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gingernut1314 · 7 months

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The Hunter and the Hunted

Buggy x F!Reader

Summary: Buggy the clown annoys you. More than annoys you. It's been that way ever since you were both little and as a bounty hunter, it made all the sense in the world to dislike him. When you are captured by the Marines for crimes you had been trying to outrun for years, you find him locked up right alongside you and just as annoying as ever. But when the chance for escape presents itself, it comes with strings attached. Strings that test the very natural order between the hunter and the hunted--an order Buggy seems to have no regard for.

Topics: angst, smut (p in v), canon typical violence, enemies to lovers

Word Count: 5.3K

Commissioned by: @katelynwithpaint (Thank you for commissioning me, it was so much fun to write! ❤️ ❤️)

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You were thrown into the dank brig of a marine vessel, the force of the action enough to send you falling to the ground, your bound hands barking in pain as you tried to keep yourself upright.

The two marines who had been commanded to bring you down here spat filthy insults your way. Insults you should have brushed off and forgotten about, but you have never been good at taking such things. Had always let them get under your skin--get you angry and upset.

Snapping your head around, teeth bared in a nasty snarl, you watched the door slam shut behind you.

“You fucking spoon-fed idiots!” You hissed up at the two marines who had been ready to leave before you had spoken. “You know nothing of--” The taller one slammed his fist against the bars of your prison, causing a loud bang to ring through the metal walls.

You hardly flinched. Hardly bat an eye. You’d dealt with some of the most terrifying big bads the East Blue had to offer. Big bads who thrived off chaos and ate babies for breakfast. These two goody-two-shoes marines would never in their wildest dreams live up to those creatures. Never utterly terrify you.

“We know everything about you. We know of your failed run as a bounty hunter. We know you killed a respected and loved member of our community--you are a criminal. Nothing but a no-good pirate.” He shot down at you in an air of superiority. Like you were nothing but the dirt under his shoes.

A criminal. A no-good pirate. Those few words were worse than any insult one could possibly conjure and spit at you. Worse than physically getting slapped in the face.

You were by no means a good person, but a criminal--you were far from being a criminal. Not in the same sense as those you’d hunted down. Those who had done true evil in this world. Who had hurt innocent people--children.

Criminals like their respected and loved community members. A, now-dead, marine commodore. A commodore who had gone too far in life without getting punished for his crimes.

Crimes you punished him for.

A crackling laugh filled the air before you could spit any sort of slights their way. A laugh that started off low, like a chuckling at oneself, but gradually grew into a wicked, bellowing thing.

It was a laugh you were all too familiar with. One you had first heard as a fresh, new bounty hunter following your former master on her journey to take down Silvers Rayleigh, fearsome first mate of the soon-to-be King of the Pirates.

Your master had been killed not long into the fight, but you had been too busy fighting off a red-nosed boy around your age to notice. You two had beaten the absolute shit out of each other, and would have continued till only one of you left victorious, but Rayleigh had stepped in, stopping you two before that could happen. He had spared you, despite your hot-headed vows of revenge.

You had thought all too much about that red-nosed boy as you continued across the East Blue. Thought about how he had been just as passionate and confident in his mentor’s skills--in his own skills--as you were. How he had been just as reckless and rash as you.

It wasn’t for another five years before you saw him again, still sailing around with your master’s killer, though you had given up on that revenge long before then.

You had at this point in time found three other like-minded bounty hunters whom you joined up with. Hunters who had been tracking down a pirate unrelated to the boy you had battled with, though who just so happened to be celebrating some sort of victory on the same island.

You two almost went head to head once more, had it not been for his calm and collected red-headed friend. A friend who had scared the shit out of you, despite his cool nature, so your fight ended swiftly and you left.

More years passed and the more you ran into the clown. Each time you two found some way to fight--whether it be physical or verbal. A few times that red-headed friend was with him to help break it up, and other times you both were thrown out of whatever bar you had been in.

You ran into him once more in some backwater bar, sitting alone and nursing a large pint of beer. He smirked your way when he spotted you and, to your surprise, bought you a drink. A drink you took reluctantly, waiting for the moment you would have to defend yourself against him. But instead, he merely talked to you. Told you how his captain had dissolved his crew, leaving him adrift.

And there was hurt in his eyes. A sense of abandonment that had you carefully telling him of what had been happening in your own shit-filled life. Of a marine whose name you had just recently crossed off your list. How you had finally gotten him after years--gotten revenge for the lives he had taken from you in your youth.

He’d laughed in something kin to understanding, insisting on buying you another drink to which you declined and went on your way.

The last time you came across that laugh, you had just been left for dead by your so-called comrades--friends. Left to be found by the very marines you had crossed when you stumbled into a seemingly deserted town. A town you quickly found was overrun with freakish pirates. Freakish pirates who had managed to kidnap you in your weakened state and drag you into an equally freakish circus tent.

The boy had grown up, just as you had. Had grown up to be captain of this band of freaks. One who had chained the poor people of that town up and used them for his own, sick entertainment.

But when you saw him, that laugh sounding in your ears, you were reminded of just how much you thought of it. How many of your dreams had been haunted by it’s ring. Of how you, for whatever reason, held a sick sense of respect for him. And his eyes--they were all too bright looking upon you. All too seeing.

After dramatically introducing you to his crew and captives, he had you dragged off into a back room where you were once more surprised when his freaks cleaned your wounds and gave you some water to drink.

It was all very strange. It went against the very natural order of the world. The order between the hunter and the hunted.

It had freaked you out all so much, you escaped before you had to face that haunting laugh and its owner.

But here it was again, spilling from the red-painted lips of Buggy the clown, captain of the Buggy pirates, locked away in this all too wet marine brig pulling haunting ghosts from your past into the forefront of your mind.

You kept your eyes trained on the two marines before you, watching them like a hawk. Watching for a slip-up. Something--anything that would help you in this situation. Something that would keep your eyes off the crazed clown and his grating laugh.

“If she’s a pirate, then that would make me one you shithead.” His gruff voice joked. The two marines shared a look between them. One that almost looked to have uneasy undertones to it.

“You have no right interfering in marine business.” The second shot towards the cell just next to yours, only resulting in more insane laughter filling the air. The first marine just shook his head in growing annoyance.

“Come on. He’s all locked up. That big-nosed freak can’t do a thing.” The laughter cut off sharply.

“What did you just as say?” Buggy asked, his tone becoming all that much more serious. That more threatening--dangerous. The Marines bore shit-eating grins, obviously finding his growing pissed-off nature amusing.

“You know, I never liked clowns. Freaky little fuckers.” The first said as they began heading for the exit once more.

“This freaky little fucker is going to cut your nose off and force you to eat it when I get out of here.” This only seemed to tickle the marines further and they left without so much as another word.

The brig was dead as a tomb for a moment you used to look about the confines of your cell, trying to find any weaknesses or things to make a makeshift weapon with so that you could escape sooner rather than later. Buggy gave an exasperated huffing sigh as your eyes locked onto something in the corner, just by the horrible-looking toilet.

“Yeesh. Some people just don’t know how to have fun.” You all but ignored him, messing with the bit of scrap metal that had been idioticly left unfixed. “Whatcha got there, peach?” He said, using the nickname he had given you after you threw a peach you had mistaken for a rock at him when you had seen him that second time. He had used it ever since then and it’s continued to annoy you.

“Don’t call me that.” You snapped, finally yanking the bit of metal from its last hold on the base of the toilet. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

“That’s no fun.”

“Since when have you ever thought of me and fun at the same time?” You huffed, working on trying to unlock the cuffs that had been slapped around your wrists. It took you a minute to even get the bit of metal into the small keyhole, and with your hands locked together as they were, you hardly saw yourself free any time soon.

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself. I think you’re plenty fun. I think you do a fantastically fun job playing pirate bounty hunter.” You again ignored him. Tried not to even hear his all-too-chipper voice as you continued to work. “Playing pirate bounty hunter when you can’t even sail a ship. I think it shows your commitment to the part.”

You finally snapped around to shoot a daggered glare Buggy’s way, whose usual red-painted lips were pulled up in a wide smile. He knelt before the bars separating the two cells, gloved hands clasped together before him. His clown-styled makeup was smudged in a way that told you he must have been here for a few days. You also noted the absence of his hat, which bore his insignia in the center, leaving him in his red and white striped bandana.

You couldn’t help the small part of you that wished he was wearing it--the small part that thought it suited him all too well. A small part of you that you shoved down deep.

Seeing him again after god knows how long was always--staggering. It brought back up such ugly feelings of hatred and utter sadness you’d felt after your master's death. Brought back up how surprised you’d been when he offered you a drink. Brought back up that equally as ugly feeling of respect and misplaced understanding.

Buggy was an actor--a performer. Of course he would play the part he needed to get you to let your guard down--to not beat him into a pulp.

It was all so aggravating.

“It’s not some part.” Buggy rolled his eyes in a dramatic fashion that only made your frustration coil tighter in your chest. “And I can sail a ship.” Buggy let out a sharp mocking laugh.

“I seem to remember my freaks telling me of the struggle you had trying to leave that small island I found you on.”

“I had lost a lot of blood.” You said as if you needed to give him any sort of explanation. As if you needed to keep talking to him. Turning away from this intense green-blue gaze, you went back to work on the cuffs.

“You know, I was rather upset you left without saying goodbye,” Buggy said in fake hurt. “You didn’t even get to see my grand finale.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.” You said in equally mocking tones.

“I accept your--”

“Fuck off, Buggy. I should have beat your ass while I had the chance. I should have killed you and freed those poor people you terrorized.” Buggy pulled a smirk to his lips.

“Beat my ass? I seem to remember it was me who kicked your ass last time.” A scoffing huff spilled from your lips.

“We were ten years old--”

“Ten in a half.” Buggy quickly corrected like it truly mattered. You shot him a look that said as much.

“It doesn’t matter. I had no skill back then. No discipline. I would kill you now without ever batting an eye.” That smirk never once left Buggy’s lips, his eyes shining in utter amusement. Eyes that had your gut doing annoying and tiresome little twists.

“And collect what bounty? Our cheery new friends seem to think you’re nothing but a “no-good pirate” now.” Despite that shot of anger that flared in your chest, you pulled on your own smirking smile.

“It wouldn’t be for any bounty. It would be for my own amusement.”

“Peach, if you're trying to flirt with me, it's working.” He all but purred your way. You rolled your eyes and truly went back to unlocking your cuffs.

No more distractions. No more annoying banter with that clown pirate who grated on your nerves like no other. You couldn’t get caught. Not yet. Not before you got revenge for yourself. Revenge against those who had turned the world against you. “Peach--”

“You truly are horrible.” You snapped, unable to ignore the obvious rise Buggy was trying and successfully getting out of you.

“When I escape and free you,” Buggy started, only for you to cut him off with a scoff.

“You’re delusional.” Buggy rolled his eyes dramatically.

“When I escape and free you, you’ll have to repay me.”

“You aren’t freeing me. I can do that just fine on my own.” You snapped.

“Oh, I think I will.” You shot him a glare hoping he would shut up. He, of course, did no such thing. “And after I get us off this ship, I’m thinking you’ll be so overrun with emotion you’ll do something sweet for me.” You shook your head, shoving the bit of metal this way and that within the keyhole.

“I don’t find your games amusing. I actually find them quite boring.”

“Now you’re just being mean.” The sudden sound of rusting metal squeaking open pulled your attention away from your work and back onto Buggy. Your jaw all but fell open upon seeing Buggy sauntering out of his cell, his hand popping back onto his wrist, a ring of keys laying there.

You had watched those Marines. Hadn’t missed a single twitch or breath, so how had you missed Buggy grabbing those keys from around the holder's waist? How had you missed a flying, dismembered hand?

“How--” You watched him unlock your cell door in utter disbelief. Watched as he took the few steps across the way so he was standing in front of you. Watched with a fluttering, tingling belly as he knelt before you, that all too charming smile on his lips. You covered your strange feelings with that of familiar annoyance for him.

“Peach, I’m gonna let you out, but,” He said, sing-songingly elongating the last word. “I want you on my crew.” That was the last thing you thought you would hear from his lips. It was enough of a shock to squash any and all irritation you held in your chest for the clown.

You two had no like for the other. Every time you saw each other, it was either a fight or a backward attempt to mock and tease the other. You were the hunter and he was the hunted. Why would he ever want you to be near him in such a way?

