#between the devil and the sea chap 1

[the-kr8tor]

Seafoam on the shore

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Tags: Use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW drinking, CW food mentions, TW injury.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 1 >>> CHAPTER 2

You run as fast as you can, your feet flying off the muddy uneven streets. Huffing while a local copper yells at you to stop, his yells get more exhausted every second he chases after you. So far he isn't even near you, one of the few benefits of staying at a provincial fishing town is that the police are either too out of shape to catch you, their bellies round, definitely full of ale. Or they simply don't give a damn about a pickpocket, muttering to themselves how they're not paid enough to do a city cop's job.

Losing your balance, you silently curse at your worn down work boots. Sliding off the ground, skidding off down the streets, disturbing the hustle and bustle of the market. You hit a vegetable cart along the way, wood splintering, scratching your arms. Cabbages and carrots fly off, there's yelling and screaming around you and your legs are aching from the impact.

“Sorry!” You yell back to a disgruntled vendor.

He curses at you and your entire family for ruining his sale. You take a mental note to pay him back somehow when you're not currently occupied.

Digging your heels in, you come to a halt, you're lucky enough to get a hold on a lamp post. Glancing behind, you don't see the cop running after you but you're not taking any chances so you enter a tight alleyway. You know this village like the back of your hand, you have to or else seeing the inside of the jail would be waiting for you in the future.

Knowing there’s a pipe somewhere along the walls, you run your muddy hands along the bricks, the cramp walls touching your back and chest, you stop when your nail hits something metallic.

Your ears perk up at someone snitching, “fuck” without hesitation, you climb up the rusty pipe.

Hands digging into the metal. It creaks and groans, but it seems like lady luck is on your side when you reach the top with no problems.

Hearing hurried footsteps down below, you immediately lie low on the roof. Hiding yourself from his gaze. The cop glances around the alley, scratching his head, confused as to how you escaped without a trace.

“Damn” he mutters, completely winded.

You smile to yourself as he leaves. The sun bares at your back, cotton blouse sticking to your skin. Needing a bath is an understatement.

Standing up, you carefully tread the roof, avoiding floors that look damaged. You definitely don't want a repeat incident of what happened six villages ago. You can never get used to the view from up high, the sea blends in with the orange sky, melting together, blues, greens and reds mingle in harmony. The setting sun paints a picturesque scenery, draping everything it touches in its heavenly light.

Ships and fishing boats float above the waves as if they're dancing to the sound of the water splashing on its wooden sides.

Your hands instinctively reach for the necklace hidden under your blouse. Fingers tracing the etching of a flying bird that you know like the back of your hand.

Despite the open sea, you can't help but feel trapped. The docks beckon you over to somewhere you can't remember, somewhere where you can rest in peace, somewhere across the deep dark treacherous sea are people you can call your home. People who may have been looking for you all this time. Their faces are but a blur in your mind, voices a mere echo lingering in your heart. The pendant leaves a circular indent on your palms as you grip it tight.

Is it possible to miss someone you don't even remember?

Your train of thought gets interrupted by movement from a ship floating along the dock, a large sailboat whose wood differs from each one of its structures. You can tell from how some of it is painted gold and silver like the ones on royal ships, it looks like it was hastily hammered into regular oak with intricate carvings. Some wood blends better together, dark timber melding with ashen wood. Three cannons are lined on the sides, its metal having seen better days, no longer glimmering in the sunlight.

From where you're standing, the figurehead on the bow looks peculiar, like nothing you've ever seen traveling along coastal towns. A fierce creature with sharp teeth opening its jaws, eyes wide and alert. Its red scaly skin adds to its terrifying image. What's more peculiar is the lack of flag flying on its mast. An unknown ship from an unknown place tickles your curiosity.

You slink back down on the roof when a woman emerges from below deck, her blond hair shining under the sun. Another much taller one follows behind her. Raven colored hair flowing in the soft wind. They seem to be arguing, but you're completely bewildered as to how they're allowed to sail. All this time, you can't believe that you can actually step foot inside a boat, moreso sail on it.

This changes everything, you suppose.

You leave the roof, letting the women argue amongst themselves. Expertly hopping from awning to canopy, you land at your final destination, the White Salmon pub.

Jumping down, you land on a cart full of broken fishing nets, it's a miracle that you weren't tangled under all the mess.

Entering the rowdy pub, the smell of ale and pickled fish enters your nostrils. A bunch of sailors sing off key in the middle, too drunk to care about the ruckus they're making. You try to blend in with the drunk crowd, hiding behind people, weaving around them to sneak past the bar and upto the stairs leading up to your room.

“Oi! did ya think I wouldn't notice ya?”

You stop just about the foot of the stairs. Groaning in exasperation, quickly taking off the bandana tied around your face to conceal half of your face. You try your best to put your best smile, turning your charm up to a hundred.

“Hi, aunty Janet” you walk towards her like a child caught with their hands inside the cookie jar. “I got the butter you asked”

Janet huffs, eyes narrowed, her brows furrowed. You place the stick of butter in front of her like an offering to appease an angry God.

“Please don't tell me the coppers will be knocking on my doors again”

“That was one time! Besides I actually paid for this one” you push the butter towards her with your finger. She stares at it like you're giving her contraband.

You give her one charming smile, she sighs, taking the butter from the counter. “You're on thin ice, Y/N. Don't make me regret taking you in.”

“That was a year ago and look, I'm still here!”

“A year and a half, I counted because with every shit ya manage to pull, a strand of my hair turns white.” she points at her hair that's almost completely white. “This used to be black”

“I know, I'm sorry. I just need to–”

“To what? It always seems like you're hiding shit from me and Thena” She tries to hold your hand on the counter but you flinch away.

“Won't happen again, I promise.” A clear lie on your part, you'll just have to be better at sneaking. You vault over the counter to roll up your sleeves, clean yourself up and put on your apron.

“When will you learn, girl?”

“When the king sentences me to death himself!” grabbing an empty tray, you start clearing a nearby table. Janet pinches the bridge of her nose.

After dodging rowdy customers and a flying pint, Thena takes a break with you in the tiny corner of the tavern. She unabashedly sighs loudly, smelling of ale and lavender she hastily rubbed on to mask the scent of alcohol.

You side eye her with a tired smile, Thena sighs again, louder this time, a few patrons gaze your way.

“Alright, what's wrong?”

“Oh nothin' it's just Arthur's back again and he hasn't even glanced my way”

You flick your eyes towards the blonde patron nursing a pint, his green eyes meet yours, he smiles with his yellow teeth and you look away immediately, not from embarrassment, no, but from how you don't want his eyes on you.

Why in the world is Thena so smitten by someone like Arthur who comes and goes into the pub more than he goes inside a bathroom?

“You could do better, Thena. One that actually brings in coins instead of using them all in the pub or a brothel.”

“I know,” she sighs once again. Leaning closer to your side so you slide further away. “But he's the fittest bloke here though” whining, she puffs out her cheeks.

As if some divine comedy, Arthur beckons you over with a twist of his hand. You internally cringe.

Thena gasps, “I think he's finally taking notice of me!” She stands up, sauntering over to his table with the confidence of a newborn deer.

Before you could rescue her though, Janet yells at you from the other side of the room. “Get back to work, Y/N!” She signals with head, pointing towards a table by the corner.

You groan, lumbering your way towards the customers. His large back is turned away from you, brown hair neatly slicked back, clothes looking too neat and expensive for a dingy pub like the white salmon. His companion thumps her head on the wall lightly like she's trying to get water out of her ears. Her hair is cut short, glasses over her almond shaped eyes, clothes equally looking expensive but less neat than her large companion.

Her lips turn upwards once she sees you. “Finally some service” she stretches her legs out, noting how she's wearing trousers instead of the usual frilly skirts rich women wear.

“Sorry, what can I do for you?” You put on your customer service voice that's laced with mild annoyance. The man sits still like a rock, his back still turned away from you.

“Fish and chips, some pickled eggs and a pint.” She glances at her friend before groaning with a sly smirk. “And he'll have plain porridge, no seasoning, just porridge. It's better if it's days old. Right, Miguel?”

The man huffs, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. The single candle light on the table illuminates his chiseled face, turning his eyes crimson.

“A pint will do” his voice is gruff yet calm.

There's alarm bells ringing in your head, the tray falls from your shaking hands. Your heart thumps louder than the clanking metal.

“Careful there, it's bad to drink on the job” His friend’s comment falls on deaf ears as you stare at the man before you. His expression doesn't change except for how his eyebrows lift slightly.

It's been years, surely he doesn't recognize me as an adult, right?

You clear your throat, mustering the best smile you can do. “Sorry about that, I'll get your orders right away” leaning down to take the tray from the sticky floors, your necklace slips out of your blouse, the gold shimmering in the candle light.

He could burn you with just his stare.

Walking briskly, clutching the tray, its metal is uncomfortably cold on your skin. The pub seems to get louder and louder with every footstep, the laughter and rowdy singing makes you dizzy. Janet calls after you as you run up the stairs to your room.

Thinking fast, you lock the door, pushing your dresser to further lock it. Your mind races to the floorboards beneath your threadbare bed. With your bare hands you hastily take the wood out revealing a hollow hole containing your possessions.

There's loud booming footsteps climbing up the stairs. Followed by his voice calling your name.

“Fuck” without thinking, you take the bag from its hiding place, slinging it over your shoulder before you cross the small space to the window.

“Y/N, Please!” He keeps calling after you. “Let me just,” thump, “fuck!”

That's your signal to jump down.

Landing on your heels, you feel your knees aching from the fall. You hear your bedroom door slam open with a force that surely broke its hinges.

You run like you've ran from him like last time.

Suddenly, you're thirteen years old, weaving through the forest, vines prickling your legs as you wade through the thicket. White lilies are but a blur as tears flow freely from your eyes as you keep running without a destination.

Why? Aren't you enough? Did she not love you like you thought she did? What did you do to deserve being abandoned twice?

You're back to the present when he yells your name again. Your heart pounds loudly on your ribcage, lungs burning, you feel like you're about to collapse.

His companion also runs after you, screaming your name desperately.

But you have the upperhand. Using the moon as your guide, you climb up a house, its bricks protruding out of the walls, the place you used to climb to practice, but now you climb it to save your own skin.

Running from roof to roof, you feel a presence behind you. His thunderous footsteps echo into the cold night. You don't dare look behind.

The woman follows you from the ground, her heels clicking on the uneven sidewalk. “Y/N! Wait up–shit!” Without looking down, you hear her fall.

He screams your name again, the same one she called you back then.

You run furiously, jumping off the side only to keep running towards the docks. Panicking, you see a ship leaving the docks, its fishing net left hanging on the side. Without thinking, you make a break for it.

Sprinting on the old docks, you leap the huge gap. Miraculously, you take hold of the net, clinging to it with all your might. Entering the net, you ignore the smell of fish, watching as the place you once called home gets smaller and smaller.

You say goodbye to Janet, who kindly took you in without asking for anything in return. Who gave you a job and a room so you don't freeze and starve outside. Who took care of you when you fell ill to the cold.

You say goodbye to Thena, the only friend you've ever had, the longest friend you've ever had. The same Thena who taught you how to sew and mend your own clothes. Thena who taught you how to throw a punch when a handsy sailor tries to touch you.

Thena whom you've grown accustomed to calling you her sister.

You say goodbye to the fishing town you've only recently called your home.

You say goodbye to the man at the docks who's staring at your fleeing form, whose eyes are narrowed, almost pleading for you to come back.

A/N: There's no Hobie appearance in this chapter yet :( (next chapter though 👀)

Hope you like it, thank you for reading!

[honeyoru]

When the Stars Rise Chap. 1

Roronoa Zoro x Female! Devil fruit user! Princess! Reader & Vinsmoke Sanji x Female! Devil fruit user! Princess! Reader (we've got a love triangle ow ow)

Warnings: none for this chapter

Series Masterlist

A/N: And into the rabbit hole we go, thanks for reading!

The gold-plated pocket watch ticked aimlessly, mocking you. 

Sighing, you placed it back inside your coat and lazily held a bottle of rum, refraining from bouncing your leg at your secluded table in the back of the Kingdom’s biggest tavern. It was a rowdy establishment, full of laughter and comradery amongst both citizens and visitors alike. 

You adjusted the hood on your head again, grateful it hid your face in the dimly lit space. However, it did little to quell your nerves that someone would recognize you. Visiting crowded places when you had such a high-stakes mission made you nervous, especially in such a popular spot like this one. 

Any local would know who you were instantly.

Your eyes were fixated on a rather tall guy who just screamed pirate. He stood at the bar, loudly sharing stories with a group of older, weathered-looking men. They weren’t subtle with their irritation, taking long pulls of rum in between eye rolls as he regaled them about the time he had fought a Devil Fruit user and lived. 

Moonbeam Kingdom had seas on all sides, open for passing ships to stop for supplies or to take an extended vacation; the tropical landscape and friendly people made for an excellent place to rest. 

It was monitored by visiting Marines only occasionally due to their deal with the King, making it a prime stopping point for pirates as well. 

Taking a long pull from your bottle, you nonchalantly looked around the raucous room, recognizing several pirates from their wanted papers that were plastered on the Marine-mandatory bulletin outside. Not that anyone paid attention to it, of course. 

You squinted at the man again, recalling the exact words your father had used to describe him.

Tall. Check.

Blue hair. You could see the slight shimmer of the hue reflecting off of the lanterns on the bar.  

A large tattoo on the right arm; a hissing black cat. Bared teeth peeked out from his tattered shirt. Bingo.

He was leaning towards the bartender, a withered old lady you’d known your entire life, bragging about his most recent conquest. The low light of the tavern made it hard to be certain, but she spared a glance to you in between polishing glasses, offering a sly nod to you that he was, indeed, the one who you had been waiting for. The hard set of her jaw made it clear what she thought of the story he was telling. 

You allowed the hint of a smile to grace your face, raising your bottle to finish the drink. 

“You want me to bring him back here…alive?” you had asked in disbelief when your father first told you of your mission over breakfast.  “He’s just a low-level pirate. Why bother?” 

“He is not welcome in this kingdom,” your father spat. It wasn’t often a person like him caught his attention, let alone someone that far down in the ranks of a pirate crew. “I’ve received word that the Black Cat Pirates attacked someone very dear to your mother.”

You raised your eyebrows.  Not many people alive were left whom she cared for, only your family and what remained of hers back in her home village. And considering you hadn’t heard of any Black Cat Pirates arriving in Moonbeam before now…  “Not in the kingdom, then?” 

“No,” a spoon smacked against the table, his hand curling into a fist. “They visited the Gecko Islands.”

An exhale was all you could reply, knowing it was a sore spot. You hadn’t heard anything about them in years since her sister had passed.

“He’s been bragging about killing a girl,” your father continued with a growl, making your heart lurch. There was only one person who that could be. “Saying his crew could do it here too, if they wanted.” 

All at once your eyes darkened. “I’m surprised he hasn’t already been killed, then.” Moonbeam might be known for its peaceful citizens, but no one who made threats like that left the kingdom alive. 

“I know.” He looked up from the table, taking a careful bite of his oats. The smile he wore made a shiver go down your spine. “Aren’t we lucky?” 

You knew how deeply your father’s devotion to your mother ran. He would burn entire kingdoms to the ground if she asked for it. 

If it weren’t for what he just said, you would’ve pitied the night the pirate was about to have. 

“Make sure you keep that mask on this time,” he nagged in an almost affectionate tone. “And your gloves. Calcifer tells me the Marines are scrambling to put a bounty on your head ever since that lovely little meeting you had with those officers last week,” he gave you a sharp glance. “Luckily, they were too drunk to remember what you looked like,” you rolled your eyes. “Or what you did.”

You scoffed, fingers twitching at the memory. “I should’ve just killed them.”

He waved you off. “Too many Marines, it would have been suspicious.” Another look was thrown your way as you stood up to leave. “Keep everything on,” he added. “We don’t need anyone recognizing you.”

Your exit was deterred by a final call of your name. “Do try your best not to break any nails when retrieving him,” he drawled with a smirk. “Your sister’s ball is tomorrow. I’d like there to be no inquiries on what the oldest princess of Moonbeam does in her free time if I can help it.”

You set the bottle back on the table, tugging the mask down and making your way towards the bar with a stifled groan, hoping you’d at least be able to sleep in tomorrow.

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

taglist: @hearts4zoro

[yeehanfrf]

Week 4 Recs: The Rivalmance

This week's Yeehan fic recs were all about "The Rivalmance." That's enemies-to-lovers, rivals-to-lovers, competitive assholes-to-lovers. If you like Yeehan, you know the vibe! Check out the recs gathered from the Yeehan community below, organized by rating then alphabetically by title.

