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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 7 months

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Here, have a casual glimpse into my thought patterns and creative process:

*just scrolling about Tumblr and vibing to "Too Much Wine" by The Fratellis*

Too much wine?

Mihawk?

Mihawk drunk??

Wait wait wait WAIT what are they all like drunk?

GASP s h i n y h e a d c a n o n s

BLANK DOCUMENT HERE I FCKEN COME—

So anyway here's some headcanons about drinking too much (insert adult beverage of choice) with the OPLA boyos.

Implied that Reader is already in a relationship with each character in question.

I shall call it.......

HAMMERED

OPLA!Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy X AFAB!Reader

NSFW Headcanons

Kinda Kinktober I guess? Borderline shitpost, I had way too much fun with this.

♫♬♫ Too Much Wine - The Fratellis ♫♬♫

I'll take the mead from the table

Talk straight while I'm able

Until I'm nothin' less than a crime

Zoro

"Y'know, I actually have four swords, but we're gonna have to go somewhere more private if you wanna see the other one."

Rum, sake, beer, wine, whatever you're down for drinking so is he.

Zoro's got incredibly high endurance and stamina—it's going to take a while for him to show that it's affecting him at all, but once it does, he goes from zero to one hundred faster than you can say "onigiri."

Literally no in between, no tipsy or buzzed. Just sober and then stumbling over his own feet and swearing he absolutely is not drunk the whole time.

All those repressed emotions that he hides behind a mask of dry sarcasm on a day to day basis are coming out in full effect.

That means you're getting one of two Zoros—goofy Zoro or sad Zoro.

Goofy Zoro's going to have his arm around your shoulders, laughing his ass off about that time he caught that idiot Marine brat swinging his sword around bare-ass naked so he chopped off half his hair.

He's likely to get pretty flirty in this state, even downright playful, especially if you initiate it, and it's almost definitely going to end in him dragging you somewhere private to fuck your brains out, because his restraint is totally out the window at this point.

If you end up with sad Zoro, he'll be laying his head in your lap and slurringly asking whether or not you think he's ever really going to be the best swordsman in the world, probably still beating himself up over losing to Mihawk.

Just comb your fingers through his hair and do your best to reassure him that you love him and genuinely believe in him. Whether it works or not, he's going ti end up falling asleep in your lap, so be prepared to be stuck there for a while.

"But like...you really think, like, I can beat that bird-eyed bastard? I mean he fucked me up with a goddamn butterknife."

Sanji

"There we are—a beautiful drink for a beautiful woman."

Turbo Flirt Mode: activated.

Sanji is all for pairing wine with food, but if you're looking to get a little sideways, he's going to want to show off his mixology skills to impress you—and he's going to be making some dangerous concoctions, the kind that taste like there's not a drop of booze in them.

The more lit he gets, the less subtle the flirting. If you thought he was clingy sober, you are in for a surprise, because that's just the tip of the iceberg.

Head on your shoulder, puppy dog eyes, telling you how pretty you are and how much he adores you every thirty seconds, with a big silly grin like you're the most amazing thing he's ever seen.

Brushing his lips along your neck and murmuring all the things he's going to do to you once the two of you are behind closed doors later—and he means every one of them, because you're utterly irresistible to him in this state.

He wants you giggling and blushing just as much as he wants you moaning and trembling under his touch.

Super playful once you are alone, even moreso than usual. He's definitely going to suggest doing body shots, he will beg if he has to, but honestly who in their right mind is going to turn him down?

"You're just...just so—so beautiful—honestly, it should be illegal."

Shanks

"Hold—hold my rum—no, no, just for a moment, I wanna see if I can do a backflip off the railing—"

Spoiler alert: he can't. Now he's lying on the quarterdeck alternating between hysterical laughter and "Oh God that hurt—"

Probably the most fun drunk in the world, but he can be a hazard to his own health as his judgement begins to lapse so someone's going to have to keep an eye on him.

If you're at a tavern or otherwise public location, do not under any circumstances let the man out of your sight for more than two seconds. He turns into a straight-up child, he can and will wander off, and you'll find him a mile away on top of a building, likely half-naked and singing sea shanties at the top of his lungs, with no clue as to how he got up there...or how to get back down.

He's developed quite a high tolerance over the years and tends mostly toward dark rum, though he won't turn down a stein of ale or beer.

Total life of the party energy—telling jokes and stories, he just wants to see everyone laughing and having the absolute best time.

Super, super flirty, he may as well have written the book on pick-up lines; and he doesn't care that you're already together, he's going to drop every single one of them on you just to see how much he can make you giggle or roll your eyes.

He's very likely to pull you onto his lap at some point and make out with you like no one's watching—he already doesn't really care who sees when you're both sober, but he really doesn't care after a little too much rum, so it's probably best to coax him to bed at this point.

He's perfectly happy with cuddling up, laying his head on your chest and draping his arm over you, just humming in contentment and falling asleep together...but if you want more, don't expect to get much sleep, because he wants you lasciviously.

To taste every inch of you, to suffocate between your thighs until you're screaming, to pull you onto his cock and watch you ride him until you're both too breathless and exhausted to do anything but tangle yourselves together in the sheets and drift off to sleep between slow, sensual kisses.

"Oh, princess, just when I catch my breath, you make me lose it all over again."

Mihawk

"If you insist on being such a brat about this, you're going to get what's coming to you."

Mihawk has a strong drive to be in total control of himself and everything happening around him at all times, which means he doesn't tend toward getting drunk.

But...he also has this wee little problem with his ego being larger than the entire volume of every combined ocean in the world. If you imply that you could drink him under the table...he's probably going to sneer and tell you to quit being a brat, but he's also going to be quite driven to prove you wrong.

He does love his wine, but it's generally only a glass or two to wind down and relax—he's definitely got a nice bottle of aged bourbon or eau de vie tucked away somewhere that's going to be coming out, because he's got something to prove now.

Unfortunately for him, due to the fact that he so rarely drinks heavily...he's a bit of a lightweight. Which he won't admit even to himself.

But it barely takes a single lowball of harder liquor to get that pale complexion of his a little flushed.

Perhaps just over three for him to start blinking a bit harder than normal in a futile attempt to get his vision to focus, to start speaking a bit slower to attempt to hide the slight slur in his words as you taunt him about it—which honestly only makes it more pronounced, and more amusing.

You had best enjoy it, because it's probably the only time you're going to hear the words, "Fine, you win," come out of his mouth—as well as perhaps the only time he won't be miffed about conceding. The alcohol in his system has him loosened up just enough that he can't pretend he doesn't find your boldness and sass at least a bit endearing...and even more alluring.

That being said, you're still getting punished for it, teased within an inch of your sanity, and he's going to enjoy every single second of it.

Setting his glass aside, plucking yours from your hand, pinning your hands above your head with a devilish smirk and slowly undressing you, his eyes on yours the entire time.

Trailing his fingertips across your bare skin, drawing closer and closer but never quite giving you want you want, his lips barely brushing against your neck, reminding you in an amused murmur in your ear that he could easily do this all night.

You did have the audacity to challenge him, after all—he has no choice but to remind you who's in charge.

"What is it, my little bird? Did you think you were going to get a consolation prize? You're still going to have to beg."

Buggy

"Bet you two thousand Berries I can shotgun two beers at once, watch this—"

And he basically ends up halfway drowning himself, but hey, you're two thousand Berries richer!

Honestly, there's no party like a Buggy party, because a Buggy party doesn't stop until someone loses a limb—probably him.

No, really. Don't let him use his devil fruit abilities. Keep a bucket of sea water on hand if you have to, because he may literally misplace one of his limbs and you're going to have to go on a Chop Chop Scavenger Hunt to help him find it while you're both completely smashed.

If Buggy's drinking, everybody's drinking, and everybody is getting completely fucked up. This is non-negotiable, he thrives on chaos and that's what he's intent on creating.

Anybody who passes out before him is getting something obscene drawn on their face in permanent ink. He can definitely hold his liquor, so if you can keep up with him then you can expect to be the last two living souls left conscious on the whole ship.

That being said, he doesn't care who's awake—things are going to get kinky, and he's really not bothered about anybody watching. Or joining in, for that matter. This whole operation very well may devolve into a drunken orgy if he has any say in the matter.

Then again, it may also devolve into him flopping dramatically across your lap and divulging absolutely all of his trauma in an emotionally-charged alcohol-induced rant. He won't remember it in the morning, so please do him a favor and don't remind him.

"Hey, uhh...I los—I lost my foot again. .....Sor—*hiccup* sorry."

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lxclerc · 1 year

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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary... a new love triangle hits the internet note... something different for f1 tumblr faceclaim... lusya abramovskaya

liked by charlesleclerc, enews and 729,739 others

yourusername i won’t say i’m in love

view all 8,729 comments

ynfan1 god is a woman

ynfan2 every time yn post i have to remind myself i’m straight

⤷ ynfan3 so is pasta till it gets wet ─ liked by yourusername

ynfan4 mother is mothering

f1fan1 charles?? what are you doing here buddy?

ynfan5 charles get tf off my gf’s page‼️

f1fan2 charlotte literally just posted a picture of her charles yesterday and man's out here liking some girl's pictures

⤷ ynfan6 i know you did not just call yn yln "some girl"

liked by yourusername and 3,329 others

cl16updates charles and charlotte in ibiza amid cheating rumors with supermodel yn yln

view all 214 comments

charlesfan1 man's got bombastic rizz

ynfan1 YN?? HELLO??? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE LOCA

charlesfan2 he may be a cheater but he's a hot cheater

charlesfan3 poor charlotte :(

charlesfan4 nah bc we aren't even sure it's charles in that picture 😭

⤷ charlesfan5 i mean let's be honest are we even surprise considering this man's dating history?

f1fan1 yn's got some real fucking nerve liking this picture tho like girl read the room 😭

liked by charlesleclerc, charlottesiine and 342,543 others

yourusername pour toujours ma fille tagged: charlottesiine

view all 5,324 comments

ynfan1 OH MY FUCKING GOD-

f1fan1 excuse me THEYRE FRIENDS?

f1fan2 "forever my girl" but youre fucking her bf

ynfan2 not charles liking this 😭😭

⤷ ynfan3 mans has absolute ZERO SHAME

charlesleclerc mes anges 🤍 ─ liked by yourusername ─ liked by charlottesiine

⤷ ynfan4 BOY IF YOU DONT GET THE FUCK OFF-

charlottesiine mon amour 🤍 ─ liked by yourusername

liked by charlesleclerc, charlottesiine and 943,213 others

yourusername to hell with monogomy tagged: charlottesiine, charlesleclerc

view all 8,321 comments

ynfan1 EXCUSE ME WHAT

ynfan2 OMFG SLAY WITH THE GAY ─ liked by yourusername

charlesfan1 IM SCREAMING AND THROWING UP OH GOD

f1fan3 THIS WAS NOT ON MY FUCKING BINGO CARD

pierregasly there is an alarming amount of caps on this comment section

ynfan3 gay!!! theyre all gay!!! everyone is gay

charlesfan2 AND WE ALL THOUGHT HE WAS CHEATING ON CHARLOTTE 😭

charlottesiine my home 🤍

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lewishamilton 🏳️‍🌈

⤷ yourusername lewis, if you're ever interested in becoming a 4th... you know where to find me

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⤷ yourusername you don't have seven world championships, do you? ─ liked by charlottesiine

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⤷ f1fan4 oh god im already in love with their chaotic energy

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determinators · 4 months

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Yes, the 4channers were awful and they persist in misgendering me, while simultaneously complaining I don't post anymore, with zero self awareness.

4chan harassment alone isn't why I left. This is.

It's the transphobia.

I have been in the fandom since 2015. I have been arguing with transphobes in the fandom since 2015. I have been making write ups about why it's important not to misgender the - yes, fictional - characters since 2015, because of the complete lack of caring it communicates to real nonbinary people.