You laughed in his face. Laughed wholeheartedly in your unbelieving at his words. Laughed so hard it shook your shoulders.

“You’re full of it. I despise pirates. I kill your kind for a living.” You snapped at him once you’re laughter subsided.

“Past living.” You’re disbelief quickly turns back into that of anger. “And you’re perfect.” His words caught you off guard once more. Had you all but freezing up, unable to conquer up your anger.

Perfect. No one had ever uttered such a thing to you.

It was…strange. You and him--it was all too strange.

“I collect outcasts, those thrown away by society. Those hurt and betrayed and left to die, bleeding out on some hopeless island.” You felt your eyes suddenly prick in the remainder of your inner wounds. Wounds created by those you had thought were your friends--family. Those who you had loved more than you had ever loved anything in this world.

Buggy saw all of this with those intent green-blue eyes. He saw this and he understood, despite your many differences. Because he had experienced it too. Had been hurt and left to rot by those he had cared about.

“My freaks--my crew--don’t turn their backs as easily. I don’t turn my back that easily.”

An actor--a performer. That’s all he was--all he ever would be…but damn if he wasn’t speaking to your soul. Wasn’t utterly pulling you into those green-blue eyes and that charming smile of his.

“I--” You didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. You should tell him to fuck off. That you would rather stay here and let the Marines drag you off to some prison to be forgotten in. But…but you didn’t say that. Your traitorous heart didn’t let you. “I am no pirate.” You all but whispered. It was a confession rather than a biting hiss.

Buggy smiled, his gloved hand coming up to grab hold of your chin in a grip that was just tight enough to keep you from looking away from him. It was all too much. It felt all too--too right, having the roles switched. Being the frightened sparrow and he the smiling chester cat, ready to snap your neck between his sharp, smiling jaws.

“Oh, I know.” He whispered back as if it was a secret. “But I think you’ll like it. I think your cage door needs to be unlocked so you can fly free.” Before you could even open your mouth to try and pull together a rambling stream of words, the marine ship shook violently, the sound of cannon fire echoing down into the brig. That wickedly charming smile pulled onto Buggy’s lips. “Right on time.” He pulled his hand from your chin, the absence of his warmth leaving you annoyingly wishing for it back--wishing for more.

What a strange, strange predicament you were in. What strange, strange emotions. It was all too confusing. Too much.

Buggy dangled the keys in front of your face as the ship was attacked once more. “How about you think on it while I take care of this, peach.” He said, dropping the keys into your lap before standing to his full, towering height. “Though, don’t strain that pretty little head of yours too much.” And with that Buggy left the cold, dank brig.

You wasted no more time than you had, quickly unlocking the cuffs, which had been rubbing painfully against your skin, and heading in the direction Buggy had disappeared in.

The next few moments went by in a flash. You getting to the deck and finding Buggy’s freaks had boarded and were mowing down marine after marine, leaving no survivors in their wake. Buggy laughing insanely as he fulfilled the threat he had shot their captor's way. You finding where they had stored your weapons, as well as Buggy’s hat. You killing anyone who got in your way as you found yourself heading for the edge of the ship--found your body had a mind of its own as you jumped, landing on the deck of the circus-themed ship Buggy commanded.

This was your best and only escape route, you told yourself as you rushed around the ship, trying to find a place you could keep away from the rest of the world so you wouldn’t be found out. That place ended up being the large tent near the back of the ship, washed in shadow and thankfully empty.

You passed the time by looking around the large area, finding it was very similar to that of the tent Buggy had set up on land all those years ago.

Finding a pair of stairs, you winded up them, finding a singular chair sitting in the center of the raised platform. A throne, you realized. Buggy’s throne. You traced your fingers over the designs engraved in the wooden seat before sitting down, finding it would be the best place to wait out the fighting and think about your strange predicament.

“That's my seat.” Buggy’s gruffing voice sounded in your ear a little less than an hour later. It didn’t startle you, his sudden appearance. You had marked his footfalls when he thought he had been sneaking into the tent to do just that.

“Take it. It’s uncomfortable.” You murmured, pulling yourself from the throne which was, despite your words, rather comfortable. Buggy was much closer than you had originally thought, so close you had to tilt your head up just the slightest bit to look into those green-blue eyes of his. Eyes that never once moved away from your face as he flopped down on his throne, legs spread in some show of dominance.

“So, tell me peach, what is your answer?” You moved your eyes away from Buggy’s intense stare, looking over his hat which you had taken with you off that marine ship.

“Why free me?” You questioned, glancing back towards the pirate, whose eyes never seemed to have lifted from your form.

“Because I’ve been looking for someone to fill the role of knife thrower in my performance. You are good with a blade.” It was a lie. You could tell it was a lie. And it ate at you despite your utter dislike for this pirate. You took a step closer, those green-blue eyes watching your movements.

“That I am…but tell me something; what makes a pirate buy a drink for a bounty hunter?” You took another, calculated step that the clown marked. He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“Why not? Getting you drunk seemed like a fun idea at the time.” He cracked a mischievous smile. “Still does.” You gave a small nod, pausing just before him. “You’re dancing around my question, peach. Maybe that's what I should make you.”

You leaned forward the slightest bit, his knees brushing against your legs, being as close to him as you were.

“You let me out of my chains. You dressed my wounds when you could have let me bleed out, and for those things, I owe you my life.” Buggy gave a small nod of his own.

“I feel a but coming.”

“But I can’t be free yet. Not when those who betrayed me are still breathing.” That smile of his stayed in place, but a seriousness you had never seen before filtered into his eyes. A seriousness that spoke of understanding. Of respect.

Strange--this was all so strange, things between you and him. Between hunter and the hunted.

“And then?” He questioned. You moved ever closer, you’re legs fitting between his in a strange sort of puzzle. Buggy watched and allowed you to gently tug his hat back onto his head, his breath tickling your lips.

You thought of the way his hand on your chin felt. How it had all but drove you crazy. How you had wished, no matter how absurd, to have it back there--to have more.

“Tell me why you saved me.” You spoke softly so that Buggy and Buggy alone could hear. “Why do you want me on your crew? Why, when you should have killed me--when you’ve wanted to kill me ever since we were young?” Buggy’s eyes fluttered down to your lips as they moved. A small action that had that buzzing in your body stirring alive once more.

“I think you know.” He spoke just as softly in that gruffing voice of his. A voice that had been bouncing around in your brain for longer than you liked to admit.

“I don’t think I do.” Buggy’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit like he was annoyed at your comment. An annoyance you wanted to drag out of him. You knew he didn’t want to admit it. Knew that he probably had never had to explain himself before. “Because I am still under the impression that I am the hunter ready to collect that sizable bounty on your head.”

“You think my bounty is sizable?” He smirked, continuing to dance around the topic.

“Enough to get me a ship that floats and an expensive bottle of wine.” You said in an attempt to get under his skin. You saw that flash of irritation in his eyes that made your own smirk pull to your lips.

“A ship you couldn’t even sail?” He teased, moving closer so that his lips were mere inches away from your own.

Your mind raced to wonder what they might feel like fitted against yours. How it might feel to have his hands running over your skin--to feel his skin.

It was all too strange, the things he was able to pull from you. Such strange feelings.

“You annoy me.” You jabbed his way, your eyes fluttered every so often to those red-painted lips of his.

If you kissed him, would your lips come away just as red?

“You’re eyes annoy me, your laugh, your voice.” Buggy looked as if he was trying to figure out if your words were supposed to be meant as an insult or some backwards complaint. You wondered this as well.

“And it annoys me that you understand. Say you understand.” You found yourself saying in a biting manner. The pirate looked over your face, seeming unsure of what to do next. Unsure of what to say even when you had just spelled it out for him.

His hand reached out and took hold of your chin in his solid grip. A grip that sent your stomach fluttering uncontrollably. “I understand.” Was all he said before he was pulling your lips flush against his own.

You hardly had control of yourself as you kissed him back in a frenzy, all sense of self-control and reason flying out the window. A kiss fueled by your strange, strange feelings for this clown. Feelings a mix of dislike, annoyance, understanding, and respect. Feelings you’d been harboring deep within yourself for a long, long time.

His kiss burned through you, had your hands grabbing at his jacket and all but ripping it from his body, feeling over his strong, exposed arms. His skin was warm and felt so nice against your own. Skin you wished to feel covering your whole body.

Buggy hands moved along your body, pulling you closer. His touch sent your skin on fire. A fire that hat engulfed your entire being, demanding to be satisfied.

Your hands moved downward, over his equally strong chest and abdomen until they found the edge of his pants, your fingers fumbling to undo his buttons. Buggy mimicked your actions, finding and unfastening the buttons there.

You pulled away from Buggy long enough to hasten along the process of shoving your pants over and off your legs. A process you had hardly finished before Buggy was grabbing you up once more, claiming your lips in a hot, needy kiss. A kiss that felt more like a fight for dominance. A fight the two of you never could seem to truly finish.

Buggy’s hands took fist fulls of your ass, guiding you up and onto the throne with him, your knees straddling either side of him. Reaching down between the two of you, your hand disappeared into Buggy’s pants, taking hold of is hardened cock and giving it a few good, teasing pumps. He gave a throaty groan that had that heat shoot through your core, making your pussy throb in just as much need as the rest of your body.

As quickly as you could, you pulled his cock free from the confines of his pants, hardly waiting before you were descending downward, a sweet little moan spilling from your lips.

Fuck it was good. It felt so good being connected this way. In a way that was slowly filling that yawning need within you. A need you had been holding at bay for a long time.

“F-fuck, peach.” Buggy moaned into your mouth, his hands moving to hold onto your hips in a near steel-like grip. A grip that guided you further down so that you were fully seated on top of him. “So fucking good.”

You moaned your own pleasure as you began to move up and down, slowly at first so that you might feel every last inch he had to offer. A pace that gradually quickened, finding that need within you all but commanding you to do so. Grabbing hold of one of Buggy’s hands, you guided his gloved fingers to find that small bundle of nerves that all but begged for his attention. Silently told him just how you liked it to be touched and, surprisingly, he was a quick learner.

It was good. Almost too good. Never would you have imagined this happening--you fucking this vastly annoying clown. The very clown you’d fought for years. But then again, this was just another sort of fight. A fight for dominance and submission. A fight you much rather preferred over that of brute force and stabbing words.

Buggy’s lips left yours only to latch onto the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting in a way that drove you crazy. That sent you quickly spiraling closer and closer over the edge.

“Oh god--Buggy, I’m--I’m…” His fingers kept circling your clit, bringing you all that much closer to your finish.

“Come for me, peach. F-fuck--you’re such a sweet little thing.” You moved your face so that you could press your lips against his once more, moan after moan vibrating through your throat.

So much--too much. It was all so good you’re legs began to turn to jelly. Began to give out under your own weight. Buggy seemed to understand this and pulled away from your clit only so he could grab you up in his strong arms. Arms that held you up as he fuck into you mercilessly.

You spiraled up and up and up until your pussy was clutching around his cock and pure bliss was shooting through you. Buggy’s name flew from your lips as you held onto him for dear life. The pirate gave a few last, grunting thrusts before he was spilling into you.

Buggy buried his face in your chest, his chest heaving up and down just as your own, both of you fighting to take in the thick air around you.

The tent was filled with nothing but the sound of your mixing breaths for a long moment. A moment you took the time to run your hands over any and all exposed skin Buggy had to offer. Warm skin that brought you such strange, strange comfort.

“And then?” Buggy asked, taking you by surprise. It was the same question he had asked you only moments ago. A question of what you would do after you had avenged yourself. You pressed your cheek against the side of his head, your lips brushing over his right ear.

“Then I will return,” You breathed, feeling Buggy’s body go just that much more still against yours. “And I will be free.”

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discordantwritings · 2 months

Text

Captain’s Orders (Buggy x Reader)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, angst, Buggy is bad at feelings, canon typical violence, oral, PiV sex, creampie

WC: 8.4k

Summary: Getting a job as the chronicler of the Buggy pirates was the best, then worst, then best thing that ever happened to you.

Notes: The second I realized I hadn’t done a solo buggy fic I wrote this I’m so sorry buggy

No one tells you how hard it is to keep a job on a pirate ship. Unless you manage to land with a big name captain the chances your job sinks to the bottom of the sea is pretty high. Which is what happened to your last three jobs- you were so tired of ending up on a dingy paddling away from a lost battle that you had no say in. You were a chronicler after all- not exactly a fighting pirate.