Teen and Up

Hana Song's Guide on How to Not be Weird by LeftHand [27,710 words] Reccer comment: "Still uses the old cowboy name but I love it all the same"

Hanzo would never believe that Hana Song could give such stellar advice or display such wisdom beyond her years. He never expected to make a home for himself among the members of Overwatch. To make peace and find hope in life once again. But he did. He also never expected to get lassoed onto a mission with the most reckless, infuriating, irritating man he'd ever meet. A man in serious need of some guidance. With Hanzo Shimada as his best bet for a clear head? Not being weird is a lot harder than it sounds.

Author's note: This work is not officially completed and has a very round-about ending. I do not plan on ever writing a true final chapter but would still consider the work worth reading. Thanks!

Mature

The 85th Annual King County Bake-Off by venvephe [WIP; 37,995 words] Reccer 1 comment: "Warning: incomplete Still a good au tho" Reccer 2 comment: "Unfinished (4/5 chaps and currently ends at a cliffhanger) but set in a fun AU that makes for charming rivals to lovers YH fic and a fun read."

It’s October first, and it’s all come down to this.

The cake is perfect. He’s been waiting for this moment all year, since the previous baking competition. This is his chance at redemption, at reclaiming the crown of the best baker in the county. It’s a title only the winner of the county fair can hold. He’s waited a year and spent hours upon hours at work. Early mornings and late nights, scrapped ideas and tons of flour and sugar went into his masterpiece. It’s all led to him to standing here, awaiting the announcement of the winners.

This year, it’s going to be Hanzo. Last year’s winner - his rival, his nemesis - is going down. Hanzo’s not going to let his mortal enemy take the crown for a third year in a row.

What kind of name is Jesse McCree, anyways?

Howlin' for you by Mifune [17,489 words] Reccer comment: "a good ff if you enjoy bounty hunter Hanzo×wanted Cassidy!"

McCree makes a stop in Dorado, Mexico, before answering the Recall and meets a mysterious man in a bar that promises to make his night a lot more interesting. or McCree wants to do the right thing, Hanzo is sarcastic and there is a lot of emotional baggage unpacked in one night.

Ricochet by robocryptid [24,016 words] Reccer 1 comment: "Cassidy doesn't want to rejoin Overwatch. Too bad Overwatch doesn't take no for an answer and sends a hot stranger to hunt him down."

Reccer 2 comment: "A fun cat-and-mouse spin on Rivalmance. It’s super engaging, the pacing is impeccable and the chemistry is off the charts. I had so much fun reading (and re-reading) this!"

Cole toppled a government or two, caused a few explosions, murdered more bad guys than he can count, and probably a few innocents too. He caused more collateral damage — ruined more lives — than he’ll ever account for, and the world didn’t change a bit. He did his time, and he’s not going back.

Too bad Overwatch doesn’t want to take no for an answer.

Explicit

Acceptable Substitute by mataglap [47,494 words] Reccer comment: "I go back and reread this so often i think I'm at least 30% of the read stats"

Hanzo has lived without certain things for so long that he has all but forgotten about them. Cassidy is a bright red exclamation mark of a reminder, and Hanzo discovers that the saying "out of sight, out of mind" unfortunately also works in reverse.

Meanwhile, Cassidy is an exceptional liar, and the most egregious of his lies are the ones he tells himself.

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by KittenzCaboodle [WIP; 34,828 words] Reccer comment: "Then I can't not push this ff enough! It's probably one of my favorites!!"

The man first in line for the Shimada throne was the last picture that Cole had been given to memorize. Hanzo Shimada. They had said it was unlikely that he would be sent, as he was too important for such menial tasks, but he was the next likely candidate according to Genji.

He gazed longingly towards the door, aching to step outside and get a fresh breath of the cool night air. As he silently grumbled about the sweat rolling down his back, the bodies grinding against each other in the club making the place hot and steamy in all the wrong ways, he saw him.

Of all the people in the world, Hanzo Shimada, the worst possible person, had just walked through the door and was putting their entire Blackwatch mission at risk.

Somehow, Cole had to distract him long enough to for Genji to get out, and he was willing to do whatever it takes, even if he was caught between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea.

But when the Devil buys you dinner and is one of the nicest people you've ever met, then things get confusing.

Binary System by mataglap [14,150 words] Reccer comment: "it's one of my comfort series for this ship, it's really funny, both characters are really well written and very in character, and honestly i just absolutely adore everything this amazing writer make"

Hanzo is arrogant and Cassidy is stubborn, which results in the world's strangest game of chicken.

Ichigo by morrezela [27,121 words] Reccer comment: "Qualifies if you squint? YeeHan break-up and aren't very civil to each other for a while"

They break up on a Wednesday.

Nocturne by delicaterosebud [61,160 words] Reccer comment: "This is probably the most bittersweet 'enemies to lovers' I’ve ever read. Some parts of this fic made me a bit uncomfortable, but in a good way (if that makes any sense…)"

After his mentor goes missing in the forest of Aokigahara, Jesse McCree, a member of the world-renowned Overwatch hunting guild, finds himself alone in his desire to save him. Receiving little support from his teammates, who have deemed his rescue effort to be too risky, Jesse must turn to an unexpected - and rather unpleasant - companion for aid.

During their travels together, however, he and the demon named "Hanzo" grow closer, and Jesse learns that the concept of good and evil isn't quite as simple as he had presumed.

One Man's Hero by mataglap [WIP; 99,485 words] Reccer 1 comment: "I can't not rec this one for enemies to lovers!!"

Reccer 2 comment: "A superhero AU ripe with action, beautifully charged and meaningful emotional scenes, superb characterization, meticulous world-building and just stellar writing. I especially enjoyed the side characters in this!"

Hanzo Shimada is an assassin, a murderer, and decidedly not a hero, let alone a superhero — and yet.

Popcorn Redemption by wyntera [WIP; 266,692 words] Reccer comment: "A classic, unfinished but great"

They say life isn't like the movies.

Well, partner, they ain't never worked for Overwatch.

Shift, Refresh by robocryptid [3,168 words] Reccer comment: "bursting through the door with this"

There are worse ways to start the morning after than with the walk of shame. It's not at all what Hanzo planned, but it might be what he deserves.

Survival Instinct by mataglap [36,485 words] Reccer comment: "Very well written, Hanzo's characterization was on point. Also I love remorseful/guilty Cole."

Cassidy takes a new monster hunting contract. It's pretty decent as contracts go: the pay is good, the perks even better, and he's got two competent companions to fight at his side when the monsters come.

Then a third companion arrives and ruins everything.

to lie down with dogs by motorghost [65,540 words] Reccer comment: "practically bursting at the seams with tension, at times almost suffocating (I mean this in the most complimentary way possible)."

Hanzo and Cole are on a top-secret reconnaissance mission in the industrialized wasteland of post-Crisis North Dakota, hunkered down in a factory ill-fit for human occupation. Cole seems fine with the situation, but Hanzo's doubts extend far beyond their little room.

That brings Week 4 to a close! Thank you to everyone who sent in a recommendation! Keep an eye out for next week's theme: "Golden Oldies," or fics from 2016 and 2017!

In the meantime, you can also check out the Week 3 recs here or see the list of past and future themes here!

[journalofimprobablethings]

Writing Masterpost

Hello!

I've finally gotten around to doing some blog maintenance and making a masterpost of all of the writing I've posted on here. If you've found my blog because of a fic post and want to know if there is more where that came from, you're in the right place!

I write mainly fic for The Magnus Archives and TAZ Balance, with a few original things thrown in for spice! Most links stay on Tumblr, but I've also got some of my longer pieces on AO3 linked here as well.

List is under the cut, and thanks for being here!

MAGNUS ARCHIVES FIC

One-shots & multi-chaps (links to AO3):

present tense - Safehouse-era love confessions, the world didn't end edition.

will you remember me - Somewhere Else coffee shop au! Martin is intrigued by an attractive stranger who comes into his coffee shop, especially when they have an intense reaction to seeing him.

why can't the words I need ever come to me  - Research-era Jon finds Tim crying in the bathroom. He tries to help.

slippage (4 chapters) - Jon starts to forget while he and Martin are still in Upton House. Martin has to try to get him out before he forgets everything.

something to hold onto - Tim & Jon s2 reconciliation, with background jondanny

a promise and a prayer - alternate ending to TheOestofOC's The Kindness of Strangers; or, what if Jon & Tim had reconciled before the Unknowing

these constellations will guide you back - What if Martin had been the one to find Jon trying to get his "anchor" for the coffin instead of Melanie?

Tumblr ficlets:

Somewhere Else coffee shop AU: snippet 1 (Martin) snippet 2 (Jon)

Tim & Jon's Excellent American Adventure: 1 (at the airport) 2 (there was only one bed (platonic) aka literal sleeping together) 3 (statement dependence)

Dad!Jon: Jon has always had trouble imagining the future They name her Sasha

yet broken, still you breathe - Jon & Martin listen to The Amazing Devil

life's but a walking shadow - Martin gets Jon to recite some poetry (aka Jon is a Shakespeare nerd)

i will bring you ruin - Jon Sees Jonah's plans before he goes into the Lonely

Other snippets:

Post-Circus Jon angst

JonTim Literal Sleeping Together: China Edition

Martin & Tim say goodbye before the Unknowing

Not-Sasha visits the Trophy Room

Martin can bake?! - s1 Archive gang fluff

Somewhere Else - an explorations of possiblities

Peter Lukas is having a marvelous time.

Message from Jon to Martin, several days after his return from the Buried.

TAZ FIC

One-shots (links go to AO3)

L-U-P (multi-chap, ongoing) - What if Lucretia saw Lup's name burned into the wall and figured out where Lup was? Lup gets out of the umbrella early, and she and Lucretia team up to save the world.

take me back to the start - The Chalice makes Lucretia an offer, and she has to decide what price she is willing to pay for a second chance.

without you - Magnus and Lucretia have only been together, really together, for a couple weeks. When a routine scouting mission goes wrong, he has to face to prospect of nearly a year without her. Magnus/Lucretia fic set during Stolen Century.

a recipe for home - Taako tries to cook for the first time since Glamour Springs. When it goes wrong, Lucretia is there to lend a hand. Set during between the second Lunar Interlude and Petals.

by means of heat and time - Taako gives Angus a cooking lesson (a lifetime ago, Taako gives Lucretia a cooking lesson) - TAZ November Celebration Day 23 - Cooking

how this grace thing works - Taako helps Lucretia with post S&S nightmares, and maybe, just maybe, something starts to heal.

Eventually - Kravitz told Magnus he and Julia would eventually have to re-join the rest of the souls in the astral sea. He never thought about what he would do when “eventually” finally came.

Tumblr ficlets

hold on tight - The Birds get together for a family dinner after Story and Song, and Magnus and Lucretia have a talk about what it means to deserve a happy ending.

"Today's gonna be the best!" - The Birds have a snow day.

Barry is falling. - The moment right after Barry falls from the Starblaster, when he realizes what Lucretia has done.

What if Barry found Lup in Wave Echo Cave? - Barry finds Lup, and has to find a way to hold himself together.

“Shh, they’ll hear us!” - Taako and Angus plan a surprise.

TAZ November Celebration Day 21 - Night - A lil quiet moment between Davenport & Lucretia during Stolen Century.

TAZ November Celebration Day 17 - Rest - The crew of the Starblaster take a much-needed pause.

TAZ November Celebration Day 3 - Warmth - Taakitz Modern AU ficlet. Fluff!

almost home - Magnus returns to Raven’s Roost. (and an answer to the question, how did Magnus get Julia’s ring back?)

Metas/snippets

The Director aways has music playing in her office.

Lucretia never met the Judges in Cycle 65.

The birds and hugs

What if Raven’s Roost never fell?

The Light of Creation isn’t sentient, exactly.

If Lucretia saw Lup’s name burned into the wall and figured out where Lup was

Lucretia doesn’t remember the first time the Bulwark Staff spoke to her.

Lucretia wakes up in a white space.

After Story and Song, Davenport leaves. Lucretia says goodbye.

ORIGINAL WORK Sometimes I post things on here that aren’t fic!

Macbeth in the living room - A short written at the beginning of quarantine, before we really understood anything about how the virus actually worked. The mechanics of distancing are So Wrong but the sentiment is there. It’s a time capsule of a moment.

The One Who Stays Behind (short story)

OTHER BITS AND BOBS

Thoughts on wonder

Babel by RF Kuang time-travel fix-it (ish)

[nenebot]

Shakespearean insults pt 2

2 Henry IV (2.4.120-22)“Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!"

Henry V (2.1.100)“O braggart vile and damned furious wight!”

Henry V (3.2.30)“He is white-livered and red-faced.”

1 Henry VI (3.2.54)“Hag of all despite!“

1 Henry VI (5.4.30-1)“Take her away; for she hath lived too long, / To fill the world with vicious qualities.”

3 Henry VI (5.6.54-5)“Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born, / To signify thou camest to bite the world.”

Julius Caesar (1.1.36)“You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!”

King Lear (2.2.14-24)“A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson, glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition.”

King John (4.3.105)“O you beast! / I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, / That you shall think the devil is come from hell.”

Measure for Measure (2.1.113)“You are a tedious fool.”

Measure for Measure (3.1.151-3)“O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch! / Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?”

Measure for Measure (3.2.56)“Some report a sea-maid spawn’d him; some that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congealed ice.”

The Merry Wives of Windsor (2.3.21)“Thou art a Castilian King urinal!”

The Merry Wives of Windsor (5.5.60)“Vile worm, thou wast o’erlook’d even in thy birth.”

Othello (4.2.50)“Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.”

Pericles (4.6.156)“Thy food is such / As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs.”

Richard III (1.2.58)“Thou lump of foul deformity!”

Richard III (1.2.159)“Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes.”

The Taming of the Shrew (4.1.116)“You peasant swain! You whoreson malt-horse drudge!”

The Tempest (3.2.29-30)“Why, thou deboshed fish thou...Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster?”

Troilus and Cressida (2.1.10)“Thou bitch-wolf's son!”

Troilus and Cressida (2.1.16-7)“I think thy horse will sooner con an oration than / thou learn a prayer without book.”

Troilus and Cressida (2.1.41)“Thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows.”

Troilus and Cressida (4.2.31)“Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!”

Troilus and Cressida (2.1.106) “I shall cut out your tongue.” / “'Tis no matter, I shall speak as much wit as thou afterwards.”

i read it all and will use

[peachesandmilktea]

OKAY WRO HERE I COME TO ASK

1, 3, 14, 15 AND 21 <3

Besides that? i love you kajskdjkajsd

1. favorite fic you wrote this year

The Taste of Power! And I'm posting the ending tonight I'm SO EMOTIONAL about it right now dnskdnsk Now the reason it's my favorite is because it really dives into my comfort zone which is fantasy, all while kinda dabbling into original fiction since I crafted the whole AU and its world myself. I think it's the fic that best shows my skills for now jdnsjkndk

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

Omg this is so difficult. Maybe the Toga sneak peek that I'd sent you from Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, this one.

“She’s a woman”, you said in a breath at last, disbelief coating your tone as you looked at the tiny blonde girl with her cute little hair buns, the tips of some strands tainted crimson with blood. Red and gold suited her like sunset suited the sky, the colors made even brighter when she beamed, joyful smile pulling at her lips, the kind of happiness you’d never known and never would, the kind of happiness one could feel when they didn’t have to spend every minute of their lives lying, the kind of happiness that screamed that they could be themselves and be accepted and welcomed still. Would you have been able to grasp a glimpse at this forbidden bliss if you’d joined the pirates instead of the navy? Would you have been able to save your parents from their murderous fury if you’d learned battle and violence among them? “So what? Do you have anything against women, Commodore?” Shigaraki asked, a disgusted wince taking over his chapped lips when he spat your title like an insult. He mistook your envy for intolerance. Good.

I still could have written it better but I like it still!! Mostly because of the comparison between Toga's hair drenched in blood and sunset colors.

14. a fic you didn’t expect to write

The whole Squid Game AU because I didn't even really like Squid Game?? But you got a gory concept and a survival game and of course I'll have to make something with it hehe. (Alice in Borderland is way better though!!)

15. something you learned this year

I replied here!

21. most memorable comment/review

YOURS BECAUSE I WAS LIKE OMG I WAS NOTICED

Other than that, the comment @troubledinsomniac left on my third chapter to The Taste of Power:

"You wrote this series as if an angel whispered each word in your ear"

And every single one of @lavandercinnamon's reblogs and tags on the same fic!

LOVE YOU TOO!!!

[homebody-nobody]

So last week lots of jiara writers were posting their wips and we never got to see yours so what are your current wips if you have any?

Yeah see I got tagged but none of mine have titles til right before I publish them so I didnt think I had anything cool to share. I'm honored u thought of me tho!!

