=.

In addition, I would just like to state that while the reader does have her own story, a large portion of the chapters won't really dive into it; maybe a flashback here and there and brief mentions of it. It will obviously be brought up towards the end, but this series will kinda focus more on how she builds her relationship with Law.

—⁠☆✿☆—⁠

Things hadn't changed much since the captain of the Heart Pirates and the two samurai had come on board - the chaos still the same. You would even say things had become far more chaotic. The Heart Pirate however, seemed to have grown frustrated with the group in less than a days time, confining himself to the library whenever he could. You would only see him for breakfast, lunch and dinner and even then he would leave as soon as he was done.

The rest of the crew seem to see him more often; they always know what he's doing. Then again, he doesn't really need to interact with me since his alliance is with the Straw Hats, not me, you try to reason with your own thoughts as you help Sanji in the kitchen. Since you had boarded the Sunny you spent most of your time in the kitchen with Sanji, helping him with the daily meal prep. Although, he would insist that your presence was all the help he needed, and while others may have found his constant declarations of love tiresome, you found it quite entertaining. Alternatively, you would spend your time with Nami and Robin, learning cartography and studying about past civilizations. It was under the pretext of expanding your knowledge, but you had a slight personal interest in the subjects as well, which Nami and Robin had caught on to.

"(Y/N)," the voice of the ship's doctor snaps you out of your thoughts, and you turn from the kitchen counter, to see him sticking his head out from behind the door. You smile fondly at Chopper; the little reindeer had melted your heart the minute you had laid eyes on him, and just like Robin you couldn't help but soften any time he spoke to you.

"Do you want me to change your bandages now?" Chopper asks, as he looks from you to your arm.

"Oh right! I'll come right away," you say, remembering that earlier on in the day you had asked Chopper whether he could help you change your bandages. You place the knife that you were using on the counter and follow Chopper to the infirmary, Sanji crying out for you to stay as you leave the kitchen.

"How does it feel?" Chopper asks as you seat yourself on the bed while he rummages around looking for some gauze wrap.

"A lot better! The medication definitely helped."

Chopper seats himself infront of you, and he helps you remove the bandage that you had already started to take off. He then asks you to outstretch your arm so that he can examine it.

"Thanks for doing this Chopper. If it had been my left arm instead I wouldn't have had to ask you for your help," you try to distract him from inspecting your arm for too long, and pick up the gauze, attempting to wrap it around your arm yourself.

"I'm glad I can help," Chopper says as he takes the roll from you to wrap it for you instead. Just then the door to the infirmary bursts open, and you're startled not by the noise but by the person standing on the other side. Law leans against the door frame as he assess the situation, and his eyes once again linger on your right arm.

What is he doing here?

"What happened to her arm?" Law asks Chopper, his eyes now focusing on the reindeer who's as surprised as you are.

"Oh, (Y/N) tripped while everyone was running from that gas and sprained her arm," Chopper says, returning to his task of wrapping the gauze around your arm.

Truth be told, you hadn't been completely honest when you had told the Straw Hats about your devil fruit powers. You had told them that your powers allowed you to manipulate others' muscles and internal organs, granting you the ability to both damage and heal others, and that was the truth. However, what you had chosen to leave out was the repercussions you suffered on using your power - be it healing or inflicting injury onto someone, you would suffer damages to the same organ or muscle to a more severe extent. Why had you not told the Straw Hats about this? You felt indebted to them. They had allowed you onto their ship despite the fact that on your first encounter you had been tasked with the job of killing them, but they had chosen to forgive and forget and you would always be grateful to them for it. So, you didn't want then to feel guilty any time they asked you to help them with their injuries.

"Tripped?" Law says, but it sounds more like a question, and you offer him a brief smile as he eyes you skeptically.

"Yes, I tripped," you firmly state, in hopes of putting an end to this discussion.

"Oh Law, (Y/N) is also a devil fruit user," Chopper says, going on to explain how your powers work, or at least how he was told they work. Through the whole explanation you can feel Law's eyes on you, and you feel uncomfortable under his gaze, it's almost like he's looking right into you and figuring out every small detail about you.

"But her powers don't allow her to heal herself, which isn't great considering how clumsy she is," Chopper teases, and you let out a small chuckle. So far, you had made all the damage you had taken look like accidents, covering them up with fibs about tripping over your own feet or rolling off your bed.

Law doesn't say anything in response to Chopper's monologue, instead approaching you with a sense of purpose. Before you can even protest he has his blue orb surrounding you, holding his sword in front of you.

"Scan."

"Oye Law what are you doing!?" Chopper yells, as he jumps out of his seat to come between you and Law. After what had happened with the kids in Punk Hazard, Chopper had become slightly wary of Law's powers. He knew he wouldn't hurt you, but his ability still perturbed the reindeer.

The blue orb faded and Law looked from you to Chopper, "tripping, shouldn't have caused such severe damage to her muscle," he says to Chopper while taking your arm in his hands to examine it himself.

You pull away from him almost immediately, the slight jerk causing you to grimace at the pain. "It was a hard fall," you say, as you hastily get up and walk to the door.

"I need to get back to the kitchen and help Sanji. Thanks for the help Chopper." You offer him a smile and quickly walk out of the infirmary before either of the two can say anything, leaving behind one doctor puzzled and the other intrigued.

Shit, I'll have to be more cautious now that he's around.

_______________________________________________

In an attempt to be more cautious you had decided avoiding Law would be the best option, which you thought would be easy considering he spent most of his time in the library. But now he seemed to be everywhere you were. If you were in the kitchen helping Sanji, he would be there. If you were cleaning the deck, he would be there. And all he did was scrutinize you, no words were exchanged, just him staring which made it all the more frustrating. The only time you were free from him was when you were on the night watch - away in the crow's nest with one of the Straw Hats to keep you company - just like tonight, except your lookout partner hadn't shown up yet. It had been an hour and no one had come, and the lack of constant conversing was making you drowsy.