Despite being a non-essential crew member a chronicler was a sought after person. Every pirate thinks they are going to be the one to find the One Piece so, naturally, every pirate needs to have someone to log their journey to becoming king of the pirates. It was a little tiring, hearing the same story over and over again, writing the same few chapters only to end up waterlogged and searching for a new ship at the end.

But you needed to eat and you could only afford to live at this tavern for so long. You’d posted your services on the local board, listing your name and where you were staying in hopes of drawing in a pirate captain. One that hopefully won’t be going under in less than a month. And if you were really lucky- one that wasn’t so painfully textbook.

Really you should have known the gods were going to get you for wishing that.

When the clowns first walk into the tavern you wonder if you missed some signage that a carnival was coming into town. But when a distinctly dressed blue haired pirate captain walks in behind them- you put it all together. The Buggy Pirates were docked here. Their chronicler probably had their hands full but at least it wasn’t the same boring-

You notice when the barkeep points Buggy the Clown in your direction. The two of you make eye contact across the room and you quickly run through your memory to try and figure out what you could have possibly done to be hunted down by a big name pirate. As his heavy boots thud against the wooden floors you can’t think of a single time you’ve even brushed shoulders with any clowns let alone pirate ones. As Buggy looms over your table you frantically try and think of a way out of whatever sorry situation you’ve accidentally gotten yourself into only for that hurried train of thought to be abruptly derailed.

“You the chronicler who has that ad posted?”

It takes you probably too long to respond with a squeaky- “Yes?”

“Great!” The clown takes the chair next to you and sits down, quickly putting his feet up on the table. “Do you have examples of a resume or whatever?”

“You don’t already have a chronicler?” The question is out of your mouth before you can stop it and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying more stupid things.

“Nope.” He shrugs and you see the rest of his crew settle in around the tavern.

“Oh. Well-“ You reach off to your side and take out a leather bound journal that has some of your work plastered in it. “Here’s some snippets.”

As you hand it over to Buggy you feel as his sea green eyes rake over you for a few moments before he finally takes the book. He flips to the first page, looks at it for maybe all of two seconds before snapping it shut. “How would you write about me?”

Then why did he even- “Well I think- see people sometimes assume a chronicler only writes down the basic facts are events but I think a real chronicler tells a story that the average person didn’t get to see or hear about. For example a lot of people heard about the Straw Hats taking you out at Orange Town-“

He sits up a bit, gaze hardening but you quickly continue. “But- I think there’s a different story there! They fought the fishmen so soon after your encounter with them and it’s no secret that the Arlong Crew was pushing their luck in the East Blue. So the story there should really be about how you used your genius to let the Straw Hats go and sent the Arlong Crew after them- letting your opponents fight it out and weaken each other.”

There’s a long pause where you feel the clown practically searing holes into your skin with his gaze until he finally breaks into a smile that rivals the one painted on his face. “That’s exactly it! You get it! People just need to hear the right side of the story! Start writing that down. That'll be your first entry as our chronicler.”

That is probably the most presumptuous way you’ve ever been offered a job but you certainly were not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Great!”

It’s only after Buggy then orders a round of drinks in celebration and the cheering begins that you realize something.

“I don’t have to wear a clown costume do I?”

You didn’t have to wear a clown costume but already in the few weeks you’ve been a member of the Buggy Pirates your wardrobe had gotten more colorful. A sequin scarf here- a bright blue shirt there- these things just landed in your bunk and it did help you fit in. You minded it less than you thought you would, being in a crew that actually put thought into how they looked was a pleasant change.

You tied a striped sash around your waist over your pants as you prepared to have your nightly debriefing with your new captain. During the day you flitted about the ship, taking notes on everything that happens. Every night though Buggy always wanted a check in. From letting him know what happened while he was doing other duties, to telling you some previous journeys that he and his crew had been, to embellishing the stories of the day.

It was nice having a captain who actually cared about what you were writing. Most had just left you to your own devices and didn’t much care for your craft beyond the fact it made them look good. But Buggy actually wants to listen to your words and he provides some actual good feedback (admittedly in a sea of crazy unbelievable ideas, but the point still stands).

Journals and pens tucked under your arms you navigate to the captain’s quarters, finally feeling comfortable navigating the large ship after walking this route twice a day. It’s not that long before you’re knocking on the large door and hear Buggy’s voice, muffled through the wood.

“C’mon in.”

You push through the door and see Buggy behind his desk, face laying sideways on a pile of paper. You take a seat across from him.

“You alright?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“Being a captain is not all fun and games my dearest chronicler.” He pushes back on the desk, flopping back in his large seat and swinging his feet up on the desk, knocking over the papers in the process. “Responsibility is a heavy burden to bear.”

You look over the mounds of untouched paper work that have been sitting there since you first arrived. “Seems like it.”

“But now you are here to save me. Tell me my story weaver- what is the tale of the day.” When he looks at you you know you have his undivided attention. There was something so fulfilling about capturing his attention, something you’ve learned is so finicky and flighty. But for you? He’s never been distracted.

“Well, it’s been a pretty standard day.” You go into every detail that matters- what acts were practiced, who's flirting with who, what crew member Richie managed to bite a finger off of- that kind of stuff.

“You know- we should have a whole section where we track body parts Richie has eaten and see how many full people can be put together with the parts.” Buggy adds as you finish up your recap and you huff a laugh as you write that down.

“I think we’ll have a lot of spare fingers.” You point out.

“Good point. Full bodies and hands.” Slightly more sensible… kind of.

“Got it. I’ll start logging and asking around for people who have lost limbs to Richie.” You make the note and you see out of the edges of your vision as Buggy’s legs come off the desk and he leans over, getting a bit closer to you.

“Y’know I’ve told you many stories already- what about you?” His head settles in his hands, perched up by his elbows.

“What do you mean what about me?” You tilt your head, genuinely confused.

“Your stories! You said you were the chronicler for a few ships before mine, you must have had some adventures out on the great wide East Blue.”

“Ah, well… no.” You admit a bit awkwardly.

“No?” Buggy raises his eyebrows, clearly looking for more.

“I was just a chronicler. I didn't really do anything on the previous ships I worked on. Hell, you’re the first captain who actually wants to hear about what I’m writing. For everyone else it was just an ego trip to have someone writing for them…” Your pen slips into your journal as a placeholder as you close it and pull it close to your lap.

“That’s…” Buggy frowns. “What losers! Most pirates won’t know talent if it slaps them in the face.”

You try to bite back your smile but it’s pretty ineffective. “You’re very kind captain.”

“You’re going to have to learn to take some compliments because with my crew? We are going all the way to the top and your stories of our journeys are going to be known across all four seas!” As he talked he stood up, wildly gesturing as he talked about his grand plan.

When other captains of yours had talked about getting the One Piece it had always annoyed you for some reason. The hunt for fame and money was… well it was cliche. But there was something about the earnestness that Buggy talked with- the grand scale he always thought on that made you believe it.

“Well, I guess I will have to work on that.” You say as you look up at him.

“Yes. Captain’s orders.” He hops up to sit on his desk just adjacent to you. His right foot lightly knocks against the side of your left calf.

“Then I’ll have to do it.” You smile wide, his energy was infectious.

“But seriously, not a single story? There has to be one fun thing you can tell me.”

“I guess… there was this one time-“

You break into a small, stupid story but Buggy hangs on your every word. The second you’re done he shares a similar experience and you go back and forth like this for hours, journal where you were supposed to write these things down long forgotten. Somewhere along the way you both ended up sitting on the floor, leaned up against the desk and legs side by side as you both gesture wildly through your stories. You don’t know how long this goes on, but when you feel yourself fighting to open your eyes after you blink you think it might be way late.

“I should get to bed.” You nudge Buggy’s shoulder with your own, working up the strength to stand up.

“Oh yeah it’s like-“ His hand detaches and he grabs something off his desk before bringing it down to his face. “Oh shit- 3 already?”

“Wow-“ You look at the clock he grabbed and sure enough, 3:21 am. “Yeah I really need to get to bed. You too, captain.”

You get up with a grunt of effort and once you’re standing you turn around and offer up your hand to help Buggy up. There’s an awkward pause as he looks up at you and he must be just as tired as you are with how long it takes for him to clasp his hand in yours and pull himself up.

“See you tomorrow night captain.” You squeeze his hand before letting go and walking out the door.

You’re not sure why you feel a low buzz in your body, nerves up from some unknown source. It’s not a gnawing anxiety… something else you can’t place. No matter what the second your head hits the pillow you’re out like a light, body getting ready for another long day.

The Buggy Clowns were weirdly affectionate. Not all of them, mind you, you don’t think you’ll ever get Cabaji to even smile at you, but the camaraderie they have is intimate. Most of the time not in a sexual way (though you’d be remiss to ignore the raunchier performers in the circus), but in friendliness and touchiness. Never before have you been on such an affectionate crew.

Every time you put more than 10 seconds into your appearance you got hoots and hollers from most of the crew members. When you grab lunch in the mess people fight over who gets to sit with you and be documented. Even Richie has a soft side- you’ve managed to pet him without adding a body part to the now running list.

It’s been a few months now and they still fight over you at meals- a quirk you would have thought would die out long ago. Everyone is eager to tell you about their day and try and loop you into spending the rest of the day with them. Today the tightrope walkers win out- or at least they think so. Secretly you’ve made a schedule for when you follow each group and no one has caught onto your pattern yet. But it makes it easy for you and makes it so no one is favored.

But when they cheer and lean into you, arms wrapped around your shoulders you still feel like shrinking away in embarrassment. It’s not bad- you can’t deny the little ego boost it gives you- but there’s something that always makes your face burn. But all that is nothing compared to Buggy.

You quickly figure out that, like all crew attitudes, it trickles down from the top.

Of course Buggy isn’t going around hugging crew members (when he’s sober) and he does lose his temper often, but there’s also a softness to him. He’s got nicknames for everyone, and everyone gets their time in the spotlight. He personally reviews all the circus acts and when someone wants to do something new it’s rare he says no.

Everyone in the crew is a misfit, but because of that, no one is. A group of people who have never felt respected or wanted before suddenly find themselves belonging- it makes sense why everyone was surprisingly warm. But you still have a hard time handling it, especially when it comes to Buggy.

It’s the damn nicknames.

Story weaver, dearest chronicler, writing star. And the worst part? It’s always his.

My story weaver.

My star.

Never in a tone that makes you feel owned or degraded- quite the opposite really. You’re treasured, respected, seen. It’s been too long since you felt that way and the reblooming of those emotions was… uncomfortable.

But you don’t think you’d ever want it to stop.

“My lovely chronicler-“ It’s Buggy who suddenly throws you out of your thoughts with affection and a hand on your shoulder. “I have to cancel our meeting tonight.”

“What? Why?” You want to kick yourself for sounding even slightly hurt.

“Not your fault- turns out I’m a few days behind on planning out supply orders for when we dock tomorrow.” By a few days you know he means he hasn’t thought about supplies since they last docked.

“Oh, well, do you need help?” The second you finish your sentence you feel a light elbow in your side from one of the tightrope walkers but before you can turn to look at him your attention is grabbed by a clap from Buggy.

“Great! See you tonight!” He says, already walking away.

You turn to the source of the elbow. “What was that for?”

“I’m sorry, you totally just got suckered into doing all his paper work.” He says apologetically.

“Yeah, he’s done this with just about every crew member. You’re the only one who doesn’t know his trick.” Another one explains.

“Well, he is the captain, he could just make one of us do it.” You say, still very confused about this whole situation.

“Yeah, but then he has to admit that he messed up and needs someone else to do his work. This way he is just, I don’t know, reveling in his crew’s generosity.” Yeah, that sounds like him.

“I’m not going to get any sleep tonight am I.”

“Nope.” You get a few reassuring pats on the back as you slump onto the table.

“Captain?” Later in the day you knock on his door and come in at his usual ‘come in’.

You walk in and see papers everywhere. There’s no organization, no sense that he’s actually began to work on anything, just papers on almost every flat surface you can see. You don’t think half of these are relevant to what needs to be done.

“My darling most beloved star.” Buggy calls from behind his desk. He’s laying it on thick so you don’t run away.

“Did one of your bombs explode in here?” You carefully walk over to his desk, hopping over random papers on your way.

