#hats off for the lady. shes a monster but she's perfect just as she is

[alicedrawslesmis]

oh man oh man she's so ugly. Tears of joy

[scoutswritingcorner]

The Fallen Lovers

Alastor x GN! Reader

TW: Established relationship! Murder and talks of cannibalism. ANGST BUT THEN FLUFF, I PROMISE. Paranoia and anxiety, crying

A/N:The long awaited prequel of my latest work ‘The Monster That Lurked’! I left what you look like very ambiguous but did describe them as having claws. You do use a cane in this. Rosie is the best wingwoman.

Word Count: 5k

When you had arrived in hell, you were very surprised to see that it wasn’t the fire and brimstone that people had talked about. Well..there was fire but the lack of brimstone confused you greatly. Instead there were buildings lining the walls as random looking demons walked past you like this was the normal thing to do. You guess it was for them, slowly standing up you watched a few demons further down the block kill a weaker looking demon before running off with money and valuables in their pockets.

You turned the other way and started to walk down the street, a limp in your walk, it still hurts to put a lot of pressure down onto your leg. You stopped near a shop and looked into the large window, it was selling different kinds of products and was that…fingers? Your heart dropped and your stomach twisted painfully, where were you at? Hell obviously..that was a stupid question on your own part. Blinking, you watched a very tall woman with a very beautiful maroon dress and a large sun hat as she worked. It couldn’t hurt to ask her right? She seemed quite friendly despite being in hell, you had to try. Walking over to the doors the best you could with the constant limp bothering you, you shyly walked in ignoring the dreading feeling that you had just walked into a lion's den.

As soon as you got close but still kept your distance if you needed to run, you rubbed your palm onto your shirt. “Excuse me ma’am?” You called out to the much taller lady, she immediately turned around smiling. Your undead heart jumped seeing her black eyes and smile that was full of sharp teeth. “Yes? Oh! A new face, I’ve never seen you around here before, Darling!” She called out, putting the box of more fingers down on the counter. “I-I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am..truly sorry I just..arrived here and I’m quite confused.” You reply trying to calm your nerves as she stared at you, the fact you were dead and in hell of all places is just something you couldn’t wrap your mind around. All you could remember is just wanting to surprise your husband after his rough day.

“Oh of course! Come in, come in. Let’s get you relaxed and I’ll answer any questions you have.” The woman had said, guiding you towards a table near the back, you sat down and looked around the store seeing the different types of clothes, medicines and treats that lined the shelves. It was comforting on some level, it reminded you about a shop not too far from your own home that a friend of yours worked at. Well..get rid of the ever lingering smell of blood and flesh then it would’ve been perfect. Leaning back in the chair as the tall lady had walked back in holding a tray with a teapot and some cups on it. Sitting the tray down, she quickly took her place across from you and served you some tea. You were thankful as it had calmed your nerves greatly.

“So dear, how can I help you?” Her voice was soft, almost motherly to an extent as you slowly drank the tea. “I know I’m in hell and I know why or at least I know why..Hell seems different than what the priests have described it..it’s not so fire and brimstone-y with an eternal lake of fire.” You explained placing the cup down before frowning, staring at your own hands. Your nails had morphed into sharp claws as it looked like your hands up to your elbow were dipped into black tar. “It’s hard to wrap my head around and..I don’t want to say I’m scared because I’m truly not…I’m sorry, I ran off on a tangent.” You mumbled out sitting up to stare at the lady before you, a soft smile on her lips.

“No no it’s okay, get it off your chest. This…Is a lot especially to someone who has recently just got down here. Well, as you know Hell is not just one place. 7 rings of hell to represent the 7 deadly sins,” She hummed, waving her hand much like Alastor did when he was about to go off on a tangent and you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. “We are on the Pride Ring, where sinners much like yourself stay. I can’t say much about the other rings but sinners can’t go to the other rings, only hellborn demons and imps can.” You slowly nodded and looked down, listening to her talk. You soon found out her name was Rosie, she was the Overlord of Cannibal Town and you were now even more confused cause what the fuck is an overlord?

The questions in your head swirled as you held the tea cup as the conversation lulled for a little bit, “How do I..in a lack of better words, live? I don’t know where to start and I’d rather not be out on the streets if I’m just going to get killed again.” You replied as Rosie hummed before her grin widened. Gosh, she really did remind you of Alastor at the best of times..you missed him so much. “Why don’t you work with me so I can help you get settled into this new way of living your afterlife?” She hummed and you perked up nodding too stunned to actually question her intentions if she had any. You didn’t speak much after that, only nodding your head if she had asked you a question.

You felt incomplete knowing you were gonna wake up without hearing Alastor’s broadcast and going to bed without the latest gossip from around town. You’d manage right? It’s not like there aren’t other radio stations out there for you to listen in on. A soft hand on yours snaps you out of your own thoughts as Rosie smiles at you, “Is everything okay? You have that far away look on you.” You blinked at the question, you could trust her couldn’t you? She’s been helpful so far..she doesn’t seem like the one who would betray you so easily. “I..I just miss my husband is all..” you whispered out watching as she smiled softly nodding, “I’m sorry, Dear..” She whispered, causing you to smile.

The conversation picked up once more as you both sat there for hours, talking about everything and nothing all at once. 

~~~

It’s been about 2 years now or you’d hope so, time is weird when you are dead. You were currently locked up in your apartment with the windows and curtains drawn, your dresser blocking the door just in case as you heard screams echo from outside. You sat in the darkness of your own bathroom, a bottle of whiskey sitting on the edge of the tub that you were currently laying in, thank Satan you didn’t take a bath this morning. Rosie had warned you about the yearly extermination that takes place to get rid of the overpopulation problem, the first year it had happened you almost got killed (again) and it left you with a pretty nasty scar on your leg that still throbbed in pain every now and then, it sucked now that you still had that damn limp but add the extra burning pain and some days you could barely even stand. Thankfully, Rosie was super understanding about the whole thing.

You yawned and played with the cup in your hands as you patiently awaited for the extermination to be over. You closed your eyes keeping the cup close to your chest as you leaned your head back, you wished you had grabbed a book and a candle, you didn’t want to drink yourself stupid as you waited out this extermination. Your mind drifted back to Alastor, in your final moments the smell of his cologne stuck in your mind and how his bloody and shaking hands held your head to his chest. Tears that weren’t your own hit your cheek as your vision slowly blacked out, you missed him oh so dearly. You don’t think he would love you now, the more demonic looking you..how scars decorated your body to remind you of your gruesome death and even more fatal almost second death. Tears pricked at your eyes at the thought of your beloved Beau and how he would react.

Now you weren’t a fool when it came to Alastor, you knew exactly why he had constantly disappeared for days on end. Why would he point out the latest death to you in the papers? Was he constantly trying to keep you away from him or was he just telling you outright that he was the rampant serial killer around New Orleans? 

A loud horn echoed through the now silent Hellscape, the exterminators retreating back to Heaven. You let out a sigh downing the rest of the whiskey that was in your cup before slowly moving to get out of the tub so you wouldn’t put too much strain on your leg. Your back popped uncomfortably as you stretched, grabbing the whiskey bottle as you slowly walked out of your bathroom as fireworks sounded out, it was officially over and now you had a whole year to wait to do it again. You turned on the lights in your bathroom watching as the golden light spilled out into the darkness as if someone had left a piece of heaven behind. The light illuminated the darkness and showed how you left your room as you rushed to push the heavy dresser in front of your door, how your bed sheets were in disarray and your clothes laid on the ground from how you tried to make the dresser less heavy. It didn’t work and you basically had to strain yourself to get it over there in the first place. You looked at the bottle in your hand, unscrewing the cap off to take a swig to give you the strength (and stupidity) to move that damned dresser back over to where it usually sat.

It had been an hour at best into you slowly cleaning up your apartment when the old radio on the counter had started to turn on by itself. That wasn’t a problem usually, this is hell and weird things do tend to happen but what caught your eye is that the dials started to move by themselves as if it was trying to tune itself to a certain radio station. Now it never did that before and it scared you a little bit, in a matter of seconds green electricity erupted from the speaker as screams- horrid screams echoed throughout the apartment making you drop the bottle of whiskey on the ground to cover your own ears. Your head felt dizzy and you practically busted your own ass as you tried to take a step back as the screams suddenly disappeared and left the room silent except for a few gruesome sounds of bones cracking. You uncovered your ears as you blinked allowing your vision to fix itself as you let out a deep breath.

“Salutations Dear Listener’s!” His voice rang out causing you to freeze as you glanced down at the now shattered bottle on the ground. Was this some sick fucking joke? Whoever was using your husband’s voice to play on the radio? Who would do such a fucking thing? You couldn’t move from your spot on the floor as your breathing came shorter with every word from the radio, you felt your throat close uncomfortably as tears cascaded down your cheeks. Who was using his voice? If he was down here as well, he shouldn’t be. Not yet. 

You sat like that for hours even after you stopped crying, too scared to move in case the radio turned itself on again. You had only just begun getting used to your afterlife.

~~

It had been a few weeks now from the extermination and you were helping Rosie with folding some of the clothes in the shop, as she dealt with the customers. The first few days working with her was quite a scary sight as she had to hold back some of the cannibals from devouring you, that was a mental breakdown you weren’t expecting to happen. Now, no one really tried to eat you and happily greeted you as you walked by, you try to stay away from Susan.

You tried to leave Rosie alone when she was working, she was such a busy woman and Overlord, which you finally found out what that meant and to say you were unsurprised was an understatement. Focusing back on folding the clothes in front of you, you tried to listen into anything really as it got boring some days and you just wished to listen to some juicy gossip. You could always ask Rosie..she would gladly sit down and unload some of it onto your shoulders. She was always open for some “girl talk” with you no matter what, hell you could be a literal cat and she’d talk your ear off if you’d let her. So it surprised you when she had called you over to help her, you didn’t disdain being around the other cannibals but they did scare you a little bit..especially that butcher..but you swallowed any nerves you had as you walked over to her.

“Yes, Rosie?” You asked as you watched her help the seemingly last customer of the day. You waved the lady off as Rosie guided you to her favorite spot to gossip after work, “Wait here for a moment,” She hummed quickly, leaving to close up shop and possibly going to get some tea. You looked back at the table in front of you as your fingers tapped away to some tune you couldn’t quite remember, did you hear it from the radio after hearing your husband’s voice broadcast all over hell or was it just some tune some poor fool was destined to play, maybe it was that tune you heard from that mysterious red jacketed man that always disappeared when you got closer to him? Why did that jacket seem so familiar to you? Why did his presence enrapture you so much? Blinking your eyes as Rosie sat in front of you happily pouring you both some tea, “I’m guessing you’ve heard about a new overlord rising up recently,” She hummed out placing the kettle back in the middle of the table. You nodded, “Yes ma’am, I’ve heard whispers about it.” 

She smiled and took a sip of her drink, the conversation lulling into a comfortable silence once more. You watched her for a moment, she had a glint in her eyes, “You had a husband before..what can you tell me about him?” She asked looking back at you, placing her cup down. The thought of just gushing about Alastor to someone made your undead heart flutter and something akin to butterflies in your stomach. You never dared talk about him when you were alive, in fear of accidentally starting a whole snowball effect. You didn’t want him to get caught so easily.  Your face heated up as a small smile graced your lips, “Are you sure you want to hear me talk about that?” You asked hands nervously cupping the warm cup as she nodded her smile much more soft. “What drew you towards him or what was he like in life?”

You looked down and cleared your throat, “Well..His presence was always one of a man filled with confidence and his smile was so gorgeous. But he was a very..how do I say this..private man and organized man. He’d like everything where it needed to be and I’ve only heard parts of conversations where someone pried too deeply and he got upset. So I never really asked a lot of questions, and didn't feel like I needed to at the time.” You explained waving your hand as if his little quirks rubbed off on you. “Funnily enough, that’s how we met..I was walking by with a drink and some poor fool had hit the drink out of my hand onto his new suit.” You explained with a slight chuckle, “I didn’t bat an eye when his anger had redirected towards me..but I paid for a new suit with the money I had saved up and seemingly all was forgiven. I somehow wormed my way into his presence after.” You looked up at Rosie and sighed, “His eyes were the most expressive parts of him, if you knew what you were looking for. He had such pretty dark brown eyes and paired with that smile it’d make anyone look twice. But he was such a gentleman and he had a lot of secrets to keep but he allowed me in and allowed me to keep those secrets safe.” You looked down once more fiddling with the cup, tears brimming your eyes but never falling as you quickly blinked them away. “I miss him, miss waking up at the early hours to hear his voice on the radio and our late night adventures across town going from speakeasy’s to the local jazz show..we would always end up at the park. A middle ground for our hectic lives and we would just talk..there was no judgment or anything of that nature. Just us..” As you finished a warm hand covering your own fidgeting one, Rosie’s soft smile had reached over. “He seems like a dream,” She hummed out, causing you to smile and nodded.

But dreams never last.

~~~

Rosie softly hummed as she walked arm in arm with you, you had started to walk her towards her meetings ever since you had landed her a couple years ago. At first it was mostly so you could see what Pentagram City had looked like. The soft taps of her heels hitting the pavement and the occasional tap of the cane she had gotten you so long ago had soothed her nerves a little bit. The first time you had accompanied her your leg had given out on you due to the stress of constantly putting pressure on it, scared her. Her favorite little Sinner had just collapsed on the sidewalk with a loud thump but you didn’t fret, which scared her more as surely that had hurt. You waved off her concern but happily took her arm as she helped you back up.

Now here you both were walking towards the Overlord Meetings, you wouldn’t be welcomed in as you weren’t an Overlord yourself but you happily walked all the way with her there and then came back to walk her towards Cannibal Town. You usually didn’t speak much even when working, you were as silent as a mouse at times. “Is the cane helping?” She asked, watching as you smile and nodded, “Yes ma’am, I can pay you back if needed.” That made her almost stop in her tracks but she simply waved your words off. “No, no, no need my dear!” She hummed as you continued to walk. Your smile had dropped and you had that faraway look in your eyes when she glanced back at you once more, what made you go into your head so much? Was it a bad home life when you were alive? She was curious but knew better than to pry, she’s seen you rip someone apart with just your words, how venom laced your tongue as you showed your fangs waiting for the chance to attack. Someone or something made you feel voiceless.

After you had left, she waltzed into the meeting greeted by Carmilla and Zestial amongst other Overlords there. She sat next to Alastor who politely nodded and helped her sit down. “You know Alastor, I have this Darling little helper at my shop, you should come by sometime and see how they live up to your expectations.” She whispered watching as his ears swiveled around to listen to her but he hummed, his smile growing a little bit more. “I suppose I should, is there something special about this helper?” He asked glancing at her, “Maybe so~” She hummed her attention going back towards Carmilla. The conversation stopped right there as Alastor sent her a quick glance, what was she up to? He hoped she wasn’t trying to set him up again, he was a busy man and didn’t have time for such things..unless she found his little mouse, his darling spouse that he killed for after their death.

Nonsense, they shouldn’t even be down here in this cesspool of filthy degenerates. You couldn’t be down here, he didn’t want to believe it. Even if you had murdered your ex husband, he happily took the blame and fell for the kill, he wouldn’t let your reputation be tarnished as something as dirty as murder. But he must admit, the color of red looked great on you. He only wished to see it more, he only wished to see you more. After you died he had lost himself, he didn’t know another person would affect his ways much like you did. Your smile, your laugh, the way you looked over at him as someone did something insanely stupid. His Mama absolutely outright adored you.