It's the light tapping against the floorboard of the deck below you that perks you up, and you peep your head through the window to call out your night watch partner for being late.

"Luffy it's been an hour! What took you so lon-," you cut yourself off when from the corner of your eye you see a faint blue light appear in the room, and you turn around immediately, pulling out the knife that you had secured around your waist at all times.

You relax when you realise that it's just Law. But, then you realise it's Law.

"Sorry, I was reading something and didn't notice the time," Law's words don't sound like much of an apology with how he says it in a monotonous tone, but it doesn't phase you. You're more bothered by the fact that he's here instead of Luffy, and he senses it.

"Straw Hat-ya argued that I need to help the crew. So, he made me take his shift."

You roll your eyes as you take your previous place on the floor. You had been on the Sunny long enough to know that Luffy's incessant nagging could make people give in to any of his requests, but you hadn't expected Law to fall victim to it too.

You take the book from beside you, Forgotten Islands, and pick up from where you had left off. However, you find it hard to concentrate with the way Law's staring.

"Maybe you should keep watch from the deck."

"How do your powers work?" he asks, completely ignoring your suggestion.

"What?" you ask, surprised by the sudden question.

"Your devil fruit, how does it make?"

"Chopper told you - I can manipulate the muscles and organs of others," you say, giving him the short answer, and hoping that he would take a hint and realise that you didn't want to dive into the semantics.

"How?"

Clearly he didn't.

"When it comes to healing I need to place my hand over the area where the organ or muscle is, focus on it and channel my energy towards it to get the desired result. When attacking it's easier, I need to concentrate on my opponent, visualise the muscle or organ, and use hand gestures and verbal commands to cause damage," you say, as you set your book down, waiting for the inflow of questions that you were sure were to follow.

"So with those children on Punk Hazard, you couldn't heal them?" Law now sits across from you, arms folded over his chest and head bent down, his katana placed against the wall beside him.

"My power doesn't allow me to physically remove damaged parts or remove infections from those parts, I can only repair them. So, curing something like a disease that affects a person's genetic predisposition is impossible."

"And there are no side effects?"

"No, I just feel drowsy," you're quick to respond, and Law looks at you with a hint of suspicion. You can see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to think of what to ask next, but you've decided you don't want to give out any more information.

"Enough about me. Why are you so keen on taking down Doflamingo? He's not a Yonko, and I don't see how this whole S.M.I.L.E thing affects you." There's a genuine curiosity behind your question, although in the back of your mind you have a vague idea of what his answer might be.

"Fixing past mistakes," Law says, his lips contorting into a small sinister smile.

"What mistakes?"

"Someone died because they were protecting me from Doflamingo."

"That's not your fault. He chose to protect you," you say with such conviction, Law's surprised by how you sound so sure of yourself. In all honesty, he doesn't even know why he's telling you all of this, he's not one to readily open up about his past.

"And now I'm repaying the favour."

"Doflamingo isn't just some pirate. You could get yourself killed in the process."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take." He says it so nonchalantly, it annoys you how little he seems to care for his own wellbeing.

"If I had put my life on the line for someone, I wouldn't want that someone to die at the hands of the same person I was trying to protect them from." You're trying to reason with him, but you can't stop yourself from glowering.

"I guess you and I have different morals then," he says as he looks up at you with a scowl of his own. Frankly, he doesn't know why you seem to care so much for someone you just met, and it irks him that you do.

"I guess so."

You let out a scoff as you get up from your seat on the floor and walk to the ladder that is used to enter and exit the observation deck. Another second in this room would only swell your frustration towards the pirate.

"I'll keep watch from the deck. Call me if you need anything," and you climb down the ladder without waiting for Law to say anything.

Your earlier decision to stay clear of Law would have to be scrapped. If he was ready to get himself killed in Dressrosa, you would have to make sure he didn't.

_______________________________________________

A/N: I don't know whether to make a taglist or not, so if you do want to be tagged just let me know.

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #law fanfic #trafalgar law x y/n #law x you #trafalgar law fanfiction #this was not so terrible <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)>

[moodymisty]

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝕺𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝕸𝖊

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Part 1 of 5 - Part 2

Author's Note: It's here! The first chapter of the Yandere Salamander/Fem!Reader/Yandere Night Lord love triangle(corner) fic! It's going to be 4 chapters (5 actually you'll see tehe) and I drafted a good portion of it in advance so it should be smooth posting? We'll see. Enjoy!

Summary: A Night Lord becomes interested in you while you stand under the eyes of your Salamander guardian, and you find yourself stuck between two titans.

Relationship: Yandere!Salamander/Fem!Reader/Yandere!Night Lord

Warnings: Hints of nsfw at points, Yandere, Size differences, Very toxic suffocating relationship(s), Some knight/princess dynamics, Demeaning language, Both these guys have hero complexes, Violence blood and bruises and possibly death to say without spoilers

Word Count: 2068

Word travels fast aboard even the largest of ships, you had learned quite quickly.

Space marine legions are not fond of working with one another, was what you had learned first. Many times even different squads within this same Legion can butt heads, as different styles of commanding and battle conflict with one other. Salamanders often try and remain cordial when problems within them arise, but friction was and is inevitable.

The second, was Vulkan was apparently quite firm with his legion that they were to welcome their temporary allies with respect. At least that is what you’ve heard from any Salamander that you’ve heard mumbling as you pass by, or any that have given you a moment of their time. That’s all you know, and these tidbits of knowledge fail to put together a full picture that you can understand. Their lips have been quite tight other than the bare minimum they believe you need to know.

