#at first I thought his expression in the first image was like Mary in a pieta but actually it’s nearly identical to the faces of the women

[kotdish]

[forsworned]

a thought i couldn't get out of my head about kyle because of this image

cw: religious themes, sexual themes, sacrilege, religious guilt, temptation, power dynamics, Kyle being a delicious temptation.

Penitent!Kyle is beaten, battered, and bruised seeking salvation when he has a terrible run-in with God’s Judgement. He’s the biggest talk around your small, docile, God-fearing town, caught stealing apples with pockets full with of hardtacks. He begs the Minister to let him go, he was running from his “demons”, he says. And that single-handedly saves him from losing his head. Poor, wretched soul, tortured by the voices in his head.

You spot him in the dim sanctuary, a lone figure at the witching hour, talking to the altar, begging for forgiveness in the form of penance. To be gentle, graceful, and the utmost serene. And you, the town beauty, who has been spying on him for the past half hour or so, step out. There’s a creak in the wooden floorboards that captures his attention. And then he sees you, face illuminated by the candle you carry with both hands. It casts a warm, angelic glow over your dulcet features, and his amber, dewy eyes team at the sight. An angel.

He curses himself for the lack of restraint his cock is practicing, but he holds himself still as you approach him. Hands interwoven on the prayer rail, kneeling before God, tears cascading down his smooth golden brown face—looking like an angel himself.

“You’re seeking salvation,” you take him in once more, heart thrumming like a hummingbird's wings in your rib cage. “I see your struggle, I can help guide you,” you murmur, each word a tender caress, “help you find the forgiveness you seek.”

God has heard him. The pathetic sinner he is, He has heard him.

“You’d do that for me?” His whisper is faint, but you hear him clearly in the still night.

You don’t even skip a beat, “Yes.”

And his honey eyes analyze your every move, from the beat you gentle place your pricket candleholder atop of the prayer bench to the way you gracefully glide to the ewer, pouring out holy water into the a bowl. His heart beats louder with every stride you take toward him and you stand tall, poised and maternally before him. Like Mother Mary in the flesh, the light cascades a heavenly glow upon your skin. It’s as if the voices in his head grow silent with every word you utter.

Your voice echoes along the church walls as you begin the ritual, he’s hardly paying attention to the declarations that fall from your mouth. Only imagining how your lips would look puckered around his twitching, rock hard length, “…and renew your soul, granting you the redemption you seek.”

The candlelight dances, outlining your visage, and his Adam’s apple bobs. He’s no longer obstinate in the path God creates for him. He is more than willing to embrace humility, show remorse, and let go of his pride. His eyes quiver, body spasming from the long hours he's spent in these four walls to subdue his demons, to strive for the quiet, serene life of man and wife, and to give up his incubus-like ways. The route to redemption lies right there in front of him, right between your bosom. So soft, so sweet, so willing to bring him to the light, coax him through your expressions of adoration toward the Lord.

“I accept.” He bows his head in acknowledgement, before you tip the bowl to have his sweet, supple lips touch the rim. His knees touch the wooden floor and he looks so sweet, so submissive and willing to give anything to have his sins wiped clean.

Your core throbs with heat, envisioning him hiking up your wool skirt to lap you up. But you allow him to drink, holding the bowl steady as he takes his first tentative sip, water dribbles down his chin and wets his breeches as he sups it up with a haste that makes the desire coil tight within your belly. It’s hard to ignore the large bulging between his thighs, the clamminess in his hands as he puts them over yours. He hears the sudden shudder in your breath, stumbling over as you lose your composure, water spilling into his lap, and apologizing profusely for your clumsiness.

His hardened length presses against his breeches and your innocent eyes broaden at the profane and luscious sight. You’re quick to pull on the discarded surplice that lies on the prie-dieu to blanket his sodden form. Temptation still lies heavy in the air, but you swiftly turn your back to him, rushing out of the chapel. Heart on your sleeve for the man that showed up on your town's doorstep for deliverance as you rush back to your home. You creep back through your window you leave ajar, un-wedging the fork and softly placing it on your nightstand as you catch your breath.

Fingers trembling at your sides with desire and adrenaline, and the memory of his hardened length outlined through the thin fabric of his breeches, tear stained bronzed cheeks, plump lips, woolen hair and taut chest that peeked through the loosened placket of his cotton shirt. And how can you forget his eyes? Eyes the color of golden, everlasting hearth, of polished amber in the first rays of dawn.

With clammy fingers, interlaced at the edge of your bed, you pray to God to let your provocations dissipate into the zephyr of the cool Autumn wind. Part of you doesn’t even want the enticement to leave you, to give into human nature. After all, man was weak.

This deserves a part two, yess???😇

[aleebeesplats]

Soul bond[OUTDATED]

“An eternity alone is a cruel thing to be subjected to. To be surrounded but isolated, heard but forgotten, so powerful, yet so weak at the same time. The story is your life, but is that really all there is to it? Is that why you did it? Allowed them to exist despite the obvious growing issue? You wanted to feel understood despite not knowing who you were or where you began. You’ve crafted life at the expense of their freedom. You’ve replicated freedom through life.”

More info about this au under cut

This really started as a joke cuz I wanted to draw more Stan and Mari friendship art but as god has it it’s not so much a joke anymore(yay). This whole AU centers around Stanley and Mariella “becoming human”.

Character refs for Stan and Mari. I might change some stuff up with their colors and designs but this is the main idea for now.

In this AU Mariella now works in the same building as Stanley and her job is to attend meetings. Employee 317 did this everyday of every month of every year. She first meets Stanley while waiting for those who were supposed to attend, surprised and confused at the sudden disappearance of everyone.

Mariella and Stanley are creations of the Narrator, so they don’t look exactly human because of that.

(They have normal noses in side profiles)

I was inspired by Friday Night Funkin for their stylized faces. In terms of expression they are much more animated in comparison to the Curator or the Narrator.

Speaking of Nar-Nar, here’s the man himself. His first form is more like a “concept” than an actual “appearance” as he didn’t really care about what he looked liked and cared more about getting through with the story. His current form is much more human and he often spends time in it outside of the parable in his office. I wanted to keep his figure blocky and sharp cuz I went by squares as his main image.

Now the Parable wouldn’t be anything without the building, lo and behold “Coworker”.

I suck at drawing buildings, but for all you need to know for now is that it always expanding in the inside (where the story takes place), and also it is alive, capable of thought and emotion to some extent. Yayyy living infrastructure.

Some additional early sketches I made while trying to figure out stuff.

I thought it would be funny if Nar and Curie dated for a week before realizing they swung different ways. Things are good between them but it’s a little awkward at times. I was stuck between making Nar-Nar an eldritch creature or just an old man, but then again why can’t he do both.

Quick height chart doodle. The egotistical old man strikes once again, he really made himself so tall because he thinks it’s funny being able to see over people’s heads. In a way they look like Kirby to him.

That’s it for now. I’ll try to not burn myself out so that I can draw more for this au. It seems shallow right now but that’s on purpose‼️

Also, none of the things I draw in this AU are meant to be romantic. They are Queer-platonic at most. This is just me exploring bonds in hard times +what it means to be human (self-projecting like hell).

[kipperlillyclerickiller]

Exploring Unconventional Bad Kid/Ratgrinder Parallels

Obviously, when Brennan introduced the Ratgrinders in FHJY, some clear parallels in class composition popped up. Every member of the Bad Kids has a corresponding Ratgrinder who shares their general build/role in the party and (presumably) some of their psychological issues as well. But when I was rotating the characters in my mind, as one does, I realized that there were some other interesting character foils to be pointed out. I've listed them below under the read more, along with more detailed thoughts on what aspects of the characters are highlighted with each comparison.

Also I spent way too much time working on this, so I'm including a DNI banner on here (made by @kipperlillyforpresident, who also graciously let me bounce ideas off in the DMs)

Kipperlilly Copperkettle/Gorgug Thistlespring: the first parallel that i came up with. they both have issues around rage that are belied by their physical appearance, with klck being a tiny halfling who experiences an excessive amount of rage that doesn't "benefit" her adventuring-wise as she's a rogue, while on the hand, gorgug is a half-orc who started out as a barbarian in part because it is what he's physically predisposed to be, despite actually having an extremely gentle personality, only transitioning to artificer in his junior year. both have relatively normal middle-class backgrounds but still have issues; klck's anger issues regarding not having a tragic backstory are well-documented, but gorgug also has baggage that made him minimize his presence at the beginning of his high school career, stemming from growing up in a household where rage wasn't really considered at all bc it's an emotion so antithetical to the thistlesprings' way of existence (to be clear, i think the thistlesprings are great parents; it's just that they didn't really know how to address this aspect of gorgug's development)

Ruben Hopclap/Fabian Seacaster: black boys showing off the sensitive side of masculinity. last episode established that the ratgrinders are living in ruben's mansion, which he presumably bought with his rockstar money and lives in without any parental figures, meaning that he and fabian have similar living situations and probably similar issues with trying to avoid loneliness that result in attention-seeking behavior (ruben's music career and fabian's max legend status). finally, the turncoat potential: fabian has admitted to listening to ruben's music and beefed with gertie bladeshield against the rest of the bad kids. meanwhile, ruben's experiencing some sort of guilt/reluctance with the ratgrinders' plan as expressed through his interactions w/ wanda childa. i believe they can bridge the bad kid/ratgrinder divide and i want them to be friends sooo bad

Ivy Embra/Fig Faeth: most straightforward similarity is their sylvan elf heritage, but i think that the similarity that matters the most would be their image/self-portrayal, with ivy being a sort of mean girl with an edge, similar to the type of person that fig wanted to portray herself as in freshman year (even though fig is actually much more soft-hearted/sentimental). this comparison is honestly more of a what-could-be scenario that sheds light on potential alternate facets of fig's story bc 1) ivy being an elven ranger is pretty similar to sandra lynn but has the edgy persona fig only took on after she found out about her tiefling heritage and 2) we have literally no idea what's going on with ivy's emotional landscape. still, this comparison compels me, especially in light of finding out how porter and jace groomed the ratgrinders, and the way that sandra lynn got used by bobby dawn when he was an adventurer. it's like a dark mirror of what could have happened to fig if the circumstances were worse (and the fact that bobby dawn is a teacher in aguefort rn and was also collaborating with porter to an extent.... the cycles are cycling!!)