Rn I only have four I'm *actively* working on cause I try and keep my workload ~somewhat~ manageable lol

Current title: ana's birthday fic

@rcsales sorry babe this is gonna be like... two months late now. Probly more whoopsie. Basically I promised ana club smut and then I accidentally gave it a storyline and now it's at 21.8k and I still have three more porn scenes to write AND all the respective connective tissue, so. That's where I've been focusing efforts and I know its gonna take me a while to finish yet, but it is the filthiest, most sinful thing I've ever fucking written and I'm not even done with the first smut scene yet, so prepare thyselves

Current title: 'katie's bday fic'

Ditto on the apology to @aarchiess for the tardiness of said gift. This one is much shorter and deadass half way done but I hit a block and am trying to get ana's done first so hopefully I can slam it out in like 2/3 days once I'm done with the epic currently in progress. It's literally just van sex.

Title: 'home (where your heart is set in stone)

This is my roommate fic I have like 8 anons clamoring for and I SWEAR TO GOD GUYS ITS NOT ABANDONED!! I have the entire outline finished and I am still really excited to get working on it again, but I have the previous two fics to finish first.

Title: caught between (the devil and the deep blue sea)

Another multichap that looks forsaken but is not. @aarchiess and I brainstorm for this monster daily and it lives rent free in my head. We r still outlining and chap two is started, with a ton of other scenes half-written and conceptualized, as well. I want to finish the "oneshots" first n then slam out at least two chaps of home before I fully body this fic, but Katie works on it a lot in small pieces and we r both excited to share it with y'all

Floating ideas:

Engineering school au collab with @yellowlaboratory

5/6 n 1 abt ~sinful things~ collab with @hvitstark

A band au with rockstar!JJ and reporter!Kie that will probs be my next multichap after home and caught between are done

And about a million others that float around in my brain that I keep ~meaning to get to~

Anyway, thanks SO much for asking, and hopefully this is an answer to the anons that keep asking abt the multichaps... I'm sorry for ignoring y'all I get ~anxious~ lol. I swear I'm writing!! I just also started my first Big Kid 9-5 so I dont have as much time to spend on fic, and I've been trying to do less screens for mental health reasons, so even if the writing is going at a snail's pace, I promise the idea factory is churning at all waking hours.

[dangermousie]

Whyyyy have I noticed in a lot of cdramas the male lead's lips are rarely moisturized, even when there is a kissing scene? 🥴 I am watching The Eternal Love 1 (I REALLY LIKE IT, BTW). The MLI never has moist lips, and it is driving me crazy. They care cracked and chapped, and every time they kiss, I am like this 😬. However, I really like the show and the actors.

Ahahahahahahha dear Anon, I confess that I have never noticed that because I don’t tend to stare that closely but I will now never be able to not look ahahhahahah!

I do notice that in some kdramas they love lipstick on dudes and it’s not a look I am fond of unless it’s a deliberate dress up thing and not a “nah this is how his lips naturally look” so it’s between the devil and the blue sea apparently in drama world :)

[inkstaineddove]

Business and Displeasure Ch.1

Chapters: 2 + 3

Ships: PruHun, AusHun, one-sided RusPru

Characters: Austria, Prussia, Hungary, Russia, Britain; mentioned France

Summary: Austria invites the other principles of the Sixth Coalition against Napoleon - Russia, Britain, and Prussia - to his home to hammer out the details of their alliance. Ostensibly, they are supposed to be at their most diplomatic. For three nights, bad behavior stacks up as each nation is forced to deal with each other in such close quarters. Some new friendships will emerge while others will rapidly deteriorate.

 Vienna, 1813.

France had been growing too ambitious. His quest for dominance had put him in direct confrontation with the other European powers. Unfortunately for them, he'd become the most powerful he'd ever been, surpassing the strength he'd had under Louis XIV. None of them stood a chance fighting him by themselves or in smaller coalitions. They were going to have to do what they'd never succeeded at before: working as a team.

With this goal in mind, Austria had invited Prussia, Britain, and Russia into his home. It would be best for them to hash out the details of their alliance along with a general strategy for how to take down the growing menace in person, unimpeded by the delays in letters arriving or having to work through representatives. Part of him was pleased at the idea, it hadn't been tried by any of them in their prior alliances, where they would only meet up together for battle. The other part of him had gnawing doubts about allowing Russia and Prussia into his home. Britain was a proper aristocrat like himself. He could trust Arthur to show him and his family the proper respect they deserved. Ivan and Gilbert were brutes, they were the wild card. He'd have to hold them to account.

"You're pacing, dear, what's the matter?" Behind her concerned words, Hungary couldn't hide her boredom. She was standing in front of the mirror, holding up different dresses to find which one suited her best.

"This is very stressful for me, Erzsébet. I hope you'll understand that. I want France's reign of terror to be over, but I resent that it means opening our home to savages!"

"Don't worry, I'll keep a close eye on Gilbert. I'll make sure he's on his best behavior." She smiled at her reflection, her voice a silky purr.

Roderich's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure you will, Liebling." His voice dripped with disdain. "That's the one thing I can always count on from you." He heard the sounds of his parlor beginning to fill downstairs. He saw her slipping into her dress out the corner of his eye as he began exiting the room. "You always look fat in red." He quickly shut the door. He laughed hearing the thump of a book hitting it and his wife cursing in Hungarian.

Down below, Britain, Prussia, and Russia intermingled. "It was a right bitch getting over here, let me tell you that. The damn blockade that frog had on me made it difficult to cross the Channel. Thankfully, God smiles upon the English and we made it."

"Oh, how did you do it?" Russia smiled with genuine interest.

Arthur's face shifted into a wicked grin. "By blowing up five of his ships!" Gilbert and Ivan shared a look as Arthur barely contained his laugh. And everyone considered them the maniacs?

"Gentlemen, it's so lovely to see you all here. I hope the road didn't leave you too weary and that your journey went untroubled." Roderich entered, shooing out the staff that lingered in the room. He put on his most winning smile. "If you're all up to it, I hope we can begin some business straight away. The sooner we get done with everything, the sooner you'll all be back home." And the sooner you'll all be out of my hair, he added to himself.

The suggestion was met with no grumbling. Austria led the men up into his study. They arranged themselves around the map of Europe folded out on the table. "I can secure financing for whatever operations we carry out. The Royal Navy has been undertaking skirmishes along the Channel and North Sea, along with anywhere French ships are foolish enough to be. Within a couple weeks I can have my men bombarding the French coastline to pull troops away from whatever joint land engagements you three begin. Prussia, your men should meet up with the Hanoverians before marching east to-" Britain cut himself off. He felt the icy stare of Austria upon him. "Is something the matter?"

"I didn't realize we were going to be receiving our marching orders from London. If I had known, I would've insisted on the meeting being held at your home instead of mine." Austria balled his hands into fists behind his back. "How foolish of me to forget that we could count on Great Britain having a plan himself for how we lowly continentals would do all the work." He bowed with mock respect. "My sincerest apologies."

"Oh, you suddenly have a better idea? My intel might have been off. Aren't you three the ones who have led the previous campaigns and been embarrassingly crushed each time? By all means though, if you suddenly have the expertise to pull this off, Austria, go ahead. I'll return to my place in the back benches." Britain smugly shrugged. "Though I would consult with the other two before doing anything so drastic."

Prussia was leaned up against the farthest wall. "You're the only one that's been able to scrape some meaningful victories against this bastard. I'm certainly not having my king take a leading role, the guy has no military sense and no balls to listen to anyone with any experience. From working with him, I can tell you Austria doesn't either."

"Bold of you to insult my army when you're the one who's capital was overtaken! Who do you think you are?" Austria sniffed.

"I already admitted to my flaws. Man up and do the same. The capable men we have defected to Russia to keep up the fight since the morons wanted to help France. Thankfully, this new coalition had them return, but I'm not risking losing them and their allegiance again through another one of our half-baked schemes! We listen to Britain or I work on rebuilding my nation until you three sort this out." Prussia shrugged. "No skin off my bones."

Russia stepped in between the opposing sides before it could get any more heated. "Just a second. Let's hear Austria out before we shoot him down. Maybe he actually had a decent plan this time?" He smiled, all fake pleasantry directed at his host. "I hope you finally figured something out. I'm getting tired of providing the most men only to get so many killed."

Cornered. "I expected us to come away with a plan over the week." Austria averted his gaze from the other three. No one needed to see his embarrassment.

"Then no need for all the fuss, eh?" Britain placed a firm hand on Austria's shoulder. Roderich never remembered the Briton being quite this strong. "I've got some ideas on what we can do, where we can route troops and trap the French. 'Course you three know the topography best and where we'll have the best advantages, but rest assured that I've got an ample outline we can hammer out tomorrow. Hope you chaps don't mind me wanting to save it till then. It's been rough sailing the past few days to get here."

Supremely humiliated, Roderich called in two of his maids to show Ivan and Arthur to their rooms. He glared at Gilbert as he moved to his desk. "I suppose you're satisfied. An hour in and I've already made an ass of myself. Though I do like your threat of leaving if you had to listen to me. Your flair for the dramatic hasn't weakened since the last I saw you."

"Oh, get over yourself. You know my satisfaction will come later tonight." A shark-like smile. Gilbert paced slowly through the room, admiring what was on the shelves. "Thank you, I try to give my best performance for the audience. Can't let them know that I'm waiting to dig my boot into your throat. Has to be the pretense of diplomacy."

"Mmm." In honesty, Roderich was paying him no mind. It was easy to tune out this type of baiting when it had become routine after so long. "It would be best if you went to your room. You shouldn't get it confused with mine this time since I've unfortunately had to put you on the ground floor."

"Funny. If I recall, I was able to get your staff to move me next to yours for a couple hundred thalers. Amazing what the underpaid will do for money, isn't it?" Prussia winked at the Austrian as he gaped at him in fury. "I'll see you at dinner, neighbor."

Once the door was closed again, Roderich buried his face in his hands. He couldn't escape the feeling that he'd invited the devil into his home.

---

After spending time to recover and unpack in their own rooms, all the guests eventually made their way to the parlor. A haze of thick fog hung over the room as Britain and Prussia chain smoked from their pipes. Russia politely had his trademark scarf over his mouth, helping to filter the harsh air somewhat. Austria, still lapping up his ego, hung in the back of the room reading.

Eventually, Hungary joined the men. She had paid extra attention to making sure every hair was in place, that all her make-up was done with extreme precision. Extracting himself from whatever boring war stories Prussia and Britain were trading, Russia extended a hand out to her, pleasing her with the gesture befitting an equal and not some feeble arm-candy. "Erzsébet! So good to see you, how have you been? I fear it's been too long since I've been in the presence of your charms."

"Oh, Ivan, you're as adorable as ever. You know how it is," her eyes flashed towards Roderich, who was completely oblivious. "I've been here in my gilded cage. Attending to whatever I'm told befits my station. I hope you've been faring better."

Ivan tsked. "What a shame. You should be out with us, fighting! You're one of the fiercest warriors I've had the honor of fighting with and against. I'd love to see what you would do in command. You should be in the meetings with us."

That actually touched her. She put a hand on his arm and nodded her head in the direction of her dear husband. "I'd love to, why don't you try and convince him though." Pleasantly surprised, Russia raced off to do just that. Her eyes met with Roderich's, whose own burned with a deep disgust at her insubordination. Erzsébet huffed. It wasn't as if she set Ivan up to do this, he was his own man capable of making his own choices.

"Hungary, how rude of me, I didn't see you there. Come and join us, would you like a drink?" She was snapped out of her thoughts by a jovial Britain. She noticed his empty glass. That explained his good mood.

"Now, Britain, you shouldn't be the one offering to get me anything. This is my home, I can get it myself." She nodded at one of the maids, who quickly poured her a glass of red wine. Britain took her hand and kissed it politely. She was always amused by his gentlemanly act. Why pretend to be nobler than the rest of them? Everyone knew of his brutality, of his ruthlessness. She supposed it helped him sleep at night, to have the thin veneer of goodness.

"How sweet you are. Oi, Austria, what a wife you've got. You should consider yourself lucky."

"Oh, yes. What a wife I have indeed." Roderich's voice was deadpanned. "How ever could I manage without her."

"Yes, your mistress is quite a lovely one." Gilbert's eyes glistened a fiery red. "I might even say she's the fairest in all the land." He snaked his arm around Erzsébet's waist and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek, close to her lips. She couldn't resist leaning into his touch nor wipe the satisfied smile off her face.

Arthur's eyes widened. He took a step back. He silently chided himself for not paying more attention to the interpersonal affairs of the continental nations. Perhaps if he did, then he would've known what kind of mess he'd wandered into. When he found no drink left in his glass to provide some escape from the second-hand embarrassment he felt for Roderich, he quickly excused himself towards the bar.

For his part, Roderich was reeling from the shock. When it had been the three of them, he was used to Gilbert and Erzsébet's lack of discretion. He had expected them to be on their best behavior in front of the other's, not because they respected him, but out of respect for themselves. He slammed his book shut and resisted the urge to begin bludgeoning them both with it. "Careful, Prussia," he hissed. Ice ran hot through his veins.

"With no disrespect to you, Hungary, I'd have to say my sisters are the fairest. Natalya is quite the beauty, any man would be lucky to be with her." Ivan pulled at his scarf sheepishly. "Not me, of course. And Katyusha might be rather plain in appearance, but her heart is twice the size of all my lands. I don't think I could ever meet a woman that surpasses their beauty."

The other four nations were taken aback by this. Not by Ivan's love of his sisters, that was well known, but his lack of ability to read the room. He had seemed oblivious to any sort of slight that occurred. Prussia and Hungary wondered if they needed to be more obvious next time, Austria wondered if it wasn't obvious enough and that he'd blown it out of proportion, and Britain wondered how he'd managed to find himself surrounded by such morons. A truly perplexing situation for all.

Russia looked around between them. "Was that too much?" Then he zeroed in on Prussia's arm, still around Hungary's waist, and finally understood. "Oh. Ah. Well." His brain short-circuited. He quickly scrambled over to Britain. "Say, I've never been to India. What's it like down there?"

Both men took their escape and prattled on about the jungles of India and the strange customs they had there. Prussia, Hungary, and Austria continued staring each other down. Austria rose and hastily moved over to them. "You've made your point now, are you satisfied?"

"I keep telling you, my satisfaction won't come until tonight. Though it is sweet of you to keep checking on me." Gilbert placed a hand on Roderich's cheek and adopted a sickeningly sweet tone. "You've always been such a provider, Roddy."

Roderich slapped his hand away. "Erzsébet, it would be advised that you go see what needs to be done in the kitchen. Now." He waited till she had bustled off before continuing. "I don't know what game you're getting at, Gilbert, but you're in my home. I've extended a basic courtesy to you and I demand it to be returned. I will not accept being disrespected in front of everyone else." His voice was low, a fierce whisper so no eavesdroppers could pick up on what was being said. "I will not be cuckolded!"

"You won't? Oh no, I'm afraid it's too late for that message." Gilbert wore a shit-eating grin. Roderich's fingers twitched to smack it off his face, to ruin the carpets with his blood, all noble pretenses be damned. "I'll do what I damn well please. Try to stop me."

With that, the Prussian turned on his heel and joined the other three. He felt Austria's eyes burning a hole in his back, but shrugged them off. He was thriving off this. He could give a damn about what they planned this week around. They'd make their plan to take down France and that would be it, he knew it would come together now with Britain's forces and money. What he'd desired was another romp through the mud with Austria, to assert himself as the dominant force between the two of them. Assert he would and pity the fool he tried to stop him.

[et-in-cinerem-reverteris]

Class of 1953 - Chapter 1 - Hatful of Hollow (3.7k)

“Will you be... here, next Thursday? Same time, same place?”

“Oh, er, yes, we meet here every week,” Phil stutters, “the photography club, that is. We meet here on Thursdays. Weekly.”

“Alright,” the boy laughs softly, “I’ll see you then”.

I am proud proud proud to announce that the first chapter of my DNP Oxford Au is finally here! It is my baby, my child - I have been working on it for weeks!

Read on AO3 here!!

Or, on Tumblr down below :)

Chapter 1

"Philip! Glad you could make it old chap." 

Bright lights flood into Phil’s vision as he adjusts to the blinding white glare of the overhead lamps. Every Thursday, the 5 members of Oxford University’s photography club meet in a small, dusty room in Keble College, where they spend many hours developing prints, sharing successful shots, but mostly just fooling around together as they take a break from the stresses of Oxford’s intense academic atmosphere. Currently inside the room are the founders of the club; John, a stocky blond maths student with blue eyes and ruddy cheeks, stands a metre or two away from Bill, a lean, gangly physics student whose pale hands are currently adjusting the dials on what appears to be a shiny new camera. Phil puts his leather satchel on the table, and rummages inside it for a roll of film that’s in there...somewhere. 

Bill clears his throat.