After the meeting had ended, Alastor walked Rosie outside listening to her speak before quickly saying her goodbyes. He looked over to see a familiar figure..one that haunted his dreams when he was alive. But of course you looked different, his smile dropped to a frown as you didn’t even notice him. But the way you happily guide Rosie back to Cannibal Town, using a cane to help you walk. He could see the way you put weight on the foot that got snagged by the trap years ago, had caused you to flinch and put more weight onto the cane. He frowned, he wished he could take that pain away from you.

~~~ 

It had been too long since he had seen you, much too long that he almost forgot the sound of your laughter and the way you smiled. Yet he didn’t forget your face, the same stone cold look you had when you were far into your head or just simply elsewhere, physically next to him but mentally gone. The years he’s known you, the amount of times he has prodded at you to just know what was going on in that mind, he never did find out. He stopped trying after a while especially when you got married to your first husband, he didn’t want that buffoon to find all your weak spots he had found. He didn’t want to share his knowledge of how if he pressed just right he’d get you to crack open that shell and get your blood boiling, he’d occasionally do it when you were alive. Set that thought into motion and allow you to show people how truly venomous you were.

But now, seeing you through the glass of Rosie’s Emporium with that same look on your face made his heart race, that hope he had lost so long ago ran back to the forefront of his mind. He’d get to see that smile again, get to hear you laugh once more. Everytime in the last few months he’d miss you by arriving too late or you were simply not working that day. It had infuriated him to no end, it was like you were trying to ignore him. He’d been looking for you since he had got down here and he was starting to think that you must’ve gotten into Heaven, you deserved it even if you took a life.

But from what Rosie had told him he had been a fool to think you’d forget about him. You talked about him all the time, even going so far as to listen to his radio broadcasts around. Hell..she even told him about the time when he had first done his broadcast, how you were so terrified. He felt horrible for sending his little mouse into a frenzy like that, he’d have to make it up to you instead. So without a second thought, he had waltzed into the shop happily greeted by Rosie and motioned to sit down at the table, as he watched you from the corner of his eye, his crimson gaze upon your form as you fixed up a display from across the room, seemingly in your own world. He didn’t know how to approach you after all these years, he was..if he dared say it, he was scared to see how you would react to him. But all of his thoughts were interrupted when a loud crash was heard making his ears stand up and swivel towards you, you who was standing stock still as a wall staring him down in fear? Or was it disbelief? Your legs trembled as you stood, it was him. Alastor was here, oh fuck..you looked stupid just standing there, say something to him. You opened your mouth but nothing came out before you made yourself look down, quickly cleaning up despite the strain in your leg making pain shoot up. Shaking hands cleaning up the mess as you bit down on your tongue, ignoring the tears that had collected in your eyes. He couldn’t be here, it was way too early for him..he had a career ahead of him. He was THE famous radio host, but he was also a killer and a good one at that, maybe the cops found out or maybe your ex husbands family found out and ratted him out. You shouldn’t have gotten twisted in the game, it was his eventual downfall. It was your downfall but he wasn’t the ruthless killer in your eyes, he was just Alastor the radio host and good friend you’ve known for years. You hated how your jaw clenched and throat closed up uncomfortably, you didn’t like allowing him to see you so vulnerable.

When you finished cleaning up the broken glass and ignored how your throat hurt, you realized that you couldn’t stand back up. Your muscles had locked up from the pain and now you were simply sitting on the ground. That is until gloved hands had slowly helped you stand up, your injured leg curling up like a fawn trying to stand for the first time, a familiar cologne clogging your senses. You missed him so much but you caused this to happen, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other held your arm with a softness unbeknownst to most, the broken glass disappearing in a matter of black and green smoke. “Let’s go sit, Darling.” His voice broke through the ringing in your ears and interrupted the thoughts racing in your head. Slowly moving towards the seats, he helped you sit down allowing your muscles to slowly start to ease up. Alastor watched you, he saw how your jaw clenched and how you seemingly struggled to get a breath in, he wished he knew how to help you properly. He brought your hand up and kissed your knuckles, “What’s on your mind?” he asked softly. 

The simple question races through your head before snapping you back into reality, you took a deep breath and shook your head trying to stop the tears. Your voice was nothing but useless to you right now but all you wanted was him- his arms around you as he hummed his tunes. The way it was before you were killed, but nothing could go back to the way it was. Things change and if you don't change with it, you’d be left in the dust awaiting a slow and agonizing death. Laughter intertwined with each sob as you looked up at your husband, “I’m pathetic, surely. I couldn’t even fight off my own murderer.” You hissed out but you weren’t directing it towards him, no..you could never direct the venomous and toxic anger you held in for so long towards him. “I’m the reason you're down here.” Your gaze returned towards the table wiping your own tears away from your eyes. 

Alastor reached over grabbing your hands, watching your gaze shift from the table to him in a flash. “You are not pathetic, Dear. You are a wolf amongst sheep, waiting for the moment to strike. You are stronger than most of these buffoons down here, I should know. I’ve seen you make a grown man cry.” He slowly pulled you closer to his body allowing you to lay your head on his chest, “I’d kill for you over and over, you never were the reason I am down here. Toss that thought out of your head, it would be the other way around.” He whispered out rubbing your cheek with his thumb, “I missed you, Alastor..” You whispered out your voice breaking, his smile softened. “And I missed you, Dear. Even death couldn’t keep us apart.” He hummed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

Alastor never believed in fairytales or ‘love at first sight’..but yet again, he was proven wrong. 

~~~

Extra:

You huffed, allowing your husband to carefully pull you down the street, “Dearest, are you sure you want me there to help at the Hotel?” Alastor looked over and slowed down his pace, “Of course! I can’t have my darling spouse sitting at home all by their lonesome!” His chest puffed out as you rolled your eyes playfully, “It’s not like I’m bored, Al!” You hummed and leaned your head against his shoulder, his smile softening as the arm that was holding yours moved to wrap around your waist as he chuckled allowing the conversation to fall into the comfortable silence he was so used to by now. After decades of being together and the seven years he went missing made this hotel seem like a good idea after all. 

After a couple of moments you had stopped at the door, allowing your husband to pick up his pace to open the doors. You walked in and were immediately greeted by a run down looking Hotel, you grimaced a little before Alastor had appeared beside you. “Holy shit, Smiles! Who did you lure over here?” A voice called out to look over to see a tall spider smirking at him, a soft growl escaped your husband’s smile allowing everyone to look over except Husk, who had met you a while back. “I didn’t lure them over here,” he snarled out before he carefully pulled you closer as his arm wrapped around your waist once more. “This is my spouse.” He finished allowing you to wave at everyone, ignoring the laugh that came from The King of Hell which sent your husband into a frenzy, it hadn’t been a minute yet and you were pulling him away from possibly murdering or being murdered by the King.

Calmly turning him towards you, you carefully smoothed out his suit and smiled up at him, his radio dials switched back to normal as he softly gazed at you. “No killing the King for my honor, Dearest. You’ve been talking to me all day about this Hotel, show me around?” You asked as he kissed your knuckles, “Of course, Darling.” He hummed gently, taking your arm and walking off down the hallway to show you around. 

You’d get used to this. After all you had Alastor by your side and nothing could stop you both now.

Taglist:@fairyv-ice, @kurosstuff

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Élisabeth Lebas talking about Robespierre like he’s the Messiah or something compilation

[Edgar Degas] told me that, when he was a child, his mother one day took him to rue de Tournon to visit Madame Lebas, widow of the famous Convention deputy who, on 9 thermidor, killed himself with a pistol. When the visit was over, they withdrew with small steps, accompanied to the door by the old lady, when Madame Degas suddenly stopped, deeply overwhelmed. Letting go of her son's hand, she pointed at the portraits of Robespierre, of Couthon, of Saint-Just, that she had just noticed were hanging on the walls of the antechambre, and she couldn’t keep herself from crying out with horror: ”What! You still keep the faces of these monsters here!”  ”Be quiet, Célestine!” Madame Lebas cried out ardently, ”be quiet… They were saints!” Discours de l’Histoire prononcé à la distribution solennelle des prix du Lycée Jeanson-de-Sailly held by Paul Valéry on July 13 1932, cited in Robespierre ou les contradictions du jacobinisme (1978) by Albert Soboul.

I was able to converse, between 1838 and 1839, with a famous parrot who had been the friend of Robespierre. He belonged to Mme the widow Lebas, the wife of the famous Convention deputy who chose to die with Robespierre, and the mother of M. Lebas, Hellenist scholar, who died a few years ago. Mme widow Lebas, a very respectable woman, whom I had the honour of seeing often in her little house in Fontenay-aux-Roses, where she would make the sign of the cross when she pronounced the name Robespierre, adding these words: Saint Maximilien. As for her parrot, when one said "Robespierre", it replied Hats off! Hats off! It sang the Marseillaise with perfect diction and Ça ira like a Jacobin. It was — and perhaps, thanks to its diet of grain, still is — a sans-culotte parrot, the like of which can no longer be found. Mme Lebas recounted with great emotion how she had managed to save this precious psittacus  after Thermidor.  It had been seriously compromised.  After the arrest of Robespierre and Lebas, in the course of a long domiciliary inspection,  every time the name of Robespierre was pronouned the parrot would repeat its refrain, Hats off! Hats off! The government agents had grown impatient and were about to wring its neck, when Mme Lebas, as quick as lightning,  grabbed the bird, opened the window and set it free. The poor parrot flew from window to window, until it found a charitable person to open up for it; a few days later Madame Lebas was able to regain possession of this last friend left to her by Robespierre, the only one perhaps, besides his elderly mistress, who has remained faithful to his memory.  L’Union médicale: journal des intérêts scientifiques et pratiques, moraux et professionnels du corps médical (1861) volume 12, page 258-259.

Finally our providence, our good friend Robespierre, spoke to Saint-Just to engage him to let me depart with [him and Lebas], along with my sister-in-law Henriette. Élisabeth’s memoirs, cited in Le conventionnel Le Bas: d’après des documents inédits et les mémoires de sa veuve (1901), by Stéfane-Pol, page 131.

…If you had been informed of my residence, I would have been eager to tell you the truth. The good that you say of our martyrs is not too charged: they were the true friends of liberty; they lived only for the people, for their fatherland; but some monsters, in one day, destroyed everything; in one day they assassinated liberty. Yes, monsieur, a republican like you would have been happy to know those men, so virtuous on all accounts; they all died poor. Note written by Élisabeth a few years before her death regarding ”a work treating the revolution” (l’Histoire des Girondins?). Cited in Ibid, page 147.

[sivyera]

my MLP headcanons!

(I'm gonna use them on my other mlp posts)

! PICS OF THEIR FACES THAT I'M GONNA USE ARE DRAWN BY CLOIIIIII ! I don't know if she has tumblr or not but her insta, tiktok and twitter is @cloiiiiii ! I just love her drawing and I think she made them look so cool and that's just how I imagine them as humans.

none of those pictures are mine!

⤷ AJ

lesbian, she/her

makes apple cider, apple pie and bread for her friends

her hat was actually her mom's

listens: Rascal Flatts, Faith Hill, Luke Bryan, Toby Keith, Sam Hunt, Brad Paisley, Bernadette Peters, Dolly Parton

wears suits to formal events

she has trouble asking for help but if she does ask you for help, she trusts you with all her heart

mom friends type

strong af, like buff type of body (like Rhea Ripley)

loves sunrises

early bird

play a guitar

tomboy

closet:

face claim:

body type:

⤷ Dash

lesbian, she/her

tomboy

also wear suits to formal events

plays electric guitar and drums

loves energy drinks (monsters)

gamer

likes spicy food

skater girl and she is really good at skating

she loves showing off

collects sneakers

writes songs but never show/play them to anybody

loves running and sometimes she runs at the very morning

bad sleep schedule

listens: AC/DC, eminem, my chemical romance, the offspring, imagine dragons, kordhell, NF, girl in red

dog person

athletic strong

closet:

face claim:

body type:

⤷ Rarity

bi, she/her

she's constantly questioning her sexuality (between bi and a lesbian)

loves shopping

sometimes using pinterest for clothing inspo

loves getting her nails done

loves romantic movies

loves doing her make-up and loves doing make_up to her friends or makeovers

loved Bratz when she was little

makes clothes for her friends when they want something specific they can't find in stores

loves necklaces

obsessed with skin care

cat person

listens: lady gaga, MARINA, Poppy, Britnes Spears, Doja Cat, ariana grande, nelly furtado, madanna

closet:

face claim:

body type:

⤷ Twilight

bi, she/they

OCD

drinks a lot of tea and coffee

has bad sleep schedule

loves reading

big harry potter fan and owns a ravenclaw scarf

loves astrology

everything has to be perfect, tidy and clean, unless she's studying at that moment she doesn't care about anything

loves chocolate croissant

hates PE

pear body type/shape

loves comedy movies or movies based on true events

sometimes she doesn't know what sleep and rest means it :|

loves AJ's bread

listens: mother mother, penelope scott, beach bunny, cavetown, mitski, twenty one pilots, MARINA, arctic monkeys, olivia rodrigo

closet:

face claim:

body type:

⤷ Pinkie Pie

pansexual, she/they

eats a lot of candy

donuts are her favourite

uses a lot of emojis

ADHD

loves to draw

very creative

watches anime

good with kids

loves stickers

tries different hairstyles all the time

doesn't like cold colours

loves painting rocks

drink chocolate milk

loves AJ's apple cider

listens: bambee, the living tombstone, nightcore reality, katty perry, pharrell williams, gwen stefani

closet:

face claim:

body type:

⤷ Fluttershy

pansexual, she/they

loves tea, hates coffee

vegetarian

,, :3 ''

loves stuffed animals and has a lot of them

her fav animals are rabbits and frogs, but after all she loves all kinds of animals

social anxiety

loves sweets

her fav flower is daisy

healthiest sleep schedule of all girls

sometimes watch anime with pinkie

likes chocolate cake

owns funny socks and kinda collects them

listens: clairo, mxmtoon, melanie martinez, chloe moriondo, olivia rodrigo, cavetown, olivia o., naikho

closet:

face claim:

body type:

I HOPE YOU LIKED IT GUYS!!

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Wojchek in a relationship - sfw/nsfw

warning : fluff, kissing, mentioing of alcohol, the nsfw part will be marked to know when it's coming, fem reader, afab, no use of Y/n, nicknames

Info : What can I say I wanted and needed more Wojchek and here is more so have fun reading ;)

°It would be the description of a grumpy, serious and perhaps cynical sailor who wanted to remain alone with the sea until one day he found his sea wife at the end of the horizon. The two were opposites and yet they found each other on the sea, on Demeter's ship.

°The ship that held the house of both of them like the others. But his pessimistic attitude soon subsided when she became the sun in his life. In the morning, when they woke up, he felt her next to him, felt her warmth while she felt his hand on her. Wojchel always wanted to have his darling with him while she was always humming a few favorite tunes. Singing the love of the sea to herself and to him.

°They had both seen the horror of the sea, the meter-high waves, the monsters that lurked out there, it was something that haunted you. ,,Good morning my seagull," she always joked, thinking that with his tangled hair and tired look he looked like a seagull. Her cute seagull. ,,Morning... my pearl," he replied and even though he was the second man, he was not a morning person. But his sweet nicknames for her made the coldness of the halter all the warmer.

°The ship Demeter, on which Captain Eliot had married the two with a smile, the sun was in the sky that day, the seagulls were singing and everyone was happy. There was dancing on the deck, people were drinking and the wine was taken from the belly of the ship. It was a wedding like they had always imagined. ,,You are my treasure of the sea," he finished his wedding speech, slipping the golden ring with the pearl on her finger.

°The morning cuddling and murmuring about the dream came true. Dressing became a lot of fun, even if Wojchel was still a little unsure at first when it came to fastening her corset, he was just as good a sailor with the rope as he was with the ropes on the garment. ,,You sir are outstanding, do you say you do this often?" she asked with a grin and put on her hat to keep the piercing sun off her face. ,,If you mean helping a beautiful woman, my lady, then too often," he replied and pulled her into a morning kiss.

°His hands are always on her when he eats on her, when he works on deck, when he wets her a little with the lake water on particularly hot days. He dabbed her face dry with a rag and she closed her eyes when he kissed her forehead. ,,We don't want to upset the lady," he murmured before he turned back to his crew and urged them to move faster and she couldn't help but smile.

°She loved her husband, especially when it was a mix of the beauty of the waves to her and the roaring storm he brought to his men. ,,Always so serious," she murmured before turning back to her book. They were all waiting for lunch and dinner on the ship when she gave her best voice. She sang songs from her homeland, books, especially since only four people could read and Wojchek in particular couldn't hide the smile on his lips.

°His wife was better than the sea, she was the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to him. She had made him happy and he didn't deserve her. His dark eyes full of love were something he hadn't felt for a long time, but when he had his hand on her, kissed her and danced with her, his life was perfect. He made her happy in return, he loved the way she looked at him with fascination when he showed her the maps he had drawn, the animals he had painted and the stories he had to tell. It was a moment in which only the two of them existed.

NSFW -> It's getting smuty

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

°In addition to the dancing, the celebrating and the alcohol, every good wedding also included the wedding night. Something the captain also realized as he headed for the next port and his entire crew disembarked to give the couple a rest for the night. Which they both took advantage of, and not just once. The sweet tarts they had eaten together in the galley long forgotten.

°Wojchek had wrapped his arms around her and lifted her out of the galley. The kiss they shared was barely broken and only to catch her breath as she was carried through the corridors of the ship. ,,Tonight you're all mine," he whispered to her as he opened the door to her room and set her down in front of the bed. He kissed her again as his rough, cool hands continued to roam over her body. The dress, the fabric between them, was disturbingly true. ,,I opened my treasure," he said and her grin filled the room as he deftly undid the laces of her dress.

°The two of them took their time as they lay naked, vulnerable and together on the bed, his body bedded on the soft bed as he kissed every inch of her skin and she saw his own arousal. They both wanted each other from the moment they met. ,,Woj-Wojchek I...want you" he heard her sweet voice and knew it was his duty to her and who was he to deny her that.