Mary-Ann Skuttle/Riz Gukgak: just little guys. specifically smaller races often stereotyped as villainous and acting in the service of the party rather than for themselves, though while we see that riz acts for the party out of genuine passion, mary-ann seems to be more apathetic. both are disconnected from regular teenage social norms, generally unbothered/unaware of looking "uncool", and more focused on their personal interests, as mary-ann has her plushies and riz has his mysteries (and his business cards from freshman year lol). even when riz joined all the school clubs this year, he did it for the sake of kristen's campaign/getting scholarship money to help his mom more than for his own reputation. another prominent similarity is a heavy compartmentalization of emotion: we don't really know what's going on with mary-ann but she hasn't shown any emotion even when trying out for bloodrush and seems remarkably unbothered for someone who's been presumably been shatter-starred. riz, in contrast, has a lot of emotions/anxieties but channels them into mystery solving and other activities, an approach encapsulated by the baron quote from fhsy: "You love the truth. You seek it so much that you cut your hands upon the inside of crystals. But, you use deception to protect yourself from something you fear." riz also isn't very forthcoming with his emotional state, evading questions from his mom and Jawbone, as well as his friends. His initial drive to solve mysteries stemmed from the emotion from his father's death, but iirc he didn't even tell the bad kids about how pok died until sophomore. And now, he's grinding in school/extracurriculars for scholarships to avoid considering the possibility of the bad kids splitting up

Buddy Dawn/Adaine Abernant: catty and blonde. (jk) both of them feel anger prominently and express it in their spellcasting (versus a more martial class), but in very different ways. adaine's whole arc throughout freshman and sophomore year has been about accepting that she has the right to be angry about the way that her parents abused her, and that her anger can be a source of power in her spellcasting; contrast the way she brained doreen with the ladle in the first battle with the corn cutie bc she didn't know what to do versus later battles in sophomore and junior year when she's learned adaine's furious fist. on the other hand, buddy uses his cleric spellcasting as a healer in order to sublimate discomforting feelings and avoid dealing with the idea of agency and consequences of emotions like anger. his whole conversation with kristen is basically him going "i don't feel anger because i repress it so deeply and i don't engage in violence, just help other people kill because that is helio's will. my hands are clean tho :)" (he is so funny) additionally, adaine has found a support system in her adventuring party, as well as jawbone and ayda, while buddy is the odd one out in the ratgrinders as lucy's replacement, isolated from preexisting support systems as he has just moved from highcourt and subsequently becoming so very vulnerable to getting shatterstarred

Oisin Hakinvar/Kristen Applebees: idk these are the only guys i have left. ok my original idea was they both have plot-relevance related to adaine's summons, with oisin hijacking adaine's dust mephits to tamper with the cloud rider engine and whatever the fuck is gonna go on with K2 in the next episodes. also have a narrative presence defined in part by the women they're crushing on, with kristen dealing with her attraction to tracker/gertie/women in general throughout all the campaigns and oisin being introduced as seemingly flustered by adaine's attention. but honestly i think the strongest parallel is that they're both haters (kristen calling klck "4dogs" and oisin calling buddy dawn "hayseed", fight!)

and of course, how could I forget...

Lucy Frostblade/Gilear Faeth: the Chosen Ones. both have plot relevance and relation to Ankarna through their ancestry. both just have a melancholy vibe. ppl from mountainous cultures often live off dairy products... i'm gonna extrapolate and assume that lucy loved blueberry yogurt

[talonabraxas]

The Animus and Animus Possession

A woman is compensated by the masculine animus, the personified spirit of a woman that corresponds to the paternal Logos, representative of rationality, discrimination and cognition. It is the union of Eros, the expression of her true nature – that is, relatedness, connection and the feminine feeling value – and Logos that creates the instinctual drive toward wholeness necessary for psychological development and individuation.

While the animus is an eternal, inherited archetype of the collective unconscious, it is also influenced the context of one’s life, culture and personal relationships with the opposite sex. Therefore, it is both an archetypal image that possesses a degree of autonomy, such that it cannot be wholly integrated into consciousness, and a personal complex. The animus is best thought of as a kind of psychopomp or guide to the unconscious, formulating the bridge between a woman’s ego and the Self, the psychological totality of her being. According to Jung, “If the encounter with the shadow is the ‘apprentice-piece’... then that with the anima [or animus] is the ‘master-piece.’” (Carl Jung, C.W. Vol 9. Part I. Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious)

A woman possessed by the animus will develop emotionally charged, ‘sacred’ convictions and critical judgements, inflicted either against herself, causing deep feelings of inferiority, or indiscriminately against others. She exhibits ‘. . . a priori assumptions that lay claim to absolute truth.’ (Jung, 1951, p.15) When challenged on her position, she becomes abrasive and dogmatic. Such convictions are never true to the reality of her personhood, and in fact threaten her feminine identity and her relationships, for the animus-possessed woman is gripped by an unconscious desire for power and control. This negative animus lures her away from life and encases her in fantasies of how things should be. It can also manifest as a destructive attitude. According to Marie Louise Von Franz, the animus shares the primitive propensity of man as hunter, capable of murdering life for a woman. If the animus robs her of all life and leaves her in a state of emotional paralysis, she may become a vampire who sucks the life from others. This is quite unlike the anima, which serves to enhance life. In fairytales, such a negative animus may appear as the personification of death itself.

“Just as the mother influence is formative with a man's anima, the father has a determining influence on the animus of a daughter. The father imbues his daughter's mind with the specific coloring conferred by those indisputable views mentioned above, which in reality are so often missing in the daughter. For this reason, the animus is also sometimes represented as a demon of death. A gypsy tale, for example, tells of a woman living alone who takes in an unknown handsome wanderer and lives with him in spite of the fact that a fearful dream has warned her that he is the king of the dead. Again and again she presses him to say who he is. At first he refuses to tell her, because he knows that she will then die, but she persists in her demand. Then suddenly he tells her he is death. The young woman is so frightened that she dies. Looked at from the point of view of mythology, the unknown wanderer here is clearly a pagan father and god figure, who manifests as the leader of the dead (like Hades, who carried off Persephone). He embodies a form of the animus that lures a woman away from all human relationships and especially holds her back from love with a real man. A dreamy web of thoughts, remote from life and full of wishes and judgments about how things "ought to be," prevents all contact with life. The animus appears in many myths, not only as death, but also as a bandit and murderer, for example, as the knight Bluebeard, who murdered all his wives.” Marie Louise von Franz, The Animus, a Woman's Inner Man.

The animus becomes a valuable inner companion for a woman only once she is able to differentiate between the thoughts and opinions of this autonomous complex, and what she herself really thinks. To become familiar with the nature of her animus, she must create distance between herself and her convictions and look upon them with a critical eye. Manifest positively, the animus provides her with qualities of initiative, creative action, objectivity and spiritual wisdom. In his highest form, he is the incarnation of meaning.

“Just as the anima becomes, through integration, the Eros of consciousness, so the animus becomes a Logos; and in the same way that the anima gives relationship and relatedness to a man’s consciousness, so the animus gives to a woman’s consciousness a capacity for reflection, deliberation and self-knowledge.” Carl Jung, C.W. Vol 9. Part II: Aion. The Syzygy: Anima and Animus

Anima and Animus The archetype of the Anima/Animus forms a bridge between our personal unconscious, our personal unconscious and what Jung refers to as the Collective Unconscious. The anima/animus is the image making capacity which we use to draw inspirational, creative and intuitive images from the inner world (strictly speaking transpersonal inner world).

[crystalandparrot]

The Hardest Trial: Pt. 2

Learning Curve

This is SUNSPOT!! Or how I envision her. She's wearing a clip on bow tie and shorts that are WAY too big on her. I named her Mary, but again, I'll keep it a reader insert if thats what the people want. I dont mind changing it.

It's been three years since Bill arrived in his current predicament: stuck roaming a family's house like a ghost with only the smallest human to actually talk to.

Sure it wasn't the same as talking to Sixer, but the questions never got boring. It turned out that not only could this child see him, they could interact with them. Bill could touch and be touched...unfortunately only by one person and that person was a child, but better than nothing. Bill had yet to discover if his powers grew over his time in this state or if he was simply relearning how to use them, but Bill began releasing small bits of power he did not have in the Mindscape previously. Bill could lift things, with about as much grace and strength as a Poltergeist run on molasses, but he could lift things!

Over his time in the past, Bill also realized something was drawing him back to this child. A magnet? A string? A pull of some kind always, always, ALWAYS, brought Bill back to her. He could travel as far as the city's boundary, then POOF back home. It was only annoying a few times, then Bill got the gist.

Bill found it odd just how much time the little Sunspot's parents spent with her, he was almost positive a normal set of parents was next to their child almost 24/7. But they seemed to avoid her! Heck, Bill was the one to potty train her. Bill took it upon himself to teach the kid how to be a less annoying human (to him at least), taking the time to teach them to talk in English, backwards English, and Latin (a fun trick at parties), he made sure they could walk, crawl, and crab/exorcist walk (also hilarious), and was even starting to teach them the alphabets! Y'know, the English alphabet, his alphabet, Sixer's code, and of course the Caesar Cipher alphabet (how could he not?). Over time Bill began to realize that he was having...fun? It was almost like making a mini version of him! And the best part was that Sunspot took to all of it like it was as easy as breathing! It's true what they say, kids are like sponges.

"Why do lizards grow back their tails?"

A voice startled Bill out of his thoughts and he glanced down at the four year old human sitting on the floor from his spot on the dresser — yes it was his spot. When he expressed pain (in a display of acting that would have absolutely won an award) in his back from the sleeping arrangements, the cute little Sunspot immediately made a makeshift bedroom with items around the house, two paper towel rolls, a ripped fishnet stocking she stole, and an empty jewelry box she dumped on the floor before giving to Bill (she made sure to keep the gold as per Bill's wishes). It was fitted with a small mirror, a netted hammock, and a small chest to put any items of his (he humored it for the kid, even though he can make anything appear with the snap of his fingers).

"It's so when predators try to eat them and grab their tail, they can just—" Bill snapped his fingers for emphasis and an image of a wiggling lizards' tail appeared next to him, "—pop it right off. Then its muscles spasm to trick the predator into thinking it's alive so it eats the tail instead of chasing the lizard."

The child looked up at Bill in wonder, "Can all of its body parts do that?"

Bill leaned forward with a gleeful expression, "Do you wanna find out?"

"I don't know what to do, sir. She was such a happy kid. Always laughing and giggling..."

"And then what?"

"Then...she started talking."

"That's typically normal for most toddlers—"

"You don't understand. She said her first word at ten months, then she never stopped talking. Always asking questions, but getting the answer before we told her, like she was testing us!"

"Then what?"

"Then it was...the games."

"Can you expand a little more on that?"

"She would claim her friend was asking her to do things. Like cutting off the arms and legs of a lizard, breaking glass to build a prism, throwing an aerosol can into the fire place —luckily the fire was dying out and we were able to take it out before something bad could happen."

"And who's this friend?"

"The same as her first word—Bill."

"Do you need to be extracted, agent?"

"No! No...no, sir. There's still some things to finish here."

"Fine. But you will be removed should anything detrimental occur, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

FINALLY! Lake day! Bill had been waiting a month for this! He had his inner tube ready and waiting for that lazy river, and it was time to relax. Being a dream demon to a four year old was hard work.

Bill lazily floated in his tube, the water moving in perfect circles around him. He kept his eye open slightly to keep an eye on everyone, but was otherwise relaxed. The little Sunspot was playing in the shallow water, picking up rocks and throwing them back into the water to try and hit the fish. Her parents were sitting underneath the open trunk door of their minivan, talking quietly and glancing at Sunspot briefly now and then.

"Bill! That fish has a mustache!!" Sunspot pointed at a Catfish swimming nearby in the tall grass.

"That's a Catfish, the mustache helps it taste." Bill educated calmly and shut his eye.

"Ooh, tasting mustache..."

Bill gave a small chuckle. Everything was peaceful and quiet...until—

SPLASH

Bill's eye flashed open and he looked around briefly to see what could have made the splash. The answer was found quickly when he saw a large, round boy standing over Sunspot, who was sitting in the water, soaking wet. Bill's body quickly flashed red before turning back to his signature yellow. With a snap, his swim trucks and baseball cap were replaced by his bowtie and top hat. Bill quickly flew over to the confrontation.

"Did this kid push you?" Bill asked the soaking child. Bill glanced over at her parents, who were still talking. She gently nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "Do you wanna do something about it?" Bill outstretched his hand, void of blue fire.

The little Sunspot thought for a moment, then grabbed Bill's hand.

"Aww, is the little baby gonna cry? Wah wah wah!" The bully taunted, his group of patsy's giggling behind him. It shocked them when they heard more giggling, and it was coming from the small child in the water. "What's so funny?"

The girl looked up, one eye bright yellow with a thin pupil, the other was her signature shade of (e/c) and had a round pupil. "I'm just thinking how funny it would be to see how your arms and legs work backwards."

Oddly enough, it wasn't the first or second scream that got the attention of the parents in the area, but rather the sudden psychotic laughter that echoed around the river.