Last year, I wrote a post that got 7000 notes and is currently pinned to the Deltarune subreddit. I poured my heart out about what the nonbinary characters meant to me and why they were important.

It was argued over, I was mocked for it, I included personal details about my family situation and my difficulty coming out, I was mocked for it.

I wrote it because I believed it mattered. Because for eight years, the constant comment when mentioning the pronouns of these characters has been: Who cares?

At any point since 2015, Toby could have saved the transgender people in the fandom the trouble of having to "prove" the characters were nonbinary by saying something.

Last year, Legends of Localization comes out - thoroughly reviewed by Toby - and calls Frisk, Monster Kid, and Napstablook "ambiguous", designed to have an unclear gender.

You can see in the collage of screenshots how the transphobes in the fandom took that. One delightful individual was so triumphant over the victory, they put the statement in their Reddit subtitle.

So each time this individual posts to the Undertale subreddit, people will see this quote, carried around like a trophy with all the pride of a dog with a rotting pelt in its mouth. That's how much it meant to the transphobes in the fandom. They're delighted by having this quote to throw back in the faces of transgender fans.

Because who cares? The majority of the fandom isn't transgender, or on tumblr. It's easy for them not to care about transgender people.

You can block block block as many people as you want (I had thousands blocked here) but you can't curate your way out of transphobia. It isn't possible.

Because the majority of the fandom is on Reddit, or YouTube, or Twitter, and they, quite vocally, do not care about transgender people.

Some people may recall that I stopped posting to the Deltarune subreddit after the mods decided to filter all posts containing the word "nonbinary" without telling anyone.

The mods stopped filtering the word after I posted this and apologized, but the point was made: people in the greater fandom think the word "nonbinary" is a dangerous, impolite word, one that only invokes argument and therefore should not be used.

So I stopped posting on the Deltarune and Undertale subreddits. I never made YouTube or Twitter content. I set my blog to only allow people with Tumblr accounts to view it. I turned off all asks, anonymous or otherwise. I blocked thousands of people. It did not work. Transgender people can't curate (read: quarantine) our way out of transphobia.

Years of this, of transgender fans of the series getting attacked for trying to claim and fight for nonbinary representation in the series, and "ambiguous" is the language Toby signed off on.

If the characters are meant to be nonbinary representation, the last eight years has proven that this needs to be stated outright, or the onus of "proving" it falls on the vastly outnumbered transgender fans in the fandom - something that we have never been able to do without being profusely harassed for it until we shut our mouths.

If the characters were only ever meant to be ambiguous for the sake of "freedom of interpretation", then this should have been communicated with seriousness and respect to the transgender fans of the series years ago, not as a throwaway line in a translation book. (and to be clear, this is not at all the author's fault - Toby corrected and reviewed the language used)

This is why I left and why I'm never coming back, no matter what happens next. I have had enough of the transphobia in the fandom, and I have no way of fighting back anymore.

Transphobes in the fandom want the work and the passion of nonbinary people but won't even use a pronoun to show the basest level of respect and humanity for us.

I'm watching our rights being taken away day by day, and people like this just want me to keep producing my worthless little game theory posts.

Trans people don't owe you our "content" or our passion, particularly not when we produce it for free in the face of eight years of a deeply transphobic audience that we are expected to either beg for the most basic respect or to turn our heads down and hide away from so they can continue either hating us or pretending we don't exist or that that part of us doesn't matter.

"Who cares?"

When people ask this in response to talking about being nonbinary or respecting pronouns, they know transgender people care.

What they're saying is, who cares about transgender people?

For this reason, I'm requesting people not archive anything I've written, though I know I can't enforce this. That includes the Character Analysis and the "(Characters) are nonbinary why it matters" post, which I wrote in such profoundly naive good faith. For every "who cares" I have received over eight years of being transgender in this fandom.

If my identity as a nonbinary person doesn't matter, if nonbinary people don't exist, then neither does the content I made which they feel so entitled to, even while misgendering me.

I can't even think about this series without becoming angry and miserable anymore. That is the lasting, final impression the art has had on me. I can't think about it or the characters without remembering how little transgender people matter to most of the world. I've had to completely cut it out my life. There's no rage as potent as the helpless one. "Who cares?" I can't make people care.

You can't have the creations and art and "content" made by transgender people and our destruction at the same time. And maybe you can't prevent our destruction either, but you sure as hell can use a damn pronoun.

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aclowntiny · 10 months

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A Date Like No Other- Basketball Player!Mingyu x Female!Reader (College AU)

Inspired by the famous tumblr post 😄 also I’m quite tempted to do a part 2 for this one if anyone is into that hehe

Word Count: 3600 | College AU, Basketball Player!Mingyu, Humor, Fluff | Warnings: drinking mentioned, one suggestive comment, one minor swear

He was the guy on campus everyone would have sold organs to go on a date with. The sports guy. The really tall guy. Handsome, plays on the school team, movie love interest guy.

You were the weird girl hardly anyone talked to, and you just liked him because he drew on your notes with you.

History was boring you- you’d already answered the questions and they read the pages out loud at a snail’s pace, sending your eyes diving into the pages lest you want to rip your hair out and coat your long thin institutional table in it. Saving that, you reached into your backpack and pulled out a green ultra fine marker, popping the cap. You reached over and doodled a frog sitting in his funny little amphibian hunch on one of the multitudinous papers strewn about the table before the guy sitting next to you glanced over, a huge smile spreading across his face before he suppressed laughter.

"I've been frogged!" That, of course, had him almost snorting in aborted amusement.

Wait...did that mean? "Oh, sorry, those were your notes, huh?" You asked in response, hand hitting your head lightly. "I got them mixed up, sorry for defacing your property. I can get you a new sheet if you were going to turn that in-"

"Nah," your neighbor, whose name was Mingyu if you remembered from roll call, held up a hand of both restraint and reassurance, "it's fine! I'm going to keep it. I love him. I think he needs a hat, though."

"Oh, I got it." This time, it was a brown marker you grabbed, quickly outlining and filling in a tiny cowboy hat for your creation. "There we go, how's that?"

This time, a full snort. "He looks handsome to me. What's his name?" Mingyu whispered as your professor drew a tad bit closer.

"Uh, Clint Eastwood?" You shrugged, having not exactly thought that far- in fact, not at all, the whole shindig starting at full zero thoughts, head empty.

"Well, I'll take him with me to every class I have," Mingyu replied, glancing fondly at the doodled frog before taking his pencil and drawing a fly between two pieces of bread, "and feed him, too."

At that, you exhaled a quietened laugh, smiling back as wide as he'd done.

"What? Wouldn't that be what a frog eats?"

You had to admit that it would be.

From that day on, you two added one or two things onto Clint Eastwood's page every class session. He had a top hat at the ready for dressing up, a little garden of flowers, a very badly drawn horse to ride, a soccer ball to play with, and a plate of the takeout Mingyu had just really wanted that day. You didn't even know what his major was. Maybe it was just sports. Could one go to school for simply basketball? Who knew? You guys didn't really talk, just drew and whispered and laughed about your froggy little world. Either way, to your simultaneous amusement and annoyance you found yourself really able to see the hype behind the legendary Kim Mingyu. For all the popularity, he was a good guy. And you know what, he was cute. But, like, heart cute. The face cute was just a bonus.

"Hey (y/n), do you ever go to any games? I've never seen you at one," Mingyu mused as you strode out of class, backpacks loose over your shoulders.

"Well," you paused, letting your expression be cut by a half-joking, half-serious wince, "no offense, but I'm not a huge sports person? So I haven't gone because I don't have anyone to go with and it hasn't seemed worth the money. Not because of the game, just because of how much they charge for the ticke-”

"Hey, don’t worry, I get it," he laughed, "well, my little sister could use someone to go with, and the ticket would be on me. I save on buying them for myself because, well, you know."

"You're too busy slamming dunks or whatever it is basketball players do," you supplied.

"Depends on your position," Mingyu just chucklef in response, pushing the big silvery-painted fire exit-esque handle of the history building's double doors open.

"Basketball has positions?" You burst out incredulously, squinting both in confusion and at the onslaught of sunlight assaulting your eyes as you emerged past the threshold.

Another laugh. "Come and find out."

The game was made more fun by knowing a player- it gave you something to care about as your eyes followed Mingyu's run along the smooth floors, the way he leapt to toss the ball to some guy just as tall or even taller than him. He really played with passion, passion and a clear sense of fun if his remarks on the court were any indication. His sister was pretty cool, too. She looked like a fashion model straight out of Seoul, but she was fun and sassy, not afraid to tease her big brother about the shot he missed when he ran up and greeted you at the sidelines or shoot a questioning look between you two as you told him to do it for Clint Eastwood, whom Mingyu replied was his good luck charm before shuffling back off on sneakers that squeaked against the floor.

Even though you didn't actually hang out with him the whole time, just at celebratory victory ice cream after, you came to history lecture the next session feeling closer to Mingyu, and he must have felt the same as he started talking to you instantly. You rarely initiated conversation, but always welcomed it.

He thanked you for coming to the game as if he hadn’t paid for it, then asked what your major was. You told him and bounced the question back. Turns out it was business, not sports. That history lecture was just GE you both had to get out of the way. The most interesting history lessons to you weren't generic national history or war maps, but all the odd sideline stuff like how some people believed huffing toilets might have helped them during the Black Plague.

"They what?" Mingyu asked, eyes widening and mouth agape as class commenced.

Maybe that was why people didn't really talk to you.

Such reflection was inaccurate, however, as you mindlessly doodled a ridiculous-looking bug-eyed dog on the now-shared note paper and Mingyu chuckled and gave it a collar, smiling when your glance upward met his eyes.

The moment you rose from your seat after lecture, notebook shoved back into your backpack and pencil case into one of the side water bottle holsters or whatever they were called, Mingyu started talking to you again, this time about how glad he was that he didn't join a fraternity like his teammate Johnny.

"Yeah, because see, this one guy just got so drunk he didn’t know where his car was and his girlfriend lost her nose ring, then another guy was sick and they threw him outside and he woke up in the cold locked out of the house, and the houses stink, too, like they smell so bad…”

"Yeah," you muttered, taking each of your bag straps in your hands this walk, palms sliding over the rough fabric, "dude, you couldn't pay me to live in one of those."

“…they’re practically taking after those Black Plague people!” He joked, bringing a smile to both your faces as he mimed taking a sniff, waving his hands in front of his nose and bursting into laughter.

“Except they should know better,” you added, shaking your head in amusement, “they need to get smart like you and I.”

He didn’t laugh, just nodded in approval. "Right? And everyone there has already hooked up with each other. I'm so tired of all that, too. That's not the kind of date I've been looking for, you know?”

In a sense, you did not know, being that none of your classmates had even hardly made conversation let alone a risqué pass, but you got it. Being as popular as Mingyu was, you’d seen how fellow students threw themselves at him sometimes. Had to get uncomfortable, especially if his facial expression at a few of them said anything. They weren’t usually very original, either, poor guy. He was just a clear end goal, and someone who loved his sister and his little drawings and celebrated with ice cream as often as cocktails and laughed at toilets didn’t deserve that. Mingyu wasn’t an ideal, he was a real person. Someone who just needed to have some damn fun for once.

“Sure. You need some- no, you deserve some- creativity. If it was up to me, I’d take you on a date like no other,” you joked, chuckling as your gaze rose back up to his eyes.

“You would?” At the sight of Mingyu’s eyes widening, you wondered if your phrasing had inadvertently crossed a line. Sure, you were totally willing, but- “Alright, just name a time.”

“Wait, really?” This time it was your turn to gape, one hand dropping off your backpack strap to fall to your side. Your heart picked up its pace. Never in a googolplex of years would you have thought Mr. It Boy K. Basketball would want a date with you. Being his friend was surprising enough.

“Yeah, of course. I think it’d be fun,” Mingyu beamed at you, “and I trust you. My sister likes you, too. If…if you really meant it, that is.” He added that last bit as his own gaze dropped and one hand reached up to rub the back of his neck.