“Yes?” It’s obvious he’s lying.

“Well… I guess we have our work cut out for us.” You make it across from him and start looking at papers, trying to find some sense.

“Yes. I trust you implicitly- now I’m just going to go-“ He stands up and you glare at him.

“You’re not going anywhere.” You’re a little annoyed, but there’s no real malice in your words. Despite that, Buggy still shrinks back.

“But you’ve got this.” He says, confidence quickly draining from his voice.

“It would go a lot faster if we work together. Come on. We will start by organizing. Figure out what actually needs to be done for tomorrow and go from there.” You gesture to the mess on his desk before you get to work on the papers discarded on the floor.

“But-“

“No.” You cut him off without even looking at him- you know he’s using his puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.” He grumbles and you hear the shift of papers that tells you he’s at least pretending to do something.

It takes you hours to get everything sorted but after that the actual work doesn’t take that long. You have a pretty good knowledge of what supplies everyone needs and the average use of those supplies in a day- you write it all down typically. All in all you’re done and dusted just before midnight, an accomplishment really.

Buggy is moping at his desk, the reward of a job well done isn’t really enough for him after he actually had to put in some effort. You’ve set up a schedule for him too- something he’ll probably ignore but you’re pretty hopeful.

“That’s it right?” His voice is partially muffled by his face being smooshed down into the wood of his desk.

“Yes, we are all done for the night.” You reply, straightening out the last stack of files on his desk.

“Yay.” His voice is flat and devoid of all joy.

“You’re pretty childish for a captain, you know that?” You take a seat across the desk, not quite ready to leave.

“That’s part of my charm darling.” He lifts his face so his chin is resting on the desk.

Darling.

That was a new one.

“It’s not your best feature but I guess it is a part of your whole deal.” You admit, still trying to shake off the weird stirring of emotions from the new pet name.

He perks up instantly, sitting up in his chair. “What’s my best feature?”

“Hm?”

“You said it’s not my best feature, which implies you know my best feature. What is it?” His smile is wide, matching his face paint.

“Ah-“ Well. You know exactly what his best feature is but you hesitate to say. It’s not what a pirate captain typically wants to hear but… well he’s anything but typical.

“I think your best feature is that you care. Genuinely. You yell and stomp around at the crew but you always make sure all of our needs are met. To some people finding the One Piece is just the thing pirates do but you care with every fiber of your being. When you want to do something, really want to do it, you throw yourself into it for better or for worse. Your risks end up paying off more often than not and I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

There’s an awkward pause where Buggy’s smile drops a bit and he stares at you and you think that you’ve fucked up. He is still a pirate captain with an ego and not telling him that his strength or intellect was his best feature was a dumb mistake. But then he coughs, a fake awkward cough and you’re not sure what’s going on.

“Oh that’s- yeah- I mean what am I if not the best captain to work for in all of the seas.” The smile returns to his face but there’s something you can’t place and you feel like you’ve misstepped.

“It’s late- I should go-“ You stand up and quickly head to the door but Buggy’s voice stops you right before you exit.

“Hey-“ You turn and look at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” There’s more hovering in the space between you but none of it can be put into words.

You leave.

Even if the Buggy pirates were worlds different from any other crew you had worked with they still party like every other pirate crew after a victory. Just a little more explosive. Literally.

You had never seen fireworks before so you were laying down on an upper deck while the loud party raged a few decks down, reveling in the bright and colorful explosions that shattered across the sky. You know Buggy made them all himself, he was surprisingly talented in pyrotechnics. It was overwhelming to your senses in the way that Buggy often was-

You’ve found yourself thinking more and more about him recently. You don’t want to think about what that means so you just shove those things down and focus on the shimmering colors dancing around the sky.

Until, of course, your captain finds you.

“My star! We are all missing our chronicler at the party!” His head peaks up over the ladder as he calls to you but you wave a dismissive hand.

“I’m just enjoying the fireworks, I’ll be down later.” You say, perched up on your elbows.

Buggy pulls himself all the way up the ladder before walking over and taking a seat next to you. “I’m glad someone is enjoying all my hard work.”

“I’d never seen fireworks before tonight.” You admit, laying back down fully.

“Really? Well I’m glad I could introduce you.” He lays down as well, only a few inches separating you two as you both lay flat on your backs.

“It’s- I mean I have no idea how you do it. It’s seriously magic.” You turn your head to look at him, admiring the profile of his face under the multicolored lights of the fireworks.

“It’s all chemicals and patience. I know, surprising that I have that.” He looks at you, a sly smile on his face.

“There really is nothing our fearless captain can’t do when he puts his mind to it.” You half joke, nudging his arm with your elbow. “But really- how do you get all those different colors?”

“Well-“

As the different fireworks explode in the sky he tells you the different chemicals he used to get the respective colors and effects. Somewhere in the explanations and pointing he’s right next to you, arms and thighs pressed together. You can’t help but lean into his warmth against the cool wind of the sea.

“I guess there will have to be a chapter on fireworks in your chronicle.” You say after the fireworks slowly die out, all of them used up by now.

“You can just slide that chapter in when things get too boring. Wake readers up with an explosion!” His hand gestures over both of your bodies.

“I’m not sure there will be any time where your story will be too boring. I’m pretty sure just by being a clown pirate you’re always interesting.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Buggy turn his face towards yours. In turn you move your face as well, and you can feel his warm breath fan over your face.

He’s really quite beautiful in the moonlight.

“Do you really think that?” He asks, so quiet you almost don’t hear him over the low drone of the party below.

“Of course.” You answer automatically.

“I uh-“ You see a panic set over his face and you wonder if you’ve done something wrong. He sits up and you sit up in turn, confusion on your face.

“I should get back down to the party. It’s been-“ He stands up and practically trips over his own feet. “Nice.”

You watch him quickly descend the ladder and you’re suddenly very aware of how cold it is out on the deck at night.

You’re not sure what you did, but you messed something up.

You stop having your nightly meetings. It’s once a week now and he blames it on the recent partnership with Alvida and her crew but you know there’s something else. You got too comfortable with your captain and distance had to be created. You were disrespectful and you needed to learn your place.

You weren’t his anymore.

Chronicler, sure. Star, sometimes. You almost despised when he used your actual name. The burning feeling of being discarded weighs in your chest every time you see him.

It was only after how painful and hard you took the slightest bit of rejection that you realized you might have feelings for your captain. Stupid inappropriate feelings. You hadn’t put the label on it before, pushing any feelings down into the pit of your gut but with how quickly they turned sour you couldn’t help but feel them rise up and burn your throat.

Stupid how you realize these things too late.

Because now there’s a new crew, a new partnership, and plenty of shiny new objects for Buggy to be enamored with. None of them you.

You still did your job through- dutifully chronicling each day. Your emotions will pass and this job is still far and away the best you’ve ever landed. You won’t throw it away over a stupid unrequited crush.

It’ll pass.

Someday.

But today isn’t that day as a pang rings through your chest as you see Buggy loop an arm around Alvida’s shoulder and pull her in close. You know there’s nothing going on between the two of them (you’re fairly confident Alvida doesn’t swing that way) but seeing him pay attention to someone else the way he paid attention to you-

You sounded like a child didn’t you.

You were just about to excuse yourself from the area when Buggy spots you and calls you over with a quick shout of your title. Taking a deep breath you steel yourself and put on a smile before walking over.

“Yes captain?” You say, overly formal as you hold your journal close.

“I was thinking maybe you could do a few weeks with the Alvida pirates, you know, get a better look at their side of things! Wrap them into the story of the Genius Jester!” He gestured grandly with his free hand.

“Oh, well, if that’s okay with captain Alvida…” You look towards the dark haired woman who shrugs.

“I’ve never had a chronicler before so I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing what it’s all about.”

“Great! Our perfect partnership continues!” Buggy looks at you. “How’s a month sound?”

A month. He wants to get rid of you for a whole month. You swallow down your emotions. “When have I ever not followed my captain’s orders?”

“You are a loyal crew member. And it’s not like you aren’t going to see all of your crew mates! It’s just shifting focus for a bit.” It’s true, both crews frequently overlap ships but you know you’re going to be glued to that gaudy pink ship (not that the ship you were currently on wasn’t gaudy, just a different kind).

“Fine by me captain.” You say, making your voice as cheerful as possible.

“Great.”

“Good.”

There’s a long pause where the two of you are just standing there, Alvida casting glances to both of you.

“Well if that’s all I’ll go pack some of my things for my stay.” You say, already taking a step backwards.

“Yes, good idea! Always taking initiative!” He waves goodbye and you turn around as fast as possible, walking at a brisk pace when you really want to run.

Working with Alvida wasn’t bad at all. You checked in with her once a week and she was pretty receptive to your work, provided you added in a lot of extra pages about how beautiful she was. At first it was annoying, but once you got used to it she was surprisingly nice to you.

You were two weeks into your month with her and she was already asking you about how to hire her own chronicler. It was rewarding to know that you’ve done a good enough job so far that she would seek out someone like you. You were working hard, trying to shift your focus from your emotions into something more productive.

It didn’t work.

Every day you found yourself looking around the decks hoping to catch a glimpse of your captain visiting. He was never there.

You saw plenty of your other crew mates- both crews frequented both ships as you sailed together. It was nice having that familiarity, but the reminder that you were specifically sent away while they got to go back to their ship every night stung.

“Ah, chronicler.” Alvida’s voice shook you out of your thoughts, having zoned out while recording what the meals were for the day in the kitchen.

“Hello Alvida, was there something you needed?” Your finger slipped into your journal as a placeholder as you turned your attention to her.

“Yes. I just finished discussing some business with Buggy and your good work came up.” You couldn’t help but puff up a bit- You did want him to know you were still exceeding at your job. “And then he made me an offer that I’d like to extend to you. He said if I wanted you full time I had his permission, so. Would you like to be my chronicler?”

There’s a full 30 seconds that you have to take to process the words that were said to you and come up with a response that doesn’t sound like your heart just got shattered into a million pieces.

“Oh wow, that’s quite the offer I- uh-“ Your mind is struggling to work under the weight of your emotions and Alvida catches on that you’re overwhelmed.

“It’s a big change so you can take some time to think about it. Just come to me when you have your answer.” She gives you a curt nod before heading off, leaving you with your spiraling thoughts.

You manage to hold back your tears until you’re at you bunk, burying your face in your pillow to catch your flow of tears. There was something so painful about being shipped off to someone else, being so unwanted he couldn’t stand to work with you anymore. You’re not even sure what you did wrong which might be the most frustrating part.

If you could lead this all back to one action you took maybe you could make it better- maybe you could go back.

But you didn’t.

You know when you’re not wanted.

Later that day you knock on Alvida’s door and accept her offer. All your stuff is already on her ship so you don’t ever have to step foot on Buggy’s ship ever again.

It’s easier that way.

A month has gone by of officially being the chronicler of the Alvida pirates. It’s… fine. Painfully fine. Perfectly average.

You stop wearing bright colors, swapped out for the pinks and reds that cover the ship. You still keep your old clothes, tucked away in a box that also has the journal you used to chronicle your time the the Buggy pirates. The sequins and stripes keep it safe and far away from you, letting you pull back at the last second before you obsessively repour over the pages to find where you went wrong.

You were getting better.

You stopped crying every night, you stopped longing looking over the bow at Buggy’s ship, you stopped searching for him whenever your old crew came over.

The lingering feelings will pass soon, and you eagerly count down the days until your heart patches itself up and moves on.

It was easy to ignore your emotions during a storm. All your energy focused on locking up your stuff and going where you were needed- you were a chronicler but all hands on deck meant all hands.

It was a nasty storm- lighting and high waves bashing against the hull repeatedly and ruthlessly. You were down below deck, sent on your own to grab emergency medical supplies from deep storage, two crew members had already broken bones and there were probably going to be countless other injuries before the storm let up. Boxes shoved in your arms you were making your way back up to the medical bay when you heard it- the sound you never want to hear below deck.

The sound of wood breaking.

You hear the hit of a strong wave before the groaning of wood and then that dreaded sound. You only have a second to process it before you hear the flood of seawater rushing in. Dropping the boxes you quickly jump to the ladder, scrambling up as you hear water flooding in behind you.

You make it up the ladder and halfway to the next one before the next wave hits. Your world jolts under you and you’re flung to the floor and the back of your head hits the deck- hard.