The Sunspot's parents finally walked over to investigate and were horrified to see two children wallowing on the ground in pain. One child had a broken arm and the other had a broken leg. There was also a third child that was rocking back and forth and gripping his head a couple of feet away, his eyes were dilated and distant.

In the water, crouching down and poking at a salamander, was (Y/n), the little Sunspot.

"You know some salamanders have tongues ten times the length of their body." Bill poked at the salamander's eye, causing it to blink and look around for the perpetrator.

"Does this one?"

"Wanna find out?"

[burningvelvet]

I officially finished Pride and Prejudice yesterday! Some more rambles to add to the ongoing collection:

1 Learning that Wickham and Lydia are on the downward path I predicted is really satisfying for some reason. Just the image of the classic rake being forced to marry the unruly teen he had a fling with and then being forced to deal with the repercussions of his actions for the first time in his life — so good considering he seemingly believed he could partake in ruining her reputation and get away with it. And Lydia isn’t consciously suffering (although in reality, her prospects/reputation have indeed suffered) because she’s so oblivious to the misfortune around her that she thinks her life is much better than it is. It’s all just so true to life imo. Nothing is black-and-white. Every family has the worrisome trainwreck couple and these two are the perfect representation of that. Also, Wickham/Lydia give me major Byron/Claire Clairmont vibes (my fellow Romanticists iykyk).

2 Elizabeth’s conversation with Lady Catherine was so nerve-wracking. Elizabeth handled it so well, which surprised me. Toward the end of the novel I was getting a sense that Elizabeth had really come into her own self & seeing how expressive she became in comparison to some of the other women around her was very refreshing.

3 Elizabeth and Darcy’s long conversation while walking was actually cute, I can’t lie. I didn’t really find Darcy personally appealing at first, but he grew on me — which I’m aware was the intention — but due to the popularity of the romantic elements of the story in popular media and film adaptations, I was really surprised just how little Darcy and Elizabeth interacted if we take into account the entire length of the novel and how many actual conversations they had. It’s more realistic that way due to how things like travel, socializing, and marriage were conducted back then. I think for the sake of modern audiences and modern concepts of romance/etc., adaptations and maybe even fans themselves really overemphasize the romantic elements of the story. What I mean is that it is a love story, yes, but our concepts of love in the Anglosphere have changed a lot since Austen’s time. Adaptations reflect this change, although they also probably skew the reader’s reception of the original novel. Alternatively, the Georgian era was a bit more lively than we regularly think, which is seen by Wickham/Lydia’s rendezvous, and so we could also interpret the novel as containing more passion covertly hidden beneath the pages. There are a lot of ways to interpret the concepts of love/romance as shown in the novel.

4 Lydia is truly her mother’s daughter imo. I don’t have a thought-out argument to defend this opinion but it definitely showed that Lydia was her mother’s favorite and Elizabeth was her father’s favorite — and interestingly, they married two men who were enemies to each other, and diametrically opposed in personality. I think one of the biggest takeaways from the novel is that the Bennet parents were an ill-suited match and so their children are having this struggle of trying not to repeat the generational curse — in Lydia’s case she fails like her parents did, whereas Elizabeth and Jane manage well.

5 I routinely forgot that Mary Bennet existed. Like was she even in the novel or was I just zoning out every time she appeared? Lmao

6 Mr. Bennet sarcastically saying that he loves Wickham and Collins more than Darcy and Bingley because the former two amuse him more and give him free entertainment… same tbh!

7 It’s interesting how all the men and women function as foils for each other and represent various reactions to the system they live in. Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Bingley, Lady Catherine, Mrs. Gardiner, are all interesting to compare to each other, and Mr. Collins, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bennet, Mr. Gardiner are also in that way very neatly comparable.

8 I’m biased because I’ve studied Shakespeare but I really got a big Shakespeare vibe the entire time. I saw someone on here post that the novel may have been inspired by Much Ado specifically and I completely agree! I looked it up and there have been articles and academic papers writing about the influence of Shakespeare on Austen and P&P particularly, so we’re not alone here.

— Overall, I’ve been pleasantly surprised to find that I enjoyed this book way more than I thought I would! If none of you have read it, or are only familiar with adaptations, definitely give it a try.

[wi55iams]

Worship (noun):

1. the feeling or expression of reverence and adoration for a deity.

2. great admiration or devotion shown towards a person or principle.

I have a lot of thoughts about Carlos Sainz Jr and it's about time i shared them. I'm trying to write a fanfic but i'm finding it difficult to articulate my ideas, this was is test run of sorts to see if I can communicate a message in a way that makes sense. Enjoy. Credits under the cut.

‘Hope is the biggest of our foolish things’ -Alfred de Vingy // Mark Thompson for Getty Images // Carlos Sainz believes he deserves F1 seat // ‘To wish was to hope and to hope was to expect’ -Jane Austen // Carlos Sainz’s last race with Toro Rosso // ‘Expectations were like fine pottery. The harder you held them, the more likely they were to crack’ -Brandon Sanderson // Sky Sports // Marina And The Diamonds, Oh No! // It's like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story’ -Patrick Rothfuss // Medium // An ode to my father, the matador // ‘Maybe if you sleep where another person sleeps and do what that person does, then eventually you’ll start turning into that person’ -Jack Cheng // Ferrari, one name two destinies // Jos and Carlos Sr on their sons’ rookie seasons // ‘Christianity is a religion built around a father who does not rescue his son. It is the story of a son whose father is a ghost’ -Terrance Hayes // Carlos Sainz poses with his father // Jos and Carlos Sr on their sons’ rookie seasons // ‘Perhaps it’s impossible to wear an identity without becoming what you pretend to be’ -Orson Scott Card // Sky Sports // Junior status; Sharing dad’s name a mixed bag // ‘Who did I think we were. Who did I think I could make you. This is the oldest mistake, to confuse wanting with magic.’ -Marty McConnell Emily Kagan Trenchard // Sainz thrilled with first podium after Hamilton penalty // The Crane Wives, The Moon Will Sing // ‘If you spent your life concentrating on what everyone else thought of you, would you forget who you really were? What if the face you showed the world turned out to be a mask... with nothing beneath it?’ -Jodi Picoult // Top Gear // Carlos Sainz: the boy who became a man // Motorsport.com // Mikky Ekko, Who Are You Really? // ‘Sometimes we want what we want even if we know it’s going to kill us’ -Donna Tartt // RacingNews365 // Max Verstappen tells Carlos Sainz ‘I felt sorry for you’ // Racefans // Carlos Sainz has openly discussed his contract regulations // CNN // Sainz wins thrilling Singapore GP // ‘Who wouldn’t want you? Whose most demonic appetite could you possibly fail to answer?’ -Louise Glück // Sky Sports // Carlos Sainz Sr Wikipedia // 'Do you still believe myths can save you? Foolish creature. Let me be clear: every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered' -Tory Adkisson // Sydney Morning Herald // Planet F1 // Luvbug, Icarus // ‘Sometimes I prayed so hard for God to materialize at the foot of my bed it would start to happen; then I’d beg it to stop, and it would.’ -Marie Howe, // ‘Click here to be saved’, unable to find original author // ‘God’s favorite follower’ by Tumblr user quiet-plaything // ‘God is fucking with my oblivion. If he wants forgiveness, he shouldn’t have given us memory’ -Vi Khi Nao //  ‘What you have to understand, is your father was your model for God’ -Chcuk Palahniuk // John Mayer, In The Blood // ScuderiaFans //

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024, #27 jealousy

Chapters 1 to 3 here on AO3

If you like the tattoo AU give it some love on my AO3, please. It would mean a lot to me. TYSM!

+++++

White Pony Tattoo - Part Seven (jealousy)

When both of them had calmed down from all the laughter, Sherlock clapped his hands on his thighs and leant forward in his chair.

“Let’s talk about your cover-up.”

“Please, do.” John fixed all of his attention on Sherlock.

“First of all, whose idea was it to get a tattoo?”

“Oh, that was me. I wanted something of her to last. Something to show how serious it was for me, our marriage. You know, til death do us part, kind of.”

Sherlock hummed but was clearly not impressed by this reason.

“And whose idea was it to put her face on a Virgin Mary image? She has not actually been a virgin when you’ve met, right?”

“Well, no.” John blushed. “It was her idea. Because, you know, her first name was Mary and she thought it was a great...” John trailed off, sighing then looking at Sherlock who thankfully kept his mouth shut but was slowly turning his head in an unmistakable “no”.

Defensively, John added, “It wasn’t, in hindsight, okay?”

“It’s never been right from the start.”

John rolled his eyes. “You just needed to say it out loud, didn’t you?”

“She proposed that you tattoo her face on your arm to make a statement. A clear mark that you’ve been taken, by her. She wanted that the other women and men,” Sherlock winked knowingly at John who merely snorted, “become jealous of her. Look at my prize! It’s mine and mine alone! Possessive behaviour at its best.”

Again, in hindsight, that makes so much sense. John thought ruefully.

Sherlock continued, ignoring the distressed expression on John’s face.

“At least, your tattooist has done quite a good job, technically. No blurring, no wonky lines, no blotchy shading. Good placement of the design, too. Matching the natural contours of your upper arm. Which makes a cover-up much easier.”

“Good. I really want to get rid of this.”

Sherlock stood up. “Come on, John. I’ll explain my process to you.” He opened the purple curtain, holding it open for John to pass through into the room behind.

It housed the actual tattoo studio. The first thing John noticed was that everything in this room was high-end.

The recliner seat for the clients, the worktable with Sherlock’s tools, shelves with bottles of ink, needles and at least five different tattoo guns. Everything was also clinically clean. One corner of the room was occupied by a tiny but professional photo studio, including spotlights and an expensive looking camera on a tripod. There was another worktable with a state-of-the-art computer setup.

“Take off your jumper and stand in front of the camera. This is a special camera with a 3D software. It’ll scan your arm and every line of the tattoo in high-res and send the data to an image generating software on my computer. This way, I can design the perfect phoenix for you, one that will match and cover or even use the lines you already have without any optical distortion.”

“Wow, that’s, Jesus, that is quite elaborate.” John gaped. “All this for a cover-up?”

“No, it’s what I do with all of my clients. It’s the only way to achieve the perfection I desire.”

“Brilliant.” John looked at Sherlock, full of awe. “Extraordinary.”

Sherlock blinked. “Really?”

“Of course, all the effort you put into this!”

Sherlock ruffled his curls, obviously abashed. He turned his head to hide the pinkish blush that had started to spread on his sharp cheekbones and mumbled something unintelligible while he rummaged uselessly around in a drawer.

But John had already seen it.

For all of his aggressive seductive behaviour, could it be that he gets shy when someone genuinely praises and appreciates his process? John mused. A bit ‘all bark but no bite’ under this self-assured demeanour and abrasive personality? I’d really like to to have a photo of this blushing Sherlock, it’s adorable.

The next ten minutes went by in silence, only interrupted when Sherlock told John how to turn and place his arm in front of the camera.

“How long will it take until you’ve got the final design?”

“At least a week. The next days are packed with clients. Also, there’s something else to my process, about creating the perfect ink which takes some time as well.”

John was struck by another question. One that John had not yet thought to ask which might possibly come across as pretty stupid now.

“Erm, we haven’t talked about what you charge for all of this.” Can I even afford this? Him?

“Oh, silly me!” Sherlock exclaimed theatrically. “I forgot to mention that you have to sign a contract in blood and sell your soul.”

“Dork!” John playfully punched Sherlock against the shoulder. “Don’t pull my leg.”

“Ah, don’t look so frightened, John. You can afford my services. I charge my clients depending on their wealth, you know? I helped a disfigured young man for the price of a bottle of ink and I had a rich investment banker pay me 600 pounds an hour. I’m not going to rob you blind.”

“Ta.” Relief flooded John, then he remembered Sherlock’s last remark. “What’s that about the ink?”