Giggling shyly at his sudden sheepishness as well as the situation’s sheer absurdity, you tilted your head his way, smile melting back out of the shock. “Well, thanks, that actually…really means a lot. Get ready for an epic time, then!”

He cocked a brow, turning down between a row of potted trees toward the food court. “Have something in mind already?”

Actually, you did have something you always wanted to do if you could get someone else- it would look too weird to be the only one. Why not do it with Mingyu?

“Be afraid,” you nodded, smirking in satisfaction.

“Well then, how should I dress?”

“Just casual is fine,” you shrugged and teased, “we can’t all afford black tie, Mr. Business Major.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled, still giving that wide smile you’d come to anticipate seeing, “Friday night?”

“Friday night,” you repeated.

“Get ready for Friday Night Showdown!”

“Um, (y/n), this is the grocery store.”

Your lips turned upward proudly as you rotated from a fist pump into a Vanna White pose before the mart. “I know.”

“Are we…” Mingyu paused, clearly searching for words. “Fighting in here or something?”

“We are not,” you replied cryptically, looking all the more satisfied as you passed between the automatic doors, Mingyu at your side.

“Am I doing your shopping?” He looked at you with still-raised eyebrows, though amusement colored his expression.

“That would be messed up!” You denied, shaking your head. “Though admittedly funny.”

“Don’t get any ideas for date two!”

Your heart flipped at Mingyu’s easy smile, how casually he said that…the way he flushed and looked away the moment the words left his mouth. He was already thinking of your next date? Hope he likes seafood, you internally joked.

“Yeah, no shopping tonight unless you wanted some snacks. Because tonight,” you skipped over all the central aisles of kitchen supplies, soap, and dry goods, making a beeline for the meat section… well, more specifically the fish counter, “is all about the face-off.”

In a split second you caught Mingyu’s eyes dart down once more past rows of cans, bottles, jars of just about every color you could ask for, dancing over their numerical markers as if to say farewell to actual shopping. Then, his gaze was back on you, your gestures, over your shoulder to the tank at the end of the fish counter. The tank full of lobsters with big claws and small patience. His eyes met yours again. He knew. You could see it.

You nodded. “Oh yeah. Pick your champion.”

He twisted his cap around backwards, revealing his face, those big, innocent brown eyes, once more. “Uh, quick question: how do you suggest I keep mine straight from the others?”

He was asking in earnest. That was another thing you liked about Mingyu: not only did he possess childlike wonder beyond what somebody in his age and station in life probably should, he was also a bad liar in the purest, kindest of senses. He really, truly, had never had a grocery store lobster beatdown date, and he couldn’t fake interest if he tried. So now he wanted tips, advice you could give him as if you had already had loads of grocery store lobster beatdown dates. All you could do was smile back at the tall basketball player and every small kindness he’d shown you thus far. The way he’d simply seen you.

“Good question. Don’t they have different colored wristbands?”

He arched a brow, clearly fighting a snicker. “Different what?”

Pantomiming a band with one hand grabbing the other, you stuttered. “You know, the… the claw restraints! The wristbands!”

“I don’t think they have wrists, (y/n),” Mingyu teased, reaching over and ruffling your hair.

Well, of course you realize this means war. “Alright, you are on,” was all you said, eyes narrowing.

He perked up at that. “What’s the bet?”

“Winner gets to pick the next activity,” you reply, sauntering a few steps closer to the lobster tank and pointing to one with a purple band over its claws that was clearly ready to throw- well, for lack of better terminology- hands, “and I choose this one.”

“Well, in that case,” Mingyu returned to your side, arm pressed against yours as he peered into the tank, “the logical choice would be to pick the one in red in front of yours. May the best crustacean win.”

And at that, his competitive stare melted back into that boyish look as he turned to you. “…did that sound cool?”

It almost came out as a snort, you burst out laughing so violently. “That was legendary,” was all you could wheeze out.

“Ha ha! I can’t believe it!” Mingyu grinned and bobbed up from his bent tank stare like an excited puppy, pumping the fist that wasn’t holding the mart beer can he’d bought as his lobster shoved yours away in victory.

The pair of crustaceans had been locked in claw-to-claw combat, tussling very slowly over nothing in particular but their proximal frustrations, and Mingyu’s had apparently vented harder, shoving yours back after some aggressive minutes. Mingyu had gotten into the fight, nudging you when something extra exciting happened and even providing commentary on sideline fights between sips.

First drawing a fly sandwich, then that. Truly, who'd've thunk?

“Neither can I," you mock-pouted, crossing your arms, "purple always wins."

"Says who?" Asked Mingyu, who leaned down closer to you, face mere inches from yours.

"Says me," you shrugged, feeling warmth spread across your face.

"Well, you know what?"

You could feel warmth of his breath ghosting faintly over your cheeks, your lips. "Wh- what?"

"As much as I enjoy a good bar," he leaned back a bit, clapping, "I did need something else. Something new. This was fun! Wanna go play basketball in the park? I bet we'll have the court to ourselves!"

There it was again. The reason everyone liked him. Movie love interest vibes, even beneath the oddly-tinted fluorescent lights of commerce. A smile like a boy on the body of a man. Probably not something they usually imagined to see over a lobster tank. Over hoops in the park, though? That tracked, even if it was a bit of a one-eighty from his breath fanning your face.

Beside any of that, he had won the right to choose.

"Sure," you smile, "let's keep your winning streak up."

And with a hand clasped around yours, that athletic strength was tugging you out the grocery store door to a rush of evening wind and the sound of mutual laughter.

Basketball really was that man’s passion. Just about the only thing about it you knew about the sport was what a slam dunk was, but what different shots scored different points? You wanted to throw a three-pointer, but what was a three-pointer?

You learned what it was, what an assist was, that elbowing was illegal or something like that because every game had a reason to send the players to sports jail like grown-up cops and robbers.

You got the ball in the basket twice with no help, and that was achievement enough. Mingyu had ran across the court to high-five you both times as if you’d just won him a game. When you messed up the angle of another throw, he got behind you and, trying your best to focus with his chest flush against your back, you tried again and sent the ball sailing without the betrayal of the previous throw’s dramatic arc.

“So can we give Clint Eastwood a basketball now too?” Mingyu asked out of the blue, dropping to the concrete at your side, legs crossing and knees brushing.

“What,” you chuckled, “do you have him with you or something?”

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled a small white square out and unfolded it to reveal the piece of lined notebook paper with margins full of marker and pencil scratch, most notably your hatted frog friend. He kept those notes in his pocket?

With the one not holding Clint, he ran a hand through his short black hair. “I do like to have him with me,” he answered with a tentative smile.

You twisted slightly, feeling your spine pop from its prior exertion, and remembered his words from the basketball game as he’d visited your seat, making you laugh with a failed attempt at spinning the ball on his finger. “As a good luck charm?”

He shook his head. “I think we’ve added something almost every time we’ve been together. He’s like a log of all the memories we share.” With that, he scooched closer to your side, his jacket falling over the folds of your own clothes slightly. “And I like our memories, Frog Girl.”

What could you say to that? “Frog Girl?” You just giggled, eyes on his.

“That’s right,” Mingyu nodded, “I can’t believe I would never have talked to you if you hadn’t drawn a frog.”

“Ah, college,” you sighed, tilting your head, “the golden years, and yet it’s so easy to ignore everyone else.”

“Well, no longer,” Mingyu shot back, gaze honing in on…well, you weren’t sure, but you liked it, “I figured out what I want to do with my victory wish.”

You smiled at the phrase ‘victory wish’, a term that was just so him. “I thought that was this.” For emphasis, you waved a hand along the court, feeling the night breeze that much more on the skin of your palm.

“Nope,” he shook his head, smirking as his eyes fell back on yours, “I didn’t say I was using it then, I just asked if you wanted to come out here and you said yes."

Well, coat you in flour and call you a biscuit. "You evil genius, you." At that, you gave a grin and a shake of your own head, unable to resist feeling a bit impressed. Man plays games, he picks up some strategy. You'd have to remember that.

"I prefer to think of myself as a nice genius," Mingyu said, and then, switching tones completely, doing another one-eighty to one sweet enough to make your heart swell, he continued, "and about my wish: can I kiss you? I can't think of a better way to end Friday Night Showdown."

Deathly afraid of saying something stupid, you answered by shifting from your crossed legs, folding them to the side as you sat up, knee resting slightly on the edge of his leg as you pressed your lips to his. The slick of his sports jacket between your fingers felt cool as you gripped it to hold both yourself and Mingyu in place as he surged forward into you. For his speed, his eagerness, his kiss was surprisingly soft, not digging too deep but just firmly holding you, treasuring you as if the feeling of your lips was about to fade. Oh, buddy, I'm not going anywhere, you murmured in your head against the feeling of his ever-so-slightly chapped lips.

And as he pulled away, separation painfully slow, deliberate, Mingyu looked you dead in the eyes, blinked at the sudden return of hazy park streetlight, and said “Wow.”

You nodded. “Wow.” Can’t believe how well those lobsters worked, you wanted to say. "You're full of surprises, Mr. Basketball."

“Mr. Basketball,” he mused, gaze briefly drifting from yours, then back. “I wasn’t sure you were going to be that into me, being so funny and smart and artistic and stuff, but I just couldn’t help myself. And boy am I glad for that,” he grinned.

For that, all you could do was kiss him again.

No more hoops were shot that night, only words tossed out with new glee as you, now wrapped in Mingyu’s jacket, pointed out lesser-known constellations, like the Dutch giraffe one or the Poop Deck. After all, you had a reputation to keep up on that date, and everyone had already seen the Big Dipper.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu x female reader #female reader #college au #humor #fluff #let me know if y'all are into part 2 I have Ideas™ lmao

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canmom · 4 months

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Comics mini-Comints: Dungeon Meshi

reread dungeon meshi through to the end. still such a great manga. here are immediate thoughts - if I end up having time and energy I hope I can write something that goes deeper!

ironically i was only a few chapters from the end when I stopped keeping up, but I was struggling to remember all the characters and context, so reading it through in one go was definitely an ideal way to achieve maximum impact there.

ryoko kui does a very elegant job of handling a transition from 'silly antics' to 'big dramatic fantasy' while still keeping the central thematic throughline - eating and being eaten, belonging to an ecosystem, the significance of sacrificing others to achieve your own desires. a lot of setups pay off in a way that feels meticulously planned - and of course the crux of the final showdown revolves around characters attempting to eat each other, of course the big payoff is a huge feast that symbolically unites all the conflicting factions. it is maybe a bit too neat and happy for my taste, but it's undeniably tightly executed - it never loses sight of what it's about. especially compared to something like Frieren, it's an incredibly coherent serialisation, up there with e.g. Fullmetal Alchemist.

kui's art style deserves all kinds of praise - it feels effortlessly simple, but it clearly communicates all sorts of different shapes and body types and it's really fun to see her play around with remixing the different visual elements when she switches the races around. in general Laius's autistic monster loving ways clearly reflect kui's own deeply felt appreciation for all the ways people and animals live (accentuated further by all the extra sketches the scanlators tuck in). in a way you could kinda call it like Parts Unknown the fantasy manga.

the stakes of the final conflict are interesting - there is much to be said about the framing of 'desire' and its fulfilment, of this occult idea of 'the infinite'. lots you could put in relation to other manga, and also buddhism. (in particular I really want to develop a comparison to Made In Abyss, there are so many parallels, it just might be too spicy for tumblr lmao).

one thing I really like about it is how much its fantasy dungeon-exploring setting owes to D&D and other TTRPGs, rather than videogames. monster ecology has been a fascination of that game since the early days of Dragon magazine, and Kui sharply zeroes in on some of the intrinsic conflicts baked in to that fantasy milieu, notably the lifespan thing, while smartly avoiding the traps of 'evil races'. there's some really fun nods to the weirder monster manual entries. and in a story with so many characters and factions, it does a genuinely incredible job of furnishing everyone with understandable, reasonable motivations, conflicts drawn from their context just like the monsters are explained by their ecology.