Or what you can get from them if you ask very nicely; Much like the Commissars and Lords you've dealt with over the years, it seems Salamanders aren't immune to a bit of flattery also. You just need to make sure he doesn't find out, as you know how displeased he gets whenever he finds out you went wandering around chattering with his brothers.

Speaking of...

You can ask him about it; You just need to wait for him.

He always visits you in the librarium, once his second round of training is concluded. He then goes for his five hours of rest, and the cycle restarts. Though even if it isn't that time, you know he still keeps a keen eye on you.

You don’t wish to bother him with an issue as seemingly meaningless as gossip, but none of your fellows have been able to piece together what's happening, as none of the Salamanders have loosened their lips about it in the slightest.

It's made you more than a bit unnerved; Knowing that something is wrong but no one will tell you what it is. The tenseness in your neck is worse, and sirens and calls once normal now make you jolt when they sound off.

The large piece of parchment in front of you remains nearly empty, apart from the crude outline. Commander Artellus's face is fresh in your mind, but you for some reason can't put it to parchment.

You hear the sound of harsh, heavy boots on the ground, and turn to see who you've been waiting for coming towards you. You shift in your seat and turn to see him coming.

“Ralkan; You’re back,”

You smile wide at him, a put down the pen you'd been fruitlessly trying to use. The way his eyes look down at you is warm, his helmet hanging on the side of his hip. He stands close to where you sit alone at the massive table, covered in a mess of materials. The ink in your well shakes with waves, when he steps closer.

“You should have been there this time. I feel like I'm missing something now without your curious looks.”

You smile even wider and laugh, remembering the time. He had outpreformed Salamanders his senior, and you wondered if he was overdue for an ascension in rank, or if he was simply showing off.

“I'll come next time. As long as your battle brothers don’t mind me seeing your training again.”

He places a massive gauntlet on your shoulderblades, thumb against the side of your neck.

"They won't, I am sure of it. Though I hope you'll reserve your cheering only for me again."

His hand brushes along the upper half of your back before it slides away, his chainsword hanging neatly on his back. He looks out the massive window to the vast reaches of space directly in front of your makeshift desk for a moment, before pulling his bolter off his thigh and checking it.

He’s always meticulous. He’s been trained into flawless discipline, and it shows in every aspect of his existence. From the way he keeps his thoughts closed to the way each piece of armor and each weapon must be meticulously maintained.

You can hear the mechanics of his armor shift as he moves, but you can only tolerate few more beats of the near silence before you can’t help it anymore. Your pen twirls in your hand as a soothing gesture before you speak up.

“Ralkan?”

You look up to him, sniffling from the disturbed dust in your nose. He turns to look at you as you abandon your parchment, and finally put pen down and place your ink stained hands in your lap.

You hesitate for a moment, pursing your lips and looking away from his hard gaze as he turns back to you.

“What is happening?”

He is genuinely confused by your question for a moment, before he realizes what it is you're asking about, and his face stiffens. But still he doesn't answer. It irks you; Thinking that he’s trying to keep this all from you. You add on to your earlier question.

“I know that you are going to be fighting alongside another legion, but why are all of you acting like it's something you're all dreading?”

Perhaps you might simply be a guest aboard this ship, gifted from Terra to a legion eager to put their deeds to written memory, but you wish to know more than the servitors do. You pull your hands from your lap and lightly slap the table with them, gripping the edge.

“Ralkan, Who are the Night Lords?”

It is so instantly apparent that you struck something in him, as his body visibly tenses and his face briefly flashes with anger as a legion's name other than his own leaves your tongue.

He makes eye contact with you, the burning red of his eyes making your curiosity waver. But you still want to know- need to know. He takes a step closer, and his left hand rests against the surface of the table. He lets out a tense breath.

“The Night Lords are the 8th legion. They," Ralkan tries to find the words, pausing for a moment. "The way they wage battle is in near direct opposition to us Salamanders."

He speaks the name with a stern, cold demeanor. It fills you with a hesitant sort of interest.

These legions; Have they really developed cultures so unique that they find themselves unrecognizable to each other?

“They have no respect. They will cull entire cities for the slightest infraction.” He looks to you, and he catches that your curiosity it still taking hold; You lack the fear that he's trying to instill in you.

He takes a step forward, and you can hear his armor hiss and grind as he lowers to a knee, now only a head taller than you as you sit. He puts his hand on your shoulder again, but it lacks the gentleness it had the last time, as he grabs tight and forces you to face him. You wouldn’t be able to pull away even if you wanted to; And while he is still trying to be gentle, his gauntlet still yearns to bruise your skin underneath your clothing. The seams of his armor dig into your flesh even through the fabric.

“They are going to be crawling over the ship soon. Do not let them even see you. You cannot run from them and they will know it.” His hand makes sure you can’t look even the tiniest bit away from him. “They will take advantage of your weakness. You must stay here, in your quarters, or close to me. I was charged with protecting you, and I will see it through.”

There’s not many places on this ship you go, at least without him. He is your guard, or perhaps more accurately your handler. He is in charge of making sure you don’t wander where you don’t belong, as even if the Salamanders have been welcoming to a remembrancer on their ship, they have their limits. For your safely and their privacy.

This ship- A world for giants, it isn't meant for someone like you either. Ralkan makes it a bit easier to navigate.

Though out of all the titles he's been given, he seems to enjoy calling himself your knight first and foremost. You assume it’s simply a part of their culture, you’ve heard other Salamanders call themselves knights as well. The tone is different, but you assume it’s simply Ralkan’s own brand of oddity. Perhaps he isn't fully cognizant of the intimate undertone behind saying such a thing to you.