“As you may have guessed by now, we can only assume that Mary and Beth are engaged in more exciting activities once again this week” he sneers, raised eyebrows betraying a mocking, yet joking intent.

The three boys chuckle in unison. Phil glances over the table, studying Bill more closely.

“Blimey, is that the new Zeiss-Ikon Contessa?”

A smirk twinges on Bill’s lips as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his reddening nose, carefully conceiving his growing embarrassment. 

“It was a gift from John. I tried to tell him that he didn’t have to, but he absolutely insisted,” he replies, swiveling round to face the boy behind him. “You shouldn’t have, honestly John. You do spoil me.”

The blond turns round and smiles, giving Bill a tender punch to the shoulder. “Oh William, it was really nothing” he attests, before twisting away to turn his attention back to fixing a small lamp.

‘William’? Phil had never heard anyone call Bill by his full name before! As he glances back at over, he notices a blush spread over Bill’s previously pallid cheeks. The relationship between the modest, restrained physics geek and the confident, amiable mathematics whizz was an enduring mystery. Making a mental note to keep an eye on the pair (purely to make sure that nothing out of the ordinary was happening, of course...), Phil turns once more to his satchel and pulls out a roll of film he’s planning to develop in today’s session. Before he manages to do this however, giggling erupts from a nearby corridor.

“Alas! The latecomers arrive at last” declares the bespectacled brunette, still poring over his camera. As the sound gets nearer, the laughing hushes to a stifled whisper as two figures appear at the open doorway.

“Having fun are we ladies?” 

“Oh, put a sock in it you old fart” quips the taller of the two, ignoring Bill’s steely eyes as she strides towards the table and sets a heavy black bag onto the floor with a clunk. 

“Evening everyone! Sorry we’re late” Beth says with a warm grin as she shrugs off a grey duffle coat, hangs it up on the dark, wooden door and turns towards the table, rubbing her hands together to defrost them. 

“What were you up to?” Phil asks nonchalantly, rising from his seat to search some cupboards for trays to develop his film in.

“Beth and I were... in the library, writing an essay. You know, the err, one that’s due soon” answers Mary.

“You mean the draft on Early Medieval Literature? Wasn’t that only set yesterday?”

Mary shoots a glance at Beth.

“Draft, essay - what difference does it make? Anyway, these things take time, and I’ve always thought that it’s good to get on top of something like an essay” she replies, hand on hip as her grey eyes squint dubiously. 

Bill shifts in his seat. “I can think of someone you were getting on top of.”

“Cheeky git! I’m keeping an eye on you” Mary retorts, striding to the other side of the room to bury her blushing face in a sea of dusty wooden cupboards. “And you John, for that matter.”

This night sure has opened his eyes! Smirking to himself, Phil turns his attention to his own set of cupboards. Aha! The empty trays have been found.

“Hey John, Mary - I’ve got the trays for the stop baths” he announces, handing them over to the former. 

As he does this, the two girls have already reunited, huddled in a corner of the room as they whisper and snigger to themselves about something or other. At 5’10” Mary towers over Beth, who is a good 6 inches shorter. As they exchange a glance, Phil contemplates how different the pair look despite existing hand in glove. A flash of red lipstick spreads over Mary’s wide smile as she sweeps a strand of long, dark hair away from her angular face, looking fondly at Beth who beams up at her with brown eyes twinkling under a long auburn fringe. Phil has known Mary since secondary school; she has always been pale - ghostlike, even - taller than most of the boys and more intelligent than them too. Her quick wit proved to be essential in fending off unwanted comments from overeager private school twits, which she was often the unfortunate recipient of. Known for her harsh tongue when it came to the male sex, Phil was apprehensive when first approached by her in an English class many years ago, only to be quickly reassured by the fondness she gave to those she took a shine to.  “We’re the same, me and you,” she announced almost uncomfortably soon after they had broken the ice, “I can sense it.” Phil had never figured out what exactly she had meant by this, but he had the feeling that here was a girl who truly had his back for years to come. 

“God damn this tap! The water’s bloody well cut off again. One would assume that Oxford University would have a better plumbing system than this” John bemoans, wrinkling his blonde brows in frustration. “Phil, would you be a dear and fetch a jug for us?”

“Yeah s-”

“We’ll go!” exclaim the girls with a questionable amount of excitement, barely waiting for a reply before dashing out of the room arm in arm. 

John frowns for the second time. “O-kay. Guess that one’s sorted then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Half an hour passes, and there is still no sign of either the water, or the girls who volunteered to retrieve it. Slightly exasperated, Phil offers to be the second party to set out in search of the all-important liquid as he’s fairly certain he knows of a working tap in some room or other from across the Liddon Quad. Putting on his woolen coat and grabbing the largest water-vessel in sight, he frantically tries to rack his brains for the room in question as he prepares to brave the winter cold. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scurrying across the Quad, Phil plunges his hands into silk-lined pockets as the icy wind nips at his pale face. As he drinks in his crepuscular surroundings, his eyes fix upon the red brick checkerboard of Keble College’s Victorian chapel, the beauty of which is enough to reduce his previous flight to a mere stroll. He gazes at the building in awe - stained glass windows emit a warm, inviting glow as metal crosses glisten like stars against the black night, and the scene is straight out of the decadent Gothic novellas he loves to pore over in his spare time. Although he’s been at Oxford for a couple of weeks now, there are still times where Phil is struck by the romance of the place, creating pools of emotion inside his chest that well up and threaten to bubble over. Tonight is one such night. He sighs to himself, content and calm.

After reeling around the quad’s fountain for a minute or two, he belatedly approaches the open chapel door. As he does so, his ears catch the sound of people speaking - not only are they speaking, but if Phil’s knowledge of Shakespeare is correct, they are acting. Without giving a single thought to his aquatic assignment, he climbs up the steps, treading softly to conceal the sound of his presence, and steals around the doorway to the entrance of the chapel where he comes across a dozen or so students stood close to the altar, scripts in hand, eyes on page. Their voices echo around the stone walls, dancing from floor to ceiling. He listens in.

“...see your son:

Towards him I made, but he was ware of me

And stole into the covert of the wood:

I, measuring his affections by my own,

That most are busied when they're most alone,

Pursued my humour not pursuing his,

And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me”

So it was Shakespeare! A tender nostalgia washes over him as he reminisces upon his own memories of studying Romeo and Juliet many years ago. And what splendid surroundings to rehearse in! Lofty ceilings bounce words from pew to pulpit, as low lamps give golden mosaics a magic sparkle. Leaning against the old wooden door, Phil focuses on the students, with one in particular catching his eye.

“My noble uncle, do you know the cause?”

The boy playing Benvolio is... a handsome devil, to put it plainly. Phil notices the way he speaks with such fervour, such infectious vigour, and a passion which tugs at the heartstrings and fills one’s soul with a pathetic sense of hope. His tie is pulled awry on a shirt unbuttoned, green jumper sitting loosely around his neck. Phil’s heart flutters ever so slightly to see someone who is evidently as fond of Shakespeare as he is, and for a reason unbeknownst to him, becomes fixed in a kind of trance, observing the boy as he delivers his lines.

Phil had known that he was “queer” from a relatively young age. He had heard the word uttered under hushed tones between his parents as they discussed relatives, family friends, celebrities, or indeed anyone whose campiness stuck out sorer than the lacquered nails on an East-End boy down in the dole-house. But Phil didn’t wear makeup, and he didn’t sound like a woman, and he didn’t spend his time discussing boys with his female classmates. What he did have however, was one fateful family holiday at a beach in Corfu.

It was a torrid, languid, lethargic day, and another year spent back at the old house in Greece. The sun beat down in waves, burning Phil’s pasty skin as brother Martyn shoveled sand onto his feet. The summer reading he had brought with him wasn’t tickling his fancy right now, and Martyn’s japery was beginning to get tiresome. He sighed, staring out towards the vast expanse of clear azure water. As he pondered over ways to alleviate his boredom, a delicious, impulsive desire to indulge in mischievousness began to trickle into his veins, filling him with all sorts of ideas. He rises from his spot on the towel.

“I’m going for a walk. I shouldn’t be too long.”

His mum looks up from her book and squints, shielding her eyes from the sun while simultaneously expressing amazement that her youngest son is actually choosing to do physical exercise.

“Okay, stay safe poppet. Oh - and be back before three o’clock!”

After an hour or so of traipsing across rocks and traversing through trees, he eventually arrives at a secluded alcove on top of a steep stretch of warm rocks, away from tourists, facing a small bay with not a soul in sight.

Laying down on the smooth stone he places his head under the shade of a tree branch, feeling the caress of the sun on his bare chest as a slight breeze tickles the prepubescent hairs on his abdomen. He closes his eyes, wind tracing the surface of his skin. 

Finally, peace at last. 

A brief slumber is interrupted by talking coming from below the rock face. Sluggish after basking in the lazy heat, he takes a moment to opens his eyes and crawl over to the side of the rock, peering gingerly over the edge to investigate.

A man has wandered into the bay, with a woman by his side.

As they talk together, Phil’s eye meanders over the man’s body. He is blond, he is tall, his stance is confident, and the muscles on his back ripple as he stretches his golden hands towards the sky before landing on his toned waist. Peeping Tom is mesmerised. The man checks his watch, and the couple turn their heads as if looking out for someone before coming together for an embrace as they stand watching the waves crash on the bay. 

Phil stares on.

There’s something about the way the man’s body presses against the woman’s back. There’s something about the way his hands wind around her waist, smooth over her chest, and briefly wrap around her neck. There’s something about it, conjuring up a feeling that Phil has never experienced before, something that feels heavy in his ribcage. 

The woman turns her head and taps her partner on the shoulder, pointing at the rocks just beyond Phil. Damn! Heart racing in fear, he ducks behind a bush, blushing furiously and wincing as his feet land on a sharp stone. Through the leaves he sees an olive-skinned man with dark, curly hair appear from the side of the colossal boulder, stepping towards the couple as the woman pries herself from the embrace and runs towards the newcomer, landing into a hug that sweeps her off her feet and swings her in the air as she laughs. The hug endswith a hand around the waist, a brief peck on the lips.

Phil adjusts his glasses. Was he mistaken, or did he just see this lady go from fondly embracing one man to sharing a kiss with another? The pair links arms and stroll towards the first man, who fiddles with the hem of his tight navy swimming trunks as he beams back at them. The dark haired fellow opens his arms, and shouts a few words in Greek to the blond man.

“Είσαι τόσο όμορφος, χρυσέ μου!”

A slap on the back, a playful punch - and then they too lean in for a kiss.

Not a peck on the cheek. Not a swift gracing of the lips. Phil is fairly certain that this is the act that the boys back at boarding school have described using the word “French”. But two men…? Phil takes in a deep breath. Shuffling out from under the shrub, he brushes some leaves off from his trunks, only to freeze in confusion when he feels something hard underneath.

He looks at the trio below him, then back down at his shorts, before looking back to double check that he’s alone.

It would be terribly, terribly awkward if someone caught him m-

“Splendid job everyone, I could really feel the intensity tonight. Let’s call it here. Oh, and remember - we haven’t got long now until the real thing!”

Snapping back to reality, Phil adjusts his eyes to see actors and actresses put down their scripts and begin talking to each other, evidently weary, but animated nonetheless. He searches once more for the boy playing Benvlio, immediately managing to locate him. 

They lock eyes. 

The boy is staring directly at him! 

In a flash, the lad looks away and resumes his conversation with the girl next to him, who hoists a long brown coat over her shoulders, preparing for the winter cold that Phil has just emerged from. Cripes! Turning away rapidly as his heart thumps in his chest, he decides that it’d be best to evacuate the chapel before the situation becomes ever so slightly awkward. A hot flush creeps over his cheeks and the flutter in his bosom amplifies. The image of the boy’s brown eyes repeats in Phil’s mind as approaches the ancient wooden door. 

Damnit. 

In an unexpected burst of confidence, he whips his head around before leaving, and sure enough he is met with those same brown eyes that make him feel like melting right then and there. Panicking, fumbling and stumbling, he dashes out of the portico, heart racing and nerves alive as he speeds across the quad. He checks his watch - nearly 8 o’clock. Forget this godforsaken water! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bill and John appear to be in a cheerful mood when Phil nervously slinks back into the photography room, and as such he is instantly forgiven for being the third person in one night to give up water collection in the name of secret romantic pursuits. Feeling guilty nonetheless, he volunteers to be the one to lock up the room for the night as compensation, enjoying the peaceful silence as he sees to the mess left behind.

He roams around the room, closing cupboards here, pulling in stools there. There’s a spatter of black ink on the table, no doubt left by Bill and his insistence on using a dip pen to write everything from letters, to classwork, to scribbled ideas on dog-eared notebooks. As he gets a cloth to wipe it up, Phil feels a soft sense of contentment as he reflects upon his new life here at Oxford. Secondary school was rotten, absolutely rotten; teased for being smart, teased for being tall, teased for wearing glasses, teased for any reason which made him he different to the brutish, snobbish bastards that ruled his school’s hierarchical roost. Before they can bubble up to the surface, Phill tries to quell those raw, rough memories, reminding himself that it’s in the past and he should be focusing on the present. He’s growing into his authentic self, he’s started dressing however he likes, he’s made genuine friends who he can talk to, he’s academically stimulated without the fear of being called a geek and, in time, maybe he’ll be able to express that part of his personality too. With a sigh, he throws Bill’s inky rag into the sink, puts John’s screwdriver into a drawer, tucks in the stool that Mary dragged out from the desk and picks up a pen that must have fallen out of Beth’s pocket. The peace in his chest leaves him with no doubt that he’s got everything now - no more fear of rejection, no horrible need for awkward explanations. Just friendship, companionship, and unspoken understanding. Blinking slightly more rapidly than usual, he cleans up the last of the mess.

*knock knock*

Mary and Beth? In the split second it takes him to turn around, Phil prepares a quip or two to tease them with.

To his surprise (and his horror), he is met with the sight of 'Benvolio' leaning against the open door, arms folded, ankles crossed, sly smirk plastered onto his mischievous face.

"You could have just come in if you wanted to, you know. We don't bite."

Phil’s heart races and his stomach sinks at the realisation of what’s happening. It was bad enough that he’d been caught staring by the object of his admiration, but multiple times? And now said object is here, standing in the doorway, smirking at him? Phil can’t help but hungrily consume the face opposite him. Tousled chestnut curls flop onto strong brows that sit intentionally indifferent, trying to appear nonchalant, but with such purposeful neutrality that he betrays a sense of impatience - desperation, even. Freckles speckle his cheeks like stars that lie next to petal pink lips.

The handsome devil chuckles at Phil's silence.

"Ah, apologies - quite rude of me not to introduce myself first. I'm Dan," the boy continues, " and um, we're putting on a production of Romeo and Juliet in a few weeks, if you want to come and see it" he offers, patches of his jaw flushing red.  

Phil blinks, unsure of what to say, and the young man’s eyes fall to the ground briefly before thrusting his large hands into trouser pockets.

"Sorry, perhaps I assumed that-"

"No, no, it's alright" Phil finally replies, desperate to stop the potential tragedy of this charming man leaving him forever, never to speak to him again. "That'd be great. I um, I really like Shakespeare."

The boy’s eyes flick upwards to meet Phil’s briefly before he nods, turning his vision towards the ground once again as he bites his lips together to stifle a smile. His eyes dance across the floor as if plucking up the courage to look back up at the blue eyed boy, which he does, thank God, for when their eyes lock together (and Phil swears it’s not his inner English student making him think this), it feels as if two worlds connect, two universes collide, two strings of the soul’s yarn reaching out and tying knots and weaving together, two hands meeting and fingers intertwining and feeling his knuckles and scars and hairs and prints that read like maps of the other person’s existence. It’s breathtaking. It’s almost too much.

The boy unleashes a grin, and Phil is so, so thankful, for when he does his entire face lights up like a candle burning in a dark attic, wide flash of white teeth and crinkled eyes brazen and clumsy like hot wax spilling and dripping down bare skin. They maintain their electrifying gaze. The other one sighs.

“Okay, fantastic. Dates are yet to be confirmed, but so far it’s looking to be some time after Michaelmas ends. I’ll er, I’ll let you know.”

“Great, yeah, I’ll come along!” Phil beams, drumming his fingers on the counter behind him. 

“Mmm.” Another moment of silence. “Will you be... here, next Thursday? Same time, same place?”

“Oh, er, yes, we meet here every week,” Phil stutters, “the photography club, that is. We meet here on Thursdays. Weekly.”

He curses himself for tripping over his words in front of someone who had spoken so confidently and so eloquently in the chapel. He takes in a deep breath, calming himself.

“Alright,” the boy laughs softly, “I’ll see you then”. In one swift movement, he pushes his back off the door frame, grabs the other side and swings himself off down the corridor, heels clacking on the tiles as he goes.