and one thing that I particularly appreciate is like... how much it is able to simultaneously understand and sympathise with a character and also show us how and why they'd rub others the wrong way. it's impossible not to like our main group, they're all such charming dorks and the manga leads you along with all the crazy rpg party shit they do, but at the same time you definitely find yourself thinking 'guy's got a point' in the kabru chapters lmao. I'm projecting hard bc i don't really know a thing about ryōko kui but laius def feels like the sort of depiction of having an autism that you can only do if you've lived it.

but yeah, it's a fuzzy ending where it all turns out well. but what's the deeper thrust of it all? there's a funny moment where marcille is like 'maybe in the end our journey is about learning to accept death' and the grouchy old gnome guy completely laughs this off as naive, because death doesn't mean anything. and indeed their big plan pays off, and falin does indeed come back just fine. but still, through all of this it asks you to bite the bullet that being a living creature means eating to survive, at the cost of other creatures, with the other side being that one day you too will be eaten. in contrast to this honest way of being is the beguiling fantasy of infinity, where all your desires are immediately fulfilled - this is shown as a dangerous path of corruption that produces madness and manipulability. having limits and rubbing up against the wishes of others, or 'doing things you don't want to do' as izutsumi's arc puts it, becomes necessary for having some kind of definition as a subject. the thing that makes the demon concrete as an entity is a desire, or appetite, that can't immediately be fulfilled.

of course we can connect this to the idea of narrative conflict. a standard advice for putting together a plot is to ask what each character wants and why they can't get it. wanting something implies movement. and indeed over the course of this story, we see that while having too many desires fulfilled too readily leads to incoherence and callousness, equally a character who is left catatonic as their desires have been eaten by the demon must be reawakened to activity by finding a new desire.

it's kinda Buddhist innit. neither the opulence of the palace nor asceticism. desires are what tie you to the world. but mixed with ecology: what a creature does to find the energy to live is what defines its lifestyle, its form.

this is probably where I'd start talking about entropy gradients and shit if i wasn't typing this on a phone at 1:30am lmao.

but yeah - it's a powerful move to go from 'D&D monster recipe show sendup' to 'living with the inherently violent nature of being an organism fated to live in a finite sum game' and yet Dungeon Meshi makes it feel natural and convincing, while remaining tremendously charming and funny throughout. ryōko kui is definitely some kind of genius, and I can't wait to see what her next act is gonna be. it's all definitely making me appreciate the act of eating a lot more.

next story on my plate is probably The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere, which sounds like it will present a very gnarly thematic contrast.

#manga #dungeon meshi #comics comints

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all-mirth-no-matter · 5 months

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Time After Time | Chapter Thirteen

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: A significant death shakes up the Shelby household just as you find your way back inside. That events and those after make you start to wonder if now is the time to finally listen to Madam Despoina.

Warning: character death, language, yelling

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 13: Ghost

I like the sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies. Kiss me in the corridor, but quick to tell me goodbye. You say that you're no good for me, ‘cause I'm always tugging at your sleeve. And I swear I hate you when you leave. I like it anyway. — Ghost, Halsey

Coming back to the Shelby household wasn’t exactly what you expected. Best case scenario, you expected to be greeted warmly by Polly or Ada; worst case, you expected to have the door immediately slammed in your face by Tommy himself.

Instead, when you knocked on the door, little Katie greeted you.

John’s oldest daughter’s eyes widened and a smile spread across her face when she recognized you, “You’re back!”

She grabbed your hand and pulled you inside as you used your foot to close the door behind you to keep out the cold. When you got into the kitchen, Finn jumped from his chair and threw something into the fireplace.

“Finn,” you scolded. “That a cigarette?”

“Don’t tell Aunt Polly,” he begged, cowering down more in his chair.

Jack ran into the room, a smile on his face as he got ready to watch the show of his youngest uncle getting into trouble.

You hung your jacket on the hook and sat next to Finn, noticing him flinch slightly as you scooted closer. The instinct made you swallow knowing he probably expected you to hit him — one of the discipline actions of the times that still made you cringe despite your attempt to shield your facial expressions.

“I won’t. But you really shouldn’t smoke, especially while you’re still growing. It stunts your growth, ya’know. You want to be this height your whole life?” You tousled his hair playfully to emphasize your point.

Actually, you weren’t a hundred percent sure if that was true — you remember hearing it when you were younger (that and coffee) but you never actually ever did research on it yourself.

“It’s also bad for your lungs,” you added, closing the unattended box of sticks that were sitting in the middle of the table. “It’s bad enough the air quality here is practically smoke itself, the second hand smoke will probably kill us all—“

“Is that what’s happenin’ to mummy?” Katie asked, her hand resting on your knee as she began petting the material of your skirt.

Brow creased, you looked to Finn and Jack, then around the house and noticed no one was around.

“Where is your mum?”

“She’s sick again,” said Jack, or J.J. as you’d immediately called him when you learned that his real name was John, and that he’d been named after his father (Junior). Another moment of instant regret, seeing as you had no idea if initial names or initial nicknames were a common thing yet. But the seven year old latched onto it immediately and you’d apologized to Martha profusely. After the initial shock of her son insisting everyone call him this, who she’d named after John proudly, she finally admitted to finding the nickname quite cute.

That’d been the first substantial interaction you’d had with Martha after just starting in the house. Even before the boys returned, you’d offered to help watch the kids whenever Polly or Ada were babysitting. You’d built a bit of a rapport with the little ones over the months, which had honestly surprised you seeing as you had zero experience with children, being an only child and not having been around family outside of your parents your whole life. It’d taken a little longer to get friendlier with Martha, but eventually you’d found a mutual ease around each other when you were both in the house. But unlike Ada, you didn’t find yourself spending any time outside the house, or alone even, together. And that was okay.

But when she first started getting sick, you’d tried to put in a little more effort to at least let her know you were there for her, or Polly, or the kids, if they needed you. Last you’d heard, Martha had started feeling better around Christmas.

“It’s not smoke, dummy,” J.J. said harshly to his younger sister when she asked again if it was was because of the cigarettes.

“Hey,” you said instinctively, “no need for name calling.”

“Auntie Polly said she’s cold—“

“She’s got a cold—”

“Where is she now?” You interrupted before they escalated, bringing all three of their attentions back to you.

“Auntie Polly took her to the ha’pital,” Katie answered. “Teddy and Annie are with Auntie Ada, said they needed naps.”

And with that, you launched into babysitter mode for the three downstairs. You kept out of the way of the kitchen, especially when the shop opened. When Ada returned with the youngest two, you all took a trip to the shop for food, per Polly’s instructions. By the time you returned, Polly was back and starting dinner.

That’s when she broke the news silently to you and Ada.

Martha had passed away.

Polly was angry with the hospitals, ranting about how she didn’t trust them and how she never should have taken her there in the first place.

“I’ve sent word to John, but he’s still in Digbeth. I’m afraid I’m going to have to break the news to the children.”

You offered to stay the night to help with the kids and housework. That first night had been filled with tears. You even caught Polly’s eyes damp a handful of times during the quieter moments.

Over the next few days, whenever you didn’t have a shift at the Garrison, you ended up at the Shelby house, even sleeping in one of the unoccupied bedrooms most nights. Polly was spending most of the following days preparing for the funeral, while you and Ada tried to make this new world make sense to the children.

You and Ada both had your own experiences of losing your mothers to draw on in an attempt to console the little ones. But it was still difficult, especially for the youngest two, who were still not completely understanding that their mother wouldn’t be coming back. Finn’s patience and kindness to his little nieces and nephews had been the most endearing part for you. He’d been too young to remember his own mother, but was able to explain this new reality in child terms that surprised you.

Since arriving in this time and place, it was hard not to judge the living conditions and lack of opportunities that surrounded you, especially when comparing them to your own upbringing. You’d always considered yourself middle to lower class, but you still had so much more privilege than whole chunks of the world.

Here, even with some of those privileges, you were beginning to understand just how much faster it seemed these children of the time had to grow and mature than you ever had to. Hardships like losing parents at a young age were just the beginning — poverty, malnourishment, lack of education opportunities — these were things that you couldn’t imagine having grown up through. It make you think about Ada and Tommy, your previous image of them running around as children suddenly shifting to something more heart clenching.

Your respect for Polly and her role as matriarch was already high, but over the next few days it only grew as she handled the household, children, business, and funeral arrangements nearly on her own. There hadn’t been a peep from John or any of the brothers until the night before the funeral.

Not yet asleep, you could hear the banging of doors opening and chairs moving in the kitchen. Instinctively, you rose from the cot and grabbed the fireplace stick. On your way down, you stuck your head in the kids’ room, seeing them fast asleep before shutting the door and heading for the noisy intruders.

“Come on, Tom,” you heard Arthur’s voice coming from the kitchen. “She’s got a sister—“

“S’not tonight.” Tommy replying made you pause, your heart jumping at hearing his voice for the first time in weeks. “We’ve got— got the funeral tomorrow, then back to ‘beth.”

His voice sounded lighter than normal, if not slightly slurred.

“Ah fuck it — we’ve been over there for weeks now. The whores here know exactly what I like, them in Dig—“

You cleared your throat, startling both men, though only one reached for his gun to point in your direction. Despite your curiosity to hear more about their escapades, Arthur’s voice had grown louder and you were fearful he’d wake John’s kids, who’d been nightmarish already to settle down.

Tommy’s throat bobbled as he lowered his gun, setting it down on the table. You noticed the dishevelment of his hair and collar of his shirt under his jacket. That, along with the way Arthur was swaying and both with nearly empty bottles in their hands confirmed what you suspected — the boys were wasted.

“The fuck’re you doin’ here?” Arthur asked, his voice not holding as much disdain as you expected, despite the words coming out.

“I’ve been helping Polly and Ada with the kids,” you answered softly, crossing your arms. “They’re asleep upstairs, if you wouldn’t mind keeping your voice down.”

Arthur’s brow creased, his voice still at the same decimeter despite your request. “You ain’t got kids—”

“John’s kids,” Tommy reminded his brother. He gestured toward the door, “Go on now. Don’t you have someone to meet?”

Arthur perked up, “Right! Suppose you won’t join me now, eh? You’ll know where I’ll be!” He gave a final shout before leaving the room and closing the door loudly behind him, causing you to cringe and listen for the stirrings of awakened little ones.

After a moment of silence, you turned back toward the kitchen where Tommy was beginning to remove his jacket.

A deep red stain on the shoulder of his shirt sleeve caused you to gasp, walking toward him without realizing what you were doing, setting the fireplace poker on the table.

“What happened?” You asked, touching his arm gently as you rotated it to see a slash in the fabric.

Tommy shrugged, unsteady on his feet as he instead reached for the fuller bottle of rum on the counter. “Just a scrap ‘fore we went to the pub, ‘s nothin’—“

“I can help—“

“Just go back to the room—“

“Sit down,” you instructed more sternly. He glared at you, but you didn’t let it stop you. “Take off your shirt, that’s going to infect if we don’t clean it.”

“I can do it m’self,” he mumbled and turned to leave, but began to stumble as he became imbalanced.

You caught and stabilized him before guiding him back to the chair. “You’re drunk as fuck, Tommy. Just sit down and let me help you.”

He huffed, but began to slide down in the chair until it creaked with the extra weight. Satisfied, you finally turned to get a fresh bowl of water and clean towels, then the bandages you’d seen Polly use a few times before. He was unbuttoning his shirt when you pulled up a second chair closer to him, ringing the cloth in the water.

“What were you gonna do with that?” You caught his gesture to the fireplace poker on the table, his voice laced with condescension. “Should learn how to handle a real weapon.”

By the time you sat down, Tommy had his bad arm out of his shirt.

“I know how to handle a gun,” you answered plainly, your voice serious as he watched you examine his wound.