°The ecstasy between them only increased as his hands massaged her breasts, pushing against him, trying to catch his rhythm as he thrust into her. The scratching of her nails on his back left red streaks. His praise made her cheeks glow with those vulgar words and yet full of arousal. She contracted around his grunts and her moans rippled through the cabin but they both wanted more.

°After some time, Wojchel took her up again and wrapped her body in the white blanket, ,,My strong sailor," she murmured, still slightly drowsy from the act of love they had performed, and snuggled up to him, enjoying the coolness that emanated from him as her body still seemed to burn. ,,My exciting flower," he replied with a smile, watching her cheeks heat up as his hand ran over the curve of her breasts under the covers. Her sensitive breasts were touched by him for a moment before they both arrived on the deck.

°She let out a surprised murmur when she saw the lanterns on the wood, the cushions and blankets algae on the wood and she looked at her husband. ,,I thought the stars might stimulate your imagination a little, wife," he said, lowering her to the slightly padded floor, coming down to her and kissing her again before gently pressing her to the floor, her gaze going to the infinite stars, relaxing and letting out a gasp as she felt him kiss his way up her legs, knowing that the silver tongue of a sailor of his experience must be extraordinary.

°A night in which their desires were lost in the infinite stars it was only one of many nights in which they both made love. In the morning, he took his time, he never denied her anything, his flower blossomed, he praised her, he challenged her to rock the boat when she rode him, he put his hands on her hips, she affirmed to go on. His gaze was veiled with excitement and love when he saw her in the act. She was simply his beautiful angel and his blossoming wife, eager for them both to explore the pages of a book she had found in the Far East to sink the ship. Or at least to annoy the crew a little.

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

@mask-knife-is-buggys-girl , @oceansrose2002

[misslavenderlady]

A Little Bit Country, A Little Bit Rock 'N Roll - Chapter 1

Summary: What if instead of Arizona, Michael was born and raised in the heart of Texas? He's a smooth-talking, risk-taking, guitar-playing pretty boy with the sweetest southern drawl you've ever heard. The Lost Boys are completely smitten with him, especially David. A fun, romantic "what if" story that gives Michael a bit of a fun twist.

The amount of enthusiasm I received for that one post I made about a Southern Michael was so big, I went ahead and made it real. Shoutout to @michael-after-hours for helping out since he's actually from Texas! Title is inspired by the Donny and Marie Osmond song of the same name.

Next Chapter

David rarely enjoyed taking on tasks for his sire. Max was a pretentious man who demanded absolute loyalty and perfection. It was something that the Lost Boys were expected to follow without questioning his authority. They already despised the man. Doing chores and errands like a bunch of lackeys didn’t exactly make them like him more. 

Still, as the man’s childe, David had to follow his orders lest he wanted to be at the receiving end of punishment. Behind that dopey smile and nerdy set of glasses was a rather sadistic monster when it came to discipline. All of the Lost Boys knew that quite well.

They were ordered to turn two kids into one of them. Max gave their names and descriptions. A freckle-faced boy who had barely begun puberty and his older brother, a tall boy with brown curls and blue eyes. Sam and Michael were their names. Why Max wanted more sons that he’d just end up neglecting, David didn’t know. He didn’t ask any more questions than he had to.

Besides, he was open to the idea of having more friends to take under his wing. To help shape them into becoming fellow creatures of the night. Maybe it would go a lot better than expected.

When Star confirmed that she found the eldest boy, David was fully prepared to take on the challenge. Once she met up with him on the boardwalk again, he and the others would swoop in and take it from there. They could all be quite charming when they wanted to, and it would be easy to manipulate Michael. 

At least, that’s what he initially thought.

When the next night came the Lost Boys were parked by a small area on the boardwalk designated for smoke breaks. David had been finishing the last few puffs of one of his cigarettes when he caught sight of Star. She was further down the path but he could see someone walking next to her. With a flick of the cigarette butt and a signal to his boys, David gunned his bike and rode over to the two of them so he could get a better look at their new "friend".

Paul and Marko boxed them in on one side while Dwayne took the other side with Laddie holding on behind him. That allowed David to be front and center, just the way he liked it. 

When he got a better look at the guy, he was caught a little off guard. Sure, Michael looked just how Max described him to be, but he wasn't expecting to be face-to-face with someone dressed as a cowboy.

Michael had a worn-out, brown suede cowboy hat perched on top of his head of curly hair. He wore a rather tight, white t-shirt under a gray-colored flannel, which was not something David had expected to see in the middle of summer. A large, golden buckle shined in the center of the belt that wrapped around his pants. His jeans were thick, dark denim and the cuffs were tucked inside boots.

Cowboy boots, of course. They were the same shade of brown as his hat and had seen many a day of wear and work. Scuffed and stained with mud on the toes. The boots David always wore were more of a fashionable pair, not the best for actual labor like Michael's were. 

It was a little confusing taking in such an appearance. Maybe the guy had just come from a costume party and had worked extra hard on his outfit for it? The idea sat in the back of his mind as he spoke to the lady of their gang. 

"Where ya going, Star?" David asked, an amused smirk on his face. 

"For a ride," Star explained. They must have been walking to his bike somewhere in the mass collection of parked vehicles on the side. He wondered which one belonged to the human boy. 

"This is Michael," she said, gesturing to the boy. Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink color at the sound of his name. 

Michael was certainly a good-looking guy, but it took a bit more than a pretty face to get Star a little flustered. David couldn't help but wonder if he had said or done something to their only lost girl. 

David opened his mouth to greet the human boy, but he didn't get a word out. Michael himself made the first move, and boy was it a shock.

"Well Howdy there!" the boy cheerfully said, reaching a hand out to David. The vampire barely had a moment to comprehend the words before a hand was wrapped around his own. Michael had the strongest grip he ever felt on a human, energetically pumping his arm up and down for an enthusiastic shake. 

Paul, Dwayne, and Marko all perked up, worried about this guy putting his hands on their leader. Nobody ever got to touch David without his consent and live to tell the tale. 

But David wasn't threatened. Just utterly dumbfounded. If it wasn't the greeting that caught him off guard, it was the megawatt smile on Michael's face. He couldn't recall the last time someone was actually excited to meet him. 

"The little lady mentioned she had some pals I could meet. I reckoned I was in for a treat and it's sure nice to meet ya!" 

It was like hearing someone talk in a different language. Michael's voice was quite loud and powerful, but what really made it stand out was the accent attached to it. The accent was a smooth, southern drawl. The kind you'd hear in an old western film.

So the getup wasn't just for show. Whoever this guy was, he had come a long way from somewhere in the deep south. It made him stick out like a sore thumb against all the surfers and punks of California. Michael finally let go of his hand, yet David still felt the aftereffects of the shaking. If they did end up turning him, Michael would probably be as strong a vampire as David himself. 

"Shoot, don't y'all know howta greet a new friend 'round here?" Michael asked with a soft chuckle. "What's your name, Hoss?"

David was finally able to snap out of his confused state. He couldn't let himself get caught off guard again if this was going to go right. 

"Oh! I'm uh…David," he managed to get out. "These are my friends. Paul, Dwayne, and Marko. The little guy is Laddie"

Laddie gave an adorable smile and an eager wave while the three other vampires simply shot Michael a small nod when they were named. Though they all remained casual, they still traded looks of curiosity with one another. Apparently, they also weren't expecting someone so bold and brash as a possible addition to the family.

Michael took no notice of it, instead tilting the brim of his hat and giving a nod to them. 

"Mighty nice to meet y'all!" he smiled. "I ain't ever seen any folk like you back home. All the flashy clothes and makeup. Y’all are more decked out than a pine tree on Christmas!"

The Lost Boys exchanged looks and snickers with one another. It was painfully obvious Michael was from somewhere that was the exact opposite of Santa Carla. They'd probably be just as caught off guard if the roles were reversed. 

"Oh yeah? Where's 'back home' for you, Cowboy?" Paul teased, leaning forward on his bike. Star was pouting at his question, no doubt from worry they were going to start making fun of him. Thankfully, Michael didn't mind the question or the nickname.

"Lone Star State!" he chirped. When the others looked back at him in confusion Michael just let out an amused laugh. "That's Texas, y'all! Born and raised smack dab in the middle o' the Bible belt"

They weren't surprised to hear that. If Texas looked like a person, Michael would be the spitting image. While the others were still giggling at their potential friend, David just stared in curiosity. 

He hadn't expected Michael to be like this at all. When he first met Dwayne, Marko, and Paul they were all quite different than how they were now. Scared, miserable, and desperate for a reason to keep living. David gave them a reason and a purpose, helping them all be reborn into their true selves. 

Michael was far from that. He was practically bursting with life and joy, that charming smile not fading for even a second. After being surrounded by the worst kind of people in Santa Carla for so long, David was a little taken aback by someone so genuine and happy. 

It made him wonder if this would prove to be a challenge for him. He had to be a bit cautious. 

"You know where Hudson's Bluff is? Overlooking the point?" David asked, giving a small rev of his engine. If there was one thing he was sure of it was his ability to intimidate others. Challenging Michael to a race would be the perfect way to catch him off guard. 

At least, that's what he thought until Michael threw his head back and let out the biggest laugh he'd ever heard. David raised an eyebrow in curiosity. What the hell was so funny?

"Oh buddy, if you're lookin' for a race, ya ain't gonna get far against a ride like mine"

Michael stepped away for a second to grab said ride from the parking section. When he came back to their spot it was while riding a massive ATV. 

David had seen a few before, but nothing quite like this. It was as big as his Triumph and was fitted with bulky tires built for the toughest terrain. The paint job was red but was covered in layers of dust and dirt, no doubt from years of joy rides. The engine roared powerfully with every rev Michael gave it. 

If it had been a much smaller ride he would have just told Michael to keep up and have fun watching him struggle to beat his bike. Now, there could be an actual sense of competition between the two of them. It was the perfect chance to see just what the human was capable of. A test of power, nothing more. The others must have also thought about Michael posing a threat to their leader because they tried to downplay the actual power his ATV had. 

“Ha! Four wheels? You afraid of falling over on a two-wheel ride or something?” Marko asked, playfully biting his nail. 

Once again, Michael wasn’t bothered one bit by the teasing. He simply smiled and shook his head. 

“Aw hell, you ain’t ever been four-wheelin’ before, have ya?” he asked. “I been through every kinda mess on this baby! Hills, woods, ditches, mud, even snow. Ridin’ down the beach would be a cakewalk for me”

David glanced at the others, curiosity rising more and more by the second. If Michael had been through some tough obstacles, that meant he had strength and dexterity. Not to mention a bit of a wild streak. That was definitely something the Lost Boys would love to have in a friend. Now things seemed interesting.

“Well then,” the bleach-blond smirked, giving his Triumph another rev. “Show us whatcha got, Cowboy”

David kept his eyes locked on Michael as he watched him smile and reach a hand out for Star to take. He normally wouldn’t let someone try to make a move on their ‘sister’, but he couldn’t deny that she looked quite intrigued by Michael’s 4-wheeled ride. She looked quite bashful as he slipped his hat off and carefully put it over her mass of wavy hair. 

He gunned the engine one last time, not wanting Michael to be distracted by Star. If he was a little less stubborn he would have admitted it to be jealousy. Of course, pride was stronger than his better judgment.

Michael shot him a wink and a playful smile before zipping off down the boardwalk. It was a miracle David was able to keep his focus and do the same, speeding behind the human boy. All three of the other Lost Boys followed their leader, eager to see what the fresh meat was capable of. 

The Lost Boys were no strangers to racing down the beaches of Santa Carla. One of their favorite things to do on a nice night like this was to cause a ruckus on their bikes, shouting as loud as they could while steering in between couples and families splayed out on the sand. They didn’t care what kind of trouble they caused because nobody could stop them.

Tonight was no different. David led his boys down the stretch of the beach, cheering them on as they kept formation. While his focus was on his own bike, he let his gaze fall on Michael’s again.

David thought he and his boys were wild riders. Michael was an absolute madman on his ATV. He was pushing the ride to an insane speed, yet he maneuvered the thing like he was born to use it. Even with its bulky size, he was able to slip between crowds and dodge obstacles perfectly. That itself was impressive, but what was even more surprising was that he was doing it while barely watching where he was going. Star was holding him tightly as she watched ahead, but Michael had his eyes closed most of the time. 

“WOOO! YEEE!!” Michael hollered. The boys were all known to be loud with their calls when they rode their motorcycles, but with the power behind his voice, Michael was far louder with his whoops and calls. 

It made David want to keep watching him. He’d never seen someone so eager to do something so dangerous before. Even when he pushed forward and led them all to more tricky terrain, Michael never once lost his focus. Down and up hills, around sharp corners, through thickly wooded areas, it didn’t matter to the human boy. He handled it all like a champ and was still able to push ahead of David.

The more they rode, the more David felt intrigued by him. He was a true wild child. Fearless and fun. It took the other boys some adjusting to let themselves be carefree as they were now, but Michael already had that sense of freedom. Truly curious as to how reckless he could truly be, David pushed his bike forward, getting ahead of Michael and signaling to follow him to where the bluff was. Once they cleared out of the tree-filled area, David drove down the rocky path to where the cliff connected with the ocean. 

He knew this trick well. Play a game of chicken with Michael to see how far he'd go before pulling off to the side. How badly did he want to show off his bravery? No matter how far he went, David had the upper hand with his powers. He'd never be in any kind of danger, but it was fun to see where the stopping point was for Michael. 

Only one way to find out. 

Michael had driven his ATV up to be side-by-side with David's Triumph. They were perfectly matched in speed, their hair whipping in the wind as they rode on. 

Star held one hand around Michael's waist and the other over the hat so I wouldn't go flying off. Her eyes were wide with a mix of fear and excitement. David could tell her adrenaline must have been sky-high. She had learned to love wild rides like this after her first time on the back of his motorcycle. Now Michael was giving her a whole new sense of thrill with his ride.

Still, David would show who truly was the braver one of them. 

"C'mon, Michael!" he called out to him, encouraging his recklessness. Star's expression morphed into worry from how eager David was to push Michael. She of all people knew how much David enjoyed testing others to see what they were capable of. They were speeding faster and faster to the edge of the cliff and neither boy showed signs of stopping. 

David barely glanced at the area, perfectly entertained enough by Michael. A goofy smile still stretched across his face and nothing but shouts of joy came from his mouth. 

Even from across the space David could hear how fast his heart was pounding. It certainly wasn't from fear because Michael was still pushing himself. The tires of the ATV bumped and rattled over the rocks and ditches, yet he took the danger with a look of excitement. 

Only then did the vampire realize Michael wasn't going to back down. He had zero intentions of slowing down just a bit, even with the available stretch of path getting smaller and smaller by the second. This guy was either stupid or crazy. So David did the one thing he didn't ever want to do. 

He chickened out first. 

With a screech and a sharp turn of his Triumph, David pulled off to the side, almost going over the front from the sheer force of the abrupt stop. He nervously watched Michael, mentally preparing to fly off of the cliff to catch him and Star if they went over the side. 

But they didn't. Miraculously, Michael was able to pull his ATV off to the side at the very last second, sharply turning and kicking up a massive cloud of dirt in its path. He revved the engine of his ride several times as he drove in a celebratory circle, shouting up into the night sky with pure joy.

“YEEEAHAWWW!” he hollered, finally screeching to a halt. Both he and Star were breathing heavily, finally beginning to calm down after that intense rush of a ride. 

The others had stopped their motorcycles much sooner, clearly just as worried as their leader had been. They each had gone through similar tests in the past but hadn’t made it as far as Michael had. As they ran up to the edge of the bluff they exchanged surprised expressions with one another, sharing a sense of mutual shock. Marko stood beside David while Dwayne scooped up Laddie from the back of his own bike. Paul ran up to the ATV, holding out a hand to Star to help her down. 

“Holy shit, that was crazy!” Paul chuckled, letting Star hold onto him so she could regain her balance and focus. “You okay, Starlight?”

Thankfully, she managed to calm down enough to start laughing. The others settled their nerves down a bit too as she smiled warmly at Michael and handed him back his hat. 

“Are you kidding? That was incredible!” she chirped. “I’ve never done anything like that before! Thanks for the ride, Michael!”

The Lost Boys finally pulled back on their fight to show off their own joy. Grins painted their faces as they glanced at one another, utterly impressed by how great a rider Michael was. The human returned a smile of his own, tipping the brim of his hat again as a gesture of ‘thanks’ to Star. She giggled softly, clearly smitten with his southern charms.

“Aww shucks, it was nothin’,” he said. Once she was off to the side with the others, Michael turned his attention to the bleach-blond vampire. “David! That was some impressive ridin’ on your part too! I ain’t ‘ave that much fun since a got here!” 

David had to force himself to stop staring at the southern boy. He had to admit, he was pretty impressed himself. He’d never met someone so reckless yet so skilled with a joy ride like that. Humans were usually so cautious and scared when it came to danger, yet Michael looked it head-on with a smile on his face. 