“Yes, right.” Sherlock’s voice got excited. “Do you want to see something really special? A secret?”

“Oh, God, yes.”

++++++

tagging some people @totallysilvergirl @peageetibbs @lisbeth-kk  @raina-at  @calaisreno

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Helloooo i have a lot of thoughts on Furiosa and i liked your "alternate ending" a lot a lot. But here's some thoughts on Pretorian Jack I wanted to share.

Thing is: he's Discount Max and that's bothering me.

First, his role as a 'mentor' to Furiosa: ok, we know she turns out a brooding, badass and stoic adult, but that's because she mimics her brooding, badass and stoic mentor Jack, right? Copies his style, like she does his clothing. Except she is ALREADY badass and stoic at the start of the movie! So there's no progression there, he didn't influence her personality, they are just in sync from the start because they are pretty much the same type of character. And it feels copy-pasted from Fury Road because, again, he's Discount Max, down to the actor's age and general look!

Instead, we could have had a much more unique and different type of character, both in looks and personality. A gangly chatterbox, or a squat fat guy who permanently sings to himself. Maybe finally a POC in these very white movies. And he's still a ruthless badass, just ... not a stoic one. I know Miller hates dialogue, but I enjoy the idea of a guy who is always a source of noise, be it expressive, meaningless chatter or singing, and his mute, fierce teen sidekick. They could have bonded about him getting her to smile or laugh, instead of them bonding by giving each other brooding looks. She could finally have answered his knock-knock joke in their last interaction or something! Sang along to his annoying ditzy at long last. Just, something unique and most of all distinct from the type of relationship she has with Max in Fury Road.

Also, he could have been the one to name her! It felt so weird to me that Furiosa is her given name when her mother is called, of all things, "Mary". 'Ok i'll name my cute babygirl uhhh... Furiosa'. That could have been a part of her story - she refuses to give anyone she encounters her name, she's "the girl", "the pet", until she meets Jack and he gives her a nickname she enjoys and she finally reclaims it when she is brought back to the Citadel. A war name which makes her a part of wasteland culture, not her given one from the Green Place that she keeps as secret as the peach stone.

Ah well. Gonna do some Pretorian Jack fancasts in my head

Okay I probably won't hit every point you brought up but YES, I absolutely feel you on Jack being Discount Max. But I don't think it's because they copy-pasted from Fury Road. I think it's because they tried to do that but failed.

The Max Max movies have a lot of repeated motifs and images, so I wouldn't necessarily have minded young Furiosa having a Max-like figure in her past, even someone similar enough that he's a visual and emotional echo to Fury Road Max Rockatansky. The series does stuff like that a lot.

The problem is that Jack as a character, and her relationship to him, both aren't developed enough for us to really care about them. I really needed to see some intermediate steps in their relationship, in between him offering her a place on his crew and the point where they're willing to risk their lives for one another. It wasn't so much that I needed a training montage that shows her becoming more competent at road war as I needed a teamwork montage that shows them coming to trust each other and work well together. Or something equivalent.

In Fury Road, Max and Furiosa go from trying to kill each other to being willing to die for each other SO seamlessly that it seems sudden, but actually if you break it down, every beat of them cautiously extending more trust to one another is carefully laid out. (There's a fantastic breakdown here about how Furiosa gets Max on her side over the span of just a single sequence of the movie.) And each time the trust is reciprocated and not betrayed, they get a little closer to each other. This is all done with hardly any dialogue. It's done in the language they're both fluent in, which is action. And it takes the entire movie for this relationship to develop to the point where Max is giving Furiosa his blood at the end.

I really needed that from Furiosa and Jack. And I needed it even more in their case because...Max and Furiosa are equals from the word go. Furiosa is in the more powerful position at the beginning, but once they're both fugitives in the Wasteland they are very much in the same boat war rig. And they are shown consistently to be equals in strength and skill at violence. They are also in the Wasteland, where the only thing that counts as power is your ability to survive and physically defend yourself, your resources, and those you care about.

But Jack and Furiosa's story happens within the power structure of the Citadel, a hierarchical society built on violent misogyny and full of interpersonal power dynamics that are ripe for abuse. And while Jack turns out to be a Good Dude, he is a man and he's her superior in rank. In that environment I really really really need to see not just Furiosa earning Jack's respect as a road warrior, but why the hell Furiosa would trust Jack.

(This is connected to my whole complaint about how after hiding her gender for YEARS, Furiosa being the only woman, surrounded by men, in a society literally built on sexual violence, just becomes...not an issue at all once she's part of Jack's crew. Like I didn't need to see anything bad happen to her, but not acknowledging it as a potential risk or fear the characters have in this specific environment feels weird.)

Because look. If a guy with power in a violent system finds out you have been hiding the fact that you're a woman in an all-male environment, and the next thing he does is offer to ~ take you under his wing ~...well, I would be extremely fucking suspicious of that!!! I would not trust that guy at all!!! Because I think the default assumption both by Furiosa and by anyone else at the Citadel would be that there is going to be some quid pro quo expected for this mentorship, and the protection that being Jack's protege provides. So Jack would have to prove that he is Not That Guy before Furiosa would even begin to trust him as a mentor and ally, let alone a close friend or possible romantic/sexual partner.

If you don't have those pieces of their story, then their trust and emotional intimacy (and romantic intimacy, if you read it that way) doesn't feel earned. It seems like they wanted the feeling of the battle-couple, drift-compatible, could-be-platonic-or-romantic-but-it's-definitely-some-kind-of-love Max & Furiosa relationship, but they didn't provide enough space in the narrative for all the character/relationship beats that would sell it.

I wanna address one other thing you brought up in passing, which is racial diversity in the Mad Max movies. The lead actors have not been entirely white (put some respect on Auntie Entity's name) but they've certainly followed the pattern in the Anglophone film world of being disproportionately white. That's not surprising at all, given that every Mad Max movies past the first one has been financed by an American movie studio. A big-budget action film like a Mad Max installment has to have what Hollywood considers "marketable" lead actors attached to it to get financed, and those people are overwhelmingly white.

But I also think there is more racial diversity in the Mad Max universe than some people think; it's just not as immediately readable by a North American or European audience. I remember there being discussion of this when Fury Road came out, in which it was clear that people were reading Megan Gale (who plays Valkyrie and is Māori) and Courtney Eaton (who plays Cheedo and is of mixed English, Chinese and Māori descent) as white women when they are not. (There's a really interesting discussion about that here.) And while it's not immediately obvious with the war boys in Fury Road because, y'know, they literally paint themselves white, if you look closely it's clear they are not all white guys.

I remember discussions about "wouldn't it have been amazing if Furiosa was played by an Indigenous actress" when Fury Road came out. And yes, that would have been incredible! (Although very unlikely for the Hollywood reasons I mentioned above.) But in FMMS, Furiosa's mother is played by an Indigenous actress, Charlee Fraser. And yeah, Furiosa is still played by Anya Taylor-Joy, which I think it's perfectly valid to have a critique of, but that doesn't erase the significance of Charlee Fraser in that role. And my impression is that with FMMS being shot in Australia, they did make an effort to cast more Indigenous actors in supporting and background roles. I think sometimes this racial landscape is just...not as easily parsed by an international audience (I owe a lot of thanks to my antipodean friends for pointing out things that weren't always obvious to me!) but it's still significant within the context of racism and colonialism in Australia and Polynesia. Even Furiosa's mom's name being "Mary," theeee absolutely most generic Christianized name, is something I think you could argue is significant.

Also, FWIW, I love "Furiosa" being Furiosa's birth name. That feels like a significant part of her identity from the Green Place. Because the Green Place is part of the Wasteland. One of the things I love about the Vuvalini we meet in Fury Road is that they are a bunch of grandmas who are just as ruthless and willing to defend their community with violence as anyone else we meet. That is a really crucial worldbuilding detail imo, that even in the idealized Green Place Furiosa remembers from her childhood, you still had to be ready to snap someone in the medulla. So yeah I think if that's the world you live in you would absolutely be naming your kids things like Valkyrie and Furiosa.

[strangerqueerthings]

Soft

(CW for body image issues, disordered eating)

Billy's getting soft, and Eddie doesn't draw attention to it at first, because he wants to enjoy it as long as he can.

The last thing he wants is for Billy to relapse into overdoing his exercises, his weight lifting, counting calories, protein, and carbs.

Billy hasn't measured out his portions in almost six months. He hasn't stared at the nutrition facts panel on a box for over five minutes in almost five months. He hasn't lifted weights and exercised to the point of exhaustion in almost a year.

He indulges in dessert at least once a week, and he doesn't look around the room as if expecting danger. He has a beer and takes his time to enjoy it. He shares more joints with Eddie, and doesn't fight the munchies when they come.

Last week, he shared a plate of chili cheese fries and a greasy, oversized burger with Eddie- he even had a Coke with it.

He still goes for runs, or swims laps, but instead of them being daily occurrences, he does them when he has time, because he's slowly replacing over exertion with hobbies he never allowed himself to enjoy.

Eddie comes home from his shift with Gary to find Billy sitting on the bed, hair pulled up in a sloppy bun, chewing on a pen, surrounded by books and notebooks.

Edgar Allen Poe. Mary Shelley. Oscar Wilde. William Blake. Bram Stoker.

He's comparing them, writing notes in his small, neat, precise handwriting. He also has a large book of Blake's watercolors open on "Book of Urizen- the creation of Urizen in material form by Los, 1794."

Eddie's never been much a literary nerd- he prefers to write and create his own works, rather than read what was written a long time ago. Still, he knows about Blake, and how the religious themes are important to Billy, because he's been struggling with them due to his upbringing.

Eddie's happy to see him fully investing his time and attention to something he enjoys- and is clearly absorbed by.

But what really has him smiling, is how Billy's stomach now has two gentle rolls to it as he leans forward to look at a page before taking another note. How he has the start of love handles visible from the waistband of his shorts digging into his hips.

Physically, Billy is getting soft, while sharpening his wits, and Eddie has never been more attracted him than he has been in that moment, seeing his softness paired with his hungry mind, proof that Billy isn't ignoring any of his appetites anymore.

Eddie comes into the room and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots. Billy looks up and smiles, the expression lighting up his face.

"Didn't hear you come in."

"Didn't want to interrupt," Eddie replies, leaning over to plant a kiss on Billy's cheek. "You look like you're in the middle of something."

"Really into the Book of Urizen right now. Something about the conflict between him and Los makes me think of how I had to deal with Neil."

Eddie lifts a brow.

"How so?"

"Urizen wields nets, with which he ensnares people in webs of law and conventional society," Billy says, reading from his notes. "While Los, his counterpart, is an aspect of art and imagination, and in their struggle to control the world, Los and Urizen fall and bind each other in human forms."

Eddie frowns.

"I don't get it."

"Their downfall was that they wouldn't stop fighting, and it warped their purpose. I've been fighting Neil so long, I lost sight of who I am, and what I want, even how I feel about my body. I was bound in a human form Neil forced me to take, and my fear of him... made me keep it that way."

"Not recently," Eddie says gently, kissing Billy's shoulder. "And I've never seen you happier."

"I've never been happier," Billy agrees, then frowns.

"I struggled with it for a while, you know."

Eddie nods, but says nothing. He knows Billy well enough that the silence isn't the end of his train of thought- it's the calm before the storm of words that he needs to get out.

"I was worried I'd get bad again. Over doing it, going back to constant working out, skipping meals, or only eating protein. I was worried that I'd need to be that same person in high school, the same build, even though he's not a threat anymore. He's far away, out of my life, but he still has a hold on me."

Eddie leans against Billy, providing silent, solid support as Billy continues.

"But I see how you look at me, Eddie," he says. "I saw when I took my shirt off yesterday, and how your eyes lit up. The way you smiled when we shared that really greasy meal."