Well, you knew how to handle a gun in the 2000s, that is. With your father being a military man, he wanted to make sure you and your mother went through the proper gun safety and etiquette classes since there’d likely be some weapons in the house. You hadn’t been to a shooting range since your father was alive, but you imagined if you had to handle a gun today you’d at least not make a total idiot of yourself. Now, whether you could actually shoot a live person was another question.

Concentrating back on Tommy’s arm, the blood had begun to crust around the cut, but began to bleed slightly as you started to put pressure on it. He hissed slightly at the contact.

“Sorry,” you mumbled slightly as you continued to work. “Why’d you let this go so long? You know better—“

He scoffed, “Do I?”

“I would have assumed so,” you answered honestly. Someone with the military backing he had, he must have known the dangers of infections and exposed wounds. Though as you worked you began to realize it wasn’t as bad as it’d originally appeared.

He took another swig of the bottle before handing it to you.

“No thanks,” you answered, not in the mood to drink tonight.

“For the cut,” he said as he shook his head, a breath of amusement exhaling from his nose at your reaction.

Sterilizing, you realized, giving yourself a duh as you took the bottle and carefully poured some on his skin. He hissed again as blood started to flow once more before you applied proper pressure. You sat there silently for a moment, just holding the rag to his arm, when you noticed him looking down at the cut sleeve, running his thumb across the red stain.

“So much blood for such a small cut,” he said softly, mostly to himself.

Your brow creased as you lifted the rag to look at his arm. The cut itself wasn’t that deep, but it was pretty substantial, at least in your opinion. Maybe comparatively it wasn’t as bad as some of the other injuries he’d had in his lifetime. The thought made your heart clench as your eyes began to notice other scars along his arm and uncovered chest.

You kept going back to a particularly gnarly scar just above his chest as you lifted his arm to wrap the bandage.

“Did you get this fighting?” you finally asked, turning your attention back to the cut, your curiosity getting the better of you.

He grabbed the bottle and took another drink. “‘Cause that’s all we do, eh? Drink, fight, and fuck—“

“I didn’t say that,” you interrupted, your voice strong in defense.

You wouldn’t mention how his brother was just talking about whores. Or how they were both currently drunk. Or how the last time you’d seen him in this kitchen he’d been bloody and bruised from an altercation.

Probably wouldn’t be helpful at this point.

Instead, you tried to appeal to the logical side of him. “Just with the Digbeth expansion, I’d imagine that can be pretty dangerous.”

You finished the tie of the bandage as you looked back up at him. He was already watching you, his eyes red and glassy, causing the already bright blues to appear more translucent against the candlelight. You noticed how much darker the skin under his eyes were, and couldn’t help but wonder when the last time he slept was.

“You’ve got some on your hands,” he pointed, gently wrapping his hand around your own. He lifted it, revealing the deep red smear on the pad of your hand. He used his good hand to squeeze out the rag and began to clean your palm.

“It’s just blood,” you shrugged, trying not to let on that your heart was racing at the intimacy. “Blood doesn’t scare me, Tommy.”

He looked between your eyes. For a moment you felt like he’d suddenly become sober as he lifted his good hand and gently ran his thumb against your cheek. “It should.”

You swallowed. “Tommy, I—“

“You don’t belong here.”

At his words, you felt your back straighten in defense, not realizing how close you’d been moving in toward him. Your heart began to race even faster as you tried to decipher what exactly he meant.

Part of you knew he must have been talking more in general terms. That you deserved something more than Birmingham in a gambling den with gangsters.

But there was something in the rawness of his words. Something that made you feel like he knew what such a phrase could actually mean to you — that you didn’t belong here, in this time or this place.

“I don’t,” you answered honestly, not helping the sincerity of the words falling from your lips. “But here I am. And here is where I want to be.”

Tommy’s expression remained unreadable as his eyes flicked between both of yours, looking for the lie. His adam’s apple bobbed, then he whispered, “With me?”

The sound of soft whimpering caused you both to jump, turning back toward the kitchen doorway. Katie stopped at the archway, dragging a blanket as she used the end of it to wipe her face.

You rose from your seat to collect the little one — this wasn’t the first time she’d woken up crying since her mother’s passing.

Katie nuzzled her face into your shoulder as you turned back toward the kitchen. Tommy was already standing, putting his arm back in his shirt and grabbing his coat and gun, still slightly uneasy in his footing as he headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Tommy—” you called as the door shut behind him.

—-

The next morning was hectic as everyone prepared for the funeral. You didn’t see the brothers again until that afternoon, John’s eyes red despite the stone expression he kept on his face as everyone offered their condolences.

You felt Tommy’s eyes on you as you both navigated through the house, stealing a few glances at him yourself when he wasn’t looking. Neither of you spoke to the other though, and you were beginning to wonder if he even remembered your conversation the previous night. But each time you found yourself thinking in that direction, you shook your head to remind yourself of the bigger picture of the day.

Polly explained that they would start at Charlie’s Yard and walk the body through the town Martha had grown up in before reaching the graveyard. There, the priest would perform the ceremony. Apparently most of Martha’s family was already gone, so the guests would be mostly John’s family and her friends. After the burial, the Shelbys would return to Charlie’s Yard to burn the caravan filled with Martha’s mementos and pictures. Apparently this was more of a Shelby family tradition, something you were greatly interested in learning more about, at a different time of course.

The preparations reminded you of your recent conversation with Polly over spirits. It got you thinking about the tea Madam Despoina had given you again.

Excusing yourself to get ready for the events of the day, you left the Shelby house to change in your lodgings, doing your best to find something black. The only thing you didn’t have was a hat, but Ada had promised to bring you an extra. Your eyes kept shifting over to your dresser drawer.

It’d been almost a month since you’d received the gift. You’d spent months desperate for an answer as to how or why you were here. And it seemed that just as you were given some sort of clue, some key to unlock something — you were rejecting it. You’d gotten caught up in the found family of the Shelbys and the unshakable pull you felt from Tommy. This new life you’d created for yourself had become a distraction and disassociation of the still very real mystery of your circumstance.

Your eyes moved again to the dresser as you looked over yourself in the mirror. Could the answer be in that cup of tea?

A knock at the door caused you to jump, your heart racing at being caught with your own thoughts. Half expecting Ada with the hat she’d promised, you were surprised when it was Tommy instead who stood on the other side of your door.

He had his hands shoved in his pockets as he stood there uncomfortably. He cleared his throat, “Ada wasn’t sure if you’d know where Charlie’s Yard was, so I offered to come collect you.”

“Oh,” you replied, wondering if it was true. “I just need to get my coat then—“

“Tommy? What are you doin’ here?” You heard another man’s voice down the hall as you turned back around to poke your head through the still open door of your apartment.

Benji approached the doorway in a button-up and small bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Tommy’s brow creased as he appraised the man, then looked between the flowers and you before his face hardened and back straightened.

“What are you doing here, Benji?”

He smirked, “We were going to get dinner, remember?”

You hadn’t. The man hadn’t even been a speck on your mind the past week.

“I’m sorry, Benji,” you began, your voice sincere, “um— Martha passed away this week. We’re on our way to the funeral, I can’t see you tonight.”

“Oh,” he turned to Tommy. “Right I heard about that. I’m sorry for your loss, mate.”

Tommy shook his head. “Save your condolences for my brother, Hancock. We’re going to be late, if you’ll excuse us.”

Without waiting for you, Tommy began to walk down the hallway toward the exit. You rushed to grab your coat and lock your door behind you before apologizing again to Benji and hustling after Tommy.

“Suppose that answers my question,” was the first thing out of Tommy’s mouth when you finally caught up with him, still looking straight ahead as you both walked down the lane.

“What?”

“Last night—“

“You remember last night?” you asked surprised. He had been really drunk

He scoffed, still not slowing in his walk nor giving you a glance. “I remember a lot of things. Including you telling me you weren’t interested in Hancock.”

“I wasn’t,” you answered, trying to catch your breath.

He scoffed again and your eyes narrowed.

“But then nearly a month went by after you ghosted me so I thought what the hell, give the guy a chance.”

“Ghost?—“

“You told me to stay away—“

“And staying away means being courted by a Peaky Blinder, ya?”

“Courted?” Your brow creased at the use of phrase. “It was going to be one date — just a dinner, we weren’t getting married.”

He rounded on you, pulling you abruptly into an alcove off the sidewalk until your back was against the brick. His eyes bore down at you as the fire returned to his eyes. “Do you know what happens to people who cross me?” He started, his voice lower than it had been moments before. “They lose their ears, their tongues, their eyes. You have no fuckin’ idea who you’re talking to.”

“I do,” you said, your voice just as strong despite the threatening tone of Tommy hovering above you. His eyes simmered for a moment. “You think you’re a monster. Maybe you are— maybe you have to be, maybe you don’t. I don’t care. I said I was going to help you. So shove off with the chauvinistic ‘I’m pushing you away to keep you safe’ bullshit — I don’t want it.”

You surprised yourself at your own words, though you tried to keep your face from showing it. Deep down, you’d always believed what you said, but you hadn’t known exactly to what extent. Did you not care if Tommy Shelby was a monster? No. And you couldn’t shake why.

“You’ll regret it,” he said, his eyes icy once again with the same hint of desperation you saw the night before.

“Not as much as you’ll regret going from ‘I need you’ to ‘stay away from me’—“

He shook his head, finally taking a step back from you. “I was being selfish—“

“Well then be selfish!” You took a step back toward him. “Because dammit, Tommy, I need you too!”

He pulled your body into his so quickly you nearly pushed him away. But your body immediately reacted to the feel of his lips against yours as you pulled yourself in closer, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You broke away first, the whistling of pedestrians on the sidewalk making you remember you weren’t as concealed in this alcove as you thought. Though Tommy didn’t seem to care, his eyes still focused on you as you caught your breath.

“Don’t think just kissing me absolves you from giving a proper explanation for your actions,” you tried to say as serious as you could muster between breaths.

You were still mad at him. He’d put you through a roller coaster of unnecessary emotions the last few weeks. For him to get jealous at the prospects of you moving on? There was something more, you could feel it. And there was no way you were letting him get away with not explaining himself fully before you felt you could open back up to him again.

The corner of his mouth rose in amusement, “Come to the races with me when I return.”

“What?” your brow creased, though the corner of your mouth tugged upward at the prospects of what sounded like a date (you really were delusional when it came to this man).

“I want to take you to the races. Join me?”

You shook your head, “Is this the Tommy Shelby version of an olive branch?”

He smirked, “Maybe. We can talk more then.”

“Deal,” you answered, pulling his smirk into a genuine smile as you both turned back to continue down the sidewalk.

—-

The funeral was beautiful. Honestly, you hadn’t any idea what to expect when Polly talked about the arrangements. But the words, the songs, and the beauty of the traditions had you in tears. John held his children during the entire procession, and gave a lovely send off before lighting the fire.

Despite the grief you were feeling for the family, your brain hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the tea in your bedroom. Tommy had informed you that they’d be wrapping up Digbeth soon, returning properly in a few weeks.

That night was the first night you’d been back in your own apartment. The first thing you did was open your dresser drawer and remove the box.

You left it on your counter top as you started the fireplace, then the kettle. As you reached for the tea cup, you wondered if it was smart to be alone while you did this. You were, after all, still about sixty percent sure that the old tea was just going to give you either a stomach ache or seizure. But, you guessed that was better than the ninety-nine percent that you’d been at upon first receiving.

You gently removed the leaves and vial of water, following the instructions from Madam Despoina as you made your cup.

Holding the warm tea in your hands, you made the last minute decision to sit on the floor — reasoning that if you collapsed or something, at least you wouldn’t have as far to go.

You settled on the rug, inhaled deeply, closed your eyes, then brought the edge of the cup to your mouth.

You could feel the hot water run through your throat, then down to your chest before the warmth began to spread through your arms and hands, down to your stomach, then legs, then toes.

With your eyes still closed, you sat for a moment, waiting for something to happen.

When nothing did, you took another sip. Again, nothing happened.