Your vision swims as you feel sea water rushing over your body and you push yourself up, ignoring the nausea overwhelming your senses. You crawl to the ladder, water threatening to grab and pull you under. Grasping the rung of the ladder you try to pull yourself up before your realize just how hurt you must be.

The pain, the blurry vision, you barely have control over your body. There’s no way you can pull yourself up the ladder. The sea was going to take you and you didn’t have the senses about you to swim. It was over.

You hang your head, watching the water swell up around your body as you wonder if all your works will go missing to the sea. Maybe there will be nothing left of you. Or maybe someone will find your journal- just dry enough that the words haven’t dissolved and run together. Maybe someone will remember you.

Somewhere in the distance someone shouts your name.

You’re confident it’s your addled mind playing tricks on you until it’s louder and right above you- loud and frantic. You look upwards and see Buggy, rain soaked and panicked.

Now you’re really confident you’re seeing things.

“Grab my hand!” He lays down on the deck above you and extends his hand and everything becomes real painfully fast.

“Get out of here! The water- You can’t-“ You yell out, head throbbing.

“I said grab my hand! Captain’s orders!” He shouts and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him so serious.

Gathering up all the strength in your body you pull yourself up a few rungs until you can reach out and grab his hand, quickly being violently pulled up the rest of the way.

“Can you walk?” He asks, yanking you up to your feet. You fall into his body, answering his question for him. “Alright.”

Suddenly one of his arms is under your knees and the other is around your shoulders and you’re being carried, your vision obscured by Buggy’s clothes. It’s better that way, you think hazily, to see him and not your death waiting to swallow you up. Maybe it’s a trick your mind is playing and you’re down in that lower deck, knocked out and drowning. But as you curl up against him and your thoughts fade to nothingness it’s a trick you’re willing to accept.

If your last thoughts are of him it’s not a bad way to go.

You wake up with a start- jolting up in bed before realizing how much that sudden action hurts. Your hand flies to the back of your head and you realize it’s been bandaged up.

“Hey- take it easy.” Eyes flicking up you see Buggy standing up from a chair in the corner of your room.

Your room- back on Buggy’s ship.

“You really should lay back down.” He’s a few steps closer now and in the dimmed light of the room you can finally get a good look at him.

He looks like shit. Dark circles under his eyes, he probably hasn’t shaved in a few days, and his normal face paint is missing. He’s down to just his vest and pants, normal bright accessories missing.

The memories of the ship sinking come rushing back to you and a panic sets into your chest. “Wait what happened- the ship- the crew-“

“Hey, hey, it’s alright calm down.” He sits down on the bed and takes one of your hands in his. “Alvida’s ship sank, but we managed to get everyone out and on here before she went down.”

Your breathing evens out and you relax a bit. “Good.”

“We were calling everyone to get on board here right when you had left to go grab supplies- you were missing so I came and got you.” He explains, putting the remaining pieces together for you.

“You-“

“Just wanted to make sure you woke up alright so now I-“ He drops your hand and stands up. “Will go.”

He gets to the door before your words stop him.

“You shouldn’t have done that. It was- you could have easily died. You can’t swim and you didn’t even-“ You screw your eyes shut, brain still putting itself back together from the hard hit.

“Captain’s duties.” He explains shortly, hand still on the doorknob and not looking at you.

“Yeah but, you’re not my captain. You made it painfully clear you did not want to be my captain.” You swing your feet off the bed, glaring holes into his back as weeks of repressed emotions come leaking out the broken and battered seams.

“It’s not like that-“ He says, forehead meeting the wood of your door.

“Then what is it like then? Because I’m just confused and hurt! I don’t understand!” Your hands fist in the sheets of your bed as tears well up in your eyes.

“Please don’t-“ He turns around and you see the hurt in his eyes. “Don’t cry.”

“Then tell me what I did wrong!” You shout, hot tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Nothing. You did nothing wrong.” He wrings his hands and looks down at the floor. “You’re too- you’re too good for me.”

The words ring in the dim space and confusion comes over your already frazzled mind. “What?”

“You- okay.” He takes a deep breath and shift from foot to foot. “You have this grand idea of who I am. You think I’m smart and caring and a good captain and that’s just not true. I’m not any of those things. I’m just a huge faker. I was never meant to be a captain- I just keep doing it because I have to.”

You look over his anxious form and finally see what he’s been hiding under all those flashy clothes and bright face paint. He was truly and painfully insecure.

You go to stand up, slipping off the bed to try and land on your feet but your vision blurs and you slip and you’re sure you’re going to crack your head on the floor again. But before you can land your being held, Buggy’s hands having quickly detached and grabbed you. The rest of his body runs over only seconds later, connecting his hands back and placing you delicately back on your bed.

You’re sitting up again, Buggy anxiously standing next to the bed as he looks over your body, checking to make sure you’re okay. This time you reach out, taking Buggy’s hand despite the fact you can see him wanting to run away again.

“Buggy, you’re really stupid sometimes.” You see his face shift into pure confusion and you elaborate. “I don’t think those things because of all the acts you put on- I think those things because that’s what I really think after spending so much time with you. I know who you are, don’t think I don’t.”

Buggy practically collapses, sitting next to you on the bed. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” You grip harder on his hand, pulling yourself closer to him.

“Because I don’t want to disappoint you.” He admits, his voice cracking under his emotions.

“You- all this time- Buggy, look at me.” You pull at his hand, urging him to follow your directive.

He does and you see all the emotions you’ve been feeling swirling in his eyes. “I care about you. And I don’t care if you think you’ll disappoint me! I just want you.”

You feel something break as you stare into each others eyes and in a flash he’s on you- lips pressing harshly against yours. He’s messy and harsh and frantic as he overwhelms you and you let him. Your freehand tangles in his hair and holds his head close. Neither of you break the kiss until you absolutely need to, pulling away gasping for air as spit still connects the two of you.

“Do you mean it?” He whispers, forehead pressed against yours.

“Did it feel like I meant it?” You grin, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t know… I might have to check again.” You see a smile creep back onto his face and you pull him in again.

He kisses you like a man starved, eagerly throwing himself into you. He nips at your lips, pulling playfully as he slides on top of you, your body sliding down into the bed in turn. You can’t tell if his hands are attached to his body or not as you feel them wandering your skin, pushing up under the hem of your shirt and grabbing onto your waist. You whine into his mouth and he pulls away quickly.

“Did I- sorry is this too fast we can-“ You shut him up by pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“I want more.” You say against his lips and he nods so furiously you think his head might fall off.

His lips trail down, kissing where your jaw and throat meet. As he does so you feel a deft hand undo the fastenings on your pants and sliding into them, plunging past the hem of your underwear and to your folds. Your hips buck up as his fingers ghost over you and you hear him chuckle.

“Don’t laugh at me!” You lightly hit his back, unable to stop smiling.

“I’m not, I’m not.” He claims, but you know otherwise. It’s hard to be mad at him though when his fingers pry open your folds and he sucks in a breath when he finally dips in. “Fuck you’re wet.”

“All for-“ You’re cut off by your own moan as two fingers press into you. “All for you.”

His motions still for a second before he’s biting into your neck as his fingers sink all the way into you. “Can’t just say that stuff. Fuck you don’t know what you do to me.”

You feel him grind up against your leg and that sends a thrill through you and you push further. “Missed you so much- thought about you every day-“

“My lovely star-“ He breathes into your skin, fingers pumping in and out of you.

“That- I missed that. Missed you calling me yours.” You admit through moans as his fingers stretched you out.

All of a sudden his fingers are pulling out and you whine as he sits up. In a flash hands are tugging your shirt up and off your body while he shimmies down your bed. Once your shirt is discarded he can pull down your pants, hands smoothing over your thighs. He takes a few moments to just look at you and your face heats up.

“See you still need to learn how to take a compliment.” He jokes as he lays back down, pushing apart your thighs so he can settle between them.

“This is not the same.” You try and argue, your hand drifting to his bright blue hair as he kisses up the inside of your thighs.

“Whatever you say.” You want to argue further but all coherent thoughts leave your brain when you feel his breath on your folds.

You feel his fingers spread you apart before he dives in, tongue eagerly lapping up your slick. Your hand fists in his hair as he pushes his tongue into you, the thick muscle a welcome sensation. When his tongue leaves you, you whine but it quickly dissolves into a moan as he wraps his lips around your clit.

“Fuck- Buggy- Just like that!” You buck your hips up into his mouth and you feel his fingers slip back into you.

He listens, repeating the motion and adding a third finger inside you. His other hand comes around to the back of your leg, hiking it up over his shoulder so he can have better access. His tongue swirls between your clit and thrusting in with his fingers. As your orgasm builds up you pull tighter at his hair in warning and you feel him groan into your folds. The vibration against your clit edges you ever closer so you pull again, not missing the way his hips jerk up against the bed as you do.

He sucks on your clit as his fingers curl inside you and the dam breaks, orgasm washing over you. Buggy slowly pulls his fingers out of you but you still feel his tongue on you, lapping up your slick as you come down.

You gently pull on his hair, urging him to come closer to you. He gets the message, sliding up your body until he’s face to face with you, his lips and chin glistening with your juices.

“Can I repay the favor?” You ask, your hands sliding down his body until he shakes his head.

“Baby- if I even see you on your knees in front of me I’m going to blow my load before I can get inside you.” His confession makes your skin run hot as you surge up to him, kissing him deeply.

“Then get inside me.” You say when you finally pull away, your own taste lingering in your mouth.

“Oh, who’s the captain now?” He grins as he slides off the bed to quickly take off his vest and pants.

You can’t help but stare at his cock, long and curved and you need it inside you now. He sees you staring at it’s the ego boost he needs as he crawls back in bed, slotting his hips between your thighs. His hand guides his tip to rub against your clit and you whine impatiently. He chuckles but lines himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing in.

“You’re so- warm- tight- fuck-“ Buggy thrusts into you despite himself, every inch of him inside you all at once and you practically scream his name.

“Can’t help myself baby you feel-“ His body covers yours as he mouths at your collarbone and throat and whatever skin he can find. “So much better than I thought.”

“You thought about me?” You manage out, breathless.

“Every damn day and night I-“ His thrusts are erratic but you can’t bring yourself to care when he’s still making you feel so good. “Sometimes, after you left our meetings I’d- I’d touch myself the second you left I couldn’t stop imagining you on my desk I- fuck-“

Knowing he thought about you like that did things to you and you drag your nails down his back and hook your legs around his waist, unable to verbalize through your moans. You can tell he’s close already, the throb of his cock and the way his filthy words are getting increasingly slurred. You’re close too, and you reach up and grab Buggy’s hand, urging it down to your sensitive bud. He takes the direction well, his thumb rubbing right circles that make you see stars.

“Where- I’m so close-“ He chokes out and as he goes to pull out you clench your legs tighter, trapping him inside you.

“Fill me up, please Buggy.” You whine and that’s it for him.

You feel hot ropes of cum fill you up as he groans into your neck. He manages to still work your clit so it’s only a few moments after him that you’re orgasming again, milking every drop of cum out of him. Breathless, he collapses on top of you, softening cock still in you.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him tight as though letting him go means he’d drift away from you again. He nuzzled into your neck and must sense that somethings up.

“‘m not gonna be that stupid again.” He says, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Not gonna let you go.”

“I’m your chronicler again?” You ask, voice weak with emotions.

“Until the end of time.” He promises, and you trust him completely.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader

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bettyfrommars · 9 months

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Monster Eddie Jobs: haunted clown doll. Poltergeist. One of those paintings where the eyes follow you around. INCUBUS

haunted clown doll it is

hauntedClownDoll!Eddie x Reader

another blurb from The Nightmare Factory

Nightmare Factory Masterlist

Another step in Eddie's journey to find the Nightmare Factory job that will entice you to want to get to know him. A lot of you darlings came through with a handful of fun, creative requests, and I'm excited to keep them going through spooky season! I will also be using others that were mentioned in this particular ask, and always happy to receive more! I stayed at the Clown Motel once and lived to tell. There really is a cemetery right next to it, no lie. wc: 1.5k

18+ONLY, mature themes, nightmares, clowns, longing

The Clown Motel in Tonopah, Nevada gave you the creeps, but all you needed was a quick bed for the night, and $65 was about all you could afford. There was an old cemetery next to the property, and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve assumed it was all a staged setup to add to the spooky appeal of the motel. But, no—the headstones were all very real, dating back to the late 1800’s.