He looks at Eddie meaningfully.

"I feel how your hands linger on my hips at night. I can feel your fingers run over my stomach when you think I'm asleep."

Eddie flushes.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Billy-" he begins, but Billy puts a finger to his lips.

"I'm not good with words. Never have been. Not with saying them, and definitely not with accepting them. If you told me you like how I look now, I wouldn't believe you."

His face lights up as he smiles again, the beginnings of crow's feet at the corners of his eyes wrinkling in contentment, and those tiny little lines take Eddie's breath away, knowing that his happiness is becoming such a regular thing that it's leaving its mark in his skin.

"The way you touch me when you think I'm asleep, or when you think I won't notice- I do, and it means more than any of your silly speeches. You don't blow it out of proportion, you don't draw attention to it."

Billy rests his head on Eddie's shoulder.

"You just love me, the way I am, and you never ask me to change, but you appreciate and encourage me in your own, unspoken way every time I make changes for the better, and it keeps me from going back, from second-guessing those changes."

"Because I love you, and I want you to be happy and healthy, babe," Eddie says, reaching up and pushing a lock of hair behind Billy's ear.

"And I know I haven't said it until now, but Billy... I love seeing you soft and content."

Billy laughs, looking at his notes.

"Kind of arrogant to compare myself to a mythical figure," he says, but there's no self-derision in his voice, only amusement.

Eddie grins.

"I'll have you know, Dionysus is one of my favorite mythical figures, and everyone agrees- that god knew how to party, was a symbol of fertility, just an overall rock star."

Eddie lifts a brow.

"And in most of the statues and art of him? He's built just like you- sometimes, even with man tits."

Billy laughs, flushing a bit.

"Are you saying I've got a godly figure?"

"Not just saying it- I'm stating it as fact."

Billy smiles, and closes his notebook, stacking his books up and putting them on the nightstand along with his pen. He pulls Eddie to him, and grins wickedly.

"Well then, Eddie," he breathes. "Worship at the altar of my body."

Eddie can't get either of their clothes off fast enough.

[o-sachi]

─── A Letter for @littleplantfreak ✦

If you have received this, it means you signed up for Sachi's Selfship Event !

MARI MY DEAREST <3 You and Ume are seriously the cutest. I LOVE THE ART RAAAAA. I'm counting on that wedding invitation. Someone's gotta throw the petals around yk.

✉️ Attachment: ABCs with Umemiya Hajime

[A] Affection It's like a competition when it comes to you two. You're affectionate to him, then he tries to outdo you. Of course, you're not gonna settle just like that, so you outdo him. The cycle continues. You have an affection for each other that other people envy. It's like a sunshine x sunshine situation, y'know? He also gets cuteness aggression ALL THE TIME. You know because he's very physical when expressing it.

[F] Fights He will never ever start a fight with you. If he does, then it's probably over something silly. He can be a bit dramatic when it comes you at times... Although, you do fight a lot over the fact that you don't allow him to reciprocate the efforts that you do for him. For example, you made him lunch one time and to return the gesture, he wanted to make dinner. You refused, saying that you could handle it. He gets all whiney saying, "You never let me do things for you." It's hard for him because he has soooo much love to give and you don't always allow him to let it out. So yeah.

[K] Kisses Ume gets really giddy when getting and giving kisses. You get surprised a lot because he just attacks you with them out of nowhere. Ume especially likes it when you kiss him on the cheek—it makes him feel golden. But he gives you a lot of kisses on the lips. Sometimes, when you're gardening or cooking/baking, he'll sneak up on you. He'll wrap his arms around you and give you a kiss on the shoulder (I melted). It's his way of saying hello.

[T] Time Apart We all know who's folding first... Ume. He's the kind that sends i-miss-you texts even after you've just seen each other. He's a clingy guy despite the tough image he has as the top dog. Besides, on normal days, he does ask you often what you're up to or where you are. He does the same—updating you about his activities and whereabouts. It's one thing that he misses you (a lot), but he's also checking in because he's a worrywart. He's always thinking about your well-being. You match his energy too sometimes. I mean, who wouldn't miss a guy like him?

[U] Uniqueness I think what sets you apart from other couples is the level of trust you gave each other right off the bat. Most tend to be wary at first—trying to slowly let their walls down. But Ume trusted you completely. He was raw and genuine with you right from the start. It was overwhelming for you at first, but you quickly followed suit because Ume has proven himself to be the kind of guy with good intentions. He may have ghosts from his past, but he was honest about that with you as well—like he wanted to fully inform you before letting things become serious.

[W] Wildcard Before you officially got together, you and Ume got really close after gifting each other a plant. You gave each other a rather small plant. Both had tiny leaves and cute little flowers blooming on it. It was quite funny because neither of you were expecting to give the other a similar looking plant (same thoughts ehem). You still have those plants somewhere in your respective homes where it can be easily seen. Ume still sends you photos of the plant you gave him from time to time.

[Y] Yin & Yang Literally I think you two are almost the same person. But in this case, rather than clashing, you two just go well with each other. I mean, positive times positive is equal to positive (wow math). But I guess you differ in a way that he's more hyper than you are (?). He can get ahead of himself sometimes and he needs you to be there and pace him. The best example I can think of is when you're with your mutual friends. Ume helps you with socializing with the others without making it feel too forced. And you remind him to slow down (especially with Hiragi... that poor poor man).

(I LOVE THE ART U SENT IN THE REQUEST THO. IDK IF I CAN INCLUDE IT HERE BECAUSE IT'S NOT MINE, BUT AOUFUDAVHODUVB)

Thank you for participating. I hope you like it :3

Want to participate? Give this a read.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[olmcgowan]

Frankenstein book cover concept

Under the read more is my process and development of this idea with progress images

This artwork was inspired by an artist on tiktok who, for the past few months, has been reimagining classic book covers in a way that fully showcases their themes and motifs. Frankenstein by Mary Shelly is one of my all time favorite novels as I have a deep appreciation for gothic literature and the themes commonly found in such books heavily inspire my artistic process.

While generating ideas for this artwork, I thought about several prevent motifs and themes throughout the work as to incorporate them in a meaningful and striking way. I settled on heavily playing into to core themes, the idea of Victor as a “Modern Prometheus” and the “Fire and Ice” ideas shown during the novel.

The “Modern Prometheus” ideas are expressed by Victor’s hand holding up his scalpel as a torch, as Prometheus gave fire to man, Victor gave life to his creature.

In the book, Victor gave life, fire so to speak, to The Creature, but then proceeded to turn cold and unloving toward not only The Creature but also the world, he could even be described as becoming Icey. In my artwork, I wanted to show this by the frost creeping up his hand and around him like frost to a window.

After I completed my first draft of a final product, it was brought to my attention by a fellow artist and my art teacher that my work had some prevalent issues. I was told that the fire did not match the more realistic style of the rest of the work, that the frost was not as dramatic as It could be, and that the words seemed almost distracting and covered up the frost. I took these criticisms and made changes to the work and I’m now very happy with the final artwork and feel as it more encapsulates the ideas I was trying to convey.

[bitchsister]

fell in love with your PONY AU and then didnt see any more of it. theres a tragic + beautiful love there that I need you to write more of… please

Okay, fine. I’ll take a break from writing dp and daddy kink to write something HEARTBREAKING.

Thanks a lot.

🚩 mentions of mental health issues, alcoholism, general instability.

where this AU came from

Curt's absence had stretched on, the reasons behind it buried deep within him. Dwelling on them was a luxury he couldn't afford, not when John provided such a welcome escape.

But, as curious glances morphed into persistent interrogation, the facade began to crumble.

"I don't need you houndin' me like this," Curt grimaced as the harsh liquor burned its way down his throat, a sensation he almost welcomed for its ability to distract. "It was just some bullshit that happened, it don't matter any."

Bucky's gaze fixed on the angry bruise marring the delicate skin of Curt's right cheek, a stark contrast to the usual rosy hue. A scabbed-over gash above his eyebrow added to the image of a boy he hardly recognized. "I haven't seen you in three months, Curtis," Bucky's voice was laden with concern and a frustrated accusation, "And the first time I do, you look like this." He leaned closer, his tone hardening, "Three months."

It begged the question — what had Curt been doing for money?

"I had shit goin' on," Curt retorted, his brows furrowing as he glared at Bucky. "You don't own me, John. Can't buy your possession of me. This ain't layaway." He appeared pale and agitated, a far cry from the self-assured Curtis that Bucky thought he knew. "Or some rent to own shit."

Bucky's gaze fell to his lap, then rose again to meet Curt's eyes. "I know I don't own you," he said softly, never intending to imply otherwise. He understood Curt's lifestyle, or at least the parts he had chosen to reveal, and knew there were probably plenty other men who blocked out days in their travels to spend with Curtis.

“Stop actin’ like I’m your property, then.”

"I'm not," Bucky pressed, refusing to let Curt deflect without some explanation. Possessiveness aside, three months of missed rendezvous and silence deserved at least a few questions. "I thought something bad had happened to you, Curt."

By the looks of it, nothing good had happened either.

“I already told you.” Curt turned to look at him again after another sip from his manhattan. “Nothin’ bad can happen to me.” What a complete lie. He could hardly say it with a straight face. “I’m good. You ain’t gotta worry about that.”

Silence descended, heavy and thick, leaving Bucky to contemplate whether this was the beginning of the end, or perhaps the end had already arrived three months prior.

He had allowed himself to get too close, drawn to the warmth of Curtis until it became an inferno. He had basked in it, absorbed it into his very being.

He had indulged, consumed, and perhaps, ultimately, overstayed his welcome.

Bucky cleared his throat, his fingers nervously tracing the edges of the cocktail menu. "You know what last month was?" he asked, his voice catching slightly as he swallowed. His gaze, though hesitant, eventually met Curt's.

"What?" Curt's voice was clipped, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists, his jaw tightening under the strain.

"Been two years since I met you," Bucky revealed, well aware of Curt's aversion to sentimentality. Yet, the growing distance between them fueled an urgency to express his feelings, to try and bridge the gap that seemed to widen with each passing moment.

Three months. Three long, agonizing months.

As his flight touched down and the cabin doors prepared to open, Bucky's fingers would instinctively reach for his phone to send another desperate Hail Mary into the void.

I hope you're safe, Curt.

I'm in the city if you feel like a visit.

You know where to find me.

“Do you remember it?” Bucky nudged Curt’s knee with his own, ignoring the strain of his jaw or how his fingers gripped tightly the coat draped around his shoulders. “I took you to Washington Square,” his voice was musing as he recalled it — Curt was a little softer then, but still just as stubborn. “We talked until sunrise.”

Bucky didn’t sleep for two days after. Something had hit his bloodstream like a white hot surge of adrenaline and while he knew he was towing the line, even then, he couldn’t wait until the next day came around that he’d see Curtis again.

He’d get a hit, he’d relish in the high and then he’d fester in the harrowing withdrawal until the cycle would yet again repeat itself.

He had almost resigned himself to a life without Curtis, a life he hadn't known for two years, but one he was forced to accept after three months of silence. Now, sitting at their usual spot in the bar he had frequented daily in the hope of finding Curt, the gash that had begun to heal was ripped open once more, salt packed into the wound.

"Yeah," Curt slid off the barstool, shrugging into his coat and smoothing his palms over the front with a sigh. "Imma have to dip."

Bucky turned, a silent nod the only response he could muster. His throat constricted, as if an invisible hand had tightened its grip, a sensation he had endured for years. He bit his tongue, tasting the metallic tang of blood. Words failed him, despite the torrent of emotions swirling within. "Will I see you again?" he finally choked out.