Sighing, you sent a small thank you to whomever was listening that you at least didn’t go into any kind of shock, then opened your eyes.

“Hello, darling.”

>> next chapter <;< chapter masterlist

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248 notes · View notes

ponett · 19 days

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wait, you could have gotten a follow up with Ken himself? did that go very far or were you not interested? i getta imagine even if you dont like his work, asking the man himself about his days on the comic would be illuminating.

I could have. Part of me was definitely curious, since there's so much we don't know about what was going on behind the scenes at Archie and Ken's one of the few people still interested in talking about it. But it's also like... I dunno, I just like to keep some distance between me as a critic and him as a creator. I can talk about his work, I can talk about things he's said publicly about his work, but I don't need to drag him directly into it. It's the same reason why I've never interacted with him directly on Twitter, even though people loooooooove to get into arguments with him about Sonic shit. As critical as I've been of both him and his work, I have zero desire to grill him in person.

Were I to interview him, there are basically two paths I see here:

Option A: I do a totally cordial softball interview, magically putting aside my well-established opinions on the guy from my decade spent running TKP, and use it as an opportunity to get some more insight into the creation of the comics from him. And then what? I go right back to poking fun at him on my Tumblr blog that has his name in the URL? I'm pretty soft on the guy these days compared to all the Sonic fans out there who think he's The Literal Devil, but still, there's no way for this to not feel like entrapment to me. Like I'm just playing nice so he can give me ammo for when I turn around and continue poking fun at his work and his occasional legal threat. And even if I never use anything he says in that interview against him, since I finished covering his Archie Sonic run for the blog years ago rarely have any reason to even bring him up, my audience will sure as hell comb through every word he says to find more coal for the hate train.

Option B: I'm more critical of him to his face, in which case I'm basically just bullying a kinda pathetic old man, who's already alienated most of his peers and committed career suicide, for writing some children's comics I didn't like 20-30 years ago. There is not a single iota of me that wants to turn into Ken's equivalent of that asshole who paid to be a guest on the BumbleKast just to ask Ian Flynn a bunch of questions that boiled down to "hey so this story you wrote sucked, why'd you write it that way?"

It just doesn't feel right to me no matter how you slice it. Ken's not some monstrous public figure who needs to get held accountable for his actions in an interview or something. At the end of the day, it's just comics. It's not that serious. He can continue making his weird little Lara-Su Chronicles comics and putting his foot in his mouth of his own accord, and I can continue being like "lol remember when Knuckles got called a 'proud man-child' at his own funeral" as a side thing to my own creative career, and never the twain shall meet

#dustybins #ask

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matenrou-fan · 1 year

Text

~Intoxication~

Me: oh I just will take a day off from Tumblr! *writing the biggest fic I ever made.*

Anyways this idea was in my mind for a pretty long time but I was kinda indecisive to start this work. Feel more nervous than when I posted another pretty dirty fic as this time it's much harsher. So please read tags carefully.

Intoxication of love.. or of lust? Diavolo didn't know himself what exactly was outweighed in his chest, but there's something he knows for sure - he'll make you his today.

femreader, possessive!Diavolo, delusional!Diavolo, aphrodisiac, oral (receiving), fingering (receiving), dirty talk, crempie, drugging, dumbification, non-con, slut shaming, Master/slave undertones;; 3914 words;; Please contact me if you think I forgot to add something!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

;MINORS DNI;

Just another evening in Demon Lord's Castle.. Well, at least from your point of view, as everything was so casual, casual as it was a few days ago, and a week ago, and a month ago. There's no fear or thrilling excitement that tickles in your chest when you visit such a luxurious place for the first few times. And of course you stop seeing Lord Diavolo as someone authoritative and powerful, more like a good friend who you don't mind to tease sometimes.

But that's what he's needed, that's what he expected to see - a zero suspicion or careful attention from you. And that is what would help him to put his plan into practice.

"Mm, s/o, you're here! I was waiting for you." - With a usual big smile he got closer, flung out his arms in a lavish gesture.

All speeches are well prepared. All his actions, every movement is well prepared. Not too perfect to evoke a feeling of falseness, but without any wild surprises, keeping your guard down.

Today he's more collected than before his official meetings or important events. Why? Because losing his status or just getting a little confused on scene is not bothering his heart as much as thoughts about losing you on a strange path of your relationship with demons around. Moving closer to one demon brother, than to another, like a little brat that just plays on crossroads but never stepping too far away in one certain direction. And moreover, never looking in his way, stepping on Diavolo's side only when you're too bored and have no right mood with these seven jerks. You just know how to play with their hearts, and today there would be a punishment. Don't want to get closer on your own? Be ready that sooner or later there will be a strong arm that just finally drags you to one of the ways. And the young Lord is willing to make you fall into his ground. To his feet.

"Sorry that I didn't text you back sooner.. Was a little bit busy." - your soft smile is adorable, but he notices how the corners of your lips twitch a little before lifting up. Oh, busy? You always have this 'guilty smile', that's what he called it, when getting late in RAD or in his Castle, or somewhere else, just because you were having fun with someone else, not because you're busy. Foolish and so air headed outside, Diavolo actually carefully remembered all pieces of information about you, all these small differences in your reactions..

"Ah, it's okay! I'm ready to forgive you, but only if you would tell me what happened.." - no indication of envy or anger, only this slight flirt that he always did, which always makes you think you're in charge and can tease him a little.

"Oh, nothing too serious. You know, just Mammon again is-"

Listening to your voice while you two sit at the table, Diavolo truly listens to all this nonsense, showing his usual reaction - laugh and just a little bit of jealousy about you all having such a good time in House of Lamentation. But it's just a piece of his attention, when inside his thoughts were far away from all these demons, as he concentrated on a cup of herbal tea in your arm. Almost full without a few sips, maybe he should shut your mouth a little and tell you something too so you would pay more attention to your drink? Effect would last pretty long yet his patience is otherwise.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"Really? I never knew that.." - you mumble, smiling weakly as you look at your almost empty cup. It was such a pretty long day, that's why you suddenly start feeling kinda strange? Something like drowsiness, but at the same time like a second wind too.. Like if you didn't sleep for a few days and all your motions get so slow but suddenly a new wave of energy hits your body.. But not in some fresh way, as these goosebumps on your skin make you heated up. It's like it hits not your whole insides, but only the lower part…? The more you try to describe your own feelings, the more confused you get. Such a mix of thoughts in your head makes you dizzy.

Oh. oh. And of course Diavolo quickly noticed that. Who, as if not your generous, kind and cheerful friend who invited you to visit him today, will help you now?

"S/o, is everything alright?" - the itch to add some slight mockery in his tone was almost irresistible, but that's too early for something like that. There's plenty of time for him to have some fun with vengeance for all days that you ignored him..

"No, I think I just don't sleep that well tonight.." - a small trembling sigh escapes your lips, as you rub your temple in circle motions. But thoughts keep fading away in the middle of sentences, how can you even explain to him properly this strange sudden fatigue?

"Hm, maybe we should have a little walk around my Castle? It always helps me feel a little bit more fresh.."

Diavolo's right, as it helps you too sometimes, especially when you just want to clear your head, like right now.

But today the corridors of his residence were more like a labyrinth, and even familiar places were so far away and strange for you. Necessity of carrying on a conversation did not divert you from this nagging waves of pain, and the cheerful, unstoppable bubbling of the young Lord just turns your mind into a complete mush. Where were your thoughts, and where was his one, that he pushed in your mind with this chirping..? Your weak whining was the only response to his question that you didn't even understand. Perfect.

"S/o..?" - Snaps of fingers were so close to your nose but you didn't even react that well, only shrugging a little. You lazily turned to face Diavolo, but not for scolding him for such boorish behavior, your minds didn't even produce a thought about this being disrespectful or just strange. You turn just because he attracted your attention in this way, that's it, and Diavolo loves how quickly you get so obedient. What else can he try then?

"You hear me? Are you alright?" - This time there's undisguised mockery, yet you didn't get mad, once again. And even when he steps closer and squeezes your waist with his hands, in a pretty firm grip on purpose, you only furrow your brows and mumble:

"Dia.. Wha.." - Without that much resistance. The way you place your hands on his shoulders even can be called like some romantical move, only slight attempts of pushing tells him that you're not really understand what's going on. Maybe even not like it or hate it, in the very depth of your minds, where his drug didn't reach for now? But it just turns him more.

That's it. You ARE weak now. The kindness and compassion have left, leaving you with a cold, dominant demon - one who is in control.

Throwing away this obligation of controlling his wishes, he drops his hands on your hips and moves you closer to himself with one quick, harsh pull. Warmth of your body was intoxicating, almost a Siren's call but in physical form. He even can feel slight movements of fingers that were now sandwiched between your and his chest. Honey, are you still trying to push him away?

"Dia.. It's wrong.." - And there's a Siren's call itself. Weak call that shows just how dizzy you are, how far away from reality.. A call to destroy your minds completely.

His hands squeezed your ass, pushing you closer and higher, on the same level to his face. Already on weak legs, all you can do to scoot up is just lean to Diavolo's body, letting him manhandle you now.

Somewhere through this fog in your brains you hear your own scream that beg to fight, to push him away. Somewhere through this wild burn in your body you feel some kind of fear and disgust, that telling you this is not a right way to do the thing, that something is wrong.. But these smacks of a little desperation were too weak to make a breach in the wall of thick, strange arouse that start arising in your bosom from such close contact with another body. Moreover, every minor thought faded away under pressure of Diavolo's lips.

It's more like he tries to devour you than kiss, pushing his tongue inside your mouth without warning as soon as you just gasp from his tight grasp on your ass. Rolls his tongue over and around your own, pushing it as deeply into your narrow mouth as he can, Diavolo didn't pay any attention to a new way of struggling from your side. Or maybe he feels every small push, enjoying it?

Tickles of the tip of his tongue on your palate sends waves of goosebumps directly in your minds, making your whole body hummed in response. And small vibrations of your moans titillate both you and him, boiling your already heated up minds.

Even a loud thud of the door behind you didn't bother you that much, and only when Diavolo pulled away himself, throwing on the mattress, did you wake up. Just a little, only able to realize you're in another room, with a big soft bed underneath you.

It's actually his bedroom that you visited oh so many times yet never leave your scent on his pillows or sheets, sitting only on the same couch every time. But right now whatever sense you got left in your brains wasn't enough to remember that, or even to panic from the fact you got dragged here and didn't even notice this. Everything was concentrated on Diavolo, who's towering over you, and on this burning feeling in your chest that makes it hard to breathe.

"You look so much better like this, darling." - It’s like a lover’s whisper but there’s a cruel, depraved edge to it that chills the heart. It’s almost like the whisper of a predator that knows its prey is helpless and won’t escape no matter how much it struggles. - "So much better with me, than with anyone else.."

The moment you weakly open your mouth to mumble some nonsense he gobbles you up again, no less but even more hungrily than before. Even Diavolo himself didn't know his appetite for you was so wild, but now, when he finally unleashes his true intentions, that doesn't matter. He can do anything he wants with you, and as long as he wants..

Every touch and kiss lewding you in some dirty, twisted way. Trails of his hands on your body were like burning sharp knives, like electrical discharges that increased this unbearable heat. Fragile whine in his mouth was the only retort you were capable of, but for Diavolo it sounds like some needy beg rather than a strong protest. You're not asking to leave you alone, you're asking to reduce this dizzying temperature in your insides.

Ripping and throwing away all your clothes sounds like a good help, isn't it? Your arms falling slack on sheets, too powerless to resist his actions, so pretty soon the only thing that hid your body from his sharp gaze was your underwear.

Just for a moment Diavolo pulled away to admire this new view that he imagined in his dreams for so long - round chest heaves with your deep, unsteady breaths, and your stomach rises and falls with each. Smoothest of your skin was on a higher level than any expensive, luxury fabric he ever was able to touch. And this scent.. No one of all incubus or succubus can compare with this throbbing seduction of your smell. But doesn't this mean he's the victim here, acting under the charm of your beauty?