You saw him when you first came in—he was impossible to miss. The life-sized clown doll dressed in colorful stripes with a wide mouth and round, rubber nose. He sat in the middle of a square nook filled with clown dolls of all shapes and sizes. Some were ceramic, some were cloth. Some were wood, carved to look like a nutcracker. The big clown had one hand in his lap and one hanging down his side, and his eager eyes sought you in a way that made you avert your attention until you were done checking in.

Your room was on the second tier and you took some time to get cleaned up before calling over to the restaurant across the way to order some food. On you way back across the street, clutching the styrofoam container in your hand, you caught a glimpse of something bright in the cemetery.

It was dusk, and you wondered if maybe it was someone visiting one of the burial sites.

But, with a muffled scream you noticed—for a split second—that it was the same clown doll from the lobby standing like a statue by one of the headstones.

It was watching you, leering at you, and it lifted its arm in a stiff wave as the wind blew back the silk of his costume.

You blinked and choked, and when you focused on the spot in the distance again—the clown was no longer there.

Eddie materialized in the cemetery to get a better look at where you were, and then he tripped over his floppy shoes and almost impaled himself on a handmade, wooden cross.

He cursed under his breath, wondering why he chose Haunted Clown Doll over some type of apparition so that he could be near you without making you uncomfortable. First of all, he thought having a physical body would solve the communication problem, but of course—the clown’s face couldn’t move, and his voice came out as not much more than a mocking cackle.

Second, it was only a three day training, and most of it was just watching safety videos about how to walk in the shoes. They also taught him to sit for a while, and then stand in the corner, and then hover near the bed when the person having the nightmare least expected it.

They repeated a lot of the same shit at the training, and when he crossed his arms over his chest to sink back in his chair, he started to fall asleep.

He snorted awake with a start when the teacher—-a professional Nightmare Clown with a gaping maw of sharp teeth and a bright green wig—-barked his name.

“Sorry,” Eddie said groggily. “I’m listening.”

“Is that right?” The teacher clown also had cat’s eyes for pupils and a polka dot jumper with ruffles at the wrists and blood stains across the front. “Indulge the rest of the class and tell me what the last rule was I just went over.”

The “class” consisted of 3 unfortunate souls, including Eddie.

Eddie could not contain the yawn that stretched his mouth, so he spoke while it was happening. “Going under the covers,” he answered. “When the person puts their head under the covers, they are safe, and we can’t touch them or scare them.”

“Exactly, now, how do we keep them from going under the covers?”

Eddie must’ve blanked out on that one. “Um, we can’t?”

The teacher heaved a weary sigh, cocking their head. “Distractions, Munson. Doors that fly open, a face in the window, whispers in their ear.”

This was all beginning to sound way above his pay grade, and he wasn’t interested in being the best student or the best employee—he just wanted to see you again.

He should’ve dematerialized before you caught a glimpse of him from across the street, but some insane part of him hoped you might recognize him—even though you’d never seen his actual form, and he was dressed like a literal clown this time.

A car honked, jolting you from your reverie, and as you jogged the rest of the way into the parking lot, your eyes darted around, hoping to god that you would not see the clown again.

On your way to the stairs, you passed by the glass front to the lobby, and found yourself looking in to make eye contact with the clown doll again. Its eyeballs were painted on, but somehow—you felt like they were watching you, as if someone were looking through from the other side. Both of its hands were in its lap, now, and its shoulders were hunched; big, oversized red shoes planted on the floor; short, frizzy orange hair sticking out of a floppy sleeping cap.

You went up and watched some lame sitcoms while you ate your dinner, and you tried to forget about the inanimate clown doll that was gnawing at your brain.

Eddie noticed how you took the time to check in on him on the way to your room, and his heart leapt. And then, he thought he was the one dreaming when he watched you descend the stairs and return to the lobby a few hours later.

The night manager popped his head out to ask if you needed any help, but you confessed you were only there to look at the clowns.

One in particular.

You made your way over to stand at his side and covertly whispered in his ear. “Was that you out in the cemetery today?”

Eddie’s clown hand fell from his lap to sway at his side, making you jump back, eyes widening at the coincidence.

When you found the nerve, you leaned closer, inspecting the wide, painted smile on his porcelain face, the brown of his irises.

You were so close, Eddie could smell you. You radiated fresh lavender and coconut hand lotion and a tang of garlic from the dinner you just ate. He watched your lips move as you whispered to yourself, something about, “where have I seen this clown before?”

Eddie couldn’t speak though, he could only chuckle, and he didn’t think it was the right time.

The body of the doll was so lifelike; you had to feel it for yourself. With a shaky hand, you reached out to touch his shoulder—it wasn’t soft like stuffing, it was hard, like a store mannequin. You bent down to squeeze the thigh, finding that it was made of the same solid material.

Eddie could feel everything, the way you were caressing him. On his plane of existence, he parted his lips and let his eyes roam over your face. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to kiss you.

You bought some souvenirs—-a shot glass and a mug for your mom—and then returned to your room for the night.

It took you a while to get to sleep, but when you finally dozed off to the point that your body jerked from an imaginary fall, clown Eddie was sitting in the chair in the corner. The maniacal smile stretched across his face was locked in place—his eyes unblinking as they stared across the room at you.

You rolled over with a groan, pulling the covers closer to your chin as you went.

Eddie materialized at the side of the bed, at your back, tilting his head, wishing he could crawl in and put his arms around you. He’d take his big, stupid shoes off first.

The next morning, you woke up refreshed, and busied yourself around the motel room getting ready for the last leg of your road trip, oblivious to the way Eddie had been standing at the foot of your bed all night.

After your suitcase was in the car, you went to drop the key off at the front desk, and noticed the life-sized clown was no longer therr. You went over to inspect the area: its chair between the shelves of smaller clowns was gone too. There was not a trace of it, as if it had vanished.

“Hey, so, where did you put the huge clown that was down here?” You asked politely as you passed the man your key.

He squinted at you, a bit confused. “Huge clown, you mean the nutcracker ones?”

“No, the really big one,” you turned to point to the area where it had been. “It was taller than me with enormous red shoes, a really creepy smile. It was sitting right over there when I checked in yesterday.”

The man bent forward over the desk to see where you were pointing, even though he had no idea what you were babbling about.

“We’ve never had a clown that size,” he assured you. “But I wish we did. It sounds like something from a nightmare.”

#the nightmare factory #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie munson #the clown motel #Eddie Munson fluff #hauntedClownDoll!eddie #Eddie Munson x reader

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chaosandwolves · 2 months

Text

Ok, so

Ep 07x04 - Buck, bothered and bewildered

Possibly referring to the song

Bewitched, Bothered, And Bewildered by Ella Fitzgerald

Some lyrics:

Men are not a new sensation I've done pretty well I think But this half-pint imitation Put me on the blink

Lost my heart, but what of it He is cold I agree He can laugh, but I love it Although the laugh's on me

He's a fool and don't I know it But a fool can have his charms I'm in love and don't I show it Like a babe in arms

Love's the same old sad sensation Lately I've not slept a wink Since this half-pint imitation Put me on the blink

But I'm like sweet seventeen a lot

"Couldn't eat, was dyspeptic

Life was so hard to bear

Now my heart's antiseptic

Since you moved out of there

Romance, finis, your chance, finis

So this ep will be focused on Buck

We know he's - yet again- on a self discovery journey but - hopefully- finally reaching the turning point

This whole song is very much Buck like... "lost my heart but what for", "Love's the same old sad sensation", "but I'm like sweet 17 a lot"

That's one side of it

The other is being stunned and revived by someone

I'm wondering if he maybe has a bi re-awakening

Some guy he absolutely crushes on and only then does he realize that... Actually if I can have sex with guys, why not have a relationship with them... Maybe this will change something...

And he finally, very slowly, starts to realize something

It's all just about Natalia and him realizing that it's not it and he was just a little bit bewitched

Cause the "bewitched" is missing in the title and that means that he's not anymore but now he's

Bothered - cause he fell into the same pattern like always

Bewildered - cause something is dawning on him

Still choosing a song with the line "Men are not a new sensation" is WILD

Episode 7x05 - You don't know me

Possibly referring to the song

You Don't Know Me by Ray Charles

To you, I'm just a friend That's all I've ever been No, you don't know me

I never knew the art of making love Though, my heart aches with love for you, yeah I'm afraid and shy, I let my chance go by A chance that you might love me too

You give your hand to me, and then, you say goodbye And then, I watched you walk away beside the lucky guy I know you'll never know the one who loved you so No, you don't know me

I mean this screams Eddie pov

If Buck does have a bi thing going on...

Eddie would possibly be like... Oh so it would've been a possibility after all?

But now I'm too late

And he obviously only ever saw me as a friend

I pray to all the TV gods this will result in a talk with either Karen or Maddie

Cause even though we all agree the man has already realized his feelings for Buck

If there was a bi thing... that would change his perspective

But he'd also be afraid

Thus a talk with either a competent queer person (who is not the 118) or someone who knows a side of Buck he doesn't and knows if that could actually still be a real possibility

But honestly that's just what I wish for myself here

Anyway

I think though that watching Buck with Natalia, it makes Eddie's heart ache and Marisol will just be another Ana... Just a way to do what's expected of him, what's right, what seems good

But also I feel the "You don't know me" directly relates to the "She sees me"

So I feel... Maybe something happens and - like always- Eddie is there and giving Buck exactly what he needs cause he knows and sees Buck

Maybe Buck makes a queer related joke... Something along the lines of...

Haha wouldn't it be easier if you liked guys, we could just date each other!...

and Eddie answers "I'm afraid, you don't know me that well"

Ok I'm venturing into fic inspo now

But I think the contrast of these two songs is so interesting and the way they relate to Buddie SO HARD

And I will not stop talking about that god damn "Men are not a new sensation" line

Anyways we all didn't want to clown again but I'm afraid the clown train is boarded and rolling and it's a party

#Buddie #S7 spec #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #911 abc #7x04 #7x05 #Buddie meta #Or whatever this is #Actually wanna write that fanfic now #But I'm tired and in pain #Gods this is gonna be another hell of a ride

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somanypetals · 10 months

Note

please tell me what’s going on in riverdale you are my only source - I haven’t watched since season 1 is it clown of me to hope that Betty and Veronica are kissing again

oh my dude, my guy, my pal, it’s not clown of you at ALL, I’m cooked rn and I’ve actually been thinking about beronica all night so I’m gonna catch you up on their recent moments w a fuckton of screencaps you’re welcome bestie

okay for context, idk if you know this but in s7 they’ve all gotten stuck in a 1950s universe bc of a comet, crazy stuff yknow how it be, anyway so everyone’s a wee 27-year-old teenage virgin and no one remembers the previous 6 seasons (except for lots of signs that they still have emotional memories)

7.02 Veronica tells Betty she’s a catch, a total Marilyn, and she gets all blushy! Seems innocuous but Betty’s journey this season is very much being filtered through the lens of her discovering her femininity and sexuality, and Lili said in interviews she’s been playing it like Betty is seeing all her peers in a new sexual light so I’ve been reading into every microexpression this season feeling insane but actually? Not insane at all*

7.06 Betty goes to Veronica for advice about feeling sexy, Veronica tells her all about how she loves to wear lingerie, describes loving the sensations etc. and invites her over to try some on, and the whole locker room scene* Betty is like 👁️👄👁️

7.09 We find out that Veronica is one of the people Betty fantasises about, and one of her fantasies includes this locker room* kiss that, imho, combined with Lili's interview about how she's playing Betty this season? Defffffinitely connects back to Betty's awe during the locker room lingerie talk

7.12 After all the Riverdale parents have been classically negligent, Veronica and Betty start living alone together w no adults in V's apartment at the Pembrooke. They invite Kevin and Clay over for a sleepover and they all sing I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair, and then later when it's just B and V, Veronica brings up Kevin and Clay's relationship and they both express curiosity about same sex relationships, V admits she's kissed a girl, B admits she's thought about kissing V specifically, V asks if she wants to try it, they almost kiss before they're interrupted by Mary (who, sidenote: schooled all the moms in Riverdale that week for their negligence and reset the living arrangement status quo)

oh shit I hit image limit and I'm only halfway through this LMAOOOO look what you've done anon you've got me long-posting

alright I'm gonna reblog this and continue to make it even longer and more annoying bc THIS IS IMPORTANT STUFF xoxo

#ask #anonymous #beronica #long post

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sgiandubh · 6 months

Note

Saw your comment: "We're not all thirsty mommies, nor 12, nor bitter bitches. I'd love to see and hear more about what is beneath that mask, not beneath that shirt." Sam has done that before. He wrote an entire book about his journey but the book is called bullshit and he a liar. He's written well-thought out articles and forewords to books. He speaks intelligently and passionately and knowledgably about his liquors and the process of getting to market, and is called a shill. His work with Prickly Thistle is expensive and taking peoples' money, even when it helped this woman-owned mill immensely. It goes on and on. Today he's been accused of hypocrisy for a plastic cup, thirst trapping to change a conversation and using his social media as a PR tool to fool gullible women. Some may want to see beneath the mask but when he's shown what he is willing to you get the above.