Buckling up his satchel, Phil strides out of the room, managing to catch the sight of ‘Dan’ speeding off down a flight of stairs. As he turns the lights off and shuts the door, he closes his eyes and exhales.

He checks his watch. Only 6 days, 23 hours and 38 minutes until he’ll be here next Thursday, same time, same place. He parades down the corridor, slight skip in his step.

Maybe he’ll get to explore that side of his personality a little sooner than he might have previously thought.

[honeyoru]

INFERNO Chap 1 (portgas d ace x ofc)

series masterlist

pairing: portgas d ace x devil fruit user! original female character

4k words

warnings: language, mild violence, sad backstory lol

a/n: Oh no I've fallen into another fanfic and can't get up.....

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It’s with a harsh bang on her door and a steel-toned command from her mother that Orion begrudgingly opened her eyes on her eighteenth birthday. 

Not that it mattered, per say. To her, it was just another day.

But, she mused while shuffling out of bed, it’s my day to run the stall.

That was enough to put a pep in her step. 

She quickly ran a brush through her hair, wincing at the tangles scattered throughout the long strands. The girl rushed to get dressed knowing her parents wouldn’t be happy if she wasn’t out of the house before sunrise. 

Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table when Orion finally hurried downstairs, placing the newspaper dutifully into her father’s waiting hand. 

“Lots of pirates in town lately,” her father stated, barely sparing a glance at the person he’s addressing. 

Not that it’s needed, they’re all aware his words are meant for her. 

“Don’t allow them to haggle,” he lowered the paper, throwing her a condescending stare, as if he were speaking to a toddler. His daughter bit her tongue, pushing down the fury that builds when he looks at her like that. “Pirates pay full price. Hell, charge them higher too,” he sneered. “If you can manage.”

The villagers of Torappu Island didn’t view pirates too fondly, apart from Orion. She and her brother had a fascination with them ever since meeting a well-known crew in their earlier days, long before her brother had gone missing in the sea, before her parents looked at her with contempt, before she tamped down her burning desire to escape to somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was off this island.

Her eye twitched just a small amount, something she was proud of given her innate desire to talk back. She dipped her head. “Yes father,” she responded in a monotone voice, careful to mask her irritation behind a dry piece of bread. Hurriedly, she swallowed and allowed her eyes to flicker towards the framed photo adorning the wall, the only of its kind in the house. The girl silently bid her late brother’s portrait farewell, knowing he would no doubt be rolling his eyes at their father’s tone if he were here. 

With a thump her backpack settled against her shoulder blades, bouncing as she left the house. She offered a muted goodbye to her parents that went unanswered, not that she expected them to say anything anyways.

No one mentions her birthday.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The walk to the town square was pleasant, all things considered. 

Sure, it meant she had to push a cart full of metal items up a hill, but a breeze blew her hair gently, offering a reprieve from the heat that was sure to creep up later this afternoon. A smile graced Orion’s face when she remembered she won’t have to tiptoe around her parents until later tonight.

She was free, at least for a handful of hours. 

Torappu Island wasn’t a hidden gem, a slice of paradise, or a particularly interesting place of note. It was an island in the West Blue that got business from travelers passing through, simple as that. The Navy didn’t patrol here as often, but had a base further east. 

The town square that held the market was plain with a few dozen stalls. The teen arrived when the sun still hadn't risen yet, giving polite greetings to the other merchants she passed. 

Her family’s stall was in the middle of the plaza, settled between a fishmonger and a tarot reader. Orion opened it promptly, pulling out the metal goods her father expertly created (something her brother used to help with) and laid them out in the exact way she’d been taught. 

She ran her hands over one of the newer crafted swords with oil, a process she’d done thousands of times. It’s better to polish before selling, the girl repeated to herself. It’ll make the blades shine brighter to potential buyers. 

The first half of the day went by quickly, and far too easily. She should have been wary.

More travelers than usual were flowing in and out of the market; Orion felt like she could hardly breathe in between flashing polite smiles to them all. 

“Looks like Mommy and Daddy let you out of the dungeon for the day.”

She sighed. 

The day had been going too well, it seemed. Tango, a tall teen who had a face littered with acne and an unfortunately beautiful smile, was smirking at her.

“Horatio,” she called out sweetly to the old man running the fish stall. “Your fish seem to be incredibly potent today.” Her nose wrinkled as she took a few sniffs, turning towards the teen who had an intense pleasure in tormenting her. “Oh wait, never mind!” Orion widened her eyes in false surprise, giving a sneer back. “It’s just him.”

She clocked a group of loud, rowdy men exiting the bar a little ways away. Potential customers.  

Orion needed the idiot to skedaddle quickly if she wanted to make a sale.  “Please do us all a favor and leave,” the girl sent a glare to the couple of boys flanking him, waving them away. “No one needs you three spreading whatever disease you’ve got going on to the rest of us.”

Predictably, Tango scowled, his hand covering one of his cheeks in embarrassment. “It’s acne and it’s normal !” His hand went for a pistol on his waist, something he’d threatened her with at least a dozen times this year already. Though she doubted he’d actually do anything, the spoiled brat was too pompous to ever learn how to properly use one, her right hand hadn’t left the short dagger slung on her waist once since he’d arrived. She wasn’t totally confident he wouldn’t accidentally shoot her. “At least my parents love me.”

“Ouchie,” she drawled mockingly, rolling her eyes. He’d only used that taunt for the past eight years. “Tango, put that down, we both know you’ve got no clue how to use it,” a delicate sneer settled on her face. “It’s more pathetic when you act like you can.”

The boy scoffed, unaware of the group of men coming to a stop behind him. Orion wasn’t sure how, the men had an overwhelming aura about them. 

He waved the pistol. “What’s pathetic is pretending like the whole island doesn’t know how unwanted you are. What was it your father told mine, just yesterday?” he tilted his head in thought. 

She braced herself, knowing whatever it was was likely true. His father was the mayor, who had nothing better to do than gossip. And Tango had nothing better to do than spread that gossip. “Akio was the only child they wanted?”

Duh, she thought with another eyeroll. “Is that all?” 

She glanced at the group of men again, aware that they had paused to observe their interaction. It wasn’t everyday you saw teens threatening each other, she guessed. 

“Hm.” Clearly expecting a different reaction, Tango continued after a brief falter. “He also said you’re the reason he’s dead,” he smiled wickedly. 

Her grip on the hilt tightened. 

It didn’t go unnoticed. “And you’re, well, dead weight to them now,” the three boys laughed. “‘Useless’ is the word he used. Even told my father how he wishes it was you who had died instead. Said your mother can’t look at you without thinking of him.”

Regretfully, she felt her right eye twitch. It’s nothing you didn’t already know . 

It wasn't like it was a secret. 

“And,” he added as a final blow, finally holding the gun steady. “He said he needed to get rid of the extra mouth to feed. Asked if I’d be interested in marryin’ you so he could stop seeing you every day.”

Her face screwed up in disgust at the thought, too disturbed about the last part to be hurt by the rest. 

“Naturally my father declined.” Tango looked just as repulsed, eyeing her reaction. “But it pains me to see someone so desperate to get rid of their child.” With a slight fumble of the holster he finally pointed the gun at her and yanked back the hammer. “Why don’t I help them out—”

“I’ve told you before,” Orion had her dagger pulled out in record time, flipping the blade towards her and knocking the gun out of Tango’s hand with a bruising hit to his wrist with the hilt, careful to mind the sharp edge. “You don’t pull a gun out unless you’re going to use it,” she stated flatly, ignoring the incredibly amused grins the two men in front of the group wore as she flipped her weapon back over properly.

It was with a fleeting glance after they laughed loudly, drawing the attention of the teens that she noticed they had their hands placed on their weapons too. 

“‘Little Miss is correct. You know what Captain says about pistols,” the taller man said to the others. Older, if the gray curls tied back were any indication. She found herself vaguely fascinated by the large, X-shaped scar crossing over the left side of his face. “And there’s that old saying of why boys like pulling on girls’ pigtails.”

“This seems to be a little more than a schoolboy crush, Benn,” the blonde next to him said, hand on his own pistol with a glare settling on the boys. 

“I’d rather throw myself into the sea,” Orion spat to the delight of the older patrons, twirling her dagger and returning it to its place on her waist. 

“You've done enough to disturb the peace, boys,” the lady who did tarot readings next to her finally said, cackling as she fussed with her cards. “It's time to return home with your tail between your legs. The sands of fate don’t wait for anybody and I need to make a livin’. Can't do it with this ruckus.”

Tango flushed at the amount of eyes now on him. He turned to leave and cradled his wrist as his eyes burned into Orion’s. “This isn’t over, bitch.”

She waved him along, unwilling to sigh a breath of relief until the trio were gone. It was an easy decision to shove the emotions over what he had said deep down.

“Now that that’s over, what do we have here, little lady?” The men peered down at her stall, eyeing the goods that were still available. 

She allowed another wary moment to pass before slipping back into the saleswoman persona she enjoyed utilizing while selling.

“The best metal on the island,” she replied confidently. Her father might be awful, but the craftsman made some damn good swords.

“Ahh,” the man with the scar hummed.  “Makes sense why you know your way around a blade.”

She snorted. “Only know enough to sell them.” The girl counted six men in total hovering around her table, and though she kept an easygoing smile on her face, her hand was back on the hilt of her dagger. “And to keep the idiots at bay.”

“That so?” He noticed too, smiling around the cigarette that hung precariously hanging from his mouth. “Captain’s been looking for a new blade, been a while since we’ve stopped here,” he turned around to glance at the group, missing the way her eyes widened at the word. 

Captain. 

Pirates. She forced herself to remain still, eyes flickering suspiciously between the men to make sure none of them tried to snag something without paying. There’d been two such cases of it today already and she sorely didn’t want to clean up blood again.

“Captain around?” the man asked the blonde who shrugged, choosing instead to look closer at a short blade. 

“How much does this one go for, lass?” He picked the cutlass up.

“80,000 beri,” she answered evenly, offering a saccharine smile when he sputtered at the price, setting it back down. Father did say he wanted her to upsell, after all. She’d keep the extra since he couldn’t keep his mouth shut around the Mayor… again . “It might sound high, but you won’t find quality like this anywhere else in the Grand Line. I guarantee it.” At his stare, she gestured to a bowl of keychains she made when she wasn’t working or sleeping. “I’ll throw in one of those for free.”

“Little miss is right,” a warm voice interrupted the man’s stammering. The group parted for him easily. “Bought a sword from here a few years ago and been good to me.” A man, tan and toned, if the chest peeking out from his barely buttoned dark blue shirt was any indication, stepped in front of her and smiled so brightly that Orion had to blink a few times. Maybe they’re not pirates, after all. 

No, she realized after her eyes finally made their way up to the man’s hair, so red it rivaled the tuna the old man next to her was selling. They are.

“Might even be the same stand,” the man, the captain , looked at her with a curious eye, flickering between the sign above her head and her face. He leaned in far, far too close for her comfort, grinning all the while. “Pretty sure you’re the same lass who helped sell it, if my memory serves me right.”

“Sorry,” The teen raised an eyebrow, flicking the dirty blonde bangs out of her face. She leaned back, willing her blush away; she wasn’t used to pirates smelling so good. “But who are you?” It didn’t matter that she already knew; it’d be hard for anyone to forget that hair.

Her question made him pout though, causing the small group to erupt in laughter, the other men elbowing him in amusement before wandering off, leaving just the captain and the graying man. Benn, she recalled. “She’s a delight, this one.”

Captain Shanks of the Red Hair Pirates introduced himself with a confident tone and a firm handshake, eyes twinkling as he insisted that he definitely remembered her from all those years ago.

“You asked so many questions about pirates I thought you and your brother would become one of us one day!” he smiled again. She couldn’t detect any malice or teasing in his tone as her cheeks burned at the memory, eyes prickling a bit.

“Yeah, well,” Orion swallowed. “So did we.” There’s a hint of wistfulness present in her statement, but she shakes it off, forcing a tight smile onto her face. She has to meet a quota, after all. “So what brings you to Torappu?”

Captain Shanks didn’t ask more about her brother. “Just passing through. West Blue’s always fun, but we’re headed back to the Grand Line. Pirate things to do, and all,” he winked. 

He needs to stop that. Orion felt her face getting hot again. 

Benn rolled his eyes.

“What’s it like,” she eventually responded when her cheeks weren’t as hot, unaware that her voice had settled to a whisper. “Being a pirate?”

Both pairs of eyes lit up at the question, looking at each other in amusement. “You asked that before, all those years ago,” the captain leaned to one side, humming and placing a hand on his hip. Orion noticed faintly that he only had one arm now. “Didn't you?”

“No, it was…” She shook her head, her mind floating to the memory before responding faintly, if only a tad forlorn. “My brother did.”

He gave her a gentle smile, having caught on to her thinly-veiled grief. “Being a pirate,” Captain Shanks said, eyes flickering to the girl’s blade. “Is the freest one can be.”

“You said that last time too.” Orion is suddenly overwhelmed by the same wave of emotions that she felt all those years ago. The ones that pushed in her chest and pulled at her heart. 

With a sigh she bottled it up inside again, unwilling to think about it except for in the privacy of her blankets later. “So,” swallowing hard, the girl taps her fingers on the table in an anxious fashion, gesturing to the sword the pirate wore. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Huh?” He blinked, looking down in surprise at the change in topic. “Oh, nothing!” the man exclaimed. “It’s still just as perfect as it was the day I got it.” With a charming grin he unsheathed it, handing it to her to inspect. 

She mused at the craftsmanship of the blade, agreeing that her father’s work still held up. 

Not that she’d ever tell him that. 

Carefully, she handed it back, shocked the pirate captain even gave it to her in the first place. He could kill me without it, Orion thought. “What are you looking for then?”

His expression seemed introspective. “Something new,” he finally answered. She felt a shift in his gaze, and his eyebrows furrowed a bit before the worry was wiped away, eyes flickering to his friend and back at her. The same teasing lilt colored his tone again. “You got anything shiny?”

It succeeded in making her laugh, and she willingly showed him several of the newer wares her father made, the freshly polished ones from this morning. 

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

The bundles of beri bouncing in her bag brought a satisfied smile to Orion’s face as she strolled home the way she came, wondering how quiet of an evening she could have if she decided to skip dinner and head straight to bed when she got back.

“Ow!” Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, sudden pain on her head. She looked down, hand flying up to where a rock had just been hurtled into her. 

Her eyes widened at the sight of it at her feet. Quickly, she bent down to pick it up. Whipping her head to the direction the rock came from, she swore. A little over fifty feet away, a large group of teenagers were sprinting full force at her, holding an array of weapons. 

It took all of two seconds to recognize who was smiling wickedly at her and only one to choose whatever punishment abandoning her father’s cart would land her in over letting the group catch up to her. Hiking her bag up higher, she promptly tossed the cart aside, turned to beam the rock back and sprinted away, chancing a look behind her to see if she’d made contact. “Shit!” 

Was that a pitchfork? She couldn’t stop the string of curses if she wanted to, her heartbeat thumping wildly at the ambush.

Tango had somehow gathered his entire gang to hunt her, it seemed. He shouted as her rock nailed him in the forehead (she snickered) and she couldn’t stop the insult loftily thrown over her shoulder if she tried, the pride from landing a hit while so distracted too great. It didn’t help that her usually acute awareness of when to keep her mouth shut never worked around the asshole. “Shouldn’t you be washing your face or something?” 

She didn’t have to see his reaction as she bounded across the moist grass and trampled flowers. The boy simply roared. “You’ve pissed me off for the last time! I’m gonna kill you!” 

“Really,” Orion huffed, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and willing herself not to trip down the steep hill.  As if he wasn’t the one who threw it first!

Another wave of rocks soared over her, blending in with the setting sky against her silhouette frantically running home. 

It’s her own fault, really. 

She was lucky looking back one time without stumbling. It didn’t seem her luck extended to another. 

Tango’s face was bright red, his eyes unable to hide how fucking murderous he was. It seemed he was serious this time.

His eyes were the last thing she saw before gravity laughed at her, and she fell hard.

Dammit. The world is a blur of round chaos as she went rolling down the hill, finally coming to a stop roughly against a pile of boulders near one of the cliffs. 

It only took seconds for them to catch up to her. 

“Happy birthday,” Tango sang mockingly, the bright smile he had that could be handsome if he weren’t so terribly horrible of a person blinding her. 

It’s with a faint and stupid thought while her head flops back against the earth that Orion thinks she could be flattered that her bully is the only person who remembered her birthday. As it were, however, he said it while kicking her ( hard ) from her spot on the ground, so she decided to not think too highly of the action. 

“Or should I say, happy death day?”

"Clever." An eye roll happened on its own accord. A handful of kicks are given all over her body in return. 

Orion wheezed.

“Grab her,” Tango ordered. The others do as he says, all too eager to obey him. 