The more David interacted with him the more he was interested in getting to know him better. Maybe their punk gang could benefit from having a bit of a southern twist with Michael on their side. 

“That was quite a stunt, Michael,” David complimented him, gracefully stepping off of his Triumph before walking over to the human. The others watched carefully, ready to back up their leader with whatever he wanted to do next. “I have to say, we’d love to hang out with you more. See if you can join our little club”

Michael raised an eyebrow, curiosity flashing over his bright, blue eyes. The more David was around him the more he could see what a danger junkie he truly was. Just what he wanted in a potential vampire companion.

“Hell, if y’all have fun like this, you bet your ass I’d love to spend a little more time with ya!” he chuckled. David couldn’t deny that accent suited him so well. A slow, sweet drawl for such an intense guy. 

“Oh yeah?” David asked, stepping closer. He and Michael couldn’t have been more than a foot apart from one another now. The others were watching closely, intrigued by where things were going. “How far are you willin’ to go, Michael?”

A devilish smirk formed on the brunet’s face as he closely gazed at David. He was matching the energy quite nicely.

“I dunno…how far can ya take me, David~?”

If David wasn’t so sure of his vampiric nature, he would have sworn he felt the once-forgotten sensation of a sharp beat in his dead heart. 

Holy shit, this was going to be interesting.

[selfdiagnosedeyemotif]

okeydokey

———————————————————

lets see how this looks

egins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. : Our top-secret formula : is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured : into this soothing sweet syrup : with its distinctive golden glow you know as... EVERYONE ON BUS: Honey! (The guide has been collecting honey into a bottle and she throws it into the crowd on the bus and it is caught by a girl in the back) ADAM: - That girl was hot. BARRY: - She's my cousin! ADAM== - She is? BARRY: - Yes, we're all cousins. ADAM: - Right. You're right. TOUR GUIDE: - At Honex, we constantly strive : to improve every aspect of bee existence. : These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. (The bus passes by a Bee wearing a helmet who is being smashed into the ground with fly-swatters, newspapers and boots. He lifts a thumbs up but you can hear him groan) : ADAM== - What do you think he makes? BARRY: - Not enough. TOUR GUIDE: Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. (They pass by a turning wheel with Bees standing on pegs, who are each wearing a finger-shaped hat) Barry: - Wow, What does that do? TOUR GUIDE: - Catches that little strand of honey : that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. ADAM: (Intrigued) Can anyone work on the Krelman? TOUR GUIDE: Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. : But choose carefully : because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. (Everyone claps except for Barry) BARRY: The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. ADAM: What's the difference? TOUR GUIDE: You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off : in 27 million years. BARRY: (Upset) So you'll just work us to death? : We'll sure try. (Everyone on the bus laughs except Barry. Barry and Adam are walking back home together) ADAM: Wow! That blew my mind! BARRY: "What's the difference?" How can you say that? : One job forever? That's an insane choice to have to make. ADAM: I'm relieved. Now we only have to make one decision in life. BARRY: But, Adam, how could they never have told us that? ADAM: Why would you question anything? We're bees. : We're the most perfectly functioning society on Earth. BARRY: You ever think maybe things work a little too well here? ADAM: Like what? Give me one example. (Barry and Adam stop walking and it is revealed to the audience that hundreds of cars are speeding by and narrowly missing them in perfect unison) BARRY: I don't know. But you know what I'm talking about. ANNOUNCER: Please clear the gate. Royal Nectar Force on approach. BARRY: Wait a second. Check it out. (The Pollen jocks fly in, circle around and landing in line) : - Hey, those are Pollen Jocks! ADAM: - Wow. : I've never seen them this close. BARRY: They know what it's like outside the hive. ADAM: Yeah, but some don't come back. GIRL BEES: - Hey, Jocks! - Hi, Jocks! (The Pollen Jocks hook up their backpacks to machines that pump the nectar to trucks, which drive away) LOU LO DUVA: You guys did great! : You're monsters! You're sky freaks! I love it! (Punching the Pollen Jocks in joy) I love it! ADAM: - I wonder where they were. BARRY: - I don't know. : Their day's not planned. : Outside the hive, flying who knows where, doing who knows what. : You can't just decide to be a Pollen Jock. You have to be bred for that. ADAM== Right. (Barry and Adam are covered in some pollen that floated off of the Pollen Jocks) BARRY: Look at that. That's more pollen than you and I will see in a lifetime. ADAM: It's just a status symbol. Bees make too much of it. BARRY: Perhaps. Unless you're wearing it and the ladies see you wearing it. (Barry waves at 2 girls standing a little away from them) ADAM== Those ladies? Aren't they our cousins too? BARRY: Distant. Distant. POLLEN JOCK #1: Look at these two. POLLEN JOCK #2: - Couple of Hive Harrys. POLLEN JOCK #1: - Let's have fun with them. GIRL BEE #1: It must be dangerous being a Pollen Jock. BARRY: Yeah. Once a bear pinned me against a mushroom! : He had a paw on my throat, and with the other, he w

[nehswritesstuffs]

banish every gaslight; let clarity shine - Part 7

Well, as I prep this, my backroom has officially been forced into changing into the new richtext version that doesn't like keyboard shortcuts so let's hope that this doesn't break anything too badly (bc I already broke it trying to put in a Read More ffs why this site).

Part 1 [FFN/AO3] - Part 2 [FFN/AO3] - Part 3 [FFN/AO3] - Part 4 [FFN/AO3] - Part 5 [FFN/AO3] - Part 6 [FFN/AO3]

Baby 5 makes a deal while Corazón and Law do not have a good time. [2365 words; AU where there is a Third Corazón, whose existence makes Law’s life hell]

When Baby 5 got to the top of the rope, Viola reached her hand out and hauled the other woman out herself. There was a huge commotion in the square, with citizens and toys alike panicking about not only the explosion that had gone off, but the fact that there were people coming out of a hole in the ground.

“We need to get to Antonia,” Baby 5 said quickly. “If we don’t get to her in time—!”

“It’s too late,” Viola replied. “The toys have reported that Antonia has already been left to dispose of Law. Doffy’s somewhere out there with the rest of the Elite Officers and we’ve got major trouble if we don’t shake this thing down.”

“…and how are we going to do that?”

“Oh! Hey! You must be the lady Viola was talking about!” Baby 5 looked and suddenly there was a teenager in a straw hat grinning in her face. “Hi! I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!”

…a D…?!

“She said you knew Torao,” Luffy continued, “but that you also both work for Mingo? He doesn’t really seem like that good of a boss, is he?”

“You’re right, he’s not,” Baby 5 frowned. “Who is Torao…?”

“Oh, I can’t say Torao’s name, so it’s Torao now!” the boy beamed.

“Luffy is the one whose crew brought Law to Dressrosa; they are allies.” Baby 5 stared at Viola, then Luffy.

“This kid?”

“Apparently.”

“If you don’t like Mingo, why do you work for him?” Luffy wondered.

“…because, if I don’t someone close to me will be in danger,” Baby 5 replied. “Antonia and I grew up together—she’s like my sister.”

“Shishishi! Then she’s lucky to have a sister like you! Like I have my brothers!” The smile then faded from his face as he thought for a moment. “How come she and Torao hate each other so much? The way he made it sound when we were coming here was like they hated each other before they’d even met.”

“That’s the thing,” she said, “they don’t.” Luffy tilted his head and she shook hers. “That’s not my story to tell. We just have to get to them before she does something she’ll regret forever. Will you please help us?”

“If it means I get to kick Mingo’s ass, I don’t care what I gotta do first,” he grinned. Luffy then noticed the others who were coming up from the Scrap Heap. “Oh, hey, Cabbage! I didn’t know you were down there!”

“Straw Hat!” Cavendish gasped in disgust. “How did you escape the Coliseum?”

“Oh, it’s a long story, but I’m glad that I was able to get you guys out!”

“You what…?” King Riku marveled. “Don’t tell me it was you who caused the explosion!”

“Sort of…?” Luffy folded his arms and tilted his head. “I kind of redirected a bomb one of the military guys tossed at me before they became occupied…”

‘This guy’s a monster,’ Baby 5 thought. ‘He’s perfect.’

“If that’s the case, then do you want to help me get my sister back?” she grinned. His smile matched, then quickly surpassed hers.

“Yosh!”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The blade at Law’s cheek was uncomfortably close as he stared at Corazón, for once not knowing what to say. He had spent over a decade being the one with all the answers on the crew—the one who had at least five different plans before anything began to start let alone go sour—and this was new territory for him. His parents had been the only ones to have ever seen through all his plots as a child, and now that his mother was glaring back at him again after so long… it was disarming, to say the least.

“Answer me, Trafalgar,” Corazón hissed, pinning him tighter to the wall. She pulled the knife slightly and sliced a small slit on his jaw, the fresh pain stinging brightly against his other established aches. “Why is your face so familiar?”

Shit… he needed to think fast… what could he do to stall? To give him time? To get more information out of her? To get her to realize what was going on…?

“Can…” he exhaled heavily, “…can I ask you a question first? There’s something I need to know before I take your threat as seriously as you want.”

“Depends; what is it?”

“Do you ever feel like things don’t add up?” He shivered as her brows furrowed; fuck, he was not used to this. At all. His stomach felt like it was going to all come up at once and he had to swallow to hold it down. Licking his lips did nothing to wet them and his throat felt raw. “Do you feel like everything in your life makes sense or is something… off…?”

Corazón took the knife from Law’s face and put it back in its sheath. He was trembling as he stared at her, about ready to pass out from nerves alone. Seas… of all the people, it had to be Lami… it had to be his baby sister! She studied his face for a moment, as though looking for cracks in a mask, and frowned tightly.

“I have a recurring dream,” she said. “It’s the day my mother died, before Papa and I went to live with Uncle Doffy in Spider Miles.”

His breath hitched—memories?! How did she have fake memories?!

“We were sitting down to dinner when a bomb went through the living room wall and killed her. Papa ran with me far as he could—we didn’t bring anything with us. There was no time to pack, let alone bury her.” Corazón licked her lips as she stared at a bit of wall past Law’s shoulder. Fuck… how did she not notice they did that the exact same way? “There’s always something that seems… something that doesn’t quite fit.”

“What… is it…?”

“I don’t know; you were the one who asked me.” She then looked him dead-on, her expression steely. “What did it look like?”

“What…?”

“If you think you know so much, then what did the kitchen look like?” she repeated. “Don’t make me say it again.”

“Alright, fine,” he agreed. Law closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to bring his memories back to a happier time without risking it having him break down further. He was already so out of his element, so overtaken by his emotions, that he didn’t know how long he was going to last. “Almost everything sparkled white, because of Amber Lead’s refined state favoring that color, but our kitchen had touches of deep, dark blue. It was the bluest blue, which was in the curtains and part of the tile pattern on the floor. The walls behind the counter had that blue as well—Flevance was actually famous for it before the Amber Lead, and…”

Corazón snarled and suddenly a punch cracked Law’s skull against the stone wall and smashed his nose at the same time. She let go and he sagged to the ground.

“Don’t fuck with me, Trafalgar,” she hissed. His vision was blurred and partially whited-out; fuck, he was not equipped to deal with head trauma of all things. She kicked him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

“We always kept five chairs in the kitchen!” he gasped through the blood spurting from his nose and the ringing in his ears. “Sometimes Mom and Dad hosted visiting doctors and old colleagues—why would there be five chairs if there was three of you?! The extra one was always against the wall when we weren’t using it!”

She paused mid-kicking motion and thought. How many chairs were in their kitchen? It was easy to guess their kitchen was blue and white—lots of Northern homes had blue and white kitchens—and yet…

…there were five chairs in the kitchen, one off to the side and four at the table.

“You sat across from Dad,” he continued. “You needed two volumes of the old encyclopedia set to sit on in order to reach properly. The stove never lit unless one of our parents did this thing where they wiggled the knob while twisting it. You hit your head on an open cupboard door the day before your sixth birthday, splitting your right eyebrow open!”

Inhaling sharply, Corazón kicked Law in the stomach again.

“My mother died when I was five, you piece of shit!” She rolled him over onto his back and placed her foot on his shoulder, pressing down so hard he wrenched his eyes shut in pain. “That could not have happened because she was already gone. The world took both my parents before I was eight and Uncle Doffy promised me the world in return! None of this makes any sense!”

“What’s not making sense?!”

“Why do you know about my eyebrow?!” Law opened his eyes and looked up at her, seeing that there were tears in her eyes. “I always keep it covered with my mask or makeup! How the fuck do you know about that?!”

“I helped stitch it!” Silence settled between them, the only sounds being that of his heavy breathing and far-off fighting. His voice was quiet as he stared at her and asked, “How old are you…?”

“Twenty.”

“What… what did he do to you…?” he breathed. “He took your memories, he took your personality, he took two whole years of your life away…” He closed his eyes and tried to look away, attempting to hide his tears and grit teeth against the patio stone as he curled inward on himself.

Somehow Doflamingo knew this was going to happen. Law realized that this was just a sick joke by an even sicker man, who was ready to torture him long before he even put his plan into action… before he had considered becoming a Shichibukai to further his goals. His former boss, former groomer, former abuser, had done everything he couldn’t do to him, except to his little sister instead. He barely recognized her, and all for what…?

In the end, he was a bad brother, wasn’t he? Why didn’t he press further? Leave for his pirate career earlier? Pay closer attention? Out of all the doable things he’d promised his parents’ corpses, protecting Lami had been such a big one, and now… fuck… he was so tired. He couldn’t go on. Frankly, how could he? Law sighed in resignation and looked Corazón in the eyes.

“Go ahead. Kill me.”

“Wait, what…?” Corazón knelt down and stared at him, trying to understand. “You just spent so much time trying to get me to not kill you, and now you want to die?”

“I thought you were dead for so long, and now that you’re here, after all this time… that bastard won. He knows that I can’t live in a world with you like this, even if I avenge Cora-san.”

“Cora-san…? You mean…?”

“The Second Corazón, Donquixote Rosinante.” Huh… that didn’t make sense…

“…but why would you avenge Papa…?”

“…because he’s not your father; I keep trying to tell you, but you’re just as stubborn as when you were little. Cora-san helped save us and I think… I think he would have gone back for Bee and fled with the three of us if he survived long enough.”

Corazón gaped. “Bee…? You know Bee…?”

“I thought I did, but if you truly are like this, then I guess she just was another of Doflamingo’s pawns after all…”

“…which is something I’m beginning to rethink with each passing moment.” Law and Corazón both tensed as they realized they were being watched. Doflamingo hopped down from the roof and frowned at the youngsters. “Antonia, dear, why haven’t you drowned the rat?”

“Uncle Doffy, why don’t I remember him?” she asked. Corazón stood upright, staring him down with the ease that came from being his protege for a decade. “The things he’s saying… none of it adds up.”

“That is because he’s lying,” he replied. He stepped close enough to grab her face with one hand and tilt it up as though she were a petulant child. “After all this time, he’s still jealous that it was you I chose.”

“Don’t touch her!” Law shouted, his efforts to wriggle out of his cuffs renewed. “Get away from her!”

“You failed this test, Antonia,” Doflamingo said, ignoring Law. “Here I was thinking I could give you some more responsibility around here and instead you disappoint me.”

“Uncle Doffy, I…!”

“Now how am I going to punish you, hmm…?” He lifted her up so that he stood straight, her legs dangling as she tried to break free of his grip. “I have not had to punish my darling niece in oh so long… I don’t even know what’s age-appropriate these days…”

“Let me go!” Corazón demanded. She let out a burst of Haki, only for Doflamingo to unleash his, dropping her so as to give the full effect of his crushing, oppressive presence.

“Don’t think you’re going to get off easy, Corazón,” he sneered. “Now what are we going to do? No dessert for a week? Take away your toys?” He watched as she tried to get back on her feet and grinned at her struggling. “Ah, yes; I believe I’ll send you to your room for a time out. That will teach you to not be naughty and disobey…” He held out a hand and twitched his fingers, Corazón feeling her limbs jerk into place as he caught her in his web.

Oh no…

Just then, a shishishi was heard as something whizzed towards them, landing a punch on Donflamingo’s left side. The blond flew into a wall and the strings holding onto Corazón snapped.

“He’s not gonna stay down for long,” their rescuer grinned. Corazón stared in confusion, while Law…

“Strawhat-ya!” he snapped. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Her sister said I can’t beat up Mingo until I get you two to safety,” Luffy shrugged. He hefted Law under one arm, threw Antonia over his other shoulder, coiled his legs into springs, and jumped.

Holy fucking shit.