Stuck in his grip, your nose wrinkles as you try to say something in defiance, to learn a bit more, but you know this it all you'll get from him. Even if you ask sweetly.

“I just wanted to know what was happening. I'll," You turn your face away from him and blow air from between your tight lips. "I'll stop the questions about it."

There isn’t much you can say otherwise in the matter anyhow. You want to trust him, and to listen to him, but perhaps it’s simply curiosity that makes you hesitate on the matter. Or naivety he probably assumes, as much as that irritates you.

He lets out an audible sigh of relief, and loosens the hand on your shoulder, it drifting up your neck before it cups your jaw. The other joins it on the opposite side, holding your face in his gauntlets. They're so gentle, even with cold ceramite between your skin and his.

“You know I do this to protect you, yes?” He continues, his eyes soft as they gaze over you. “I only want for you to be safe here. With me. I have seen these astartes before; I know what they are capable of.”

His eyes are warm, brow softened. You always enjoy when he looks at you this way, even if you might fear of what lays between you being far beyond the supposed title of knight and his charge. 

He leans forward, and his forehead touches your own. You feel like he wishes to do more, but is forcing it back. Your bare hand lays overtop of his gauntlet, and you smile at him.

But after a moment, he leans back away from you.

“I must leave now. My brothers and I are part of the battalion that is due to greet our temporary allies.” 

You so desperately don’t want him to leave, but at the same time, you wonder if the weight on your chest will finally dissipate if he does.

He rises, and in doing so also removes his hands from your jaw. His cape shifts behind him just barely brushing against the floor, and you swear you can hear the crackling of a vox channel in his helmet. His battalion must be calling for him.

“I will return soon. Please, do not forget what I have said.” You nod in understanding, and pick up your pen. He smiles at you after you do, and turns to leave. You turn to watch for a moment, until he's out of your sight. You turn back to face the table and let out a sigh, rubbing your jaw.

You didn’t want him to leave, but at times Ralkan can be so, suffocating. His very energy is that way, many of the astartes are, but Ralkan seems to have his grip around you particularly tight.

You sum it up to him being dedicated to the safely of their brand new remembrancer. The sheen of a new toy that hasn't worn off yet. Or perhaps him simply wishing to make sure you don't deviate from the path, and tread where you aren't welcome.

You assume the ladder, though the way he looks at you fills you with doubt.

You aren't opposed to him being fond, but he is so overwhelming. You might consider yourself lucky you think you feel the same way, as you don't know if you'd be able to get free of his grip if you didn't.

You don’t forget his words, but as you write word after word, and the drawing of Commander Artellus's face slowly forms, your mind begins to fall into the paper, and his voice becomes little more than a tickle in the back of your mind.

#warhammer 40k x reader #space marine x reader #salamander x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting #Yandere!Salamander/Fem!Reader/Yandere!NightLord

[stagefoureddiediaz]

honestly maybe it's just me but buck is literally repeating the same steps as with natalia and taylor as with tommy. they meet, he has a crush, go on a date, it's awful and the date leaves, they then come back, then try for real. Like it sounds like even though Buck is off the hamster wheel in regards to his sexuality he very much is still on the hamster wheel when it comes to repetitive mistakes when it comes to his relationships.

Hey Nonnie

I woudn't say that at all. Yes of course there are some similarities - there always will be - between Buck dating Tommy and the Buck who dated Taylor or Natalia. But the reality is they are worlds apart.

For starters Tommy didn't leave because the date was awful, he left to give Buck some space to do a bit more figuring out - he said so himself that his what he was doing. He chose to leave the ball in Bucks court, understanding this was a big new thing for him and that it wouldn't be right to continue anything until Buck was ready. Buck then contacted him when he was and they met up and decided mutually to give things ago.

This is very different to both Taylor and Natalia - both of whom left after something big had happened in Bucks life (Eddie being shot and Kameron popping up out of seemingly nowhere) and then they were the ones to come back - to chase after Buck.

Look we can have whole conversations about the chasing being chased aspect of things but the long and short of it is That both Taylor and (to a lesser extent) Natalia, Ali and Abby chased Buck in one way or another and when it suited them. Tommy has never chased Buck - he shot his shot, sure, made his interest known, but he hasn't once chased Buck. Buck has always mistaken things for him doing the chasing (he is an very unreliable narrator) becuse he gets invested fast and so pursues things. His mistake is moving to fast - falling to quickly for people.

This is the major fundamental difference with Tommy, who is older and wiser and settled with who he is and what he wants. He also has the understanding of being queer and coming out later in life - of discovering that part of yourself that has been hidden and the fact it might take Buck a minute to figure out things.

The other big thing for me is the level of honest Buck is being here - this isn't something we've seen before in this way. He has been completely up front with Tommy when it has been important for him to be so (I would argue he did do the same for Natalia but that he was more forced into it by circumstance). That coffee they had was a very very clear example of that, he sat down, appologised and laid his cards out on the table. He's told the two most important people in his life that he's bi and interested in Tommy and yes maybe going to a wedding is a bit fast, but he also knows most of the people there so he's not walking in to a big unknown in t hat respect and he has a lot of goodwill with the firefam at this moment after flying them to the curise ship so they could rescue Athena and Bobby.

In all honesty I'm far more circumspect about Natalias behaviour as well - far more than a large portion of fandom was towards her. Did I like her as a character or for Buck, No I didn't, but she also didn't do all that much wrong in my eyes, her wanting to take a minute when presented with all that Bucks life is, to think things through before jumping into something is perfectly acceptable and healthy behaviour. The reality is that she was more interested in Bucks death than she was in his life and thats probably what brought her back - that itching need to know more about his death and what it was like.