Dear Hypocrisy Anon,

Thank you for your thoughts. I have read your long comment very carefully and let's say I agree with about 85% of it. The itching point is, of course, the book: Waypoints is a good ghostwritten memoir I have commented at length, with a more benevolent view than most of those who found it took some substantial liberty with what they (and I, for that matter) think it's the current state of play in SC Land. Note I am not saying the truth: that's only for Them to know, not for us. So dismissing it and calling everything a lie is a bit of a stretch. It's just a memoir, to be followed by other projects, other books. And who knows, another memoir, later on, where he could correct the course again at his convenience. He's only 43. Give the man some credit.

Trouble is, the world is a vast and diverse place. It's not just this fractured fandom. If he wants to remain relevant beyond OL, he needs, in my humble opinion, two things: a) to score a big role in a big budget production, which would improve his notoriety and help him reach a different public and b) curate his personal image a bit more and get out of this midlife crisis fake character he's peddling around. The only people who find it interesting are the thirsty mommies in *urv's crowd and that's, uhm... a bit irrelevant, in the big scheme of things.

So, no more political blunders, please and thank you. Shut the hell up and play Switzerland on complicated and divisive society issues which can get one in boiled water for a comma. Carefully picked and curated CSR projects, he'd ideally be more actively involved in. And yes, maybe a bit more transparency on the so many great things he does, like that partnership with the Edinburgh's Youth Theatre he didn't even mention himself or include in his stories (no doubt, out of a very British and endearing sense of modesty). And always remember: when faced with something beautiful and fragile, like that story, people will try their best to smear it and break it. I am not bitter, just realistic.

Same goes for your conclusion: I am sure many would like to see more of what is beneath that mask. It's too bad that a bunch of bitter, nasty, clueless, but also very noisy women occupy a bigger part of the stage than they should.

But have faith, Anon. For the moment, all of this is nothing what a good PR, not the clowns he obviously hired, can't fix with relative ease. Trust me. I've seen way worse. And remember, always remember what dear Wilde (God, I love that soul!) said: 'every saint has a past and every sinner has a future'.

You just gave me an idea for a future post and for this, I thank you, Anon. But for now, I have to catch up on a thing or two, rather than determine the morality of a plastic glass. I hope this long answer helps somewhat. Thank you for dropping by: it was a pleasure reading your musings.

#Anon

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mikami1992 · 1 year

Text

Crazy Idea #2

Special Report on "It Happened in Gotham", his news video blog about this dark city...

...On the night of yesterday and less than 24 hours after his escape, the Joker was arrested during an attempted hijacking of a Night Bus.

Both in the security video, as well as in the transport passengers, the facts of how the Villain together with 4 heavily armed henchmen have been described, they intercepted and boarded the bus in the suburbs, they proceeded to leave the driver unconscious, they took hostages the passengers and drove the bus towards the docks.

As for the passengers, they were terrorized at gunpoint and knife to make them remain still and silent in the middle of the transport.

And it is here where the kidnapping proceeded to break the norm, since it was discovered that at the bottom of the bus there was still a hidden passenger, said passenger was sleeping with headphones and lying on 2 of the seats, according to the police report, it was the music that came out of the headphones which betrayed the existence and location of the 20-year-old.

Noticing the sound, it was the Joker himself who proceeded to look for him and discover the sleeping passenger, and immediately proceeded to wake him up, with the obvious purpose of damaging him; but the young man did not react as everyone expected...

According to the testimonies of the other passengers, when the young man woke up and saw the murdered clown, he shouted the name "FreekShow" and punched him in the face and then applied a key that broke the criminal's right arm, dislocated his left shoulder and finally he knocked out the clown from suffocation, before the henchmen reacted the young man yelled something "Clones" and proceeded to take them down quickly and efficiently; and although a few shots were fired at the 20-something, none hit him or the other passengers.

The journey of the kidnapping attempt ended when one of the passengers took control of the bus while the others called 911 to recover their cell phones, as for the young man, as soon as he finished subduing the attackers, he took a seat in a random place and continued sleeping.

During the interrogations of the insider, it was shown that the 20-year-old, who has not yet been identified by the press, subdued all the attackers in a sleepwalking attack, so he did not remember what had happened; since according to his account, the last thing he remembers before being woken up by the paramedics, is falling asleep shortly after getting on the bus to go to his night job at a gas station. An internal source assures that the young man did not believe what he had done, to the point of having to see the transportation security recording to see that what they told him was real and not a joke.

#Danny Phantom #Batman #dp dc crossover #dp x batman #Danny needs sleep

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nicoleheichou · 11 months

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Girl Of My Dreams - Chapter 47: 🎶 Sugar rush-ush 🎶

¤ masterlist ¤ 《 prev | next 》

Synopsis: Sakusa was the type to always get things done on his own, but now that he's forced to juggle between his successful pro-volleyball career and being a single dad, what happens when he enrolls his daughter in a new preschool and meets his daughter's new teacher? Will their relationship remain professional or will it evolve into something more?

Another post in just a few days? Lmao. I had to because today marks 3 years of this blog! Thanks sm for everyone who's joined me on this writing journey! I'm so happy to share my stories with you and I'm so glad you all enjoy them. 🥰

I just needed to make Emi look like a clown lmaooo. Kenma's comment on her post was pov: you're reading the papers you were served. Kageyama's is pov: you don't actually know how to read.

So I guess some of y'all were confused with how the guys knew yn was upset? Lol. So it was probably 2 or 3 chapters back. It was an ig post about Sakusa comforting her while Kimi snapped the photo.

I'm glad you're all enjoying the fluff! As usual let me know what y'all think in the comments or thru ask!

Taglist: @taelia15 @dorkange @sexyandcringe @szeonn @natriae @whore-for-anime @diestheticu @loveinhaikyuu @youraggedybitch @mikk-o @erenisms @akisrandom @confusion-lord @aikochan4859 @trashy-simp @somniari-94 @pillboxmb @astrrnmy @all-in-the-fandoms @mattsunnn @kunikame @daninaninani @juniorhooter @crayonwriting @beans-and-jeanes @lvrjjun @sosiegate @grassbutneo @saaraunicorn @lalalemon101 @sunahyejin @sugusshi @roselleviennesstuff @queen-aria-things @hello0i @oopskashish @wolffmaiden @shakesqueer444 @julia-1901 @blkladyelle @marinarihearts @oikawas-toris @carlgrimm @zekeslefttit @rory-cakes @nomnom21 @noayuusukki @yukimaniac @the-jester-calamity @everytimeswift

#haikyuu smau #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #smau #haikyuu #gomd #girl of my dreams

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heartnosekid · 3 months

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well, friends. i’m sure a good lot of you have seen this post. i was denied today. i have to contact a lawyer and i don't even know how to begin advocating for myself outside of simply contacting the firm an ex-friend of mine used to obtain disability.

if you would rather not read the whole vent, i completely understand. but if you would still like to provide answers or support to me, here are my main issues.

i need advice from others who have been denied disability and have gone through a lawyer to obtain it. i need advice on what to do about getting started with victim advocacy. that's about it, i reckon. i love you all. my dm's are open. you will be blocked if you clown.

and yes, i realize my stim blog is not the place to talk about this. i understand, but this is my largest audience and i feel i would be a fool to not post this somewhere it may be actually received.

tw for mental health talk / long vent under the cut, particularly of the despairing kind, and also mentions of CSA / CSAM, psychosis, and my general disabilities. if this post needs more trigger tags, please let me know and i'll add them.

my whole life i have been treated as if i am not struggling because i can do the bare minimum to keep myself alive. i can survive, but never thrive, and even surviving now has become difficult. i can't feed myself regularly, my guardians do that for me. i can't stand for longer than a few minutes at a time without extreme duress and pain, which makes cleaning, showering, and going out super difficult and beyond draining. i can understand abstract concepts and certain ideas and am emotionally intelligent, but i struggle heavily with understanding money or how government works, particularly when it comes to laws and loopholes. i don't know when i'm "being had", as it were, and others have pointed this out to me throughout my adulthood. it feels as though this entire disability journey has been me "being had". they gave me something to cling on to, the possibility i may be able to receive real help, and it seems as though they basically knew the whole time they were going to deny me again. for the fourth time. i know that is unrealistic but, it does feel that way.

i wrote several full length books when i was a child / young teenager, and had two published. i won't share the titles because i have outgrown what i wrote and find them childish and frankly embarrassing, but everyone upon learning that i have written and had novels published, immediately jumps to the conclusion that i am some kind of self-sufficient, incredibly intelligent and capable person. i have never once been able to effectively take care of myself. without my guardians, i wouldn't be able to manage money, insurance, bills, cars, groceries, among other things. i don't even halfway understand how insurance on anything even works despite having been shown how it works.

i can see something, be "taught" to the best of someone's ability, and i will still not be able to learn. this has been a constant issue throughout my life, and the american public school system has continually helped these issues perpetuate. all schooling has done is teach me how to parrot back concepts and ideas, remember them for a limited amount of time before losing them to the void, and not how to fundamentally understand and learn them or utilize them in daily life. even higher education was like this, and i was not able to thrive throughout my experience with college despite making mostly okay grades (i cheated and lied a lot, okay. i'm not proud of it but i felt i had to get through or i would be severely punished). i had to a sign an agreement that i personally still do not fully understand to "obtain" my associate's degree, and i do not know why despite the fact it was explained to me, in detail. the information has not registered, and i now no longer have anyone that was involved in said agreement to explain it to me. everyone i say this to is like, "what? that doesn't make any sense." and i'm like. yeah. it doesn't, and i have zero ability to explain it to them in a way that makes sense.

i mention my associate's degree because i am sure in some form or fashion it was used against me in the disability process, since i was "able to complete higher education". also it should be noted i did an early college program. also probably has been used against me. also cheated through most of it.

people have always considered my kind of autism to be hyper competent, since it appeared that way when i was a child, despite showing several signs that i was struggling with a math-centric learning disability, called dyscalculia. i have since deteriorated to the point of barely having the knowledge a young adult should have, about how life works financially and honestly in general.

i have extreme fear about what may happen to me without proper assistance. my guardians will be able to take care of me for some time, but after that? that feels like a black hole to me. it doesn't exist nor will it while i am under-assisted, and this black hole fills me with utter despair. i try not to let it permeate my daily life, so as to not dwell in a future that doesn't exist yet and has the possibility for change. but god. it fills me with literal existential dread, and it is becoming so much more difficult to ignore the older i get.

a lot of factors have been used against me my entire life to deny me assistance, and these reasons being yet another factor has really dredged up a lot of shit from my past.

this is besides the point, but i also learned recently that CSAM was made and distributed of me when i was a child and wow. that has hit me in ways i cannot even describe. part of me is like, why was i not allowed to know after the fact, even when i became an adult? i was directly involved. why did no one tell me my abuser was convicted for counts of spreading CSAM, and that they lied directly to the court system about their inappropriate actions with me? i was disenfranchised in more ways than one by more than one person on allowance of my abuser, and i am just now hearing about it. i don't know how to deal and i don't know how to get started with victim advocacy in my area.

but at the same time, whilst being treated as severely more competent than i am, i have also been infantilized relentlessly, by nearly everyone around me. how does this make any sense. i feel incredibly stupid and uninformed and at the same time privy to things about my disabilities others are not, while not being able to effectively communicate it. i feel i am screaming and begging for help, nearly at my wits end with a lot of things, and all of it is reading as "owie booboo" to anyone who could do anything to help. i feel i am falling through the cracks, and i fear having to crawl back up through them. i fear i won't make the trek. i fear i will lose motivation and let myself rot. it feels like no one in a position of power has taken a true effort to really help me and i cannot help or advocate for myself. i am very scared.

on top of all of that stuff, i am withdrawing pretty heavily from cymbalta, experiencing heightened panic attacks every day, PNES (psychogenic non-epileptic seizures), more episodes of psychosis and hallucinating than i'm used to, all of my mental and physical issues are out of control, and now this disability stuff. i also won't be able to see a psychiatrist for...maybe a week or so more, so no bridge meds till then.

these last couple weeks have just really kicked me down. thank you for reading if you got this far. i appreciate you more than you know and i have no idea where i would be without y'all and this blog. i love you all so very much.