[deada55]

His Life Will Find A Purpose (When the River Meets the Sea) - Chapter 5

crossposting: ao3

work summary: A nine-year old in Tomahawk, WI gets glaucoma surgery over Christmas break.

chapter summary: An aside about Pickles' third grade teacher, Mrs. Wallace.

tws: Vomit, lots of physical hurt descriptors, animal death, mild gore, referenced corporal punishment

Mrs. Wallace, his teacher, was an older woman who wore her hair short like Liza Minnelli and had a hairy-looking sweater for every season, but her smile was wise and knowing. She gave it to kids who really deserved it, like the whole front row that got As on their spelling tests and finished more than two of their multiplication tables within the span of five minutes. Kids like that. Tim got one, too, when he gave his report on the fish living in Lake Allice. It was a good report: he wrote a whole field-guide, and drew the fish out, with accurate colors and all. Even though the fish weren’t perfect, the general shape of them was uncanny to what they were, and she smiled so richly you’d think it was her birthday.

She was a nice person, he just knew it, but he didn’t trust her. She called the principal on him at the drop of a hat, and it was a miracle he didn’t get a talking-to in the nurses’ office. Mr. Coakley, the principal, walked the halls and said hello to the kids he knew like he didn’t glow a more furious red than his parents, like he couldn’t shout so loud that the veins in his temples pulsed like a monster, like he wouldn’t keep bellowing “Look at me!” while tearful snot ran over your clenched lips. His only redeeming quality were the dry letters he sent home after those horrible encounters that didn’t tattle on Pickles any further than the bare facts of what happened. His parents didn’t have to know how terrible Mr. Coakley could be. They didn’t have to know how he’d rather die than look Mr. Coakley in his mismatched eyes.

On his worst day, a couple months ago, after waking up late, after his diorama broke when Dad hit a cat driving them to school, after forgetting what the book was about and spending his presentation staring at the blood on his shoes, after getting out in kickball and sitting under one of the big beech trees to spend the rest of recess putting on what Mom called a “better face,” here came Mr. Coakley down the hill to the playground with Mrs. Wallace watching from the teachers’ bench, hands folded like a Soviet chess coach. A walk to the gallows would have been more cheerful than his hike through the Red Sea of the other children playing, sojourning to the schoolhouse and then to the office, clenching his teeth 

Something else caught Mr. Coakley’s attention, so the secretary had Pickles contained to the itchy yellow bench in the little hall that led to the administrative offices. He waited in front of a white wall with a stuck analog clock and a black scuff at the height of someone’s handbag for what felt like too long and not long enough. 

They’d tell him what he did, right? If he had to guess, this was either about his project or about what he said about Gabriel Cash having girly fingernails, even if they had blood under them since he was a nosepicker in a dry-air world.

The anticipation was heavy enough to kill him, and the more he searched for a reason why Mrs. Wallace sic’d the principal on him, the clearer he could imagine the dread of his face looming closer and closer until the smell of mustardy breath and cologne filled the office.

Already, his chest was tightening, and he covered his eyes and cheeks with his hands so the ladies at the front desk couldn’t see him facing his punishment with such indignity. Since the morning had started off so poorly, there was no way his parents would let a referral like this slide. How would he get through the rest of the day without catching another one, for fighting back when he got teased or not listening in class? Everyone on the playground knew he got called into the office… what would he tell them, with a tear-streaked face? They’d all call him a baby, word would get to Seth before the day was done, and he might tell their parents before Pickles could hand them the letter, and then they’d call him a liar as if he’d hidden it from them. 

Miss Owens popped her head around the corner and asked if he wanted his inhaler, but the labor it took him to breathe without choking felt like what he deserved. If it took Mr. Coakley this long to gather his evidence, he must be in for it big time. Everyone in the office seemed like they’d rather him not exist; when he lifted his head to respond to Miss Owens, both secretaries and someone’s waiting mother were staring at him.

Her carefully lined lips made an apology knock at the back of his throat like vomit. Ashamed, all he could do was shake his head. 

“Are you sure?”

A cough forced its way through, but he smiled at her and found that it helped his eyes dry up a little more. 

“Do you want some water, Pickles?”

“No,” Coughing a little harder took the sticky shit out of the back of his throat so he could talk without sounding like he were drowning. “It’s fine.”

“Please tell Mrs. Ferris if you change your mind, ok? Please?”

He nodded, and she left him alone, even though it got harder and harder not to slip into a coughing fit. Just when it felt like there wasn’t room between the hurt in his chest and impending destruction from Mr. Coakley, the events from the morning started to flash over the darkness in his hands. The bloody, hairy smear on the road and his father beating the steering wheel blue were his creation: he woke up ten minutes too late. He broke his own diorama instead of holding his body back when the car lurched. He forgot his presentation. He left the protection of the kickball game and deserted himself like a baby bird on the sidewalk. He made it so easy to get snapped up… maybe he’d die.

Sitting outside the principal's office, that’s all he wanted. He ruined his own life and the good times of everyone around him, and it hurt to disappoint himself. The other kids in his class were sitting around doing what they ought to do at school and here he was on death row, listening to the low sounds of Mr. Coakley on the phone and the open-shut of file cabinets. Even Seth could do that. He glanced up again and saw the same thing: he was a spectacle, an eyesore, a fuckup on a bench.

If God was real, maybe he’d drop dead. If he kept his eyes covered, maybe it’d happen and he’d never open them again. He’d probably go to hell, and no one would care, but at least something would change. It’d either stop hurting or hurt even worse, and the latter option sounded more like the kind of thing that he was in for. Good people didn’t do this. Good people didn’t end up here.

Mr. Coakley popped his head out of the office and Pickles immediately sat himself up correctly. Instead of ushering him into the yellow plastic chair in front of that grand wooden desk, Mr. Coakley looked towards his secretary. 

“Did the school board office’s phone codes change?”

“No, sir.” Mrs. Ferris peered over the desk.

“Huh.” He ducked back in and almost had the door closed again-

“Do you still want Pickles?”

“Oh.” He finally gave Pickles a look-over, not with the green eye or the brown eye alone, but with both of ‘em. “Yes, just a minute-” The second hand on the clock flicked like the tongue of a snake. The sound of the door closing right in front of him called back all the tears he’d worked so hard to squash, but when they fell, he knew it was imperative to cover his mouth instead of his eyes if he wanted to do the bare minimum for everyone else in the room.

He was shaking by the time Mrs. Ferris called him up to the desk, and he squeezed his fingers to keep his face plain.

“What happened?”

Oh, dammit… Just when his cheeks had dried, more tears started to fall and a sigh rushed out of him, not an answer.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t want to tell me?”

“I don’t know what I did, honest.”

Mrs. Ferris heard his voice crumble and she held a box of tissues out to him.

“No thanks, I’m fine.”

“Take one just to have, ok? Do it for me.”

He followed instructions just fine.

“He’ll come get you in a little bit, I promise. Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

He shook his head and dabbed at his wet jawline, sucking up a river of mucus. 

“No?”

No. He didn’t deserve it.

“Do you want to go sit back down?”

“Yeah.” It hurt to talk and it hurt to be quiet. That was probably the point.

“Go ahead, it’s alright.” She kept her eyes on him in case he keeled over or broke into a run. Mrs. Ferris had worked too long to underestimate the kind of torment waiting for punishment could be for a young heart, not that her pursed lips or her empathy-induced indigestion did Pickles any good.

A horrible, tantruming want to be held burst through Pickles. His own voice kept volleying through his mind, calling for his mom despite how the image of her open arms was always accompanied by a sickened, rancid expression. It never stopped him from wanting her hands, from listening to the sound of her voice when she was on the phone, from smelling her night cream on her pillowcase and wanting his casket to smell the exact same way. He wanted her so bad…

The guilt was the left hook that tortured his cheeks with more salt. No way she would want to see him as much as he wanted to see her. It wasn’t fair how he wanted her when he was at his worst… Down in his heart, he knew she would’ve been happier without him. Just as his cheeks deserved to itch, he deserved the aching emptiness that came with living when he shouldn’t have been born.

Let me die, please let me die, please let me die, please… but it never happened.

“Pickles,” Mr. Coakley opened the door and ushered him in. The sound of his voice was so aversive that Pickles wished he didn’t have a name at all, not even the other one.

Mr. Coakley’s office was different from how he remembered it. With all the paperwork properly stored, a green monogrammed desk pad was visible, and the black leather-bound annual calendar right beside it. A small brown teddy bear sat on the top right corner of the desk, looking towards Mr. Coakley’s creaky yellow swivel chair. Where was the paddle, the one with the holes in it? Pickles couldn’t even find an empty nail on the wall in the split-second he had to look around. Did he forget—

Mr. Coakley had slipped in front of him and sat at the desk, but he left his long legs cartoonishly extended to the side. The bottom of his shoes the wall. Just when Pickles was going to strategically stand by the visitor’s chair, so the effort it took to keep good posture could distract him from Mr. Coakley’s impending transformation, a calm, quiet voice asked him to come forward. 

His hand made looping gestures towards the space in front of him. On the way, Pickles stubbed his toe twice: once on the visitor’s chair and again on the desk, but he dared not stumble. The entire world stalled like God himself had dropped a down comforter of snow over the roads, and he couldn’t exhale from his nose any longer. To stay silent, he breathed only as far as he could feel it in back of his mouth, just enough to keep him from getting too lightheaded too quickly.

Pickles’ right thumbnail was longer than the other one, so he jammed it under his left thumbnail now that squeezing and pinching his fingers wasn’t enough to give him some distance from Mr. Coakley’s eyes carefully looking him over with a serious, soft expression. Oh, was he a sadist! He made him wait so long, just to trick him into telling on himself in front of his “nice”, “caring” princi-PAL.

Looking dead into his ugly face, Mr. Coakley teased Pickles’ hands apart and held them in his own, fingers curled around fingers. The only pressure came from the weight of Mr. Coakley’s thumb skating across his knuckles. For Pickles, felt like the split second an animal’s body gets sucked underneath a tire, like the moment his leg breaks and running from the accident stops being an option. It felt like his hair and freckles were getting snatched up in the links of a snow chain and the bluish sidewalk salt in the gutter was embedded into his stripped, skinless flesh. And his green eye would look upward at the sky, empty and made object, pointed upward past who dared to look down at him, whoever was still sporting a smear of wet paste and glitter on his shirt, whoever could suddenly smell it as something thick and wet ran over his upper lip and into his mouth.

Mr. Coakley kept his voice soft as Pickles shifted from red to white like a sea creature’s camoflaging. “Pickles, are you alright?”

He was trying so hard not to wail through his open lips. He breathed through the scant allowance his left nostril could allow now that it’d involuntarily relieved itself, but his teeth were still a hair’s distance away from clattering against each other (since his hands were occupied, the energy had to go somewhere or he’d burst.)

The teddy bear on the desk kept stealing his eyes away, but the shades of his fur left his face a blurry, uncertain spot. Yet it looked and it had some kind of expression on its face; it had to. Without being able to see it, something in Pickles knew it was looking, and every organ in his chest curdled like cottage cheese. It just kept happening, everything went worse and worse…

“Is there something you’d like to talk about?”

At least he got a breath in, one shaky breath that stuttered into him in stages but was quiet enough not to mortify him. This was the hard part. This was the moment Mr. Coakley would change into a monster and cut a hole in Pickles’ head just big enough to suck his brains out with a gigantic butterfly’s tongue. This was the question he didn’t know the answer to. This was the trap.

He didn’t have anything to say but “No.” 

Instead of jumping in with what he’d done, Mr. Coakley looked off to the side and changed his gentle hold on Pickles’ fingers, even though they were slightly tacky with kickball dirt and wet-tissue residue.

Pickles looked at the teddy bear again and started to rehearse how he’d keep from screaming if Mr. Coakley bent back and broke his fingers all at once.

The very second he felt too helpless not to cry out, Mr. Coakley made another offering. “Do you need to go to the nurse?” 

“No, sir.” Gravelly, choked, and sour, the sound of his voice said the opposite, but an inhaler couldn’t save him now. His heart hadn’t stopped pounding and fluttering this whole time, and it didn’t need to get worse. But his whole chest was on fire… how many people had offered it to him today?

The principal searched for anything but terror in Pickles’ face and came up with nothing. He pressed his lips and slowly dropped his hands, which Pickles wiped against his pants like his legs were vanishing.

“Alright, Pickles, you’re alright… Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

“No.” Getting out from in front of the principal sounded great.

“Well, you can go back to class. Miss Owens’ office is open if you want to, uh, to clean yourself up. Goodbye, Pickles.”

Pickles left the office feeling like he’d escaped Alcatraz only to be at the mercy of the cold San Francisco Bay. The class would all know he’d been crying, without question. In the reflection of the trophy case, he looked like a stuffed up baby doll head sporting a patchy coat of red spray paint. 

He came back to the room and slipped into his seat with his head low. Mrs. Wallace did a double-take, but let her look! She called Mr. Coakley to the playground. She knew what she was doing.

There were only thirty minutes before they went home, so Mrs. Wallace passed out some popsicle sticks and lengths of yarn and helped them make spiderweb God’s eye things by lashing the popsicle sticks together and tying knots on the sticks to weave a web for a plastic spider. He finished early and laid his head down to hide his face. Everyone was looking now that they we just crafting, and if they weren’t tying the spiders to strings and flinging them at each other, they were staring at him. 

He heard Mrs. Wallace’s footsteps behind him and brought his arms in tighter, but all she did was offer him a lingering pat on the back.

December brought with it a Christmas letter-writing project; Mrs. Wallace loved little seasonal activities. Their letters were proofread and made to be correct as part of their Language Arts grade, but after she’d approved their final draft, they got to decorate the letters with stickers and markers. Pickles tried to keep his letter tasteful, and used a couple stickers of holly bundles around the P.S. and the signature, and in the top-left corner like printed stationery. Hopefully, it actually made it to Santa like Mrs. Wallace said. Handing it over to her felt like throwing it in the trash.

Hopefully, Santa would get ‘em. Mrs. Wallace took them to send off. If it was just his in her hands, he’d know it wouldn’t get anywhere. She probably hated him by now, after throwing up in her class. He didn’t look at her face, but it was probably the same one she had when Tim put a clementine-sized ball of chewed gum in the palm of her lotiony hand. But she asked for it, and she should’ve been honored: Tim made the biggest gum balls in school. It probably would’ve beaten last year’s if she hadn’t thrown it away. It was the size of a multicolored clementine after only a month! 

She’d treat his letter just the same as that wad of gum if it weren’t in the same stack as the rest of the class.

Santa usually stopped in Merrill’s new department store built on the site of an old paper plant. It wasn’t a big, real Macy’s or anything, and it wasn’t the real Santa either. It couldn’t be: there’s just too many Macy’s and Sears’ of the world to stop anywhere north of Milwaukee. One of the kids at school made a really good point a couple years ago that maybe the Santas in shopping centers were spies. After all, Santa probably didn’t have a good phone line up in the North Pole, and little kids couldn’t really write letters like older ones did. Mrs. Wallace had them write their letters in class this year, with a proper “Dear Santa,” and an official salutation, a return address, the right grammar… 

Letters were his only shot at Santa. When he was two, he screamed so loudly at Santa that the whole family got dismissed from his sight. Although he didn’t remember it, his mother was convinced he hated him, so he never went with Seth to see Santa. Every year, he ended up waiting outside, or in the lobby, or around the corner up against a wall.

A well written letter to Santa was the secret to getting much of anything, but on top of choosing such a delicate format, he had no idea what he wanted. He’d taken a big gamble, but he didn’t know what else to ask for other than a puppy. It was a desperate, halfbrained move he’d made after drinking a whole bottle of Almond extract he snuck into his backpack in the two minutes between the science lesson and recess. It was a terrible choice, but he felt obligated to himself to carry it out. He wrote that letter not just for Santa, but for himself. He had to do what he could, or he’d kick himself when Santa left him behind. 

He’d need to be on his best behavior or he’d lose what little luck he could get out of Santa as it was. Seth always had it better on Christmas morning, but he was also the one who went for a personal audience. That’s what adults did, wasn’t it? You just gotta get “in” with the right people to get anywhere.

And he was out. The letter was his best shot.

[kilannad]

As the Stars Burn On Chapter 33

Masterlist. Ao3. Discord.

The Fragments of Time

Sunny was a beauty. Franky had truly reached into the soul of the Straw Hats and created the perfect ship for them. The first few days of sailing were like a weird fever dream, where everyone was uncertain of the new reality. Lucy had to figure out what an actual relationship looked like--spoiler, it was exactly what they'd been doing just with more sex--while Robin readjusted to her place, fully confident that her crew would always come for her. Franky fit in like a puzzle piece, another member added to their ranks and welcomed wholeheartedly. As the days went by and they started sailing once more the whole crew fell back into rhythm. Which of course meant craziness--a Coup de Burst had sent them once more into a Navy base, though this one much easier to escape from--and, as always, the quiet times that made them who they were.