Orion’s eye was rapidly swelling, she could feel it. There was a mild panic rising in her now; their disputes often ended with the girl fleeing to her house or running until he got tired. 

This was different. 

The boys drug her to the cliffside, the waves of the sea crashing far, far below them. Hundreds of feet below them.

She shuddered. 

Alarm bells rang loud in her head. Orion knew she wouldn't be able to get away easily this time. Her right hand twitched, aching to grab her dagger and stab it through the boy’s stupid mouth but suddenly and painfully it was twisted back with a quick order. The weapon was seized and dangled in front of her.

Her bully knew all of her tells, after all. 

“Here,” Tango sneered after she rose painfully on her knees, fully prepared to tackle him as a last resort.

The group surrounded her on all sides; the only open space was at her back, where the edge was. Full and complete desperation filled her lungs. 

There was no way she could barrel through them all. 

“A birthday present.” A dark orb was tossed onto her lap carelessly. “Eat it.”

“What?” Orion couldn’t stop the question, looking at the object with a faint groan, her ribs would no doubt be bruised in the morning, if she miraculously lived until then. “Not hungry, thanks.”

“Eat it,” Tango repeated, poison laced in his tone as he gestured to the cliff’s edge that was kissing her heels. Her heart plummeted. “Or jump into the sea.”  

She licked her lips, dry from the unforgiving salty air. Finally, she looked up at him. “Why?”

“Today was the last straw,” he spat. “You’ve embarrassed me for years.”

“You’ve tormented me for years!” she yelled back indignantly, hair whipping around angrily in the wind. “I never did anything to you!” 

“You lived!”

She couldn’t stop the laugh if she tried.  

“He was my friend,” Tango snarled, his voice breaking a little in a way that she’d laugh at if he wasn’t about to kill her. "Everyone will be happier with you gone."

“You barely knew him.” Exasperated, she locked her gaze with him. “He was my brother.” Unwilling to indulge him any longer, she rolled her eyes. “If I jump into the sea,” Orion raised an eyebrow, sounding less terrified than she felt at the thought. “I’ll pull you in with me.”

“Crazy bitch.” Armed with the decade of memories that confirm she would, in fact, do that, they all took a step back. 

Looking down, she briefly considered the object he tossed at her. It was an odd thing.

“Poison,” the whispered glee of the kids behind her tormentor carried over to her in the wind. She can barely hear them over the waves below. Briefly, Orion noticed her hands were trembling. “It’s poison.”

She should have recognized the swirls on it, but the object, a fruit, maybe, was so dark she could hardly make them out.  

She would have recognized it, too, if only she hadn’t been utterly terrified at the threat of leaping off the side of a hundred-foot cliff. Her brother used to give her lectures on them when they were younger after all, eager for them both to find one and explore the oceans together. 

It was a pretty easy decision, all things considered. She had a better chance of making it home poisoned than in pieces from the rocks below.

Besides, she really, really hated heights.

[snicketstrange]

When did ASOUE happen?

There is evidence, which helps identify the 20th century as the century of ASOUE events. To begin with, it is important that you understand that the calendar exists consistently in the universe of ASOUE.

It is true that the Universe of ASOUE is anachronistic. But anachronisms only exist if you compare Lemony's universe with our universe. In Lemony's universe some people were born at different times from the time these people were born in our universe. Some books have been published at different times. Similarly, some scientific discoveries occurred at different times from the time when these same scientific discoveries occurred in our universe. Fashion is also outdated when compared to our universe. However, none of this makes Lemony's universe timeless. There is a coherent and functional timetable. In addition, some historical facts happened differently. For example, apparently North America is politically divided into several kingdoms.

Despite this, some historical events occurred similarly. For example, there was World War I and Alexander the Great was a great emperor in Lemony's universe.

Here is some evidence that there is a functional calendar in Lemony's universe and that the main story occurs in the 20th century.

TBB CHAPTER 10: "A group of female Finnish pirates invented it back in the FIFTEENTH CENTURY, and named it the Devil's Tongue because it twisted this way and that, in a most complicated and eerie way."

TAA chapter 4 - "I think staples are made in factories," Duncan said ... "I do not think people have made staples by hand since the fifteenth century."

TGG chap. 7 - "Thomas Hobson lived in Britain in the seventeenth century,"

TPP chap. 7: - "The name John Godfrey Saxe is not likely to mean anything to you, unless you are a fan of American humorist poets of the nineteenth century."

Note that in the latter case especially, Lemony refers to the 19th Century as being in the past. So of course the recorded history can only happen from the 20th century onwards.

In addition, in the UA in chapter 10, we have the date of publication of several books, including the publication dates of books 1 and 2 of ASOUE as the year 1999. By placing those dates in the text of the UA Daniel Handler evidently transported those dates for the Lemony Snicket universe. As Lemony was writing about the past, the main story must have happened in the 20th century.

In addition, Daniel Handler hid the date Oct 77 in a photo in the Autobiography in Chapter 3, making it clear the intention to bring the chronology of the series to the end of the 20th century.

Now, I'll try to show a method I've identified to estimate when the main ASOUE events happened.

As I said in The UA there is a photo with a date in Chapter 3 (page 49). According to the record of the VFD meeting, the photo shows the scene recorded by a suspicious photographer who photographed two complete strangers and one of VFD agents. The date shown in the photo is Oct 77, and we can deduce that it is October 1977. The three agent possibilities are W, H and O. Probably the three possibilities would be Widdershins, Hector or Olaf. Olaf and Hector are about the ages of Lemony Snicket, especially Hector, who according to ATWQ, is only a year younger than Lemony. That means that Lemony in October 1977 would be a young adult man, as shown in the photos. According to the same meeting, when the photo was taken, such an "L" that would have official representative "D" was not present in the vicinity of where the meetings of this unit of VFD happened. This scenario fits perfectly with the introduction of the UA which says that Danel Handler (D) is the official representative of Lemony (L). The meeting evidently happened after Lemony's first escape abroad after Lemony's marriage was canceled, for Geraldine Juliene had already begun publishing her column on Secret Organizations in the Journal. So we can say who in October 1977, Beatrice had already canceled her marriage to Lemony and Lemony was certainly a young adult.

The second reference date is found in a letter from Lemony to Beatrice in TBL. In the letter from LS to BB # 2 we find the term "Year of the Snake" as a date. This is a reference to the Chinese calendar. The years of the snake repeat every 12 years. And some examples of years of the Snake are 1989, 1977, 1965, 1953, 1941, 1929, 1917. (You can check this easily on Google). Note this is Lemony's second letter to Beatrice. In the first letter Lemony claims to be 11 years old. Already in the second letter Lemony states that he is still in VFD theoretical training. As we know, Lemony's theoretical training ended when he was 12, and that's when Lemony went to Stain'd-by-the-Sea. So the letter from LS to BB # 2 was sent when Lemony was 11 or 12 years old.

Now, of the possibilities of the years of the snake, the one that makes the most sense is that Lemony wrote his second letter to Beatrice in 1965, because in 1977 Lemony was 23 or 24 years old. Lemony was born between 1952 and 1954 (The age evidently depends on the month in which he was born, so for example, if he was born in December 1952, in January 1965 he would still be 12 years old). According to Uncle Monty's words on TRR, Monty was taking care of VFD snakes for over 40 years. And according to the words of the

the man with a beard, but no hair and the woman with hair, but no beard in TSS during the Great Schism, the "noble" side of VFD remained with the serpents.

This seems to indicate that at the time of Schism, Uncle Monty was left with the snakes. Thus, the main story of ASOUE takes place about 40 years after Schism.

Lemony was one of the last babies to get a tattoo, because apparently it immediately happened to Schism. Beatrice, for example, apparently does not have a tattoo, because after the Schism, the VFD leaders stopped tattooing the neophytes. 

So, about 40 years after the birth of Lemony is when the main story happened, this brings us between 1992 and 1994 (with a error of 2 years for more or less)

Thus, the main story of ASOUE occurred in the early 1990s.

[i-stan-too-much]

Sope Fic Recs

Here are some of my favorite Sope (Yoonseok) fics, because I’ve read a LOT and I’d like to share some of them with you :-

[ these are in no particular order and there are also some others I’ve wanted to share but unfortunately, they’ve been deleted :( ]

* - omg, this is very good

**- wow, this is a work of art

***- this is so good to the point that I’ve reread it so many times and yet I still fall in love with it just like the first time

1. Darling!*** By margotty (orphan_account)

— Hoseok is an aspiring writer who keep notes about a certain boy with soft black hair, lashes that feather in the wind and a nose that twitches when he's pissed.

Hoseok wakes one day to find that boy, the one he'd so often referred to as "Darling" is in his kitchen, making pancakes in Hoseok's pajama clothes.

(Basically Yoongi is a figment of Hoseok's imagination and he's come to life.)

//

This fic is one of those fics that when you just read the first sentence, you know that it’s going to be a good one. The plot is especially well thought out, the idea behind this fic is really cool, from the way that Hoseok first deals with the fact that there’s this ‘stranger’ that’s come to life from his notes, to how he learns to welcome Yoongi pretty soon after and learns to love him in such a short period of time. I also really like this fic’s ‘soft aesthetic’ like when Yoongi and Hoseok ride on Hoseok’s bike all over town, and how Yoongi is described with a certain delicacy. The first time I read this fic was on a school night - or shall I say day, at 3:00 am and after I was done, I had to go and reread it.

2. i can be ur pretty boy (i’ll wear a skirt for u)** By ohh

sugarmin, from what Hoseok gathers, is a goddamn tease. His profile picture is the lower half of his face, dewy cheeks, button nose, and a dangly earring hanging from one of his ears visible, but what puts the icing on top of the cake is this: his pretty pink mouth, suckling delicately on a heart-shaped lollipop. i have a gun in my bag, his bio says. Angel or devil, Hoseok doesn’t know, but he craves.

And oh, how Hoseok craves.

or, a story of new neighbours, boba teas, hidden identities, and riding the penny board under the summer sun.

//

This fic has two stars because it incorporates smut with a nice plot. Again I love the ‘soft aesthetic’ vibes that Yoongi gives off. I also like how Yoongi shows a more feminine side, and how both characters aren’t subjected to toxic masculinity. The fic itself is great, Hoseok kind of has a crush on this instagram model, the model being Yoongi, and Yoongi ends up moving to be Hoseok’s next door neighbor, and the rest is history.

3. Canvas** By Daebon

The paintbrush is poised above skin, ready to continue its work, but Hoseok finds that he's suddenly in far too deep. Now, the man beneath him has become the artist, coloring Hoseok’s world in vivid shades of passion.

His trembling hand lets go, brush clattering to the floor, splattering paint.

“Yoongi, I want you,” he whispers, voice low.

The elder stares back at him with a peculiar expression. “I already agreed to let you paint me.”

“No,” Hoseok rasps out, shaking. “Yoongi, I want you.”

———

Haunted by strange dreams, Yoongi begins to question the blurry line between right and wrong. Hoseok has the perfect life, but yearns for a muse other than his provocative boyfriend. Unfortunately, these troubled men find each other before they find themselves.

//

This fic has the potential of getting three stars, but the reason I gave it two was for the ending (this fic contains angst.) Now that being said, this fic is on a whole other level of literary techniques, the writer could even be a bestselling author, with how well this is written. Even if you don’t like angst, I’d recommend you give this one a go, because of how well written it is.

4. Love Yourself*** By endearings

It begins when he’s ten.

“Yoongi-ah,” his brother says, eyes glinting meanly. “You look a little chubby these days. Maybe don’t eat the ice cream, yeah?”

Yoongi puts the spoon down; curls into himself, drawing his knees to his chest despite the countless times he’s been told to sit properly at the dining table. “It’s just--just one bite, hyung; It’s not a lot.”

“Suit yourself.”

//

This fic will make you cry!! I put this one on here because of the message. You can tell that Yoongi has been insecure, and his family didn’t really help him feel better about himself, but Hoseok did. And maybe I put this one on here because I can relate personally to it (my best friend has been dealing with insecurities and body image for a long time now) but I still think that you should read this. I feel like it will really open your eyes. Disclaimer 99.9999% you’ll cry when you read this, so I don’t advise to read it in a public place.

5. The Diner** By psychojimin

"He tried really hard not to stare when that new employee came out of the kitchen for a second time. He tried really hard not to sniff when he passed by. There was just something about the man that made something stir inside of Hoseok, that made a comforting warmth grow in the pit of his stomach. The coffee in his mug had seemed to be cooled down enough and he took a sip, but the still scorching drink almost felt refreshing against his heated tongue."

//

I kind of debated putting this one on here, because I know a lot of people aren’t really interested in a/b/o, or are uncomfortable with smut. If you are, then you can go ahead and skip this one, but I put this one down for the people that have been looking for good ‘Alpha Hoseok’ and ‘Omega Yoongi’ fics. Not to mention, the smut in this is really good, but there’s still a plot.

6. Under the Same Sky*** By Lastwhalien For Mia95 [on going]

"The sky he wakes up to is not his sky."

One night ends as another begins.

Yoongi and Hoseok are half a world a way, living very different lives and yet they are intertwined when they begin to share their senses, irreversibly connecting their worlds.

Hoseok is the son of Durumi, not just a criminal empire but the empire, it is the machine that turns the world, manipulating money, world leaders, crime, and the rise and fall of power. He's good at his job, he was born for it, raised for it, but a coup has given his father the perfect chance to remove Hoseok from power, trapped in his apartment he's restlessly waiting.

Yoongi has escaped his past carrying the guilt of his mistakes he has rebuilt his life near the sea where he works on recreating the world as best he can, His life is calm, removed from the chaos it once held, but it still follows; a name he can never have, a family he can never truly be a part of.

One day they start to share their worlds, to see, to hear, to touch, to smell, to taste, to be two souls, two bodies, bound.

//

This one is so good!! Yoongi and Hoseok start off as complete strangers who appear in each other’s dreams. Then they realize that they can communicate with each other, and read each other’s thoughts. This one isn’t complete yet, but it’s so interesting and I can’t wait for the next chap. The plot is very interesting and the writer knows how to thicken the plot without dragging it out too much. The suspense will eat you alive!! Whether you want to start this fic right away or wait until it’s completed is totally up to you though.

7. wake up (to the sound of your fleeting heart)*** By inkingbrushes

Yoongi walks into Hoseok's dreams and it's surprising, sure, but it's a surprise that Hoseok welcomes.

//

This one too, is one of those that makes you wonder, how do people come up with such things?! This one is one of the older ones, and yet I still remember the first time I read it and how in awe I was, that someone wrote this and that they were THAT GOOD. Ever since, this writer has been one of my favorites and go to for bts fics.

8. stay (a little longer)** By ineedmygirl

That part of Hoseok that shut down when Yoongi left, that huge gaping space left in his brain and in his chest - it shut down to protect him

It was the part of Hoseok that knew, deep down, all along, that he was in love with Yoongi. And it knew that if Hoseok realized it back then, the heartbreak would devastate him beyond repair.

And now, that part of Hoseok is awake again.

or, Hoseok's best friend disappeared two years ago without a trace. They run into each other again in a seedy hotel in the middle of nowhere, and somehow Hoseok convinces him to join him and his friends on a road trip.

//

This one is a more recent one, so if you’ve read the ones I’ve listed above there still might be a chance that you haven’t read this one. This one is perfect for when you just need a casual fix to read when you’re home alone on a weekend and you’re bored and just snuggled up in your bed all warm. When I read this one, it just made me go aww. And when I reread it, it also made me go aww.

9. we’ll be looking for sunlight* By inkingbrushes

Yoongi thinks Hoseok's got a smile that can rival the sun.

(Or: the one where they meet during a cold winter night and Yoongi has no idea the boy with the million-dollar smile can turn everything he touches into ice.)

//

This one is the Jack Frost au you didn’t know you needed. I love all things Disney and Dreamworks and this fic was no exception. After typing all of this out, I questioned whether this one should really be on here, but why not. Who doesn’t like Disney or Dreamworks am I right?

10. The Things Worth Going To War For*** By softlyblue

“Spice and silk and trade and cloth. These are the things one goes to war over, but in my heart of hearts, I know they are not worth it.”

- quoted from a letter penned by the Crown Prince to his lover, at the end of the Southern War

*

“It’s got ears,” says the man that’s choking him. Hoseok. “Look, look. It’s got - like a cat.”

“Let me-” Yoongi wheezes, phlegm in the back of his throat, stars in his eyes, “Let me-”

“So Jungyoo wasn’t lying.”

Hoseok pushes harder. Yoongi realises faintly that he isn’t even touching the ground; Hoseok is holding him against the wall, Yoongi’s feet dangling uselessly a foot from the floor. “Why are you here?”

“He’s got the house markings,” Seokjin stretches over Hoseok’s shoulder and presses a thumb to the centre of Yoongi’s forehead, smearing the makeup there. The warpaint. “Maybe-”

“But why’s he got ears?”