But she came into his life when he was in a rough place mentally and it was never going to go well for that reason alone. All of Bucks girlfriends have that in common - they met him on the job and then come inot his life when he is having some form of internal crisis. Abby when he had just lost his first person on the job - making him emotionally vulnerable. Ali when he's accepted his relationship with Abby wasn't going anywhere a new guy had just started at work (yes they were getting on by this point but it is still new and an unknown) and his sister had just come back into his life after having had no contact for several years - and he knows she's in a fragile place. Taylor messes hm around but when she comes back into his life and wants to date him - Eddie has just been shot and he's looking after Christopher - he's massively emotionally compromised. None of these are good times to start a romantic relationship.

That isn't the case with Tommy - Bucks actually in a pretty decent place - yes the whole discovering he's queer could be argued as making him emotionally compromised, but he's being given the grace to do things at his own pace - in a healthy way - Tommy is letting Buck dictate the pace they go at.

We also have to remember that we are in a tv show - every single character who isn't a main (or to a certain extent a recurring) is there to act as a storytelling vehicle for one of the mains - their character traits are always going to be those which help get a main character from A to B, to move the story along and to make sure our mains learn something about themselves and their fellow mains along the way.

Abby was about getting Buck from being a bit of a clueless player into a long term (ish) relationship - about growing him out of his jock ways and getting him (and us) to recognise that he isn't a player that he wants real love and a long term relationship. Ali was about him getting over his first big disappointment - about getting hm to move on and about getting him his own place to exist. Taylor was about learning what love didn't look like, about how to treat others and showing him what he wasn't looking for and teaching him not to compromise on his morals. Natalia was all about Buck reconciling himself with his death and rebirth and as soon as he had done that, she was gone.

Tommy is about Buck discovering his queer identity, having a safe space to explore that and about getting him ready for Eddie - its why Tommy is soooo similar to Eddie - Buck will come out of this relationship (whatever form it takes) understanding who he is, and recognising what he wants is what he already almost has - Eddie.

Tommy is also about helping manoeuvre Eddie into questioning himself - another reason why he is so similar to Eddie - Eddie needed to see a gay version of himself - and with Buck to actually start thinking about himself and who he is and what he wants.

So all this to say that Nonnie - Buck has very much got off that hamster wheel and he is very much not making the same mistakes over again. I'm very excited to see how it continues to play out and I'm overjoyed with how the show is handling telling this story.

#kym answers things #nonnie asks #It got long #brevity is not my strong suit 😬😂 #911 spoilers #evan buckley #911 meta #tommy kinard #taylor kelly #natalia dollenmeyer #ali maritn #911 abc

[adulting-sucks]

Switching gears for a moment:

Has anyone been paying attention to all of the tea coming from Britney??

-She had an abortion because JT wasn’t ready to be a father.

-She shaved her head in defiance of her father because he wouldn’t let her change her look ever.

-Because of her defiance, she was put into a conservator ship and medicated for mental illness while being forced to perform and still wasn’t allowed to have her look changed.

-Her song “Everytime” may have been for her aborted child rather than JT

-Her mom used to feed her alcoholic daiquiris and call them a different name and get her wasted in eighth grade.

This is fucking alarming.

-JT built a large portion of his solo career on her infidelity. To be one of the driving forces behind her spiral and make money off of it is disgusting.

-If she was medicated, she may not have been bipolar as many were told. She may have been medicated to keep her compliant and she had no say because she chose a public act of rebellion.

-If all she is saying is true, the held her captive for years, drugged and made her a dancing puppet to fund their lifestyle.

I’m so blown away by this and my heart goes out to this woman. She is so much stronger than any of us knew

#britney spears #god damn #this shit is wild #fuck Justin Timberlake #fuck her parents

[dailyadventureprompts]

Due to a unique confluence of dashboard alchemy this March 15th (A Merry Ides to those that celebrate 🗡️🗡️🗡️) I had an interesting thought regarding fallout new vegas:

If you strip away the rhetoric and the goofy football pads, you'll find that the fundamental motivating factor of Caesar's Legion is male insecurity, with everything from how they treat women to their primitivist view of technology drawing from the same fear of immasculization that fuels all "redpill" movements.

(This is to say nothing of the use of roman iconography and the "retvrn" dogwhistle about abandoning modern "decadence" and harkening back to the rigour of an imaginary past)

This casts Caesar as our Andrew Tate figure, a charismatic ideologue who pitches a worldview that promises to impose order on the frightening chaos of reality. His philosophy is a salespitch targeted directly at his listener's insecurities but meant only to benefit him: " you are afraid of being weak. I know what strength is, listen to me. by internalizing my words and spreading my message you will become strong." Of course the difference is that Caesar's empire is built on expansionist violence where Tate's is built on insecure teenagers feeding misogyny into the algorithm for the sake of engagement. Either way it creates a hierarchy that doubles as an information bubble, where position within the hierarchy is determined by who best can adhere to/rebroadcast the leader's message, identical to how an mlm ships product.

This quite fits with a watsonian reading of fallout: the wasteland is a hostile and terrifying place formed in the shadow of an objectively failed 50s (styled) traditionalist patriarchy. Though society may have collapsed, the people who survived inherited that society's rigid view of what a man should be like (strong and driven by the acquisition of material and status) a view largely incomparable with the new environment (starvation, radiation, and mutant dinosaurs will kill you no matter who you are or how much stuff you have). Since institutionalized masculinity had failed, people in the wasteland were forced to look for new paradigms of what masculinity (read: strength) looked like, a void into which Caesar's ultraregresive worldview fit perfectly.