☉

Lucy settled against Sunny's railing near the figurehead, sun warming her skin as she cracked open a good book. It'd been ages since she'd had the chance to simply read and while she loved the library, she enjoyed the sun. For a little while, everything was perfect; Gajeel, Usopp, and Franky were making something explode below deck; Nami was drawing maps with Robin for company in the library; Sanji and Zoro were arguing; and Lily and Laxus were speaking with Chopper about his monster point. Luffy, in his usual way, rocketed his way over the deck and onto the sunflower--lion, maybe--figurehead. With their whole crew back together, she had no worries in the world. Which is why she startled so badly when Luffy of all people sounded small and confused.

"Lucy?"

She set her book aside, immediately concerned. Luffy didn't do small or confused--well, okay, he occasionally did confused very well but not like this. Not when he was staring at his straw hat, flipping it through his hands with a far off look in his eyes. It might have been the first time he'd sat there without looking towards the horizon. Whatever was on his mind wasn't something simple.

"Yes, Luffy?"

"Why do you have sex?"

Her brain hit the brakes; it went out one ear, did a few cartwheels, then came back in to restart. The words sex and Luffy had never connected together before and she wasn't sure she wanted them to this time. It occurred to Lucy, vaguely, that the captain was a seventeen year old boy--when she'd been seventeen, she'd already started experimenting with porn and lingerie. For Luffy it just seemed...alien to his character.

When she woke up this morning, she certainly hadn't expected this.

Setting her book gently to the side, Lucy heaved herself up and, gently pausing for Luffy's permission first, climbed up next to him. He scooted to let her have more room, but that wasn't really necessary; Sunny was huge, her head included.

"What brought this on?" He only shrugged at her question, still playing with the hat. She was so far out of her depth she didn't even know where to begin. For her, she'd discovered sex through books, learning everything she knew by hunting out the information. It would've been unseemly for a lady like her to be interested in such things, which had been what mostly fed her desire to learn. For Luffy, though, who cared so little for that sort of thing and left the world to teach him what he needed to know, giving him a book would be the worst thing she could do. Honestly, this was probably a conversation better had with Laxus or Gajeel--certainly not Sanji--but Luffy had come to her, so she had to figure something out.

Well, shit. She had to give him The Talk.

"Well," she started, clearing her throat. "Do--Luffy, do you know what sex is?"

"Yeah. Sabo explained it to me an' Ace."

"Who's Sabo?"

The straw hat crinkled a little in his grip before it smoothed out. "He was our brother."

Was. Well, fuck. This had just become a bigger minefield than before. "Did he explain the...emotional aspect, or just the physical."

Luffy scrunched up his face. "He taught us how it worked and when I said it sounded gross he said that we'd want it when we really liked someone."

"Okay." Lucy scrambled for something to say to that. While she never would have said it ten minutes ago, she suddenly desperately wanted the marines to attack them. "Well. Have you ever liked someone?"

"Of course! I like you, and Zoro and Robin and Nami and Usopp--"

"Not like nakama," Lucy clarified. "Like...like I like Gajeel and Laxus."

He stuck his tongue out. "Why would I? That's a you and Gajeel and Laxus thing. Shanks didn't like Makino the way you like them, or Sanji with Ace-"

"I'm sorry, what?" Luffy stared at her blankly as if she was the crazy one. "Did something happen between Sanji and Ace?!"

"No? He wasn't here that long."

That was a can of worms she would touch later. Holyshit the drama on this crew.

"Setting that aside...While relationships are certainly different for every relationship, that's not really what I meant."

"But what does it mean?" he huffed. Despite the bizarre situation, Lucy found sympathy twisting her throat. This was clearly something bothering him, though she couldn't quite figure out why.

"How I feel with Laxus and Gaj--it feels different with them, then with the rest of our crew. With the crew there's love and camaraderie for sure, but with them there's another layer. When I'm with them there's a feeling of partnership in life that isn't present with you or Nami. They're the sort of people I imagine sharing a bed with--sometimes with sex, sometimes just to hold each other--or having kids or any of those other things that you think of when you think of the people you know in romances. They're just...I'm in love with them instead of just loving them, if that makes sense."

He chewed on his lip, eyes lifting to the horizon line. Lucy thought it was his favorite spot on the ship because he was always looking forward, always ready for the next adventure. She had never considered that Luffy had his moments of introspection; a dumb assumption, considering he was probably the most empathetic person she knew.

"I don't think I've ever felt that."

"That's okay," Lucy assured immediately. "Some people never find someone like that; that doesn't mean they don't live happy lives. Some people don't want romance, and that's okay too. Maybe someday you'll find someone and want that closeness or maybe not."

"I still think sex is gross."

She couldn't help it; she laughed. "That's okay. Maybe you're asexual."

"What's that?"

Lucy bit her lip, leaning back to count the clouds. Trying to explain gender and sexual identities to Luffy might be more than she could handle. Actually, now that she thought about it, did Terra even have the same labels as Earthland? The queer movement was about three hundred years old, but it had taken them a long time to develop the sort of community they had modernly, to say nothing of the organization it took on a continental scale. Besides, lacrimas and magic had played a huge role, both things Terra just didn't have. With how broken up society and cultures were in Terra, she didn't think it was possible for them to have as many centralized social movements as Earthland did. Not to mention the World Government actively blocking any social change anyway.

"Back home," she started slowly, carefully picking her words. "For a long time, we didn't have words for the kinds of people we had. Some people were women who liked women, some were men who liked men, sometimes people liked both and weren't a man or a woman."

"Like Bon Clay," Luffy cheered. "He's an okama."

"Exactly! Okama is the Terra word for a cross-dressing man who likes other men sexually. In Earthland we had a lot of words for a lot of different people. Asexual is the word for people who don't want to have sex with anyone, no matter the gender."

"Oh." For once, Luffy didn't call it a mystery word, which actually made her think he was trying to process it. "So there's people who never have partners?"

"Well, yes. But those are aromantics; people who don't want or feel romantic desire. You can have a romance without having sex and vice versa."

He scrunched up his face, which probably meant she was getting too complicated. "The point I'm making, Luffy, is that you don't need to worry if you think sex is gross; lots of people do."

Like a switch flipped, he grinned that same bright, impossibly wide smile. "Shishishi. You're really smart, Lucy."

☉

Nami ran the brush through her hair, gently pulling out any knots until it was silky smooth. Living on a ship meant giving up a lot of things, but damn if she'd give up having nice hair, no matter what the water and wind had to say about it. Robin slipped down the steps, letting the door fall shut above her. Lily and Chopper were on first watch, leaving the rest of the crew to turn in for the night. Slipping on the soft silk of her pajamas was paradise, the sweet feather mattress nearly swallowing her as she finally laid down. Robin hummed a little as she went about her evening routine, lulling Nami. It was strange to only have the two of them in the room after so long sharing with Lucy; weirder was the fact that they each had their own bed. They'd both taken the bottom bunks, leaving them across the room from each other at night. Sometimes, when Nami woke from nightmares, all she had to do was look over and see Robin's sleeping face to calm herself. After all, if the crew managed to declare war on the world and take her back successfully, then there was nothing that could stop them. Probably.

She could just make out the sound of Robin slipping between the sheets, skin on silk, and the quiet ruffling of her settling down. With the lantern put out, all that was left was the gentle dark and ever present rocking that she loved so dearly.

"So," Robin whispered, shattering her peace. "Would you like to tell me why you're ignoring Sanji?"

"I'm not ignoring Sanji," Nami contested loudly. She flinched at the volume, eyeing the emergency door to the men's quarters.

"Oh? Is that why you've spent the last few days hiding in the library with your maps?"

"I'm the navigator. Drawing maps is my job."

"To the extent that you aren't seeing Sanji except for mealtimes, during which you won't even look at him?"

Nami bit her lip, knowing she had no defense against the accusation; because she had been avoiding Sanji. Not on purpose, really, she just--she couldn't stand to look at him without remembering how he refused to fight Kalifa. It bothered her, for a lot of reasons, most of which she didn't really know how to put to herself.

Robin sighed a little, shifting in the dark. Nami turned towards the center, making out the faint outline of her body. Light trickled through from the overhead door, just faint beams that let them see a little.

"Nami. Whatever the problem is, ignoring it won't make it go away. Trust me, I've tried."

Nami couldn't deny that--she'd been giving Lucy shit for avoiding dealing with Laxus and Gajeel, to say nothing of how Robin hadn't trusted the crew with her past. Still, she thought it'd make her sound like a crazy person to say it.

"Did you hear? About how he protected me from Kalifa?"

"That sounds like him. It bothers you that he stepped in?"

"No. It bothers me that he wouldn't protect himself. She was trying to kill him and all he'd do was block and redirect. He didn't even try to counterattack!"

Robin hummed a little. "He hasn't been quiet about how he sees women. You've never seemed to have a problem with it."

"It's bullshit," Nami hissed. "He says he wants us to be happy and safe, but he's more worried about being a perv and keeping his own honor than fighting."

"Nami."

It wasn't much, but the rebuke hurt. Nami deflated, picking at the edges of her pillow. That was unfair to Sanji and she knew it. It was just frustrating, to know how powerful he was and yet see him willfully lose to any woman, even if that meant his own death. For the life of her, she couldn't figure it out.

"I don't want him getting hurt," she finally murmured. "And okay, maybe his pervert tendencies bother me a little."

"Have you considered talking to him?"

"How? 'I know you have a strict code of honor but won't you bend it for me, pretty please?' I might be a bitch, but I'm not a monster. I wouldn't ask Lucy to kill or Zoro to disobey Luffy's orders; how can I possibly ask Sanji to change who he is?"

"There is a difference between asking someone to change who they are, and setting boundaries," Robin pointed out.

Nami breathed out a little sigh, turning to stare at the ceiling. "I don't know if I can," she admitted. "After all the years with Arlong that I spent just...going along with people, using who they were to my benefit, I haven't set a boundary since I was eight. I don't even know how, anymore. And if I tried, I'd probably just end up yelling."

"Would you like me to do it?"

"Doesn't that make me a coward?"

"No. It makes you someone who needs help. That is the point of nakama, yes?"

Nami laughed a little, relaxing into the soft bed. She thought about it, considering all the ways it could play out. Sanji, she knew in her heart, would hear her out. He might not be able to change it instantly, but he'd at least try his best. He would never make a woman uncomfortable on purpose; sometimes, he just lost sight of what was okay. Still, she didn't want to do it alone.

"Would it be wrong to ask you to do it with me?"

"Of course not."

"Really? It won't seem like we're ganging up on him?"

Robin laughed. "Let's ask Lucy to help. That way it'll seem more like a universal opinion rather than just you."

"Okay," Nami breathed. "I can live with that."

☉

Jonathan stood at the dock, ready to greet the incoming ships. Navarone had, tentatively, been allowed to continue, with the understanding that it'd be involved more as a weigh station. His first guest, unsurprisingly, was extremely high ranked and rather known for having a zero tolerance policy towards pirates and the sympathizers. At least it wasn't Akainu.

The massive marine--retired though he technically was--still had the same presence of unquestionable power he'd had the one time Jonathan had seen him before, when he'd just been a Commodore and the man an Admiral. Eleven and a half feet tall, with bright purple hair and a square jaw, he cut an intimidating figure. The bloody bandages hiding the stump of his arm did little to detract from that.

Jonathan saluted sharply as he stepped off the gangplank. "Kuroiude-"

"Drop the titles, Vice Admiral. I'm not an admiral anymore."

Interesting. Resentment for the institution or simply a strict sense of propriety? Rumor had it he'd wanted to leave the marines entirely when his wife and child had died, so perhaps the former.

"Of course, Zephyr. My apologies."

Behind the former admiral, two figures were helped off the ship by Jonathan's own medical team. He could just make out the massive Marine flag covering a stack of what he guessed were bodies. While the ship had been populated by mostly cadets and seaman recruits, it was a shocking sight to know that someone--anyone--could get past a former admiral long enough to slaughter the whole ship and remove the admiral's arm to boot.

Jonathan, too well trained and too intelligent to stare at any one part for long, smoothly continued talking. "Would you like to see medical first, or get debriefed?"

"Debrief can wait," he grunted. "Just send out a notice to HQ. The Surgeon of Death's bounty needs to be doubled."

Trafalgar Law did this? Perhaps his ego had been hurt by the Straw Hats' showing and was trying to prove himself better than them. This generation was truly turning out to be awful. "Consider it done, sir."

☉

Paulie stood in the doorway to Iceburg's office, staring at the stacked papers, the half drawn blueprints, the tossed plans. He'd been so caught up in building the ship for the Straw Hats, that he'd forgotten about the elections. He'd been surprised at the results, though Tilestone and Lulu had just laughed at him. Just because he was Vice President didn't mean he was ready to take over Iceburg's shoes. He'd been an inspiration to Paulie for over a decade and the thought of him gone, never again to bring home some strange pet, made his chest ache.

He skated his fingers over the worn wood, collapsing into Iceburg's chair. It felt wrong, sitting here instead of lounging across the couch, bitching about his clients and his debt. He moved the papers, unwilling and unable to bear going through them now. One piece fluttered to the ground. Groaning, he bent to pick it up, eyes catching at the half done schematic. It was a full blueprint, just the idea stages. It was enough for Paulie to understand what Iceburg had been trying to do though.

"You crazy son of a bitch," Paulie breathed. "You wanted to turn the island into a ship."

Unable to help himself, he pulled out his pencil and tools.

☉

Nami, with Lucy and Robin close on her heels, slipped into the kitchen. Usopp caught sight of them, cutting off in his story, before making a quick excuse to vanish. If there was one thing Nami always appreciated about him, it was that he could read a room. Sanji looked up from the stove at the sudden disappearance of his companion, eyes lighting up at the three ladies.

"Lovelies! What can I do for you? Something to drink? A beautiful snack for your beautiful selves?"

"Actually," Robin started, slipping into a seat at the table. Lucy and Nami followed suit, though Nami couldn't help picking at a thread on her shirt. "We came to talk."

"Of course! Whatever you need."

"Sanji," Lucy started kindly, but not without a note of steel in her voice. "We came to talk about you."

Finally, he stuttered, seemingly picking up on the energy. Turning off the stove, he set aside his ingredients and wiped his hands, settling against the countertop. Sanji's lips twisted into a slight frown, but he gave them his full attention.

Robin glanced at Nami, who continued to fidget in her seat. She didn't want to hurt Sanji's feelings but she also couldn't figure out a way to start that wouldn't sound like an accusation. Under her lashes, she sent a look towards Lucy.

Seas bless her, Lucy didn't hesitate to start. "I want you to understand that we love you Sanji. You're our nakama and nothing will change that."

Briefly, panic flitted over his face but he hid it behind another cigarette. His hands were shaking. "Of course, Lady Lucy."

"We'd like to know, though, why you refuse to fight women."

His eyes widened before hardening. "I will never kick a woman. You shouldn't have to fight-"

"That's not your choice!" Nami burst out. She tried to calm down and speak calmly, like Lucy, but her hands were shaking and every time she blinked, all she could see was Sanji, bloody and glistening like a doll. Sanji, hurt trying to protect her and refusing to help himself. Neither Lucy nor Robin tried to stop her. "We're pirates, Sanji. We might not enjoy the fighting like Zoro, or be monstrously strong like Laxus and Luffy, but we chose this life and we know what it means. You refusing to let us fight or pretending like every female enemy we have is some damsel is-" hurtful, shortsighted, moronic, dangerous, "-condescending!"

For a long second, the only sound in the room was Nami's heaving breath and the near silent burning of Sanji's cigarette. Gently, Lucy reached out and rubbed Nami's back; she hadn't even realized she'd stood up, planting herself against the table. Her eyes were wet and she couldn't figure out why. It had never bothered her before, not really. Sanji was Sanji and she'd lived with his womanizing and dumb honor for months without this being an issue.

"Oh Nami," he breathed. He didn't continue, words seeming to fail even him in the wake of her rant.

"We appreciate your care," Robin murmured softly. "But we tend to find your treatment of us...a tad insulting."

Sanji flinched, even the gentle words seeming like a harsh blow. For a second, he worked his jaw until, finally, he burst out, "I can't hurt a woman." Nami bristled, but he was staring at Lucy. "After my childhood, I can't. Not without losing myself."

Nami had no idea what he was talking about but Lucy seemed to. She reached out a hand and waited for him to step forward and take it, collapsing into a chair across from them. "Okay," Lucy said. "If this is something about--what we talked about last time, okay. But Sanji; you fucking terrified Nami when you didn't fight Kalifa. And while we didn't linger on it at the time, it was really hurtful when you said I shouldn't fight a priest on Skypiea."

"I'm sorry," he swore. "I am. I just...I hate seeing women hurt."

"Do you think we like seeing you hurt instead?" Nami rasped. She blinked rapidly, swallowing back tears. "Sanji, when will you get it? Men, women, it doesn't mean shit, not to us. Traveling the Grandline means we're going to get into fights and we need to know you'll trust us with that when the time comes."

He took a long pull on his cigarette, eyes downcast. "I can try. I don't like knowing you're in battle and I can't help, but I can try."