Yoongi claws ever-more desperately. (Oh, if Jeongguk could see him now - he’d be a disgrace.)

“Hoseok-ah, I think you’re choking it.”

//

This one is also really good. I really like the relationship between Yoongi and Hoseok. Both start off hating each other at first, but slowly turn to acquaintances, then to friends, and finally to lovers. I remember this fic used to get updated every Sunday, and I would look forward to the end of the week just for this one. Disclaimer though, there are A LOT of ocs (original characters) so if you get confused a lot or are a little slow, you may want to at least skim through the previous chapters for names to have an idea of what’s going on (trust me this is from experience, I had to reread the entire thing)

11. Ripped At Every Edge, But We’re A Masterpiece** By superrunnaturall

Min Yoongi and his muse, Jung Hoseok.

//

I really like this fic, because you can really see the contrast between Yoongi and Hoseok’s background and where they came from. This one is also pretty old, but there might be a chance that you haven’t read it yet. The fact that Yoongi is a painter is a really good bonus might I add.

12. the prince’s vivisected* By cherryfluffyfuzzysocks [ongoing]

while the rest of the household worries over namjoon's strange behavior following prince jungkook's birthday, yoongi sets his mind on a different task.

he wants hoseok back in the house, whatever that takes. five years of enslavement together was horrific, but one month apart is unbearable. as yoongi prepares to work himself dead, the past continues to haunt the present.

**second work within a continuous series

//

This fic isn’t even my favorite of the series, but I added it because I think that this entire series is SO COOL. The idea of a kind of dystopian universe, where all humans are controlled by aliens has been overdone, but not when Jungkook’s the alien, that’s controlling everyone. I think that kind of adds a special touch especially when you see that even though the rest of bangtan are slaves to Jungkook (minus Hoseok) each one of them is kind of struggling with something different, and this series is covering exactly that. Each member (or two) will cover a fic and even though not all the fics will be sope I think that this one is still a must. Disclaimer, Jungkook is a huge asshole, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, here is a fic rec list with bottom Louis fics that are very long - specifically, 100k words or longer. Happy reading!

1) To Embroider Your Waist With Corals | Explicit | 100700 words

All harpy Louis has known is the sky, all merprince Harry has known is the sea, except when they're together.

2) Swim In The Smoke | Explicit | 101778 words

“What about this, Captain?” Liam asks, nudging the boy kneeling between their feet with the toe of his boot. The boy hisses and swipes at him, slurring out something unintelligible around the makeshift gag Niall had to stuff in his mouth. He misses by a mile and tries again, just as ineffectively.

Harry looks down at him, at the way the sun streams over his face and shoulders, at the way the gag stretches his mouth, lips pink and chapped. He’s lithe and pretty, smudged all over with dirt. They had found him tied up below deck, mostly unconscious, next to a barrel full of gold. He’s clearly a prisoner, but there’s something familiar about him, something that niggles at Harry’s brain. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Put him in my cabin,” Harry decides, turning back to deal with the rest of the loot. The boys screams out jumbled curse words at Harry’s back, muffled by the gag, and Harry can’t understand any of it.

3) You Drive Me Crazy (But It Feels Alright) | Explicit | 102036 words

Note: Mention of BH.

Bridget Jones' Diary AU.

“Harry is not short for Harold,” he corrects, his voice as thick as molasses. He lowers his eyes to Louis’ sequined lapels, rubbing one between two fingers. “Is this small or extra small? It looks lovely.”

Louis breaks away from his grip with a petulant huff and pushes him back with two fingers.

“You’re mocking me. Again.”

Harry smiles and it's a real honest swoop of his lips this time. Louis’ stomach swoops with them.

4) The Galaxy’s Edge | Explicit | 113921 words

In which Louis is a bounty hunter with a messed up past. Harry is a prince who just wants to prove himself. Niall and Zayn have too many things to figure out together. And Liam just wants to take care of his family.

5) Burn To Ash | Explicit | 116004 words

Harry is sitting there, so fucking casual, and Louis realizes in a split second he was not ready. When Harry walked out in Detroit and never looked back, he was a boy verging on a man, still only twenty years old, but there's a man in his place now. Hard and resolute, yes, but still, for the first time in a long time, Louis can kind of see the old Harry in him. The soft, directness of his gaze, the hesitant smile he gives to Lou, the way he wrings his ridiculously large hands in his lap.

He's a little bit the eager sixteen year old puppy dog again, his innocence and sweetness resurrected miraculously, and Louis freezes in place. He was prepared to face the asshole Harry. He was prepared to meet a whole new Harry.

Louis is not prepared to meet one of the old incarnations of Harry, and it absolutely tears him up.

6) Never Be | Explicit | 117522 words

The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

7) I Have Your Dreams (And Your Teeth Marks) | Explicit | 118000 words

Note: This fic was recently deleted, but we’ve linked to a PDF for private use ONLY. Please do not repost the fic anywhere.

Louis and Harry don't believe in second chances, but sometimes it feels like the universe does. A Music Industry/Getting Back Together AU.

8) Baby Heaven’s In Your Eyes | Explicit | 120925 words

They couldn’t be more different if they tried. Louis Tomlinson is 17 years old and in his last year of the most prestigious private school in Doncaster. Everyone who attends his school knows him thanks to his incredibly rich family, sassy attitude and gorgeous girlfriend, Eleanor Calder. If there’s one thing that completely annoys him, it’s that there is a poor community college right across the street.

Harry Styles is 19 years old, and (once again) in his last year of college. He goes to community college in Doncaster. He never shows up to classes and if he actually bothers to, he’s either high or drunk; sometimes both. His skin is littered with tattoos and if there’s one thing he absolutely hates, it’s the snobby students attending the private school right across from his.

9) Among the Humans | Explicit | 129435 words

A gothic, modern day vampire romance between a young human named Louis Tomlinson, and Harry Styles, ancient vampire and gentleman.

Creatures of the night come with more trouble than they wish to make it seem.

10) Run Like the Devil | Explicit | 138084 words

Note: Mentions of BH.

Supernatural AU. Louis hunts demons; Harry's the strangest demon he's ever met, and he keeps fucking meeting him.

11) The Breaking Of Your Soul (Upon My Lips) | Explicit | 138499 words

The one in which One Direction in 2015 still includes Zayn, and nothing has been right between Harry and Louis for a long time now. Louis is certain that the situation he finds himself in won't change anything at all - he doesn't want it to, if he is honest with himself, as he doesn't want this situation to be a situation in the first place.

12) You Are The Blood | Explicit | 175151 words

Note: Mentions of BH.

A seventh-year Hogwarts AU in which Niall gets all the girls, Liam goes on a journey of self-discovery, Zayn falls in love, Harry wants something more, and Louis tries to figure out once and for all why he, a Muggleborn, was sorted into Slytherin. 

13) I Only Ever Want You | Explicit | 180079 words

Louis and Harry's relationship goes through a series of changes while Liam and Zayn discover new things about themselves, as well.

14) Cold Little Heart | Teen & Up | 194577 words

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child.

A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd.

In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham. Louis really could use the help.

15) All I Want | Explicit | 289311 words

When Harry and Louis got together it wasn’t under the best circumstances. Louis was taken by another. But go figure that the way they ended up together is the very same way it ended. And Harry left Louis. He left him with a lot more than he thought. A story about how people’s misconceptions almost destroyed a love that went beyond measure.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[bella-vida-bellarke]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Anne with an E (TV), Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Anne Shirley & Gilbert Blythe Characters: Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe, Marilla Cuthbert, Matthew Cuthbert, Diana Barry, Josie Pye, Ruby Gillis Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary:

It has been six months since Gilbert’s departure at the end of the season and this is his great return to Avonlea to find Anne and Diana speaking of a great ball to be had! Whimsical dancing and angst are sure to ensue! A series of nonlinear ficlets about Anne and Gilbert’s (mis)adventures in Avonlea, primarily composed of requests I receive.

Chapter 1: of new beginnings Never had Anne ever experienced such delight as when she heard the news of a ball fast approaching this coming season. All of Avonlea had been invited to the momentous occasion, even the simple Anne Shirley herself, by her dear friend Diana Barry. The two bosom friends sat outside their school house near a quaint stream, sound of which was drowned out by their gaily conversation. The weather was rather pleasant, despite it still being springtime, but warm summer was forthcoming, along with the most exciting events of the season. However, it was still quite chilly due to it being very early in the morn, they had decided to beat most everyone to school, the Barry’s had not sent their invitations yet and they simply had to discuss it for themselves without any meddling distractions. Anne couldn’t help herself from imagining a great stallion, saddled by a most pleasant and wild chap, meandering the wild daisies and dandelions in its wake along the fields before her now. Perhaps on his way to escort a blushing Princess Cordelia to a most outstanding ball. Her majesty would no doubt fashion her most impeccable white dress, as only the most refined of individuals could afford to do so, and she would appear as if a bride, a long embroidered veil afloat with the wind upon her pretty head. Anne was awakened from her most agreeable daydream by Diana, “Oh Anne, you must do your best to convince the Cuthbert’s to let you attend! Tell Marilla it is to celebrate your first year in Avonlea. I won’t tolerate it without you,” she said with undeniable conviction. According to her, the dances had always bored her to no end, there was a strict schedule for all the festivities and she always had to dance with the most disagreeable and uncoordinated of young men, “My ankles always pain me for days afterwards and all of my dresses have been ruined due to their tireless ungainliness!” Anne mused if Diana had ever been given the pleasure to dance with one gallant and very much missed Gilbert Blythe. Well, mostly missed by all the girls, especially Ruby, Anne had much more important things to concern herself with. Like learning how to sew, embroider, cook, bake, and keeping up with her school studies of course; however that was hardly a challenge for her now with Gilbert’s absence. Diana wretchedly replied that she hadn’t, he never could attend due to his father constantly being ill. Anne’s thoughts travelled to her conversation with Gilbert after his father’s funeral and all the times she had obtained a taste of what it must’ve been like for him to have to endure such a painful turn of events. She knew not of his personal turmoil and she had been through enough of them to last her an entire lifetime, even then, she had been careless and oblivious. “Its water under the bridge.”   Gilbert had graciously forgiven her, so she eventually approached some sort of redemption. And so she left the wings of such dark and painful thoughts as Anne refused to be bothered enough to mind the notion of being inconvenienced during a ball, surely Diana was exaggerating, her spirits simply couldn’t be dampened by much of anything, “Oh Diana, at least appreciate the fact that you’ve been able to attend grand balls before! I have never even been in the general vicinity of one, much less attended once in all my years.” But Anne wasn’t currently lamenting herself for her many woes, as she often took a lot of her leisurely time to do so, because now that Gilbert had entered her thoughts, she couldn’t seem to expel him once more. Sometimes, on very rare occasions, Anne liked to imagine a myriad of different adventures Gilbert could be set on, sometimes he was captaining a most threatening ship overseas as a brave pirate. Other times he was engaged in combat with appalling drunkards, usually protecting the helpless. Anne also pictured Gilbert in his more superficially tranquil and pensive moments, when all else fell away and he was left with only himself and his thoughts and the sea and she wondered if he might have also ever stopped to think about what she might be achieving during these six months apart. Did he ever remember their almost kiss? Would things have turned out differently for them? Did he feel the same raw almost impossible pull towards her as she had felt during their unaccompanied and shared moments? She always felt guilty after having such judgements, for she must be the least of his concerns and with good reason. He mustn’t have many positive recollections of their time together, not after she had treated him with such persistent ambivalence for so long. No, but he must think about his father frequently, then did ever cry out to the injustices in this world? When he is alone in the darkness of night, in the shadow of all the grief and suffering that had plagued him, is he ever fuming in the face of the universe, in the face of God even? More often than Anne would like to admit, she worried for Gilbert Blythe and mourned his boisterous laughter, tongue-in-cheek attitude, compassionate fleeting looks and stares she caught when he thought she wasn’t looking. In truth, in her plight towards overlooking Gilbert, her actions had the most contrary effect in her. There is no ignoring someone who always stays near you, in thought or in heart and soul. There’s simply no alluding it. “Please, we’re only fourteen years young,” Diana teased, breaking Anne’s reverie once again, while she committed a rather apparent burglary of Anne’s lemon slices, “So you’re coming?” Anne played coy for a few beats, relishing in Diana’s impatience as she leisurely bit into her scone. Staring off towards the vast and greening fields before her, Anne discerned a most familiar figure making his way towards the school in the distance, “Diana, the most bizarre apparition is currently deceiving me…surely it must be,” Anne gasps, rotating her friend’s head right around to face the clearing and the dark-haired young man moving steadfast for them. Now tanned skin, the brightest of hazel eyes, illuminated by the morning sun, taller in stature, his face longer and with more dimension, but the same wistful dark and curly locks. It certainly must be him. The only way for her to improve upon this sight would be for him to be atop a gallant stallion, then this would certainly match her fantasies. Quickly now, all about the ball was forgotten in puffs of smoke in the figure’s wake. How could it be? The odds of such an event. Today of all days, during this conversation, right here and right now. Anne desired nothing other than to call out to him, to jump and wave her arms as if a bird in flight after being caged for so long without being in the know of having been behind bars at all, but in spite of such fervent desires, she couldn’t find the strength to move an inch. “Well speak of the devil…” Anne gasps, overcome by her sudden urgency to move to scream, to do something adventurous and free. “Anne!” Diana chastised, perturbed by her language. Quite literally, she pulled Anne up from her contemplations to stand alongside her. She cupped her hands over her eyes to shield them from the incoming sun, “I see him too,” she smiled, excitedly turning to Anne. Gilbert wears a very light-green colored shirt, which even from afar, Anne could admire how lovely it compliments his eyes; his clothes are a striking contrast from his coats, hats, scarves, and sweaters he used to wear from this past winter. It suits him, Anne thought, he seems lighter, which doesn’t deter from his immense presence. “Do you think he’s noticed us yet?” Diana asks, her chocolate eyes as bright as ever, matching Anne’s own internal excitement. Oh how she struggles in maintaining a cool composure over herself. “Maybe you should go welcome him back for the both of us,” Anne whispered, turning down towards her packed breakfast in her quick attempt to excuse herself from the situation, “I’ll just go…” In all of her musings, Anne had never the courage to imagine the event of Gilbert’s return. Well, at least never like this, never during a beautiful Friday morning, with the sun glistening off of the trees and their leaves and her eyes and his own in such an attractive fashion… No, she imagined him simply appearing at his desk one day, beside his friend Charlie, pencil and paper at the ready, head slightly tilted towards her at all times, as if a curious bird, always observing. Just… come back someday. Diana grasped at her hands and unceremoniously pulled Anne away from her things, “Don’t do this. Don’t throw away every day you spent with him after his father’s death. Don’t throw away all the progress the both of you made together as friends at last. You worked so hard to amend things between the two of you, so don’t toss it all away.” “I’m not running from anything,” Anne said, pulling herself away. “I never said you were running, but that certainly does match your behavior,” spoke Diana, her eyes wide, revealing Anne’s own fearful ones. Anne hadn’t raised herself to ever be frail or timid or scared or to ever run away. Diana couldn’t have spoken truer words, Anne valued Gilbert very much and didn’t want to escape him. All she wanted was more time. She needed time to think about what to say and most importantly what not to say and she couldn’t do so now and not here. Exclusively because their eyes had inadvertently met across the clearing, sending Anne into a shuddering frenzy in her skin, stomach, heart, and soul. Gilbert’s dark brows furrowed as he himself examined her and she found a hint of recognized as the telltale signs of a grin began to appear upon his expression.   “I’m positive he sees us now,” Diana pointed out, straightening her lovely yellow dress with the most puffed of sleeves and tried to busy herself with Anne’s as well, but she knew not much could be done with such a plain gray dress, at the very least it was new. “Diana, listen to me. I am about to engage in what might seem to most as an improper and unladylike act and so I will trust in you to alert me if you see anyone else coming to the school and to not make this into more of a spectacle afterwards as I will deny all recollection until the day I shall perish,” Anne vowed as she handed her friend her flower adorned hat without further deliberation on her actions. “Anne, you’re frightening me,” Diana said, clutching Anne’s hat and books, but Anne was no longer paying her any attention, as she took a most deliberate breath in order to calm her nerves. Gilbert had begun to wave in their direction, his sweet curls twirling in the wind, he was holding a set of books under his arm, which Anne recognized as her own.     Before she had time to second-guess her feelings, Anne began to run out into the clearing towards a very perplexed Gilbert, defying all expectancies around her of how a lady ought to act, and she ran as if a fiery blaze were assaulting her feet and she didn’t care if her braids were becoming undone against the sweet wind’s current because she only cared for what she wanted and wanted to be unrestricted and rash in this moment, for the hurt of missing Gilbert Blythe had just crashed down onto her. And then from one moment to the next, Anne halted only a mere foot away from Gilbert, breathing heavily now, her chest rising and falling in the space between them. He was so close to her then, his eyes searching hers and Anne boldly met them in kind, still struggling to catch her breath and from this proximity, she could discern his now tautly tanned face, causing the green in his eyes to become more prominent, reminding her of the bottomless emerald lakes throughout Avonlea. Gilbert seemed both immensely surprised and endlessly inviting, the corners of his mouth grew taut and lose in question, but neither had he spoken then. Yet, Anne couldn’t seem to expel words or movement and stood still as a tree in the face of a most unlikely kindred spirit.