From a doylist perspective however, I'm not sure the writers were really thinking about gender all that much during the rushed development of FNV. Like just about every other aspect of legion society that wasn't cut for time, everything about them seems to be evil for the sake of evil. However If there's one thing you can say about the underbaked concept it was a real hit with social regressives incapable of reading deeper. Unironic pro-legion discussion of Caesar's ideology has been an on ramp to turn insecure nerds into fascists the same way that ideologies like Caesar's have been turning insecure jocks for decades. It's poe's law in action: the developers gestured at fachism but failed to do enough with it to prevent a portion of their player base from becoming radicalized.

#dapper digresses #fallout new vegas #ides of march

[someobsessionrequired]

OP Characters Favorite ways to cuddle!

Ft. Kid, killer, Heat

KID!

Oh boy, I hope you are not the type to have to get up throughout the night, because there is no moving away from this man!

Most nights will end with you pulled onto his chest, head pressed against his shockingly soft bisep and arm wrapped snuggley around you

His hand rests against your upper thigh, this hold might come across as gentle in the moment but the second you attempt to wiggle out of this position it's almost as though his body reacts on it's own, pulling you in tightly against him

Best of luck to anyone who does need to get up in the middle of the night because this man sleeps like a boulder. If a ship was to appear in the distance this man would sense it within an instant snapping awake, but the second it's you thrashing in his arms saying his name and fighting against his hold ...no dice

On particularly rough nights the position changes up drastically

He will press your back against his chest wrapping himself in around you, large arm resting in front of your body holding you close

He really is a softy and only really cares about holding you close even on the hottest nights against both your better judgments

Speaking of, this man runs hot...and I mean hot! porthole window cracked open is an often must for both your sake

KILLER!

Oh this sweet man! He is such a cuddly dude once you get him to open up

First while of sharing a bed is awkward because this man refuses to take off the mask, and don't push him to otherwise the things never coming off

He loves to hold you close when you sleep often spooning you

He will have you laying against his chest, one arm under your head with you either laying on his upper bicep on just under his arm, his other arm resting around your form

The arm wrapped around you moves in soothing patterns on your body, he never is the first to sleep and will always make sure you are relaxed and taken care of before he submits to sleep

After some time he will remove the mask for bed, and aside from the pure distraction of how gorgeous this man is the next biggest issue will be the hair

As gorgeous as this man's hair is it doesn't take long to realize the mask was the only thing holding it in place, often just as you're starting to drift off killer will dip his head in closer to yours holding you tighter, intern large portions of his hair spilling over into your face

This man is a light sleeper, which in theory is great if you need to get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night... but this man is also clingy as hell when he's tired, often getting up with you and waiting outside the bathroom door just to sweep you back up into bed

HEAT!

Another absolutely cuddly boy! He is the type who is always down for a cuddle often leading to the two of you sneaking off just to have a nap in a hammock

When the two of you settle into bed at the end of the night it becomes an entanglement of Limbs quickly

There is absolutely no consistency in which the two of you sleep, often you find yourself playing rag doll as heat slots different limbs at strange angles holding you close

Absolutely the type to mutter on about nothing and everything as he gets tired, mindlessly running his hands though your hair and rubbing soothing patterns on your back

Due to his powers this dude runs hot as hell, but will whine about opening the porthole because he's 'Freezing' for some strange reason even though his body temperature feels warm he himself seems to run cold

Another difficult one to wake up, once he's out there is no amount of shuffling away from him that will wake him up

If anything he just pulls you in tighter, however a simple mutter of his name will wake him out of a dead slumber

Writters Note!

Hehe should I do more of these? If so who?

Requests are open for anything! I will write for most One Piece Characters!!

#one piece hcs #one piece #headcanons #kidpirates #killer #eustass kid #heat #fluff #headcanon request #cuddles #cuddle #reader #x reader #kid x reader #killer x reader #heat x reader

[a-doubleh-x]

Why I like Chaggie

Hey! My last casual ship review did pretty well, so here I am with another! Needless to say, but thank you all for the interactions, I appreciate it very much 🥰

Last time I talked about Charlastor, a notorious controversial ship and today I'll talk about a surprisingly controversial ship: Chaggie. Why do people dislike this ship? I'll go a bit into it on the second half of this post, but first I'll talk on the positive I see in this cute couple.

First of all, as a guy in his late twenties who's been on at least one relationship, I will say that I appreciate a relation that's mostly based on comfort and support. Some people might think that's boring or not quite the basis of romance, but I think quite the opposite. Johnathan Decker, a licensed couples therapist on youtube (you might know him from Cinema Therapy) often talks about how safety and mutual understanding are the basis of any lasting relationship.

At the start of the Amazon series, Charlie and Vaggie have been together for 3 years, which is evident in many of their day to day interactions. They're comfortable with each other, they rely on each other and best of all, they still coo every now and then over how adorable the other is.

That is not to say the relationship is without conflict, which in my opinion as a writer it's the lifeblood of any good story. Vaggie is clearly quite codependent of Charlie, which is why a large portion of her self worth is based on being useful to her. However, I think the two of them do a decent job of talking through the problems this brings sometimes, such as episode 3.

I think it's cool that the relationship seems to work despite their rocky moments. Charlie most likely thinks a person like Vaggie is a breath of fresh air in Hell, she's selfless, loyal and dedicated. That's probably the reason why she has so much patience with her, a feeling that I'm certain is mutual. Vaggie is clearly very aware of how silly and idealistic Charlie is, in fact she often tries to nudge her to be careful with her attitude. And even though she may not agree with everything, she still always supports her without appearing judgemental, which I think speaks volumes of her character.