"That's all we ask," Robin soothed. "But while we're here-" she faltered, pursing her lips before simply choosing to rip the bandaid off, so to speak. "-while we're here, I'd also like to request you tone down your...intensity when it comes to your appreciation for women."

"I didn't know that bothered you."

"It's you, Sanji," Nami said. "We know that if we tell you no, you'll listen. But other women don't know you the way we do, and you can come off as intense."

"Really intense," Lucy agreed. "Just...you don't have to treat us like you do men, if you don't want to. But we'd like it if you treated women as people instead of just goddesses or objects of beauty or whatever else."

He blew out a smoke ring, letting it float in the air as he furrowed his brows. "Okay. Okay, if it bothers you, I can try." Sanji bit his lip, looking at all of them. "I have never wanted to make any of you uncomfortable."

"Oh Sanji." Nami came around and tugged him into a hug, burying her face in his shoulders. It said good things about their talk that he didn't immediately start freaking out. "We never feel safer than when you're with us. We just want to stand on our own power, sometimes."

"I still can't fight a woman," he admitted.

Nami breathed through her nose, tightening her hold on him. "Then call one of us. And we'll take that fight for you."

☉

"Captain?"

"What is it?"

"The first wave of prototypes is ready for field testing."

"Perfect."

[blooming-violets]

Who are some of your favorite tv/book/movie characters? And what is it about them that you love?

Oh jesus there are so many and I'm brain farting on all of them. I need to have a think...

Let's start with the obvious because he's who this tumblr is about.

My sweet baby boy Peter Parker (tasm version but all Peter Parker's are precious to me):

Why? He's angsty, he loves to self flagellate, he blames the world's problems on himself, he's an introvert (now that I think about most of my fav characters are probably angsty introverts) he turns into a giddy nervous idiot around the girl he loves, he's sassy and cocky and stubborn and a bit of an ass at times, he's also a mushy little lover boy who simps hard for his ladies, he's a mommas boy (well...aunties boy), he mourns his losses hard and doesn't know how to get over them, he destroys personal relationships in misguided attempts to protect his loved ones, he's a perfect baby and can do no wrong and I love to turn him into a serial killing monster in my fics.

My second favorite sweet baby boy Spencer Reid:

Why? He's another sad angsty introverted baby. I have a type. A gentle personality with an intense drive to protect his loved ones. Is self sacrificing. Would give up his life and safety in a second to save a stranger. He's a literal genius with an eidetic memory. Much like Peter Parker he would be an absolute simp for his ladies. He just wants someone to love him for himself and not have to watch his love get shot in the head in front of his eyes and traumatize him forever. Is that too much to ask for this poor angel?? Omg him and Peter really are a lot alike. So much trauma.

My favorite vampire hunter Guillermo de la Cruz:

Why? I love that he started off being a timid pushover who's only dream was to become a vampire. Then he transforms in the most badass, gay, plus sized serial killer/vampire hunter. I'm pretty sure he's a sociopath. He's an evil bitch who looks like a sweet cherub in a grandpa cardigan. He has killed and will kill again to get what he wants. He will manipulate anyone and take control of his own life. I love him. I love that even though his morals are reprehensible, you still can't help but be on his side and root for his success in whatever nefarious scheme he has going on.

I should put this shit under a read more. I'm getting carried away and now I can't stop.

My heart and soul April Ludgate:

Why? I would die for Aubrey Plaza. April is my favorite weirdo. She's a mean, harsh, scary, sarcastic bitch on the outside but a nervous, self doubting, awkward, loyal baby on the inside. She is a queen and deserves the world. And she adopted a three legged pitbull named Champion. She gave birth in full zombie make up. She's a Halloween loving freak. Her friends become her family. She's a ride or die kind of girl. She is perfection.

Yes I fell hard on the Munson train, sue me:

Why? Why not? Look at him! He's lovely! He's an 80's outcast nerdy metal head who sells pot to his peers out of his lil lunch box. What a hero! People love to discuss his sexuality. To throw my hat into the mix, personally, I think he's pansexual. I think he would straight up fall in love with anyone who gives him an ounce of kindness and attention. He's a little dumb scaredy cat with a heart of gold and probably chain smokes himself to sleep every night. 10/10 would ride him deep into the night. He might of died young (in the dumbest way ever like the dumbass that he is) but he will always live on in the fics I create in my headspace as I go to bed each night.

okay last one

Michonne from the Walking Dead:

Why? I would let her behead me with her katana without a second thought. She's the most bad ass bitch on that show (granted I haven't actually watched the show in forever, I stopped after Carl died, but I still adore those first handful of seasons). Like most of my other idiots on this list, Michonne is a quiet introvert who is fiercely loyal to people she considers family. She doesn't say much but when she does, it's important and you should fucking listen. She's intelligent, crafty, knows how to survive, and is stronger than any man on that show. What's not to love?

[lediz-watches]

You’re lost, little girl

I really enjoyed Goosebumps. Also Fear Street. What I’m saying is, everyone needs more R.L. Stein in their lives.

I’m liveblogging The Winchesters as a Supernatural!virgin. Please keep my lack of knowledge in mind if you continue...

In episode thoughts:

Bernice is going to get you killed, kid.

Those were some 90s Goosebumps hands, my friends!

DEAN YOUR VOICEOVER IS A CONFLICT TO LAST EPISODE’S. LEARN CONSISTENCY, BOY.

That was some… expositional conversation. “You’re close with them right?” “Yeah, let me reel off facts you totally wouldn’t already know!”

Okay, Mary listening to the truckers is what I think I was looking for in the first episode. I want her to daydream of being a trucker, because it’s familiar and seems easy. Please, episode, follow through?

…This is some 90s Goosebumps monstering, my friends!

Okay, I don’t know why this is bothering me right now, but this is something I always kind of wondered when I heard about the Supernatural premise, right? Where do the Hunters get money from? How do they survive? Dress in nice leather? Live in this gorgeous house?! Who pays for all these good deeds?

Also, Ada still feels dodgy. I feel like she’s planning to steal demon energy for power or something. Bad!Willow energy.

‘So many wayward monsters’ Mary? There’s been two. TWO. And this is your job. WHAT?

Oh kid no, be smarter please.

Kid.

KID.

Goddammit kid.

Betty can join the cast of my cop show. She can be the perfect by-the-book rival to contrast Mary’s off-book practices. Even though she’s easily distracted by John’s supposedly-charming chat. YOU ARE ON THE CLOCK, LADY.

…Mary, sweetie, John has never found you. Carlos found him. You stumbled across him while hunting. Neither of you have earned this dramatic moment.

I do like you in the hat though. Very DramaLlama.

…Yeah Ada’s into some not cool magic. Carlos might be into it, but I think baaaaad vibes.

THAT IS SOME 90s GOOSEBUMPS MONSTER, MY FRIENDS

Subtitles… you suck. ‘Speaking non-English language’, bugger off.

I love Lata’s hair but find it weirdly distracting. I want to plait it. Loose plait. Down the side. Elsa!chic.

WAY TO GO LITTLE GIRL.

Ah. Okay. Yeah, the performative anger was supposed to be performative. Awesome, I like it. I don’t think it was done well, but I do approve of the conceit.

Wait, no. It’s not. She is quitting but hasn’t thought about how? So she wants to quit but – ugh. UGH. I’m confused. I AM CONFUSED.

AGAIN, WAY TO GO LITTLE GIRL.

Why do I feel like I’m supposed to recognise the Rocking Roxy lady? Is she an important character? That felt like a bigger reveal than it was.

Mary’s deal confuses me. Or maybe I just want it to be better than it is. I understand wanting to live the life but hating the way you’re made to live the life because your father’s a controlling boss. I understand hating the life but not seeing a way out of it. But this… this hating the life but being scared of a life beyond it… No, I also understand that but I’m… no, it’s not being done well. She or the show or something is not explaining it well. It’s making me less invested in Mary. That’s annoying, because I want to really like her.

But Lata is intriguing me, in her quiet way. I feel like there’s more to her than we’re seeing, but unlike Ada, she’s definitely more on the side of good. Ada I think is supposed to be that morally grey character, kind of a She-Who-Fights-Monsters deal. Carlos remains fabulous but I don’t know his story yet.

So basically, what I’m saying here is, let’s skip the main storyline and invest in some sidequests, baby! The supporting characters are more interesting.

ONTO CHAPTER FOUR! (or back to chapter one if you care.)

[bmaxwell]

Resident Evil Village

I have a handful of cherished gaming experiences with my children. Youngest staring down at her hands in disbelief the first time she put a VR headset on. Playing through Bastion to completion with middle child sitting on my lap. Having to take over firstborn’s Okami playthrough when they reached Old Man and Granny Tongue-Cutter’s house. These days, firstborn will join my partner and I in playing “choices matter” games such as Life is Strange, or the Dark Pictures games. We don’t play many traditional games together anymore, but when they asked if I was planning on buying the new Resident Evil game and could we play it together, well...I’m not going to say no to that. 

Resident Evil Village follows the story begun in Resident Evil 7, which I played a few hours of and never finished because VR is the way to play that game, and holy sweet Jesus is that game scary in VR. Even when it wasn’t being scary, there was a persistent sense of unease and dread that eventually wore me down and stopped me playing. They make enough allusions to the events of that game that I can fill in the blanks and figure out where the story is at. And RE Village wastes no time in throwing you right into the shit. Ethan Winters sure gets dragged through it here.

Stuff Happens then you find yourself in an abandoned village in the middle of nowhere, beset by werewolf monster beast people. It’s not where Ethan wants to be. Also, it’s wintertime. There’s a big castle at the center of town and, if you find yourself lusting after 9-foot-tall vampire ladies with huge cans, this is the game for you. She ties you up, bites you, cuts a hand off, which is not appealing to me in any way but I’m not here to judge. Ethan didn’t consent to this, but I guess I did when I didn’t turn the game off. 

The game starts off with that good, classic survival horror gameplay. You’re alone and desperate in a hostile environment, searching for a way out but also terrified to open any door. It’s got the old lock-and-key gameplay the series is known for, as well as limited ammo so you can’t just Rambo your way through things. Or, if Rambo is too dated a reference, you can’t John Wick your way through things. Especially since Ethan Winters isn’t much without his guns. 

The game’s environments are detailed and unsettling, lending to the feeling of being an intruder in a very dangerous place. I remember a scene where Ethan is on a rooftop, crouching outside a window and eavesdropping on Lady Dimitrescu’s phone call with her mother. She then flies into a rage and starts destroying the room because she is looking for you. It is terrifying. I wasn’t dropping no eaves, ma’am! Honest! Also memorable is a scenario that involves you trying to find your way out of a pitch-black house while being pursued by a giant baby. I don’t know why that’s scary, but it definitely is. 

The game’s cast of villains lends a lot of personality to the game. There’s the enigmatic Mother Miranda. We don’t see much of her, but she is spoken of in hushed tones of reverence blended with fear. We see her and her 4 children in an early cutscene. Her children are pretty fucked up and scary, and they’re frightened of her. That’s enough for me to steer clear. Each of her children has their own portion of the game world to be explored before defeating them. There’s the intense, tall steppy vampire Lady Dimitrescu, creepy doll girl Donna Beneviento, grotesque fish man Moreau, and sneaky, too-smart-for-his-own-good Karl Heisenberg. He has a very large hammer, and a brimmed hat. For some reason one of the biggest standout moments for me was when Moreau - clearly the least-loved black sheep among the family - excitedly screams “I’m the BEST!” while beating you down. 

The game isn’t perfect. The most glaring flaw is the last quarter or so of the game feels like a pretty standard shooter, losing much of the personality that makes the rest of it shine. Overall though, I had a blast playing the game. The central mystery is compelling, and I loved seeing what the villains had in store for me. I’ve never considered myself a survival horror fan, but Resident Evil has changed that the past few years with RE2 Remake and RE Village. Can’t wait to play the RE4 Remake early next year. 

[ashthehermit]

Legends of Tomorrow: A Retrospective 1.11

Finally, we're going back earlier than 1950.  Jonah Hex and the Wild Wild West is one of the few things from season one that Legends decides to keep in the future.  They use it sparingly, but effectively.  The highlight of the series - the Good, the Bad, and The Cuddly (the season three finale) - takes place in this location.  I don't remember much of what it was like when we first visited it, but I hope for at least one slow motion shot of the gang in silly outfits.

THE MAGNIFICENT EIGHT

Here we are, in 1871.  Rip says it's been a long time since he jumped far enough to experience the side effects, but wasn't jumping to 2166 pretty far too?  Let's not dwell on that.

Rip tries to explain the existence of temporal blindspots.  That doesn't make a lick of sense to me, but I'm willing to go with this one.  We see the fabrication room, where Gideon is kitting the team out.  Stein identifies that Rip has a Wild West aesthetic to him, so why isn't he coming?  I don't care.  The slo-mo shot is here.  The outfits are far from perfect, but at last everyone is wearing a silly hat.  Finally, the real legends are coming along.

'I look just like Wyatt Earp.'

Kendra bumps into a woman who gives her flashbacks.  Sara asks how long Rory was Kronos.  It was years, but we will never find out how long.  His character has changed in a blink for us.  It's not even interesting.  Ugh.  Rory bonds with Sara a little, so we're finally getting some more character for Rory.  In a cool moment, Snart kills a guy who was about to draw on Stein.  Snart makes a very good cowboy.  We get into a good old-fashioned saloon brawl.  I'll allow this punch up.  It's good fun because it's in the Wild West.  And look!  Jonah Hex!

Jonah Hex is badass and well-designed.  This isn't true for every character in the show.  He knows Rip already, which is neat.  Ray decides to go full Wild West and stop the local gang from terrorising the town.  Frankly, I care more about this than I do about Savage.  This is perhaps the first monster of the week moment we get from Legends, in a formula that will suit them well in the future.

'Quite a posse of saints you're riding along with nowadays.'

Kendra decides to go after that lady that gave her those visions.  That's a normal thing for Kendra to do at this point.  She also perhaps has the worst cowboy outfit.  Poor Kendra.  She wants to find Carter.  Poor Ray.  The Kendra/Carter storyline still has no meat to it to my eyes.  Any affection that Kendra apparently had for Carter has only occurred off screen.

The sheriff wants out, so he makes Ray the sheriff, in a moment that can only be described as comedic.  Then Ray claims that he can fix Jonah's burn, which is pretty rude of him.  Stein meets a pretty lady crying alone in a bar.  Her son is dying from consumption, and by gum!  The good doctor wants to help her.  He even tells her his first name.  How intimate.  Anyway, cowboy nonsense is occurring.

'John Wayne, Salvation's new sheriff.'

Snart shoots a gang member's gun right out of his hand, again proving that he's the best cowboy this team has to offer.  The guy should just stay in Salvation.  Rip is filling his now usual position of standing in the doorway of his parlour and telling everyone that they're doing something wrong.  He can never do anything right either, so this is getting a little tiring.  

There is at least one funny moment when Ray imitates the way that Rip stands, with his hands on his hips, in order to admonish the professor.  It turns out that Rip has some secret with Jonah Hex.  Tragically it's not a failed romance.  It's just another bullet point to add to Rip's tragic, but rather bland, backstory.  A town Rip was on a mission in was destroyed by a gang the day after he left it.  He experienced that same time drift thingy he talked about before.  He went on to name his son after Jonah.  This is all delivered in about two seconds and it doesn't have much of an impact.

'I refuse to live with the regret I see on your face right now.'

The lady Kendra is after turns out to be a version of Kendra from the past.  They learn of a bracelet that can be used to kill Savage.  Somehow.  That doesn't make any sense to me, but Kendra, Carter and Savage were hit with a meteor with the power of plot contrivance.  There is an older Kendra here, played by a younger actress, but the script treats her as if she is the younger Kendra.  Again, the story is never quite sure of how much Kendra actually remembers.  It feeds her moments at times convenient to the plot, but the script still claims that she has four thousand years of memories.

The other Kendra warns our Kendra that loving anyone but Carter will only lead to heartbreak.  I don't know why this is, but it boils down to Kendra being solely defined by her relationships to men.  Ugh.

Stein heals the kid, learns the first name of his mother, has a tender moment, and leaves.  This is presented as the first moment that the legends are really dabbling with history just to help people, but that is sort of what they have been doing this entire time.  Rip claims they can't change the timeline, and yet that is what he is trying to do.  Once again, there isn't much consistency to the whole thing.  The time travel rules in this series are screwy.

On a side note, Snart spends this entire episode with some rather dramatic bruises on his face.  They didn't let Ray keep his bruises from the gulag for long.  The bruises, plus Snart's all black get up, make him into a dramatic wee cowboy.

'Raymond, now is not the time to indulge your cowboy fantasies.'