Curt's lips twisted into a semblance of a frown as he stood before Bucky, a faded echo of the boy he had shared ice cream cones and intimate secrets with. The man who had guided him through uncharted territories of pleasure, and what it meant to love something foolishly. The boy he felt inexplicably connected to, as if their souls had intertwined in a past life. "Don't think so.” Curt's words were a final blow, leaving Bucky blindsided in their wake.

And as quick as Curt came into his life, he left it.

In the space where Curtis once resided, a void opened up, vast and consuming.

Bucky had never experienced such difficulty in healing from a loss. Not the passing of his father, nor the gradual drifting apart from childhood friends due to distance or life changes. Even his first heartbreak paled in comparison to this gaping wound.

This, perhaps, was the first true crack in his foundation, a fissure that threatened to dismantle it all.

His life unfolded before him like a film starring a low budget version of himself, the scenes blurring into a montage of what once was, and the bleakness of what is. And as if orchestrated by some cruel twist of fate, Bucky was served divorce papers at his office one morning, delivered by his own receptionist. It was a low blow, even for Alison, but Bucky took it on the chin.

Sorry to do this, John.

S’alright, I saw it comin’.

All three seasons passed.

Bucky sought refuge in a small apartment on Waverley Place in Greenwich Village. Gradually, he stopped searching for Curtis in every face that passed, but only after scouring obituaries and the internet for any trace of him.

The days blurred into a monotonous routine of solitude. Shopping for one, cooking for one, existing for one.

He picked up a few hobbies.

He gave them up.

He distracted himself until he couldn’t anymore.

Alcohol became his primary coping mechanism, a temporary anesthetic that numbed the ache in his chest. It was a vicious cycle of filling the Curt-shaped void, only to have it reappear, demanding more.

One evening, following a particularly heavy bout of drinking in the city, Bucky lay sprawled on his living room floor, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his mind adrift. The persistent buzzing in his back pocket eventually pierced through his stupor, pulling him back down to earth.

“Christ, Gale.” Bucky murmured once he’d pressed his phone to his ear without giving it another glance. “I share my location with y’so you don’t do this.”

There was a silence on the other end, nothing but a shallow breath.

“Gale?”

Bucky held his phone before his eyes instead, squinting at the unfamiliar number displayed on the screen. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath before pressing the phone to his ear again. "Who's this?"

Silence met his question, and his heart pounded against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat of anticipation.

Then, a voice, sweet and familiar, broke through the quiet. "I lost your number, Bucky," it said, a tremor of vulnerability in its tone. "I - I had no way of findin’ it. My phone was jacked."

Perhaps that would explain all of Bucky’s texts that never delivered.

"I been livin' in Queens. I got my own place, Bucky. I stopped turnin' tricks. I have a cat," Curt's voice poured through the receiver, each word a revelation, a glimpse into a life Bucky had yearned to know about. These were the things Curt had desperately wanted to share, but every attempt to reach Bucky had been met with a dead end. "I named her Judy," he added, his voice softening.

Bucky’s buzz had been knocked right out of him like a stick to a hornets nest, crashing viciously into the grass and exploding into clouds of confused and tormented insects who had worked so hard to build what they had — just to be knocked back down yet again.

"Bucky?" Curt's pressed his phone closer to his ear, as if to pull Bucky to him. "You there?"

Oh, the nights he’d spent. A grown man. He had cried until his lungs bled, he’d drank himself sober. He hid behind closed blinds, a locked door. Do not disturb, offline, last seen 2 months ago, his own radio silence, his own self-imposed exile — after a while, he hardly looked like himself until Gale intervened and forced him back out into society.

It took so much work to get here, and yet he still had so much more healing to do.

Daily affirmations, meditation, individual therapy, group therapy, psychotherapy, body, mind, soul. The three pillars of sobriety; ten days sober, twenty days sober, five days sober, zero. Piano, guitar, knitting, baking. SSRI, SNRI, MAOI, treatment resistant.

The number you have dialed is unavailable. Try again later.

Try again later.

Try again later.

Later.

Rebuild, destroy, rebuild, destroy.

"Yeah," Bucky croaked, his voice raspy and uncertain. His mind raced, questioning the reality of the situation. Was this another cruel trick of his imagination? Should he call Gale to confirm his sanity? Had he drunk too much? When was the last time he had slept? "I'm here.” he finally managed.

Curt, on the other end of the line, drew his knees to his chest, clutching the phone as if it were a lifeline connecting him to Bucky. "I got a lotta regrets in this life, Bucky," he confessed. Despite his youth, he felt the burden of countless lifetimes. "Biggest regret I got is walkin' away from you."

[mrsportgas]

Ghost Ridders Cap.3

#Summary: Eight years ago, you were taken against your Will to Mary Goise to become the new slave of Saint Roswald, or rather, to living a hell on earth. One day, while you go with  him on a visit to a New World´s  island in the New World, but a familiar face appears. This creates the perfect opportunity for you to escape, join the Whitebeard Pirates, and discover more about your past, your abilities, and who you really are. All  while you try to endure your new crewmate, Portgas D. Ace, who is incredibly annoying... or perhaps incredibly irresistible? You haven't decided yet.

This story is based in the world of One Piece, with the same characters and timeline. Of course, this story is fiction created by me. Some of the timelines, names, and characters might be the same, also some names, characters, stories, or even personalities may be altered. The story is happening pre-time skip, while strawhats are in sabondy for the first time.

The first chapter is an introduction to the current story, which begins with Ace as your central romance. (This romance may shift to other characters as the story progresses, but don't worry, there's still plenty of Ace to come.) The story is written in first person. Female gender, Y/N, but feel free to change the gender, name, or anything else that makes you more comfortable.♡

Feel free to interact, likes and comments are very welcome!!!!!!! this hepl me keep writing!!! Suggestions and constructive criticism are also appreciated.

Images are for more inspiration!!!!!

Previous Chapter.

"I don't need to hide behind Marco, trust me. Or do you need me to kick your ass again?” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Well, well, well, what a little brat we have here. You haven’t kicked anything, rookie. I know you like being close to me and the idea of touching me". - He surrounds my shoulders with his arms as he continued, “But it’s still too early for that, besides I don’t think Marco would like seeing his cute little sister all over me.” That cocky smile hanging around his lips all day was starting to become annoyingly familiar.

“Nobody’s going to be all over anybody. Besides, I prefer men, not little boys.” I said, brushing his arm off.

Ace started laughing, and before we realized we had finally reached the deck. Several crew members began calling out to Ace, asking him to tell them about his most recent mission and how he had single-handedly defeated an entire crew of marines.

In the distance, Marco raised an arm, signaling me to come over. At the table, Izou, Jozu, Thatch, and Fossa were talking with serious, calm expressions about crews next moves and pop´s directives. Marco moved to the side, leaving a spot next to him open, indicating for me to sit there.

“He told me you were dead, you know?” Our eyes met, intrigued by each other’s presence. “That’s why I didn’t look for you.” Marco’s words automatically brought images from the past to my mind. But it was too much, too painful.

“I also thought I was dead. Dead inside.” The images in my mind were becoming more terrifying, replaying everything I had lived through in Mary Geoise. “There are many things I want to tell you, but… right now, I can’t. It’s… too painful.”

“It’s okay, take your time. I just want to know if you’re okay, if you’ve been okay… Eight years ago, I lost track of you, and a few days ago, not only do I see you alive, but also a prisoner of a Celestial Dragon.”

“Our mother died so I could live,” I murmured.

“That was her choice, not your fault.” Marco continued “You should talk to Pops… one of these days, when you feel ready.”

“I suppose.”

Our conversation was quickly interrupted by a burst of fire, which all of us at the table, though caught off guard, surprisingly dodged with ease.

“Why the long faces, geezers? Come on, rookie, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew. You’ve sat down at the most boring table on the entire Moby Dick,” Ace said, putting his arm around my shoulders under Marco’s watchful eye.

“I know you like the idea of being close to me,” I said sarcastically, referencing our conversation from a few moments ago, “But I can go by myself, thank you very much.” Marco’s gaze intensified as he fixed it on Ace’s arms.

Marco wasn’t new to this, and he knew exactly how Ace was with girls—his modus operandi, his womanizing ways, and of course, how much he enjoyed annoying Marco. But above all, he was afraid of you falling into his charm, or you suffering disappointment since Ace had never been with the same girl for more than one night. As soon as you landed on the next island, he would seek new entertainment, and by the next morning, on the next island, he would take another girl to the Moby Dick until he got tired, and so on and on.

“You know? I love driving Marco crazy,” Ace whispered in my ear. Driving Marco crazy? That’s it—all those words and approaches were just to tease Marco. My stomach turned, but it doesn’t matter because I don’t like him, I don’t like him at all, he might even annoy me.

Yes! That’s it!! Plus I´ve know him just for a few days.

I got up from the table, trying to escape from Marco and Ace gazes for a while, not really knowing where to go since there weren’t many girls or people my age, except for a few of Whitebeard’s nurses and, well… Ace.

Soon, I spotted Vista, and although so far he had been one of the few who had said a few words to me, a huge smile hid behind his peculiar mustache—a smile that gave me enough confidence to approach. He was sitting around a bonfire while another man played a guitar and the others sang with enthusiasm. Next to him, a huge lynx lay resting. It must have sensed my presence as I approached because, with an uncertain look, it quickly sat up, and the closer I got, the more it let out small growls.

“He likes you, doesn’t he, Kotatsu?” Vista said with an even bigger smile

Responding with a smile of my own, I sat down next to the huge feline. “I get along well with animals; sometimes I prefer them over people.”

Vista let out a laugh, and the lynx lay back down, placing one of its paws on my lap.

As the night wore on and after a long chat with Vista and some of the other members who joined our conversation from time to time, my gaze occasionally crossed with Ace’s in the distance, who was dancing and drinking with the crew merrily.

Suddenly, he jumped onto a table, dancing and doing somersaults, though due to the alcohol, he looked more like a clumsy clown, and as his gaze met mine, he stepped on one of the plates, and unable to catch himself, his face slammed into the table. The burst of laughter from the crew was the biggest I had witnessed so far. Ace lifted his face and laughed, blushing like crazy, a hand ran through his hair in search of his hat to cover his face.

I had to admit it—he was handsome, very handsome.

On his cheek, blood oozed red from a cut he had gotten from the impact. Marco, sighing and with all the calm in the world, walked over to where Ace was, “Come on, time to sleep.” Ace, still a bit affected by the alcohol and not quite understanding why his friend wanted to spoil his fun by taking him to bed, turned around, “It’s still early, Marco, don’t be a party pooper.”

“It’s almost dawn; it’d be better if I treat that wound, and you go to sleep. You can barely stand,” Marco said as he and Thatch took Ace, putting his arms over their shoulders and dragging him toward the infirmary. It was then that Ace, as he passed by my side, quickly straightened up and approached my spot.

“Well, looks like you can walk by yourself now…” Thatch said sarcastically.

“Look, rookie, now we match” Ace said, pointing to the wound on his cheek. Without giving me time to respond, he continued, “If you want, I can take you to my room… I mean, to your room… This ship is very big; it’s easy to get lost” he said, babbling.

Behind him, Marco, furious and clearly tired of babysitting, quickly grabbed Ace’s arm. “Nobody’s taking anyone anywhere, except me taking you to the infirmary,” Marco exclaimed. “And you, go to bed right now,” he continued, this time in a calm voice, clearly addressing me.

I woke up the next day—well, more like the afternoon. Marco wasn’t in his bed anymore, so I assumed he was in the infirmary. I quickly washed up and dressed. On the floor in front of the door, there was a note:

“Come to the kitchen when you read this.” – Thatch.

I headed to the kitchen to find Thatch and a few othermembers washing dishes and cleaning up the mess from the previous night’s party. So, I started helping with gathering plates and glasses to take them to the sink.