"It's all your fault, s/o.." - leaning closer, he groans in your ear. Maybe you don't really understand what he's talking about, as every small brush of his skin on your naked one interrupts any incipient thoughts, but it doesn't mean he has no right to tell all these things that are stored up in the depth of his soul. - "Everything could have been different if you wouldn't be like that, playing and fucking around with everyone.."

He grabs your chin to make look up at him - eyes have taken on a distant look, and your lips are trembling, trying to breathe more.. Yes, you definitely almost don't understand him, only sligh shine of confusion and fear in your eyes through a fog of lust can be seen. But it's better like this, cause now you at least don't resist his action.

Long, wet path of kisses on your body, as if Diavolo tries to mark every small part of your skin with his lips. The closer he moves to your trembling hips, the more sloppy his movements get, and when he finally stops right in front of your waistband, heavily breathing, his kisses are more reminiscent of some hungry impatient licks. Hot unsteady breath makes you whimper again and you look at him with half-lidded eyes, confused with his action. Your body is being flooded with a mix of unreal arouse and some creeping fear. Maybe this drug was good enough to turn your brains and body into a complete mess, but something in your guts keeps screaming to stop this.

"Dia.. Don't.. S-stop.."

"Don't stop? Of course, my darling.." - a low growl as his lips are within a breath of distance from your clit.

He presses his whole face to your cunt, drowning into warm wetness and intoxicating scent. Thin fabric of your panties was more like a tease for you when he started licking your folds right through panties. Like some poor, starving for months puppy, he pounced upon your pussy like it was a sacred dish.

His big hands moved from your waist to your thighs, spreading them apart as you kept squeezing them together and bothering his fun. One warning bite on your inner thigh before he pulled down your underwear with his teeth.

For a moment your and his eyes meet each other, as if he gives you another warning to not keep being a brat even in such a state and just gives him what he wants.

But his visage started to warp, along with this stern look - you break. Moaning, you toss your head back and lift your hips, begging to continue. All last hopes and screams leave your mind, nagging, painful ache that was waiting for release, win.

"That's it. What a fucking good girl you can be.."

Leaving your legs apart, he moved his hand to open your labia. Small throbbing clit, and this clenching around nothing hole.. His own dick twitch, so hard and hot in his pants, but Diavolo can wait just a little bit more to play all his fantasies.

Nimble fingers up against a bundle of nerves, then upwards, enjoying every millimeter. Such a small thing and such a light stroke, yet your whole body hummed in response. Slowly moving up and down, then in circular movements, Diavolo remembered every reaction, every gasp and whimper along with sudden shrugs of your shoulders or legs.. Do you not love like this, and prefer like that? He'll keep that in mind for the future, when you wake from drugs just to see him ready to repeat everything.

His fingers get lower, playing between folds, soaking in your juices while he presses his mouth to your clit. Just a small kiss, as he squeezes a sensitive spot with his lips, but your voice immediately gets higher, hips lift even more, as if you try to find more friction. What a cute reaction.. Opening his mouth and sucking your clit in, at the same time pushing it with his tongue, he didn't move his eyes from your face even for a second, devouring every slight twitch of your brows or lips. The way you start whining more, the way your needy cunt clenches more every time his fingers pressed around your entrance… In Diavolo's mind it means only one thing - there's no way you're enjoying this only because of befuddling drugs, you're enjoying it because you're just a little obedient slave that waited to be taken in some harsh and rough way. And Diavolo doesn't mind to show who's your master now.

Even when he pushes his finger in, without any warnings, you didn't pried him off, but moved further, letting him sink inside you and he quickly added another finger. Are you so loosened up because of an aphrodisiac he also added to this tea, or is it just a normal reaction of your body when somebody is being so irreverent with you? Thoughts about you always being like this just for him, only for him, always ready to feel him inside you and being so obediently silent with your disagreements but so loud with your sinful moans.. It's starting to be unbearable for him too, so his fingers quickly get in pretty fast pace, stretching your walls.

"You liked it, didn't you? You liked being such a fucking slut.." - Diavolo groans, tickling your clit with a low husky breath. Weak gasp from your lips didn't sound like a good response, so he disdainfully squeezed your tensed nerves between his teeth, just a little, but enough to draw more pleasant to his ears high pitched whine from your chest. - "Keep showing me how you like that.."

Like if your body is drawn to follow the orders of the young Lord, you immediately moan again, but this time from a strong aggressive hit of his fingers inside you cunt. Your surroundings began to swim with every thrust, as your hips jut upwards in one rhythm with his hand. Pulsation in your core reaches its peak, making you shudder in agony of enthralling pleasure, before you cum.

Such a strong wave that it is almost painful, like some piercing discharge. Your muscles feel more relaxed yet your insides are not revealed but filled even more with some dirty coercion to ache and beg for another release, and then for another and another.. Like you never would be satisfied, feeling this yearning that is amplified with drugs in your body again and again. And Diavolo knows that, ready to use you, who's now at his disposal, till blackness would crowd in on your vision and you would fall into deep narcotic sleep… Or maybe even after that?

Low groan thundered on the whole room when his now exposed dick twitch from cold air. Diavolo leans closer and grope your waist, almost buries you under his weight when his flushed head glides down your folds and presses to your clenching cunt, mixing his precum with your juices. Your hips wiggled a bit to grind back to his cock and he can't help but smirk, enjoying the way you completely forget about your arrogant behavior and get so obedient.. so needy to his dick. Now he just needs to make sure to pound you so good that you will be like that even without any aphrodisiac.

Pushing himself deep inside your wet cunt, he froze for a moment. Not to make you get used to his pretty thick length, but to give himself some time to overcome his strong goosebumps from your tightness. It feels much better than he ever can imagine, than he ever can make himself feel with the calloused seal of his own hand.. Almost if he's the one who's being corrupted here, not you.

He starts to slide back his cock out of your pussy and then to slide in with more force, just to experience this tickle on the back of his head once more. There's no way he can be gentle even in the beginning, when you lewding him like that with these pathetic whines. You wrap your legs around his wait yourself, you just BEG to be fucked, not crying to stop. Even your grasp on his shoulders is just the way to show your desire and these scratches from your nails on his skin is just a passion, he knows for sure.

Hovering over you like a predator over his prey, he just starts thrusting in some aggressive speed, stretching your walls with such force it's turning your minds into havoc. More marks on your body - kisses, hickeys, scratches - he will make sure there's no place that he didn't touch with his lips or didn't grope with his hands.

But the main act that will reinforce his point of owning you is only in the future, but his dick already starts grinding from thoughts about filling your pussy with his cum again and again. And even if you would be too full to take more with this greedy cunt, there's another holes in your body he would be glad to fulfill to the very end.

"You were waiting for it, didn't you? Whining my name like a little bitch in heat." - he whispered right in your ear but even such close contact didn't help to get his words into your empty head. Your mouth moved on its own, calling him in desperate moans as you didn't know yourself if you actually started begging for more or still resisting his wild urges.. But did it actually matter at such a moment? As there is no escape from the suffocating delight of unravel underneath him.

Your pussy starts to spasm, ready for another breakneck orgasm. And you feel his dick grinding against your walls in response, spreading soaking precum inside you. Grasp on your waist was strong enough to break a bone, but Diavolo moved one arm to hold your chin in the same firm grip and make you look up at him. He just wants to see how your eyes would be darkened by another wave of pleasure, how you would look when he finally made you completely his.. Rough sloppy kiss before he slammed his dick fully inside you, shooting hot sperm in your cervix. Tightening around the base of his dick, your cunt was almost milking him, sucking every drop with wild pulsations.

Some sort of sore starts nagging in your body and you collapse on the bed, mewling for some break. But only a few seconds was enough to catch a breath to a demon, as he started moving again even in a more aggressive way, slapping your hips with his own. None of your whines never would be considered as asking to stop, Diavolo just doesn't hear any painful undertones on your voice, just some luring possession that resonates with his delusional mind.

His dick was stiff again, hitting your sensitive spot with swollen glans with every thrust. Hitting your whole body with new waves that turn you more and more into some dumb, empty doll for his wishes and desires.

Diavolo will make sure to turn you into some obedient cock slave through some good punishment for all this time he was the one who's missed you. Now it's his time to be in charge and make you beg, and yearn, and cry for him.. to make you addicted to his love.. or lust?

#【🍓】#diavolo smut #diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo #lord diavolo #smut obey me #obey me smut #diavolo obey me #obey me diavolo smut #obey me diavolo x reader #Diavolo obey me smut #Diavolo x reader smut #obey me x reader smut #obey me imagines #obey me #diavolo obey me x reader

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janmisali · 1 year

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Number Tournament: Honorable Mentions

well, you've all asked for it, and I guess there's no point in waiting any further now that round one is almost over. here's some highlights from the numbers that didn't get enough nominations to make it into the tournament. (as you can work out from looking at how many nominations the numbers that made it into the tournament got, my cutoff was seven nominations, which left room for me to hand-pick three numbers that only got six to fill in the bottom seeds)

six nominations

these are the numbers that were the closest of all to making the cut. in the end, I picked ten, Rayo's number, and omega to fill in seeds 62-64, but four other numbers got six nominations but didn't make it:

25: perfectly fine square number. notably funnier than 24

81: another square. I only wanted one "boring normal integer" for the bottom seeds and like come on it had to be ten.

5040: Plato's favorite number, a very fun one

42069: both 420 and 69 already made the cut, so this would have been excessive

and now for some miscellaneous fun ideas that not enough people suggested to make the cut!

cool math things

c (the speed of light) could have been a strong contender, but physics fans were pretty much universally putting their efforts behind the fine-structure constant and the Avogadro constant, leaving other universal constants behind

the Euler-Masceroni constant got five nominations super early on in the process, some of which were even intentional (there are so many things named after Euler but I made the call that people who said "Euler's constant" without specifying were talking about this one) but never got any further than that

a lot of infinite ordinals more interesting than the standard omega were in the running, but given that omega itself only barely made it in, numbers like omega to the omega power never stood a chance. of course, given how well omega did in round one maybe those other bigger infinities could have held their own if only more people suggested them before the tournament began

Not a Number's presence in the tournament is I think very fun, but other floating point things were also nominated, just not as frequently. negative zero was a fun one, as are the handful of nominations for just slightly-off multiples of one tenth

besides star, a lot of game theory not-really-number numbers had a few fans supporting them, such as dud (deathless universal draw), a couple of tiny numbers, and one suggestion for {69|420}

meme numbers

fans of boobs were split between 80085, 58008, 8008135, and 5318008, so none of the boob numbers made it individually

perhaps even more disappointingly, only five people suggested 1312

1337 is a super dead meme so that one being unpopular isn't as surprising. but then literally nobody suggested 9001? weird!

the AACS encryption key (an illegal number) only got a handful of suggestions, which is a shame because that's a really fun one

only three people suggested "your credit card number" but if it made it past the cutoff I 100% would have put that in the tournament

meta jokes

a few people suggested variations of "the number that wins the tournament", which I think is a funnier meta joke than either of the ones that actually made the cut

a couple people also did versions of "the sum of all other numbers in the bracket" (or "all other numbers people suggested in this google form"), with a couple people who said that also thankfully adding in some conditions to only include numbers where you can actually do that

a couple people have asked me what the smallest natural number was that nobody suggested, and unfortunately (by which I mean I love this) I can't answer that because a couple people suggested "the smallest natural number nobody else suggests"

another fun one was "the number of notes on this tumblr post", which only one person suggested

three separate people did "five (the word five not the number)", "5 (the symbol not the number it represents)" and "V (the roman numeral)" (looking at them all together it kinda looks like this was the same person all three times but that's because I'm paraphrasing all of them)

googologisms and otherwise big numbers

shockingly, the famously large numbers googol and Graham's number didn't get nearly as much support as the googologisms that made it to the bracket

five people suggested numbers in the Busy Beaver sequence, but none of them suggested the same Busy Beaver number

there were also things like "the smallest counterexample to the Collatz conjecture", fully hypothetical numbers

"zillion", "bajillion", and "fuckton" got two nominations each, any of which would have been extremely fun to see in the tournament

other

a couple people just said "fibonacci number" which. do you mean like the whole sequence? maybe these should have counted for phi

two people suggested "a grizzly bear". I'm assuming that's a reference I'm not getting, because it's way too specific of a joke for two people to say that independently

there was one suggestion that was the coordinates to a restaurant in yemen called burger king 2

anyway there's literally thousands of these, and I have no intentions of at any point making a full comprehensive list of what people suggested, but I think this is a pretty good sample of what the nominees were like. there were a lot of really good candidates, but I think the 64 that made it into the tournament are a pretty dang good set of numbers!

thank you to everyone who suggested your favorite numbers, it was genuinely very fun reading through everyone's suggestions.