Now, let's talk about the shortcomings in the face of the audience. Some people think there's not enough substance in canon to be sold on the couple, which I think is a valid opinion. Some people argue that Chaggie's relationship is boring and not quite as interesting to watch as Charlastor, which I don't entirely agree with. Some people plain dislike or hate Vaggie because they think she's just a naggy chick who is an awful partner to Charlie in every way, which I *definitely* don't agree with.

My opinion falls in a more moderate standpoint. I think, even in the series, their relationship isn't boring, but it could've been presented better. While I said earlier that I think conflict is good in a story, I think a problem in the series that's probably unintentional is that most of the story beats with Charlie and Vaggie are negative.

In episode 3, they have a fight over their lack of communication. In episode 6, Vaggie puts her own secret status as a fallen angel over Charlie, which harms her later. And in episode 7, Charlie spends most of the episode mad at Vaggie and they make up offscreen, which is something unilaterally most fans believe was a mistake.

To the showrunner's credit, there are some positive major story beats. There's Charlie's trust fall on Vaggie, which was cute. There's their beautiful duet in episode 8. And there's them fighting alongside each other in the final battle.

Unfortunately, the fact their arc is a bit wonky and doesn't have a proper buildup makes it so that the climax (the duet) may feel a bit unearned. I don't want to make this whole post about the series because I could spend all day talking about it, so I'll just say for now that i underdtand why some people aren't sold on the ship.

I will say. Some fans have some very beautiful, gorgeous pictures of this ship. There's this great comic made by squids-and-fruitcake that's been running around about Charlie giving Vaggie a gift for Christmas (here's a youtube link in case you want to watch a dub, I couldn't find the original)

I think it's a great example of why this relationship works: they love each other. They may not completely understand each other's circumstances, but they try every day and are still together because of their mutual effort.

Charlie herself, as Hell's number 1 laughingstock can really use the support and the fact that Vaggie supports her even though she doesn't have all the answers means a lot to her. She brings her stability, peace and affection, all things she lacked until she met her.

Vaggie, on the other hand, who was plunged against her will into a pit of violence and cynicism also needs Charlie's perspective. She loves the fact that she cares about something bigger than herself, that she wants to help damned people like her, which given her circumstances I think it's something she also needs in a fundamental level.

That haz bin my review for today! What do you think? Do you like Chaggie? Do you think it could've been written better? What's your favorite interaction between them? Let me hear your thoughts! It's been fun to put my thoughts down for casual reviews, I hadn't done it before, so expect more in the future while I'm still working on the next chapter of my fanfic.

I think I already have an idea about what my next Hazbin post is going to be about (hint: it has to do with Angel Dust). Thank you again for all the love, hope to see you all soon!

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #Youtube

[uglypastels]

hi hi! obsessed with your Sanji fic! i was wondering if you could do a sanji x f!reader where he takes good care of the reader during their time of the month? Like he made all the foods that are good for her and a treat to enjoy, while also giving massages and just whatever the reader needs? Thank you!

thank you so much for the request!! I tried not to refer to any period symptoms so technically this is more of a "gender neutral reader feeling sick" and can be read as any scenario. hope that's ok

no real warnings. i guess? just short fluff. not really proofread

If you didn't know better, you would think Sanji kept track of you, the way he knew exactly when to do and say what he needed to. You wouldn't even realise your own state yourself, only coming to terms with how badly you felt when he would be bringing you a hot cup of tea or cocoa or a large portion of the most comforting egg-fried rice. All without asking.

The truth was, he picked up on things. The smallest of details. The way your mood would change some days, or you would feel tired or sick. Maybe even without realising what the cause of it is at first. He just knew you didn't feel well and that he could be the one to help.

On days when you were particularly under the weather, and your legs wouldn't seem to work, he'd bring you your food to bed; all prepared on a little tray with a flower and all.

'Here you go,' he said, placing it over your lap with a proud smile.

'You really didn't need to do all this,' you sighed, looking at the feast he prepared, even though you only asked for a small snack.

'I know,' Sanji laughed, 'but I figured it wouldn't hurt to spoil you a little bit.' He put his hands in his pockets as you grabbed a fork to take your first bite, staying just long enough to see your reaction to the food to be able to leave, satisfied.

'Wait,' you stopped him, however. 'Could you stay maybe?' After feeling like shit the entire day, alone in your room, some company was well due.

'Uh, yeah, sure,' he hesitated before stepping closer to your bed. Rolling your eyes, you moved over in your bed, knowing that otherwise he would just act the gentleman and linger next to it.

But once in bed with you, he saw it as a free-for-all and immediately scooped you into his arms. His body wrapped itself around you, and instantly, you were comforted by the feeling of his touch, the warmth of his body, and the smell that caught onto his clothes from the kitchen.

'Were you baking something?' you asked.

'Maybe,' he'd grin, already knowing you were aware of exactly what he had been up to.

But sometimes, food just wasn't the answer to all of life's problems. Sometimes, you felt so bad that even the thought of eating something made you sick, and that definitely pulled Sanji out of his element. After all, he's the cook.

It won't mean he wouldn't try to make you feel as good as possible again. Perhaps by preparing a hot water bottle or reminding you to drink water and take some painkillers or any other medicine you'd need. He would distract the rest of the crew, who were oblivious to your current state, and give you a bit of breathing space if you felt overwhelmed by the chaos that was life on board the ship. He'd help you with your tasks on board and take the workload off your shoulders if you felt weak.

Then, in the evening, he'd sneak into your cabin just to check up on you, make sure you're comfortable, and ignore all your protests to fluff your pillows.