Notes: I sure hope all you lovely readers liked the chapter! Please leave me kudos or a comment (or both) to show your support! Feel free to leave requests as I use them to weave the story together! Btw, the next chapter will be in Gilbert’s POV (will there be a hug? a kiss perchance? I guess youll have to stick around and see :)

[barinacraft]

Drinker's Dictionary Defined - What Does It All Mean?

200+ Intoxicating Expressions Meaning Drunk

Ben Franklin published a list of 229 dictionary words, slang definitions and phrases synonymous with being intoxicated in the Pennsylvania Gazette in 1737.† Like similar inebriated sayings used today, these idioms contain a mixture of condemnation and humor to describe being groggy.

The phrases in the dictionary are not borrowed from foreign languages... but gathered wholly from the modern tavern conversation of tipplers.

~ Ben Franklin

However, only one expression actually mentions a tavern and none use ‘bar’ or public house a.k.a ‘pub’ as a reference. That time period reflects the terms used in the second part of the description in the title: America Walks into a Bar: A Spirited History of Taverns and Saloons, Speakeasies and Grog Shops.

Drinkers Dictionary

Here's all of the saucy synonyms for sloshed used during American colonial times that Ben Franklin collected and compiled for printing in his revolutionary newspaper. Many are still popular tippling terms now.

Ever wonder where all these words, idioms and assorted jargon came from?

The history behind the vocabulary of many of these spirited sayings is documented below. Some are fairly obvious, while others need further research.

We'll keep you posted. Enjoy!

Annotated List of Colonial Drinking Terminology:

- A -

He is casting up his Accounts

He's Addled - Which means confused and so are we. How does a word originally meaning urine or liquid manure morph into this definition?‡

Afflicted

In his Airs

- B -

Has been at Barbados - Settlers on this tiny Caribbean island discovered that molasses, a byproduct of the sugar cane industry, could be fermented into alcohol. This first led to a spirited drink called 'Kill-Devil' which later turned into rum once distillation methods were improved. is quite possibly the birthplace of rum.1

  in the Bibbing Plot

Has Drank more than he has Bled

Has Stole a Manchet out of the Brewer’s Basket - A loaf of bread analogy. Grain and yeast is the tie that binds bakers and brewers.

He is as Drunk as a Beggar

He's Bewitch’d

Biggy

Kiss’d Black Betty - A bottle of whiskey in this case; as opposed to a musket, a penitentiary transfer wagon, a whip or the queen of spades et al.

Block and Block

Boozy

Bowz’d

Bridgey

Piss’d in the Brook

Bungey - Sickened; not feeling well.

Burdock’d - Got mead? British Isle beverages made from fermented dandelion and burdock roots have been around since the Middle Ages when Catholic priest and future Saint Thomas Aquinas wandered out for a prayer walk and decided to brew the first two plants he came across.2

Buskey

Buzzey

His Head is full of Bees

He sees the Bears

- C -

He cuts his Capers - An excessive drinking spree, possibly of caper juice (American slang for whiskey).3 Also capernoited: Scottish for muddleheaded or tipsy.

Has taken a Chirriping-Glass - As in a cheer-upping or chirping cup. Yes, that's right. A merry-making glass of liquor that may lead to being cheerfully drunk causing some to sing for joy or even chirp like a bird. You'll probably need to call it a night and hail a taxi home if you ever actually start chirping though.4,5

Come turn up the Boats, let's put on our Coats, and to Ben's there's a chirriping cup; Let's comsort our Hearts, e'ry Man his two Quarts, And to morrow all Hands to cut up;

~ The Whale Fisher's Delight6

He’s been in the Cellar - There's just so many wine varietals to choose from.

Too free with the Creature - Intoxicating liquor, especially whiskey, that Puritan clergyman and Harvard College president Increase Mather called the "good creature of God."7

He is Cagrin’d - Much to his chagrin.

Sir Richard has taken off his Considering Cap - Replaced by the term thinking cap in the late 1800s.

He’s Capable - Or maybe not.

Loaded his Cart

Cat - Katzenjammer, which translates from German as "the cat's misery," is the nausea or headache that goes along with the hangover from drinking.8 Catsood, a corruption of quatre sous, was the price of a drink in WWI France and obviously appeared much later.

Catch’d

Cherry Merry

Cherubimical - Like a child.

Chipper - Perhaps from kipper, meaning cheerful and lively.

Chickery

Chap-fallen

Cock’d - And definitely loaded. May be in reference to Cock ale which is a type of beer mixed with the jellied or minced meat of a boiled chicken along with assorted fruits and spices that was popular in 17th — 18th century England.9

Coguy

Concern’d

Half Way to Concord

Copey

Heat his Copper

Got Corns in his Head

Crack’d

Cramp’d

Crocus - In the Victorian language of flowers, often referred to as floriography, this genus symbolized youthful gladness and mirth causing much merriment and laughter.10,11 Perhaps an Easter Crocus cocktail or two will do the same for you.

Wamble Crop’d - Denotes feeling nausea in his stomach. However, wambling also signifies staggering with an unsteady gait and/or rolling motion which also applies.

A Cup to much

In his Cups

Curv’d

Cut

- D -

He Kill’d his Dog

Has Dipp’d his Bill

He is Disguiz’d

He’s got a Dish

A Dead Man

Dagg’d - A wet fog.

Seen the Devil

He Took his Drops

It is a Dark Day with him

- E -

He has Eat a Toad & half for Breakfast

He is in his Element

He's Enter’d

Prince Eugene - The general of the Imperial Army in August, 1717 personally dispenses extra rations of wine, beer and brandy to his troops to boost their courage as he declares, “Either I will take Belgrade, or the Turks will take me!”12

Got the Pole Evil

Made an Example

Cock Ey’d

Got a brass Eye

Wet both Eyes

- F -

He Owes no Man a Farthing - Former UK coin worth a quarter i.e. 'fourthing' of a penny.

Fears no Man

He’s Been at an Indian Feast

He’s Fetter’d - Shackled with restricted movement.

Fishey

Flush’d

Crump Footed

Sore Footed

Well in For’t

Fox’d

Been to France

Spoke with his Friend

Froze his Mouth

Frozen

Fuddled - Confused and stupefied.

Been to a Funeral

Fuzl’d

His Flag is out

- G -

He had a Kick in the Guts

He’s Been at Geneva

  before George

  with Sir John Goa - All in the family? See Sir Richard Rum.

He’s Booz’d the Gage

Generous

Glad

Glaiz’d

Got the Glanders

Globular

Gold-headed

As Dizzy as a Goose

Got the Gout

Groatable

- H -

He is Half and Half

He's Hammerish

Hardy

Got on his little Hat

Haunted with Evil Spirits

Got by the Head

Top Heavy

Hiddey

Loose in the Hilts

Taken Hippocrates grand Elixir - Please pass the vīnum Hippocraticum. The spiced wine in this medicinal liqueur will surely kill off these intestinal worms that seem to keep coming back.13

Knows not the way Home

Got the Hornson / Got the Horns on.

- I -

He’s Intoxicated

- J -

He has been to Jerico

He is Jagg’d - Rough around the edges.

He's Jambled

Going to Jerusalem

Jocular

Jolly

Juicy

- K -

He Het his Kettle

Clips the King’s English - Proper speech is trimmed back a bit.

He’s Got Kib’d Heels

A King

Seen the French King

Knapt

The King is his Cousin

- L -

He is Lappy - Laps liquid refreshment with his tongue until loopy.

He’s Light

Limber

In Liquor

Well to Live

Lordly

He makes Indentures with his Leggs

- M -

He is Maudlin - Weeping self-pity makes Mary Magdelen seem austere.

He's Mellow

Merry

Middling

Moon-Ey’d

Seen a Flock of Moons

Rais’d his Monuments

Mountous

Muddled - And his drink was probably muddled too.

Muddy

He sees two Moons

- N -

He has Got the Night Mare

He is Nimptopsical

He’s Non Compos - Mentally unsound for sure.

Eat the Cocoa Nut

- O -

He Smelt of an Onion

He is Oil’d

He's Eat Opium

Overset

Oxycrocium - Possibly from Oxycratum, a solution of water and vinegar, or similarly, Emplastrum Oxycroceum, a medicinal plaster made with saffron, olibanum (frankincense), myrrh and vinegar.14,15 Wanna get plastered?

- P -

He has scalt his Head Pan

He Wasted his Paunch

He drank till he gave up his Half-Penny

He’s contending with Pharaoh

He’s been among the Philippians

The Philistines - See Samson.

He is Pidgeon Ey’d

He’s Polite

Priddy - No doubt giddy as well from attending the Folk Festival and Sheep Fair held in this Somerset village since 1348.

In his Prosperity

Eat a Pudding Bagg - High alcohol content prevents spoilage of the dried fruits and spices sweetened with molasses and held together with eggs and suet fat in this dessert that's a cross between haggis and fruitcake. Usually aged for a month or more, containers made from napkin and cloth bags became more popular than the stomach linings and intestines of animals typically used for storage by the mid to late 1600s since they were safer, easier and more convenient.16

Pungey

As good conditioned as a Puppy

- Q -

He’s Quarrelsome

- R -

He is Raddled

He’s Ragged

Rais’d

Like a Rat in Trouble

Been too free with Sir Richard (Rum) - Along with Captain Whiskey and Sir John Barleycorn.17

Religious

Rich

Rocky

Lost his Rudder

- S -

He carries too much Sail

He has got his Top Gallant Sails out

He is right before the Wind with all his Studding Sails out

He's Seafaring

Half Seas over

Sold his Senses

Burnt his Shoulder

Soak’d

Soft

As Drunk as David’s Sow - Tourists, expecting to view a six legged oddity, instead see the English alehouse keeper's wife sleeping herself sober in the stall and say, "she was the drunkennest sow they ever saw."4

Staggerish

Seen the yellow Star

It is Star-light with him

Steady

Stew’d

Stiff

As Stiff as a Ring-bolt

Stitch’d

Been too free with Sir John Strawberry - Any relation to Thomas Goodale, Richard Beere or Sir William Whitewine? See Sir Richard Rum.

Strong

Stubb’d

In the Sudds

Been in the Sun

Swampt

His Shoe pinches him

His Skin is full

- T -

He has had a Thump over the Head with Samson’s Jawbone (of a donkey) - Not enough to kill him, but probably disoriented and acting like an ass.

Swallow’d a Tavern Token

He is Tann’d

He’s Thaw’d

Tipium Grove

Tipsey

Double Tongu’d

Tongue-ty’d

Top’d

Topsy Turvey

Trammel’d

In a Trance

- V -

He makes Virginia Fence - While many Connecticut settlers stacked up over 50,000 miles of rock barrier, some Maryland pilgrims made Virginia Fence by drinking some of the colonial era Stone Fence cocktails that they invented. A reference to the zig zag construction of split rail fencing that resembles a drunkard walking.18

He's Valiant - Sure is brave after he's had a few. See Prince Eugene.

Got the Indian Vapours

- W -

He has been to the Salt Water

He is Water-soaken

The Malt is above the Water

He's Out of the Way

Very Weary

Wet

Drunk as a Wheelbarrow - Like a German general courtiered [sic] off after too many Lambeth ales.19

Wise

References

* - This misquote is from a letter Franklin wrote to Abbe Morellet where he talks about the rain from heaven watering the vineyards down below which then leads to the grapes changing to wine. Although not verbatim, the rest of the quote is accurate. Guess the analogy became popular because its easier to fit on a tee shirt. You can find more wit and wisdom regarding drink and drinking from Ben Franklin in the Poor Richard's Almanack which he published from 1732 to 1758 under the alias Richard Saunders.

† - Franklin, Benjamin. "The Drinkers Dictionary." The Pennsylvania Gazette [Philadelphia] 13 January 1736/7. Print via.

‡ - Joseph T. Shipley, Dictionary of Early English (Lanham, Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2014), 12. Print. Original was same author and New York, NY: Philosophical Library, 1955.

1 - Barbados - The Birthplace of Rum.

2 - Legend has it anyway. Anecdotal evidence surrounding the origins of the friar's supposed divine intervention appear to be unconfirmed.

3 - John Stephen Farmer and W. E. Henley, Slang and Its Analogues Past and Present: A Dictionary, Historical and Comparative, of the Heterodox Speech of all Classes of Society for more than 300 Years. Vol. II. - C. to Fizzle. (For Subscribers Only, 1891), 34. Print.

4 - Francis Grose with assistance from Hell-Fire Dick and James Gordon, Esqrs. of Cambridge; and William Soames, Esq. of the Honorary Society of Newman's Hotel, 1811 Dictionary in the Vulgar Tongue. A Dictionary of Buckish Slang, University Wit and Pickpocket Eloquence. (originally London: S. Hooper, 1785). Print.

5 - Besides cheer-upping or chirping, other word spellings and forms include chirruping, cherupping, cheeruping and chearupping as in the quote, "for he would take a chearupping Cup off in a Corner" via The Fourth and Last Volume of The Works of Mr. Thomas Brown, Serious and Comical in Prose and Verse. (London: Printed for Sam Briscoe, 1720), 229. Print.

6 - "The Greenland Voyage or, the Whale-Fisher's Delight" A Collection of Old Ballads: Corrected from the Best and Most Ancient Copies Extant. Vol. III. (London: Printed for J. Roberts, D. Leach and J. Batley, 1723-1725), 175. Print.

7 - Harry Gene Levine, "The Good Creature of God and the Demon Rum: Colonial American and 19th Century Ideas about Alcohol, Crime and Accidents," pp. 111-161, by Robin Room and Gary Collins, eds., Alcohol and Disinhibition: Nature and Meaning of the Link, NIAAA Research Monograph No. 12. (Washington D.C.: USGPO, 1983).

8 - 17 of the Finest Words for Drinking. Lots of Happy Hour fun. However, katzenjammer only dates back to 1834 for sure, so it may not be the source of this drunken expression from 100 years earlier.

9 - Kenelm Digby, The Closet of Sir Kenelm Digby Knight Opened: Newly edited, with introduction, notes, and glossary by Anne MacDonell (London: Philip Lee Warner, 1910), 147. Print. Includes facsimile reproduction of 1669 original.

10 - H. G. Adams, The Language and Poetry of Flowers (New York: Derby & Jackson, 1858, [c1853]), 31. Print.

11 - As a somewhat contradictory side note, questionable folklore suggests saffron is a magical medicinal herb that strengthens teeth when drank with beer and will chase away wine odors as well as prevent drunkenness when worn around your neck. (via Pliny the Elder in Naturalis Historia, Book 21, section 81, 79 AD. as translated by John Bostock and H. T. Eiley.)

12 - Dyck, Ludwig. "Prince Eugene's Last Ride." Warfare History Network 26 November, 2018. Accessed 23 January, 2019.

13 - Hunt, Leah (translator). "Medieval Hippocras." Old Cook Accessed 27 January, 2019. Note: similar to mulled wine and said to have inspired the creation of Sangria.

14 - Juhanni Norri, Dictionary of Medical Vocabulary in English, 1375-1550: Body Parts, Sicknesses, Instruments, and Medicinal Preparations (London and New York: Routledge, 2016), 776. Print.

15 - C. L. Lochman (translator). Pharmacopoea Germanica: The German Pharmacopoeia (Philadelphia: David D. Elder & Co., 1873), 79. Print.

16 - Kim Connor. "The Pudding Bag — A Revelation." Turnspit & Table 6 September, 2014. Accessed 25 January, 2019.

17 - The Indictment and Trial of Sir Richard Rum (Boston, 1724). Print. A satirical pamphlet with analysis via "The Transit of 'Small, Merry' Anglo-American Culture: Sir John Barley-Corne and Sir Richard Rum (and Captain Whiskey)" by Joel Bernard of the American Antiquarian Society.

18 - Robert Hendrickson, Dictionary of American Regionalisms - Local Expressions from Coast to Coast. (New York: Facts on File, 2000), 153. Print. Originally published in 1933.

19 - Thomas Dilke, The City Lady: or, Folly Reclaim'd. A Comedy Acted by his Majesty's Servants at the Theatre in Little-Lincolns-Inn-Fields. (London: For H. Newman at the Grasshopper in the Poultry, 1697), 5. Print.