#number tournament #jan misali #math #mathblr

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sophieinwonderland · 5 months

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Now, why would you dare me to embarrass you and your pals like that?

I appreciate how you wanted my attention so bad you posted me to not one, but two subreddits.

Makes a girl feel special! 🤣

I have actually never seen Wikipedia cited as a source about endogenic plurality. Though I do see anti-endos all the time, when asked for sources, telling people to just Google things.

Anyway, here's @guardianssystem's document filled with academic papers about endogenic plurality:

I've compiled my own, but honestly, theirs is better organized than mine.

And in the interest of fairness, here are all the anti-endo papers debunking endogenic plurality:

Sorry, I forgot. Those don't exist. Oops. 🤷‍♀️

Echo chamber? LOL!

Weren't you the one spouting a bunch of lies on Tumblr, got totally debunked, posted the people who debunked you to r/systemscringe to have a hugbox where fakeclaimers could assure you how the people who contradicted you are all fakers, and then blocked everyone who disagreed with you?

Weren't you also the one who, when shown a quote from an expert in dissociative disorders who worked on the DSM-5 saying that a disorder isn't a disorder if it doesn't cause distress, argued that the people who defined what disorder are must be wrong about that definition?

You're a misinformation machine who can only find support when huddled in cringe subreddits. Don't try to talk about people in echo chambers.

Also, you know most of psychology is just... listening to people? That's how it's been as long as the field existed. DID (or MPD at the time) was a recognized disorder since long before the first brain scans were conducted on DID patients. It's saying something though when basically every single scientist who has ever researched endogenic plurality has said they believe it's a real thing, or that it could be. While absolutely zero academic papers have expressed that it's fake.

There is also an fMRI study into tulpa systems that's been in the works, but results have yet to be published.

Sure, if that's what you'd like me to call you, Crazy. 😊

Anyway, Crazy, you should know that just because you personally find something scary doesn't mean everyone will or that the thing is bad. Personal preferences are a thing.

In a study of tulpamancers though, most generally reported their lives becoming better after the practice.

78% reported improvements in their mental health, and 91% on overall life.

There are many out there who would jump at the chance to have someone there with them that knows them intimately, and to never have to be alone again.

If it's not for you, then so be it.

But it's certainly not something to be afraid of.

And maybe, for those who are willing to commit to the practice while America struggles with an epidemic of loneliness, it's something worth being open to.

This is actually pretty fair.

But that's now, and I'm looking at course of history and trends of plural acceptance.

300 years ago, any plural would be viewed as demon possessed and end up tortured or killed for their plurality.

70 years ago, all plurality was seen as a mental illness, and it was common to force plurals, as well as anyone else associated with mental illnesses, into asylums.

30 years ago, the first real plural communities were able to connect on the internet and form in small numbers.

8 years ago, the first studies into endogenic plurality started being conducted. 4 years ago, the ICD-11 acknowledged that you could have multiple distinct personality states without a disorder. 2023 marked the first, but certainly not the last, time a system used their system name as an author of an academic paper.

Recently, new plural resources have been designed and put into use. More servers than ever are using Pluralkit. And Simply Plural went from 100k users at the end of 2021 to 210k at the end of 2022.

Progress is happening far more rapidly than you realize. And you had best be ready for it.

BOO! 👻

Oh, hey, I just realized... this is literal pluralphobia!

Liberté!

Egalité!

Fraternité!

And yes, The Future is Plural! 😜

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deliciousangelfestival · 8 months

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You can totally ignore my idea lol but what about a fluffy/angsty fic about Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes being turned into a baby/toddler by Tony on accident. But because they are babies they just want to be around and held by “Y/N” and get mad or throw a cute tantrum from lack of attention or if someone tries to hit on their “Y/N”. You can ignore this if it sounds idk weird or dumb lol but I thought it would be cute like they can’t hold back there affection for them while in baby form and when they turn back they are like well shit.. lmao

(PS: the fanart here is from Alexa_520 on Twitter I’m not sure if she has a tumblr but in case you or anyone wants to see it for yourself)

This is so cute!!!

Thank you for the idea. Here it goes. The story has little angst a bit.

Zero Crush.

Summary: Y/N was on her way to go out for her day off. However, her plan got interrupted because the AI told her something at the lab. You almost lose your mind seeing both of your bosses turn into babies.

And now, she has to watch them. Y/N is okay with kids, but the problem is she has a little crush towards Captain America and The Winter Soldier.

Character: Steve Rogers x platonic!reader, Bucky Barnes x platonic!reader

Warning: If you squint a bit, there’s a little angst.

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

Drawing of baby Steve and Rogers : Drawing 1, Drawing 2, Drawing 3

It's been a long time for Steve and Bucky to cry, even for crying their heart out to release all their feelings through tears.

“Waaaaa!”

“Aah…Ahh!”

The rest of the Avengers rubbed their eyes. They couldn't believe the strongest soldiers standing tall before, were shorter than them.

Steve and Bucky have turned into babies. They were standing too close to Tony and Bruce's new invention.

The high IQ bros try to copy the Pym-particles to shrink and increase an object.

"What kind of machine is that, Tony?!" Natasha pushed Tony away while he was still in shock.

"I'm trying to make a quantum machine like Ant-man. Look, it works!!! The box got small.” Tony pointed at the test object.

"Yeah, it’s obvious the zone needs to get fixed." Natasha carried Bucky to her arm. At the same time, Steve was taken by Clint. Steve wants to push Clint away because he stinks.

Bucky did the same towards Natasha; her perfume was too strong. Natasha couldn't help it since she just returned from her mission, and Clint was training when Tony called him.

Tony shook his head. "If Steve and Bucky didn't stand near the test object, they wouldn't get transformed."

Natasha wants to punch him. "You..!!"

All the adults are pointing at each other. At the same time, Steve and Bucky were confused. Since they're shorter than everyone and the mood in the room doesn't feel good, it makes them uncomfortable.

"Uuh…"

All of them stop arguing because they suddenly hear a sobbing voice.

"Hey, guys? Is everything alright?" You were preparing to go out since today is your day off. Before putting on sunscreen, F.R.I.D.A.Y informed you that something happened at the lab.

Nobody answered you, but from their face, you could say they were nervous.

Then you saw that Natasha and Clint have a baby in their arms.

"Ooh, so cute. Clint, you have a twin? Congrats." You know Clint is a family man, but it’s new for him to bring his kids to the headquarters.

Clint chuckled. "Y/N, you don't recognise him?"

"Huh?"

After he said that, you did notice something that felt familiar, but you can tell what it was. Blond hair, blue eyes, straight nose. Then you turn to Natasha. The baby has black hair and vibranium arms.

You gasped, “Oh my god!”

"Yaa! Yaa!" Steve stretched his short arms towards you. Clint gently put Steve on your arm.

“Why did you give him to me?” You nervously hold Steve. Even though he’s a baby now, he is still your boss. You turned to Tony. "You better fix this!!"

"On it."

Bucky saw Steve get carried by you. And he wants it, too. "Ahh…" He pulled Natasha's shirt and pointed at you.

"Even in baby form, you can't be separated from your best friend?"

After everyone stops panicking, Tony wears his Iron suit and buys kid's clothes; perhaps he wants to run away. Bruce is fixing the machine, Clint went home to get toys for Steve and Bucky, and Natasha is helping you.

But you know Natasha just returned after a 3-month mission, and from her eyes, you could see she's damn tired. So you told her to rest.

In the end, there are two babies in your arms. You learn that Steve and Bucky are two years old and can walk alone.

You put them on the couch while you went to the fridge to make warm milk for them. You're not nervous taking care of little kids since you always cared for nieces and nephews before being accepted as a SHIELD agent.

But you’re nervous since you have a little crush towards your idols.

You're relieved to see milk inside the fridge. When you turn around to search for a pan, you're shocked not to see the two babies on the sofa.

Where are they?

Then you feel someone is watching you. You looked and saw Steve and Bucky looking at you.

You lean down and speak softly towards them, "I'm making warm milk for you both. Do you want some?"

Steve and Bucky nodded at the same time. With their fluffy cheeks and small body-like dumplings, you wouldn't believe they're the same boss who is deadly and righteous at the same time. You patted their head gently.

When the milk has warmed up, you give it to both. Steve and Bucky drink the warm milk. They widened their eyes when they tasted it. It's delicious.

In their eyes, you're the person they could look up to. You never raised your voice, and you gave them a delicious drink.

Is this what it feels like to have a big sister?

After 30 minutes, Tony returned with shopping bags from the kid's store.

"Give me the clothes. It needs to be cleaned first before they wear it." You received the bag from Tony. You look inside the bag and see there are pyjamas too.

"I'm going to the laundry room. Could you watch them for a while?"

"Sure."

Steve and Bucky didn't want to be left alone with Tony. Their short legs immediately run after you. Then, each of them hugs each of your legs.

Your body froze. You looked down at the little boys who held your legs, their two big eyes looking at you intensely.

You knew they didn't want to be left alone at this moment. "Umm, Tony, could you do the dirty laundry instead?"

Tony nodded his head. "Yup, the message is clear: both hate me."

Since then, both Steve and Bucky have followed you everywhere. They helped you when you made lunch. They wash all the veggies.

You chuckled, even though they turn into kids, they are always helping.

But no matter what, they're just a kid who needs attention. You learned that when eating together with them.

When you help to feed Bucky because of his metal arm, it doesn't seem like he can control his body.

Steve doesn't like to see Bucky get all your attention. He starts to make a noise and drops his spoon. "Ah..ahhh..."

Because of that, you feed them in turns.

And before they go to sleep, you want to read a bedtime story. You thought this would be easy since they didn't take a nap.

You were wrong. First, it was Steve's book choice; then, it was Bucky's. You should've said only one story but couldn't say no to them.

When they fell asleep, you slowly went out of the room. Finally, you could breathe. Even though you like kids, it takes time and energy.

But at least because of this, your secret crush towards your bosses is gone. Like 50% gone.

Before you join the Avengers, your HR has told you to keep everything professional. It's impossible not to like Captain America and The Winter Soldier.

At first, you saw them cute. But because their crying and whining hurt your eardrum, it shattered their perfect image in your brain.

You don't think you could wait for another day. You could handle terrorists, pirates, and aliens, but not kids. You wish Tony and Bruce could finish the machine quickly.

It took three days to fix the machine. When Steve and Bucky return to their old self, they fall asleep to get checked first. After two hours, they finally woke up and searched for you.

"Ooh, you're looking for Y/N? I gave her a week off after caring for both of you."

Yes, you do. When Bruce said the machine worked fine without side effects, you immediately left the building and went to a bar.

At the bar, you gulped the second glass of beer. You sighed heavily since you realised you needed the strongest alcohol to erase the image from your mind of baby Steve Rogers and baby Bucky Barnes when they're crying, nagging and pulling your hair.

Their perfect image in your mind has been destroyed.

Drawing of baby Steve and Rogers : Drawing 1, Drawing 2, Drawing 3

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

#chris evans characters #sebastian stan characters #steve rogers x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fluff #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x f!reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x female reader

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