-ish

#ish talks #disability #vent #mental health #CSA mention #CSAM mention #physical disability mention #mental disability mention #psychosis mention #hallucination mention #dyscalculia #neurodivergent #autism #victim advocacy #PNES #ableism

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peachypaddys · 21 days

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ok i’m suddenly fixated on 911 and buddie after that episode and here’s 3 points in the final scene that makes me think (hope) that it’s all leading to buddie canon.

it literally felt like eddie was the third person in the room even though he wasn’t in it. the conversation began with eddie and they mention eddie so many times and even christopher. and that would be clue enough as it is but then the whole scene ends with yet another mention of eddie. eddie is so linked to this entire arc of buck.

tommy mentioned that he’s a jealous guy too, and that his jealousy was of the fact that the 118 are so close knit and like a family. he also talked about how eddie, christopher and buck are inseparable and that he could never come between them. now idk if this is the makings of an eventual storyline between them but it’s just very interesting to me. like stans have said before, no love interest is ever going to be a bigger force in either of buck or eddie’s lives than each other, and that counts for male love interests too.

the infamous “MY attention?” “i guess so”… yeah that’s pretty self explanatory, after talking about eddie so much and how buck is irreplaceable in eddie’s life and tommy being envious too that they’re so close knit, it comes as a surprise to tommy itself that buck wants HIS attention. (for the record, i do believe that buck wanted his attention, i think he wanted both their attention. i don’t think he’s mistaken in any way, i think he feels real attraction to tommy… but also to eddie although he doesn’t realize it yet).

so yeah idk eddie being so intrinsically linked in buck’s self discovery about his attraction to men is very telling about where they could be going with this. even if they don’t have a plan about that, it’s writing themselves into a corner by having them be so intertwined in this storyline (i mean why even bother implying buck is jealous of tommy, having him trying to grab eddie’s attention, and Have Eddie Show Up At His First Date With A Man if something wasn’t cooking between them lmao) i’m gonna be even more suspicious about this if eddie is the first one that buck comes out to; or not even come out, but if he talks to eddie about his attraction to tommy/men before even figuring himself out completely. like involving eddie in that huge part of his journey has to be something.

or i’m a clown and all this is just purposely done as a red herring of some sort lol but it’s very hard to see that now i gotta say

#911 abc #911 speculation #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #tommy kinard #the choice to have eddie show up at buck’s first date with a guy is cosmically hilarious #and only in the context of buddie like #and neither tommy or marisol staying long and network tv shows love mains together #it’s all falling in place

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artful-aries · 1 year

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Witticism of the Judicator - (Cyno x Reader)

Word Count: 2k

Content Warnings: extremely mild violence, Cyno’s humor

The wait is finally over, I’ve written a drabble about the clown prince of comedy. The reader is gender neutral as always.

Being a Matra for the Akademiya was certainly a tough job, but you never regretted a second of it. That is, until today. Your patience was being worn thin on this case, making you second guess your career choice, but ultimately you valued integrity and your morals too much to quit being a Matra, no matter how much the General Mahamatra Cyno was currently getting on your nerves.

You had been tasked with helping him crack open a big case; a ragtag band of Eremites had managed to get their hands on a trove of knowledge capsules and were selling them on the underground black markets to the highest bidder. The General Mahamatra had already traced their base around the Valley of Dahri, but needed extra manpower to locate and raid their main camp. That’s where you came in.

The General Mahamatra was…not what you had expected. You had heard the stories and rumors of a ruthless and unwavering man, who stopped at nothing to make sure that Justice was served, and he did seem like that at first. His red eyes seemed to pierce through you when you first met up with him to make the journey to the Valley of Dahri, as though he was looking into your very soul to determine if you were worthy of helping him. The air around him seemed to permeate with his sheer determination to get the job done, and do it well. He had been intimidating at first, making you grip your bow tightly out of sheer nervousness. You had wondered if he hated you with the way he seemed to glare at you at all times with a stern and concentrated expression. Yet as the investigation continued, the Mahamatra’s behavior seemed…strange at best.

You both had found an abandoned camp of the Eremite group that you were tracking, and sought to scour the area in search for clues. While surveying the site, Cyno had turned to you with a serious expression on his face.

“It looks like they hired a maid to join them before they fled,” He said with his crimson eyes watching you carefully. Was he testing your observational skills? If he was, you didn’t know how he came to such a strange conclusion.

Your brows furrowing in confusion, you asked him, “What made you come to that conclusion? I can barely tell how many people were in this camp, let alone what their potential professions are aside from being smugglers and black market dealers.”

“Because they clearly wanted to make a clean getaway,” Cyno replied, his gaze unwavering as he seemed to be watching you carefully.

You paused for a moment, registering his words. Was he making fun of you by not taking you or this job seriously? Perhaps you didn’t have the prestige of being the General Mahamatra, but you certainly didn’t slack off on the job, or not take it seriously at all. Your eyes narrowed a little at Cyno, the displeasure of his joke bubbling through the expression on your face despite trying to seem unaffected. If he was trying to get a rise out of you, then you weren’t going to take the bait. You continued observing potential clues in the camp without acknowledging what he had said.

“My best guess is that maybe a dozen or so Eremites were in this camp,” you began to explain as you observed the already fading footprints in the golden sand, “If I had to guess, I think they might have been headed to the Statue of the Seven just a ways up ahead.”

“The statue gets too much foot traffic, they might have started going in that direction at first, but the Statue of the Seven wouldn’t be their final destination,” Cyno contested, his hand resting on his chin as he appeared to be deep in thought before adding, “There’s an obelisk just west of the statue, I think their camp might be there, or close enough for us to find if we head in that direction.”

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, his analysis made perfect sense, but it made you feel like you weren’t providing enough support to him on this mission. If you weren’t providing any additional insight, then were you really just here to do the grunt work for the General Mahamatra?

You felt yourself frowning a little, but stood up from your kneeling position in the ground and nodded silently in response to his theory.

If Cyno noticed your displeasure, he didn’t say anything as he gestured for you to follow him, “Let’s get to the obelisk, if we waste time the Eremites might move their base before we catch up.”

You followed him quietly, not making conversation as you two trekked through the sand dunes towards the towering obelisk in the distance. It wasn’t long before the pair of you made it to your destination, and as Cyno had predicted, the Eremite camp was stationed right underneath the obelisk. There were about fifteen men in the camp, all busy eating and socializing to notice you and Cyno peering at them from behind a large rock.

“Let me fight then head on, you stay here and pick them off from a distance,” The Mahamatra instructed, his face stoic as he studied the camp carefully, “I already arranged for reinforcements to meet us here at this obelisk and deeper in the Valley of Dahri before we set out. They should arrive during the battle to aid us in capturing the smugglers.”

You blinked in surprise, shocked that he already had everything arranged so perfectly before he even knew the exact location of their camp. Was this what made the General Mahamatra such a formidable force? You couldn’t help but feel a little jealous at his ability to take command and predict his target’s movements. Shaking your head to rid yourself of your own thoughts, you nodded to Cyno and readied your bow, prepared to shoot at anyone who came too close to him.

Cyno watched you for a moment before taking a deep breath as he readied his polearm and launched himself over the rock you were using for cover, immediately throwing himself into the fray of confused and terrified Eremites. With you laying down cover fire with your bow and Cyno annihilating the bigger combatants, you two made quick work of the smuggler band just before the reinforcements that Cyno arranged had arrived. With the fight over almost as soon as it began, the reinforcements helped round up all of the unconscious and injured Eremites to bring them back to Sumeru City for judgment. You felt a sense of pride as you surveyed the end results of your mission; the knowledge capsules were now secure, and the criminals responsible would face punishment. You had also been able to keep up with the General Mahamatra. Even though he had done the brunt of the fighting, you felt like you had done your fair share on this case.

As Cyno made his way over to you, you almost expected him to give you praise, or at least acknowledge your own abilities, but the look on his face was stern as ever as he spoke, “Our job isn’t done yet, we need to scout ahead and make sure that our reinforcements can properly escort the prisoners through the desert.”

Your face fell just a little. Was he not going to say anything about the hard work you had put in so far? Thinking about it, perhaps this level of performance was nothing but ordinary to the Mahamatra, which brought your pride crashing back down. With a sigh, you replied, “Understood, General Mahamatra.” Without waiting for his response, you began jogging to get further ahead of the convoy of the Eremite prisoners, with Cyno following close behind you.

After a while, you and Cyno had put enough distance between yourself and the convoy, now alone again in the expansive desert. The tension was palpable between the two of you, the feeling making your eye twitch slightly. You found yourself hoping that you didn’t have to partner up with the Mahamatra in the future. He was just too strange and intimidating for you to feel comfortable working with.

As you walked, you noticed strange ripples in the sand ahead, and motioned for Cyno to stop moving, “Up ahead, there’s something in the sand. Could be scorpions or fungi, be careful.”

“It’s fungi,” Cyno replied as he looked carefully, “There’s a cluster of them spread out it seems. Scorpions come in pairs at most, or very rarely triplets.”

As you looked around, you could see that he was right once again, there were more ripples in the sand than the ones immediately in front of you.

He gave you a sidelong glance before speaking again, “For a fungi to grow you must give it as mushroom as possible.”

Something about his joke finally made you snap, tensing as the annoyance bubbled from deep within you, “What is with you and your jokes? Do you not take me seriously enough? Are you judging me and my ability?” Angrily, you shot some arrows at the rippled spots, uprooting the dormant fungi as you continued while you shot more arrows, “Or is it just that you like the sound of your own voice?”

Cyno didn’t say anything at first, focusing on helping you neutralize the now uprooted fungi. Once they were eliminated, he surveyed the area for more potential threats before turning to face you. He had a strange expression on his face, almost like…he was nervous?

“If a judge loves the sound of his own voice, you can expect a long sentence,” Cyno replied, his red eyes boring into you as though he were anxiously awaiting your reaction.

Silence fell over you two for a moment, before you busted out laughing. As annoyed and confused as you were about his behavior, his joke had caught you off guard and had been unexpectedly funny. And finally, finally, the General Mahamatra showed expression on his face as he smiled softly at your bout of laughter.

“I’m sorry if my jokes seemed…in poor taste,” Cyno apologized as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “You seemed tense from the very moment I met you. I wanted to try and get you to relax around me. I was worried that if you weren’t comfortable with me, it could affect our teamwork and ruin our operation.”

At his explanation, suddenly everything made sense. Cyno hadn’t been glaring at you this whole time, he had been watching you because he was worried. The sudden reveal of this sweet side to the great General Mahamatra pulled another laugh out of you.

“You are something else,” you replied between giggles as you wiped the tears that had accumulated from your laughter, “I owe you an apology as well for misunderstanding you. I was so self-conscious about working with you that I thought you were making fun of me, or not respecting me as a colleague.”

Cyno shook his head, “I respect you greatly as a Matra, your work today was impeccable. I’m sorry you felt like I didn’t,” he stepped forward and held his hand out for you to shake, “If anything, I wouldn’t mind working with you in the future for when I need extra hands.”

Smiling at him, you shook his hand gently, noticing how large his warm, calloused hands were in comparison to yours, “O-Of course, anytime you need me, I’ll be there.”

Before you had desperately wanted to work with anyone but the General Mahamatra after this mission, but now, seeing such a soft smile crack the usual stoicism of his features, you found yourself eager to work with him again. It was almost funny how your opinion of him changed drastically because you laughed at his joke, but you couldn’t help but to look forward to Cyno telling more jokes on your way back to Sumeru City, if only to give him another chance to bring out that soft smile of his.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #reader insert #genshin imagine #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagine #genshin headcanon #Cyno #genshin cyno #Cyno x reader #cyno x y/n #Cyno x you

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