'C'mon, Sanj, you really don't need to do that,' you'd laugh.

'I know.' That's what he always said. Because he didn't care about what he should or shouldn't be doing.

All that mattered to him was you, and for you, he would do anything.

the end

thank you for reading!! please consider supporting content with comments and reblogs if you enjoyed it.

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#sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji #sanji fanfiction #sanji fanfic #sanji fic #sanji fluff #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #one piece fic #opla fanfiction

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Can you talk about your thoughts on hinny? I have no problem with people shipping it but to me personally it just doesn't work. It feels like Rowling tried too hard or maybe just wasn't good at writing romance and messed it up. Maybe it was too rushed? The ship doesn't work for me but I'd love to hear your views.

Okay, sorry it took a while to answer this, I actually have a lot of thoughts and I have posts on some of them that I hope to get out soon-ish. I also wanted to go back to the books to make sure I'm not talking out of my ass. But I don't like Hinny, never did. And my reasons are kinda divided into three categories.

Disclaimer: I don't have anything against anyone who ships hinny, it's just really not my thing and I don't see it working with the way I see their characters.

And that's like the core of it. I just don't see Harry and Ginny as compatible on a character level. That and their relationship never really read as believable to me in the books.

The 3 categories I mentioned are:

Harry's character

Firstly, I think Harry is gay. Not bi, but gay. I think he was never actually attracted to a woman and I have a whole post to prove it. So, because that's how I read his character, I just can't really see him with any girl.

(Now, I don't think JKR intended for Harry to come off as gay, but he did)

Secondly, he never thought about Ginny, like, up until book 6, and even during large portions of book 6, he just isn't thinking about Ginny as a potential romantic interest. And when he does think about Ginny in the final two books it never reads like he really likes her. It reads like they decided they are dating, but I don't think Harry knows why he supposedly likes her. He just decided he does, but doesn't know why. It was kind of the same with Cho, where he said he had a crush on her and was nervous around her, but if you asked Harry what he likes about her, his answer would be: "Ehh...."

Like, Harry doesn't really seem to know why he's dating Ginny, and neither do I. It's just how it's written.

2. Ginny's character

So, this is again my opinion, but I don't like Ginny. I just don't like her character. I wish her off the page whenever she talks.

And, when it comes to shipping, for me, I need to find both the characters involved interesting and fun for me to explore to ship them together and care about the pairing. As I don't like Ginny and don't really care for her, I can't really ship her with anyone, not really. It's not even like I hate her (not the way I hate Dumbledore), I just find a lot of her actions and behavior iffy and she annoys me more often than not.

I'm not going to list everything I don't like about Ginny (some of it appears in the rest of this post). But her treatment of Fluer, for example, really soured her character to me. Like, sure, Ginny's young, but, she's 15, and by that point, I think she should take responsibility for being awful to Fluer who was nothing but nice to all of them. Envy is not a good look for Ginny.

3. How they are portrayed together

Like I mentioned in the Harry section, their romance just never really felt there to me. The descriptions were off and left me feeling annoyed at their scenes together more than anything else.

Again, I'm writing a more comprehensive post about it, but the gist of it is that Harry's thoughts about Ginny in books 6 and 7 are weirdly detached for a supposed crush at best or outright uncomfortable for me to read at worst.

Now, we know Harry can describe characters he finds attractive in greater detail. There is none of that detail with Ginny. He only mentioned her hair color and that her hair is long and smells nice. Like, he doesn't talk about her eye color, her facial structure, eye shape (like he does sometimes with characters he does find attractive) — nothing. He doesn't even call her pretty once! At least he referred to Cho Chang as pretty twice in the series.

In the books there is never a scene (not even one) that convinces me they should be together. Like, they have no chemistry. They kinda remind me of Ron and Lavender tbh. They make out and are present in the same space often, but they never talk. Not really. I don't think Ginny actually knows Harry all that well because he never honestly talks to her about anything real. They don't really have chemistry or a relationship, they're just together. At least, that's how I always saw them.

And yes, Harry has his jealousy moments (that are portrayed so weirdly I always narrow my eyes at them to make sure they were actually there, but that's a whole other post about Harry's chest monster of jealousy), but he still doesn't really explain what he finds in Ginny. He doesn't mention she's attractive or pretty at any point, nor does he mention anything he particularly likes about her personality (except that she doesn't weep like Cho and is good at Quidditch. Neither of which are particularly good basis for a relationship).

Like, Ginny mentions why she likes Harry and that she does multiple times. Harry by contrast, just feels so incredibly uninvolved in his own relationship, to me.

Also, personally, I just find the setup of their relationship iffy. Like Ginny outright says she never gave up on Hary and always knew they'd end up together. It means, that since she was 11 (or earlier), she was crushing on Harry, never gave up on her crush, and considered them ending up together fate. She dated other guys to make Harry jealous and pay attention to her, and that's just really gross. I don't like her long obsessive crush on Harry or her treatment of the other guys she dated on her way to get Harry.

Proof of that, for those wondering:

“I never really gave up on you,” she [Ginny] said. “Not really. I always hoped. . . . Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more — myself.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 647)

She literally said she dated other guys so Harry would take notice of her. That just grosses me out.

So, no, I don't like Hinny (or Ginny).

#anti hinny #harry potter #harry potter thoughts #hp thoughts #hp #that being said I don't particularly like drarry either #or most harry parings really #like there are parings with him I don't mind in fic #but I'm not truly passionate about any of them #there is 1 harry pairing I actively like #but I got into it on accident and its with a very minor character #harry is my precious boy and deserves only the best #that's why I'm so picky about who I ship him with #ginny weasley critical #anti ginny weasley