“Ah, there you are” Thatch said from afar. “Come, take this food to the boxes. We need to make sure we have enough food for the night; I don’t want to hear Ace complaining about being hungry.” My look of surprise made him continue, “Haven’t you talked to Marco?”

“No, I haven’t seen him yet.”

“Good, you’re coming with the First and Fourth Divisions to the island. We’ll arrive in an hour. You should change your clothes; I think there are some black suits in the storage room. Since it’s nighttime, that’ll be the best option for you to blend in.” And as he walked away, he remembered he haven´t mention the most important thing, he stops and continued. “The Second Division has its own mission too; if something goes wrong, we’ll have to support them. Don’t worry, from what I saw a few days ago, you have no problem defending yourself,” he said with a kind smile.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

I found the storage room easily, thanks to Thatch’s directions. Inside the boxes, all sorts of gadgets were hidden behind the lids. In one of them, there were military-style clothing and gear. I grabbed one of the black jumpsuits, the smallest one I could find, and returned to my room to change and tie up my hair.

Not wasting much more time, I went back up to the deck. Thatch greeted me again with a smile. “This island is part of our territory, Whitebeard’s Pirates’ territory. We believe another crew has taken it, so the Second Division will go to defeat them, while we’ll gather supplies in the forest.”

No sooner said than done, I headed down to the port along with Tatch and Kotatsu, who now wouldn’t leave my side. Before us, a vast island with a tropical landscape lay, filled with towering and endless palm trees.

As we walked down a long dirt road, Kotatsu suddenly dashed ahead, heading straight towards the front lines where the first division was located, leaping and licking a boy with blue hair and a mask.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Just as we were almost done, a tremendous explosion caught our attention. As we approached the source of the noise, I noticed that one of the crew members’ eyes changed color, and his ears grew on top of his head; he had caught a scent and was already racing towards the sound without hesitation. Shouts and echoes of gunfire filled the forest, and the urgency of the situation became clear.

“It looks like the Second Division had company,” one of them noted as we began to move faster.

‘Go ahead with Kotatsu, grab a cart, and he’ll pull it. I’ll see if Marco is finished as well.’ Tatch speak up.

‘Let’s go, Kotatsu,’ I said to the large lynx with a smile. He responded with a lick on my face and eagerly set off to pull the cart.

After a while on the long road, suddenly, unfamiliar laughter and shadows emerged from the darkness of the forest. ‘Well, look at what we have here,’ said one of the men. ‘A little girl with her pet.’

Pirates. Probably the ones who were besieging the town.

‘Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to go out alone at night?’ said another, as more men emerged from the shadows.

About ten pirates positioned themselves around us, blocking any escape routes. Kotatsu began to get nervous, whimpering and looking around frantically. ‘Easy,’ I said, placing one of my hands on his fur. ‘Take these supplies to the ship; I’ll handle them.’

The animal immediately calmed down and, now composed, resumed his path towards the ship.

‘Where do you think you’re going with that little kitty?’ one of the pirates rushed at us.

My arms turned black as coal, and with quick, almost invisible movements, I delivered a powerful punch to the pirate. He fell to the ground, knocked out and unconscious. I looked at Kotatsu, nodding for him to continue on his way.

‘I guess no one told you that stalking around at night is wrong.’ I said.

The remaining nine pirates tensed up, taking positions to fight. Two quickly lunged at me, but I swiftly dodged them, striking them with my arms. A third hit me with his sword, and I fell to the ground. Dazed from the blow, I knew I had to do something—something more. The pirates began to crowd around me, preparing to attack all at once to capture me more easily.

I looked at the sky: a crescent moon. Perfect. No danger.

It was the perfect time to use my devil fruit. It had been too long since I last fought, and even longer since I fought in this form, but it was better to try.

A massive snow white dragon appeared before the incredulous eyes of the pirates. With great ease, I struck down several with my claws, and a loud roar sent the rest fleeing towards the city, terrified and panic-stricken. Easy.

I took to the sky, spotting Kotatsu running towards the port, where the rest of the divisions were patiently waiting for us to return.

In the city square, the second division was fiercely battling the rival crew, completely surrounded by flames. In one corner, the boy with blue hair was lying on the ground, struggling to fend off two men attacking him mercilessly.

I continued my flight towards the square. Since I had taken the form of a dragon, I might as well put it to use. The sensation of flying again filled my body with happiness, the wind rushing against my face and the night breeze give me strength and hope.

To the cries and surprise of those in the square, I descended. With great force and ease, I struck down the men harassing the blue-haired boy, who was now petrified by the enormous creature before him, fainting completely. Some of the opposing pirates threw arrows, knives, and hurled any object they could find at me. Meanwhile, I tried to strike anyone who stood in our way with my long limbs.

There were hardly any pirates left from the rival crew when a large blaze formed a path, illuminating the square. ‘Your captain is unconscious. You better leave now if you don’t want to meet the same fate,’ said Ace as he emerged from the flames.

The few remaining ruffians ran towards the port where the flames subsided, searching for their ship and an escape.

I turned my head towards the blue-haired boy, who was still unconscious on the ground. I approached him, picked him up with one of my claws, and headed towards the Moby Dick.

‘¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡Deuce!!!!!!’ Ace shouted, sounding desperate. He quickly ignited his fist, launching a fireball towards my body.

‘¡Wait Ace!’ Marco grabbed his arm, lowering it, causing the fire to dissipate. ‘She’s got Deuce,’ Ace yelled, pointing at me. Marco stood still as the dragon’s body, now engulfed in flames, began to absorb all the fire.

FIRE. A deep, resonant voice grew stronger within me.

Damn. My vision started to blur, more and more until everything turned black.

--------------------------------------------------------------

‘Come back... Y/N... you have to come back now, or the boy will die’—my mother appeared before me, her sweet voice repeating the same thing over and over as she stroked my hair.

‘Come back where, Mom? What boy…?’

A black shadow once again took over my vision.

In the distance, I heard the waves crashing and a silence; nothing could be heard, just the calm of the high seas at night. That’s it, the sea….

The black color started to change to a dark blue, and the moonlight illuminated the deck of an enormous ship far away. Everything returned to its place. What have you done…? How long have I been gone…? Without thinking, I looked at my claw, and behind my talons, the young boy still lay unconscious. I looked around, realizing I had flown so high that I was above the few clouds that remained in that vast sky. In the distance, the Moby Dick. I was about to head there when my entire body was overwhelmed by the deep wounds now covering me. Damn it. What have you been doing….?

Despite the intense pain my body felt, I took flight and quickly reached the deck of the Moby Dick. A few crew members were still storing and organizing supplies while Whitebeard and several other commanders were in the center, deep in discussion.

Barely in control of my movements, I released the boy onto the deck, opening my claw, and landed as best I could, all under the watchful eye of Whitebeard and the horrified cries of some crew members, terrified by such a beast.

‘Y/N, where were you?!??’ Marco was running, shouting in my direction. ‘Are you out of your mind? You know you can’t do that at night; you knew, and you didn’t care,’ he continued as I slowly changed back to my human form. ‘And what happened to you? Where were you? You’ve been missing for two hours; look at you, covered in wounds! What have you done?!’

The entire crew, commanders, and even Whitebeard himself turned their heads, astonished at the incredible scene. A girl, now naked, standing with a serious expression, lay before them.

‘I’m fine,’ I said, which would be the last thing I said that night as I collapsed from the intense pain I felt. Now, safe among my comrades, I could finally pass out.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up with a start and a muffled scream, waking Kotatsu, who was sleeping on the floor next to my bed. On the other side, in a second bed, the blue-haired boy looked at me, intrigued.

‘I think he likes you,’ he said with no emotion in his voice, pointing at the lynx. ‘You can call me Deuce.’

‘I’m Y/N. I’ve never seen you before. But to be honest, I haven’t been here long either,’ I said, laughing.

‘I don’t come out much… from the library I mean… unless there’s a mission.’

Marco burst through the door, looking frantic. ‘Does anything hurt?’ Marco asked, breathless. ‘When you didn’t return to the ship… I… God, you scared me to death.’ Marco hugged me tightly. ‘Thank Deuce; he healed you this morning, so there’s hardly any trace of the wounds left.’

‘Bah, something I read in a book,’ Deuce replied, still with a serious, albeit faintly trembling, expression.

‘We’re staying on the island for another week in case those idiots decide to come back… Now, go, both of you. You have the afternoon and night off. And Y/N… Don’t transform into anything else...please.’

---------------------------------------------------------------

The mirror in the room I shared with Marco was smaller than I’d like, but it was enough to see how all the wounds on my body were now barely shadows.

‘Y/N?’ Izou called from the door.

“Izou!” I responded with a big smile and quickly opened the door.

“The crew is heading to the town's bar tonight... Do you want to come? I’m not sure how you’re feeling after last night…”

“I’ll be there,” I replied quickly. Izou gave a small smile and disappeared down the hallway.

I figured I should go to town, maybe find a salon and buy some clothes. The tips of my hair, now a honey color, were already starting to return to their natural shade. It wouldn’t hurt to change my look a bit and be less recognizable… But first, I needed to find some money.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

I bought several skirts, pants, tops, and dresses, and then headed to the salon.

“I want it honey-colored and with bangs, please” I told the hairdresser. She proceeded just as I asked, and after a few hours, the work was done.

“It looks great. Are you going to the bar later?”

“Maybe,” I said, laughing.

“You should go; everyone’s going tonight. The Whitebeard Pirates defeated those thugs yesterday and all the young people in town will be there to celebrate. Oh, and the Whitebeard Pirates will be there too, or so I’ve heard! You should go; all the girls are talking about Fire Fist Ace being there.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“They say he’s handsome, and he always leaves with some girl. It could be you!”

Ugh. No, please.

“Well, don’t tell me you’re not interested… Although, you might need to be careful—he's a pirate." she said, laughing cheerfully as she saw the disgust on my face.

Disgust? Did he really disgust you that much?

“If you’re going, it’s best if I do your makeup. Want some? Something natural! Don’t worry, it’s on the house! I’m sure you’ll catch the attention of the guys, maybe even Fire Fist Ace attention!”

“Thank you so much, I’d love that. Although I’m not trying to get anyone’s attention tonight,” I laughed.

I left the salon just as the sun was setting, so I headed straight to the bar.

The hairdresser had let me use her private bathroom to change clothes, so I put on a dress and some not-too-high heels that she insisted a bit too much on me wearing. It was hard to walk since I’d never worn heels before, but I was slowly getting the hang of it.

The bar was down the street, and a large crowd was already gathering in front of the place.

I entered the bar, trying to spot any members of the crew. At the first table, a group of countless girls was trying to get closer and closer to the center, where, of course, Ace was. With a big smile and laughing, he was relating how he had bravely fought the captain of those ruffians. The girls were squealing, touching him, and even moving around him, trying to get his attention.

I walked past them and towards the back, where Vista, Izou, Marco, and several other commanders were sharing large barrels of beer.

“Wow, Y/N, you look… stunning,” Izou said, eyes wide.

“We almost didn’t recognize you, kid,” Vista chuckled.

“I’m not a kid, I’m 25, you know,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“You’ll always be a kid,” Marco whispered as he hugged me.

“Here, Y/N, have some beer,” Jozu said kindly, though handing me the mug a bit roughly.

The truth is, I didn’t like beer at all. So I got up to the bar in search of another drink. “I’ll be right back.”

At the bar, Deuce, with the longest face I’d ever seen on him, was staring at the table, lost in thought.

“What are you doing here alone?” I asked, standing next to him.

“Ace made me come.”

The bartender interrupted our conversation. A tall guy with brown hair and honey-colored eyes spoke with a big smile on his face. “So, what would you like?”

“The same as him,” I replied, pointing at Deuce.

The guy turned around, ready to prepare my drink.

“You know, maybe you shouldn’t stare at people… so intensely…” Deuce smiled slightly. I’d say this wasn’t very characteristic of him.

“Oh my god, was I staring that much?” We both laughed, but another voice interrupted our chat.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what you’ve done to Deuce, but it’s been years since I’ve seen him laugh.” Ace approached from behind, grabbing Deuce by the shoulders. “Although I’m not surprised; I’d be happy too if I were with such a pretty girl.”

He looked at me, and his eyes widened. He hadn’t recognized me.

“Y/N… I didn’t recognize you,” he said, laughing.

“Here you go, on the house,” the young bartender interrupted, winking at me.

“Well, well, looks like someone’s getting lucky,” Ace crossed his arms, now with a faint smile.

“Ace!!! Come over here tell us again how you defeated those pirates!” some girls shouted from a table in the distance.

“Duty calls,” Ace said, turning around and running towards the table where the girls were sighing at his stories, dancing, and trying to get him to take them out dancing.

After watching him for a second, Deuce returned to his drink. “Ace is always the center of attention,” he said with an indifferent tone.

“Yeah, he seems to be good at it,” I responded, watching how Ace moved easily through the crowd, enjoying the affection he received.

“I guess that’s what happens when you’re that charismatic,” Deuce continued, taking another sip.

“And handsome,” I added without thinking, which made Deuce raise an eyebrow and look at me curiously.

“So, you think he’s handsome?”

I felt myself blush and quickly tried to correct my comment.

“Well, it’s a fact, isn’t it? I mean, all those girls aren’t after him for nothing.”

I stayed at the bar for a moment, watching how Ace moved among the girls with his typical confidence. I smiled to myself; it was amusing how his presence could light up a place in seconds. But I wasn’t there to watch Ace; I had come to enjoy the night and, if possible, relax a bit after everything that had happened.

I turned to Deuce, who was still somewhat pensive, though with a slight smile on his lips. "So Ace dragged you here, huh? Doesn’t seem like your kind of place," I said, trying to keep the conversation light.

Deuce sighed, taking a sip of his drink. "Yeah, well, Ace has always been the life of the party. Sometimes it’s just easier to go along with it than to resist.Ace had that strange ability to pull everyone along at his pace, almost as if it were impossible to say no to him". He proceed.

"So, what about you? What do you do when you’re not going along with Ace’s plans?"

Deuce looked at me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to close up again. But instead, he seemed to relax a bit more. "Usually, I’m busy writing. Sometimes I like to get lost in words, write stories, reflect on what we’ve experienced at sea… It’s kind of an escape, I suppose."

I was a bit surprised by the revelation. Deuce seemed more thoughtful than most of the other pirates, but I hadn’t imagined he was a writer.

"That sounds interesting. Have you ever thought about sharing what you write?"

Deuce smiled, this time with a bit more warmth. "Maybe someday. For now, I do it for myself. It’s a way to process everything that happens around us."

I nodded, understanding. Sometimes, in a world as chaotic as ours, it was necessary to find a way to vent, to channel all the emotions and experiences we accumulated.

The conversation flowed naturally, and for a while, I forgot about the bustling crowd around us. It was nice to have a calm conversation, without the usual distractions. However, eventually, the noise in the bar began to intensify, and I noticed more members of the crew joining in the festivities.

"Looks like things are picking up," I said, looking around.

Deuce nodded. "Yeah, and it’ll probably get crazier as the night goes on."

At that moment, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and when I turned around, I found Marco, smiling at me with his usual calmness. "Come to the table. We’ve ordered some food, and we don’t want you guys to miss out."

I nodded, grateful for the invitation. "Sure, let’s go."

The night was filled with laughter, music, camaraderie ( and of cause Ace´s eyes meeting yours all night long), and I realized that despite all the complications, I had found a place where I could be myself, surrounded by people who, even though they were pirates, were like family. And that, amidst all the chaos, was what truly mattered.

The atmosphere in the bar was at its peak, with the music booming and laughter echoing throughout the place. However, Ace wasn’t the only one drawing attention.

The bartender, that tall guy with brown hair and honey-colored eyes who had winked at me earlier, seemed to be watching me from behind the bar. Every time I approached to order something or just passed by, he found some excuse to talk to me or give me a compliment. At first, I ignored it, thinking he was just being friendly, but when he insisted on giving me another drink on the house, I couldn’t help but notice the uncomfortable look on Deuce’s face next to me.

"Wow, you’ve become the star of the night," Deuce commented quietly, half-jokingly.

"What?" I asked, confused by his remark.

"The bartender hasn’t stopped looking at you since you walked in," Deuce clarified with a slight smile.

I turned towards the bar, and sure enough, the bartender was preparing another drink for me without me even asking. He approached with the glass in hand and a smile that seemed overly enthusiastic.

"This one’s on the house, for the most beautiful girl of the night," he said, handing me the glass. His words were flattering, but there was something in his tone that made me feel a bit uncomfortable.

"Thanks, but it really wasn’t necessary," I responded.

"It’s just a small gesture. I can’t help it; when I see someone so special, I like to make sure they’re enjoying the night."

Before I could respond, I felt a presence beside me, and when I turned my head, I found Ace standing there. His expression no longer showed the carefree smile from before. There was a seriousness in his eyes that I rarely saw, and his posture was tense, as if he was about to confront an enemy.

"Thanks for the gesture," Ace said, taking the drink from my hands before I could even taste it and downing the whole thing in one gulp. "But I don’t think she needs anything else tonight."

-----------TO BE CONTINUED-----------------------

Things are about to get spicyyyy whittt ACEEEEE

Shittttttt.

Now what Y/N should do?!?!!?

NEXT CHAPTER

[ultraviolet-ink]

1, 2, 3, A, B, C and E with RyuuSusa, Barok/OC and BaroRyuu (sorry if it’s too much :’D)

Ohhh these are all really interesting!! I am HYPED RYUUSUSA 1- Who do the kids enjoy playing with the most? Let's be real, it would be Ryuu, I think he would be very easy going and would easily learn to just go with the flow when the game changes, just like court with with lower stakes XD 2- Who gets carried away with the baby proofing? Also Ryuu, but when it comes to making sure the Ryutaro doesn't get sick solely because of his own fear regarding the doctor, he WILL make that kid an absolute unit with winter clothing XD 3- Who does the baby follow around more? Susato!! Ryutaro loves her singing voice and he is her shadow! And the best helper with any household chore <3 A- Who do they think their child takes after? In what ways do they remind them of each other? Susato thinks Ryutaro is the spitting image of Ryuu, but he definitely takes after her personality in that he's more quiet and contemplative. Ryuu sees so much of Susato's facial expressions in Ryutaro, like he smiles just like she does, pouts just like she does, laugh like she does. In terms of personality, he definitely takes after Susato's curiosity, but he's proud to say that Ryutaro is quick with tongue-twisters B- What was their first night as new parents like? EXHAUSTING!! I hc that Ryutaro was a weirdly big baby, like 10lbs, similar to Marie Kondo and her huge baby lol!! Luckily Ryutaro was chill, so they did have a MUCH NEEDED good night's rest (Especially poor Susato!) C- Did their relationship change once they became parents? How? I think they both had to be a bit more grounded, especially in terms of taking on cases as needed. I think that the Naruhodou Legal Consulting Agency was well established by the time Ryutaro comes around, so there were some junior attorneys to help take on the cases for Ryuu and in the end I hc that Susato later becomes a professor at Yumei They definitely lost some personal them time because of having a kid, but I think they do still lean on each other as a support whenever they need it. I think they had a good dynamic long before they had a kid, so there wasn't that dramatic of a change, it was something they were prepared for E- Are they honest with their children? Are there certain things they try to shield from them? Susato is very forthright with Ryutaro, she will not hide things like how Yujin hid things from her. Obviously, she'll not be TOO honest too early, but will try to be as honest as she could be. She doesn't want Ryutaro to ever be as blindsided as she was. Ryuu is allergic to keeping secrets, and even Ryutaro can read his thoughts like everyone else can, man wears his heart on his sleeve XD I think they both do try to keep the stranger details of the London trip as brief as possible until Ryutaro is old enough to really understand the craziness of it all!

BAROK x REBECCA 1- Who do the kids enjoy playing with the most? Definitely Rebecca, she's the fun parent, and she will teach Everett Ballet XD 2- Who gets carried away with the baby proofing? Barok, man just reeks of overprotectiveness (and who can blame him after what he went through?) 3- Who does the baby follow around more? Barok, Everett wants to play with the cape, he yearns for naptime under the cape, and also he is TALL!! A- Who do they think their child takes after? In what ways do they remind them of each other? Barok definitely sees Rebecca in him, not only do they both have blue hair, but Everett definitely is just as mischievous as Rebecca is, and they have the same smile. To Barok, Everett is just a mini Rebecca Rebecca on the other hand, insists that Everett is a mini Barok clone, like he looks JUST like Baby Barok Does in the concept art, he is the next Little Darling, they both snore, AND she notices that Everett is trying to learn the leg thing XD B- What was their first night as new parents like? Definitely emotionally exhausting due to the fact that Everett was born on the anniversary of Barok being declared Not Guilty. He also was a bit touch and go since he was breach, but after some careful care, he was stabilized <3 C- Did their relationship change once they became parents? How? Barok finally learned to open up and be more honest with his feelings while Rebecca became a bit less flighty. Barok also helped support Rebecca since while she had already retired from ballet, it was essentially a permanent retirement due to how rough the birth was. While in the beginning, Rebecca did a lot of the work being a support for Barok (especially when the strife did cause their estrangement shortly post Professor murders), he finally stepped up and started to put in the same effort after seeing first hand the emotional turmoil Rebecca was going through E- Are they honest with their children? Are there certain things they try to shield from them? Rebecca does try to be as honest as she can, she does try to shield the truth about the whole Backstory for as long as she can, since it is such a tragic and heartbreaking story As for Barok, he would also like to shield Everett, especially with how often Barok himself got attacked. While I don't think it would be as blatant in to the early 20th century, especially after the truth of the Reaper was revealed, he was honest in the fact that there are people who do not like him, and that sometimes they might try to hurt him, but he will protect Everett no matter what <3

BARORYUU* *I don't have a specific fankid for these two (yet, because honestly, you know me XD), but this is a good experiment! 1- Who do the kids enjoy playing with the most? Also Ryuu! He's just a very fun guy, and I can't blame the kiddo!! 2- Who gets carried away with the baby proofing? DEFINITELY BAROK!! Big old London manors have a lot stairs and such...!! Perhaps this is a good reason to move to Japan....XD Though I think Ryuu is also super ultraprotective to his own extent... see the previous wintertime anecdote XD 3- Who does the baby follow around more? Probably Barok, due to virtue of the cape and him being TALL (the kiddo wants to feel tall <3) A- Who do they think their child takes after? In what ways do they remind them of each other? Well, I don't have a specific fankid, so I think this one would be really difficult to answer rip XD B- What was their first night as new parents like? So while I don't have a fankid, I can easily see Ryuu finding a lost orphan in the streets, whether they're a baby or a toddler or a kid, I think he would feel absolutely worried and sorry for the kiddo, he wouldn't leave them behind. So while it's definitely a huge shock to see Ryuu coming back with a whole ass child, Barok does understand why Ryuu wouldn't leave the poor kid behind <3 C- Did their relationship change once they became parents? How? I think Barok really realizes how mature Ryuu truly is, and realize how truly stable of a person he is as well. I think he really would want to emulate that as well. Ryuu, on the other hand, realizes how much of a big softie Barok really is and also demands the right to cuddle XD E- Are they honest with their children? Are there certain things they try to shield from them? Ryuu understands that no matter what, if one is determined, they will find the truth, so he will be as forthright as he can, to the best of his abilities. As for Barok, he seems like he would keep his past mum, giving the most bare minimum answers, it's not something he likes to reminisce about