Rip claims that leaving the Wild West was one of the hardest things he had to do.  He 'felt the pull of heroism' and had to leave to be a proper little time boy.  It's unclear why he even wanted to be a Time Master at this point.  This whole backstory is just a little frustrating.  It's fairly divorced from everything else we've learned about Rip.  If only it could be tied in to his backstory with his family somehow.  If only we learned anything substantial about his family.  Rip decides to do a quick draw to save Jax and the town.  He had better put on a hat for it. He did!  He wears a proper cowboy outfit.  It's a cool moment, for all that it is just classic Western stuff with Arthur Darvill in it.  This has not been a particularly strong arc for Rip, and it's a shame because it could have been.  We knew we were going to go to the Wild West from Rip's aesthetic alone.  It's got something to do with Rip wanting to be a hero, an idea he hasn't even been particularly averse to.  He's a law abiding type.  He likes to save people.  He might claim not to want to interfere, but he interferes all the time.

On another note, I enjoyed Jonah crossing himself when he saw Firestorm.  His attitude towards these weird outsiders is the best part of this episode.  The legends beat the hunters very easily for how much they were built up at the beginning of the episode.  Rory even says 'well, that was easy', as if to prove my point. 

Turns out that the kid Stein saved is actually H.G. Wells.  This is another, rarely seen, instance of early Legends referencing historical figures.  It's a trend that's really built up later on, so this is a bit of a blink and you'll miss it moment.  As such, it's rather odd.  It's just an Easter Egg, and no more.

Now there's another shady Time Master assassin after them.  She's going after their past selves.  There's a good stinger of what is clearly a young Rory watching his house burn down, while the Pilgrim waits behind him.  The episode was fine overall.  Not the worst of season one.  I associate the Wild West in Legends with far better stories, however, and this just isn't one of them. 

[goingmorry]

Hello! Can you write monster trio reaction to someone flirting with their crush? Please ☀💛

[One Piece Headcanons] Monster Trio -> when someone flirts with their crush

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji Tags: female reader, jealous boys Author's Note: Thank you for the request! I love me some jealous boys. There's something about it that just hits right with me. 💖

MONKEY D. LUFFY

One clueless boi.

Figures out that he has a crush on you when he explains how he feels about you to Usopp.

Doesn't quite know how to express his feelings for you in a way that you'll understand.

Interrupts the other person from flirting with you.

"Hey, I found you!"

Barging in from god knows where, Luffy interrupts the man's playful antics by sandwiching himself in the tight space between you and the stranger.

Caught off-guard, the flirtatious man begins to shove the pirate captain away from his face, resulting in Luffy's muscular torso squeezing against your much softer one. The feel of his solid body against yours is enough to cause you to blush, prompting you to create some distance by pushing him away to the side.

"Listen, pal—" the man begins, about to give the straw hat pirate a piece of his mind for violating your personal space, but not before getting rudely interrupted again.

"Who's this guy?"

"An acquaintance," you pipe up instantly in response to your captain's inquiry, omitting the piece of information where this stranger spent the last twenty minutes hitting on you.

Apologizing for your captain's childish behavior, you give him a brief rundown of who precisely the straw hat-wearing pirate is.

"I'll call him porcupine from now on," Luffy says, pleased with the nickname given to the man sitting across from you, "Since he has spiky brown hair that reminds me of a porcupine!"

"I appreciate you taking the time to ask me out," you address the stranger, grabbing hold of Luffy's stretchy arm in the process, "But I don't think this is gonna work."

Pleased with the way events were unfolding, Luffy flashes you a toothy grin to which you cock an eyebrow in response.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"I-I don't know what you mean," he says, puckering his lips to the side. A telltale sign of an obvious lie.

You can't help but feel ridiculous for having a crush on the most insufferable pirate captain in all of existence, hoping that he, too, feels the same way as you do.

RORONOA ZORO

Only recently comes to terms with his feelings for you.

Hasn't figured out how he'll confess.

After all, romantic love is uncharted territory for him.

Won't really do anything unless he feels that you're in danger.

Pretends to be preoccupied with something else; ends up eavesdropping on your conversation with the flirtatious individual.

Inwardly though, he's more bothered than he lets on.

"Hey, I was wondering if you'd like to grab a coffee with me? I'd love to show you around town," the man says to you earnestly.

The sound of steel clashing against metal echoes loudly enough to startle people, their heads swiveling toward the origin of the noise.

In the corner of the room, the one-eyed swordsman sits upright, body tense in concentration while meticulously polishing Wado Ichimonji, one of his three signature blades.

Zoro ignores the curious looks thrown his way, focused instead on your interaction with the man in front of you.

The stranger's proposal was genuine enough. Objectively, he was undoubtedly an attractive man. Friendly and polite too from your conversations with him throughout the night.

He just... wasn't your type.

You were more interested in rougher-looking men. Someone who was strong but would never abuse their strength to harm the weak. Someone who was stoic but also had a heart of gold. Someone like—

Zoro glances in your direction, seeing the hesitation on your face in accepting the man's offer.

"Sorry, I don't think I can make it. I promised to do something with a friend," you explain, settling with a half-assed excuse for fear of confrontation.

It wasn't exactly a lie, not really. You did have plans to retrieve some supplies with a certain green-haired swordsman, though they weren't until much later in the day. But this man didn't need to know that.

Zoro wouldn't mind if you used him as an excuse.

The Pirate Hunter's shoulders relax considerably at your statement, switching his attention from you back to his current task.

Face expressing his disappointment at your rejection, the man's posture visibly deflates. "Maybe the next day then?" he adds as an afterthought.

Biting your lip guiltily, you shake your head, stray hair falling across your forehead. "Sorry, I can't. Our crew is leaving tomorrow night."

"Damn," the man says, scratching the back of his head in awkwardness before adopting a fake smile — one you choose to let slide. "I'm gonna miss you. After all, it's not every day that I get to meet such a fine young lady with the guts to traverse the terrors of the Grand Line. You take care of yourself, all right?"

"You flatter me," you giggle, cheeks tinged pink at the man's sincere compliment, "And likewise."

At the sound of your unrestrained laughter, Zoro pauses, deeply craving for the moment that he, too, becomes the recipient of your happiness.

SANJI

The person who flirts with you, his precious lady, better prepare for some ass-whooping.

Technically, Sanji can't call you his — not yet — though he has been thinking of the perfect way to confess to you.

Still, even though you're not officially together, he'll never not be feral when you're involved.

Deliberating for a few seconds before gesturing toward you, the stranger places his order with the barkeep and says, "And anything the pretty lady desires."

Pointer finger circling the rim of your shot glass in consideration, you smile at the stranger in gratitude. "In that case, I'll take another round then."

Exchanging a round of pleasantries and small talk, you and the stranger become reasonably familiar with one another.

Familiar enough to know that this man would rather whisk you away to a more private setting than converse with you under the public's watchful eye.

"I know of a better way we can spend the night together," he murmurs suggestively, low enough for you to hear despite the idle chatter in the background.

"Do you now?"

You weren't returning his flirtatious words, but you weren't exactly declining them either until you spot a tuft of blond hair in the corner of your vision, striding toward you with purpose.

When Sanji arrives, he's gushing praise and amorous advances, all for you. Ignored and uncomfortable with watching another man proclaim his underlying love and devotion to you, your newfound drinking buddy clears his throat to get your attention, earning a scornful glare from the cook.

"Who's this shitty and rude bastard?"

Unsurprising to you, Sanji doesn't even try to act civil. Your drinking buddy, however, is astonished by the cook's open hostility, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

Sanji doesn't buy the man's innocent charade, one eye squinting in distrust as he presses on, "I asked you a question."

Leaving out his invitation to you for more lewd nightly activities, your drinking buddy settles for a half-truth, "Just a guy she met at the bar."

Amused with the blond's jealous streak, you decide to cut in before things escalate beyond your control, "Any particular reason you're here, Sanji?"

At the sweet lull of your voice calling his name, the cook resumes his lovestruck behavior with a hint of seriousness when he whispers the sobering news to you, "Marines were recently spotted in town. We're leaving, my dear."

Seizing the opportunity, Sanji offers his hand, palm up, for you to take, and the significance of his action is not lost to you.

You recall his strict policy for only using his hands for cooking — how, as a child, Sanji found solace from abuse by preparing meals for his sickly mother, sparking his lifelong interest in the culinary arts.

Touched, you place your hand in his, a picture-perfect rendition of a prince charming whisking away his lovely bride-to-be. You tell him exactly that, and he graces you with an amused chuckle and a soft smile.

If only people knew the real reason you and him were fleeing the scene.

"Let me be your Mr. Prince then."

Your delicate hand dwarfs in comparison to his larger one, but that doesn't stop you from interlocking your fingers together like two intimate lovers.

Neither one of you says anything else, coming to the same silent conclusion that your growing feelings for each other would have to be addressed sometime soon.

[blackwidow-bby]

A Case of You -Alcina Dimitrescu x Maiden!Reader

I’ve been wanting to write something based on the song ‘A Case of You’ by Joni Mitchell. Alternatively the K.D. Lang version is also very good and meaningful to me. Also who better to write with than really tall vampire mommy 😭

As always feedback is appreciated highly! Thank you for reading 💙

Warnings: blood, and smut (18+) little babies

🩸🩸

You had been polishing the silverware reflecting on the years that you had been in Castle Dimitrescu. 3 short but eventful years. At the beginning it was hectic, bouncing between all of the orders from the daughters and those of the Lady herself. Cleaning up countless messes left around as if they were guests in their own home. Clothes here, blood stains there, broken plates and cups everywhere. It had been as if your birth in the village was a curse, born to feel ashamed of poor class. A majority of the women that lived in the village knew that the only fate of their futures was to be sent to work for Castle Dimitrescu until the end of their days. Once the fair young women reached 18 that was where they were sent. Of course not all of them were so “lucky”. The rest of the women and all of the men were left to the struggles of the small village left to the devices of the surrounding lycans of the other lords. Or worse, kidnapped never to be seen again.

Most of the villagers rumored that those that disappeared were taken by the holy Mother herself and experimented on. Everyone knew what she could do, but for all of the bad sometimes holy Mother Miranda brought some good. One time before sweet Imelda lost her leg to a lycan attack, she saw the fainted mark on the side of its face. The same mark her husband had upon his face on the same side, before his disappearance traveling back to town. As she was dragged back safely by a couple farmers who managed to kill the sickly beast, the only sounds that all of the inhabitants could hear were her screams of her husbands name. Utterly distraught that she could become so unrecognizable enough to his dead eyes that in his transformation could still cause her deadly harm. He never had an angry bone in his body, but if that rumor was true, the experiment had created a monster of a once calm man.

All of your years weren’t as hectic as the first year. Eventually the lady of the house had taken a liking to your work. Always quick to come and cater to any mundane request her and her daughters had demanded of you. Actually now that you think, you can’t remember the last time any of your orders came from the daughters. They only came from the head maid or Lady Dimitrescu herself. A small quirk of your lips found it’s way thinking of your Lady.

Shortly into your second year she began to request you privately into her bed chamber. The first time she asked for you, you had been scared that your end had found it’s way sooner than you would have liked. Your heart was racing in your chest, begging your feet to be just as erratic on the way to her room. Somehow you managed to compose your pace but your heart insisted on faltering you. You knocked three times on her door upon arrival. You were unsure if she had heard, the doors of the castle were solid wood and although your hands were not soft due to the amount of work you were asked to do, your knuckles certainly weren’t hard enough to evade a slight throb from the hefty door.

Her voice crooned from with in, “Come in, my dear.” You opened the door to her chambers carefully as to not slam the wood open and not damage whatever might be on the other side of its radius. She smiled down on you very sweetly. There was something in here eyes. It felt almost like an admiration. You wiped that thought from your mind as quickly as it came. Why on earth would she ever admire you.

She sauntered toward where you stood and slowly lifted her hand. The fear you harbored for the Lady caused you to flinch at her movement. She had never laid a hand upon your person but that did not mean your time would not come.

Your flinching halted her movements. Her expression changed but only slightly. “My dear, I am not going to harm you in such a way.” She had lowered her voice in the close proximity of your bodies. You opened your eyes once more to see her gently place her soft gloved hand upon your head. Gently she moved it down by your ear and caressed the side. “Come to me little one.”

You followed her to her vanity. The space was tidy with neatly placed powders and lipsticks and other make up you had never seen any of the women of the village actually own. She sat down on her chair in front of the vanity. All of the furniture you noticed was made to her size in this dim room. None of the maids were ever called to clean this space, it made you wonder if she even used it at all. Maybe the Lady chose to take care of her own space in a way she knew no one could ever recreate or perfect to her liking. She hummed and pulled your hand to her. In her glorious size, she picked you up and placed you on her lap facing the large mirror. Your eyes shifted between her and your own height. Even perched on her Lady’s lap, your height was still shorter than her own.

Her eyes never met yours even as she slightly moved about to gather a soft brush and place it closer within reach. Your heart was still bounding in your chest trying to make sense of what was perspiring at this moment. The Lady removed her gloves by pulling one finger at a time until they could slip off smoothly. She then reached up and began to undo the clean French braid your hair was done in. She was being so kind and so soft with you, you were baffled. She started to unwork the three strands until she reached your scalp. You moved in tandem with the Lady as she reached again to grab the brush and began at the bottom of where your hair reached. Her ministrations were so soft it allowed your heart to calm. You kept your hands in your own lap, not daring to speak before being spoken to or move before being asked to move. Your Lady focusing solely on brushing the tangles from your hair allowed your own eyes to look about the space you sat. Her only task to groom your tresses, allowed you to get a good look at her face. Her lips and cheeks looked so soft. Her face wasn’t stoic but content in the space. She certainly didn’t look as nervous to have you here as you did to be here. Occasionally her hand would come around the underside and her knuckles would gently brush against your clothes back.

Everything she did was so calm and planned and relaxing. You took the rest of the opportunity to admire her further. Her raven dark locks meticulously curled in their places. Her hat always cocked to the side on her head, you wondered if it ever got in the way. She certainly never let it bother her if it did. The sudden speaking of her voice caused you to jump due to how silent it was seconds before, “I had been admiring you from afar for a while now. I’m sure you have an idea of why you had been called to my chambers after not being asked to before.”

Your voice betrayed you, you had been silent for too long. “Y-yes my Lady. I think I know why I’m here.” She hummed again. You felt the brush finally make its way to your scalp. The bristles were so soft and comforting they made your eye lids heavy. Seeing that she was done with her work on your hair, she placed the brush back in its spot and made eye contact with you through the mirror. She looked at you for a couple minutes more until she spoke again. “You’re always so quiet and kind around everyone here. My daughters can have a way with making the maids end up with either tougher skin or breaking their calm façade.” She was now running her fingers down the length of your back over your uniform. “But not you. You are still the same as you were when you showed up. Quiet and composed.” You weren’t sure if you should thank her for the compliment or be offended by being told that you haven’t changed. You felt like you could handle anything after the tortures her daughters could put maids through.

You could feel her hands moving back up your back and over your shoulders. Her cold slender fingers found your collar while the other hand swayed your hair over your left shoulder no doubt to expose your neck to her. This is it. This is how you end. What a lovely way to die. Her faced inched closer to your exposed neck and you could feel her breath inches away from the space. Your eyes couldn’t seem to move away from her though. You watched the whole thing and how her face never changed emotion. Everything she had done with you was in admiration. Like she longed for what you could offer her as if she didn’t have everything she could want in this castle.

Her face inched closer until you felt her lips press against the spot she was just eyeing. She lightly kissed you and reveled in the sounds you let escape. A chill ran down your body and found purchase in your stomach. You could feel the butterflies going crazy. Yes truly what a lovely way to die. You braced yourself when you saw her go to bite. Braced yourself for the white hot pain to shoot across your whole body but it never came. Instead the only thing you felt was pleasure. She continued to suck in the same spot for moments more. It all made you feel a growing knot down lower. Her strong arms encircled around your waist to hold you tightly as if you could slip away at any moment. You felt them hugging you tightly. The embrace soothed every part of you. You had never felt so cared for.

Unconsciously you noticed that your hands found purchase upon her own. Her face lifted from the crook of your neck, not a smudge to be seen or hair out of place. You could feel her lips by your ear. “I could drink a case of you, and still I would be on my feet.” She whispered and it made you visibly shudder in need. What kind of affect was she having on you?

“You must never speak of this with anyone”

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She requested you many more times and each one was just as delicate and sweet as the last one.

“You’ve been polishing that spoon for an awfully long time, dear.”

Your head whipped around at the Lady’s sultry voice. Your Lady, you thought. “What is it that has your mind occupied?” She questioned.

“Nothing my Lady. I was simply thinking of you.”

She smiled a genuine smile at you and reached her hand toward you. You walked up to her and laced your fingers with hers. Every moment you spent with her you cherished since the first. She reserved so much kindness for you. Internally she ached for the next time she would request you again. Thinking of the way your blood tasted on her lips. So bitter and so sweet. She couldn’t help but want something slightly different this time.

You both made your way to her private chambers once more like clockwork. She allowed you to enter before bending her way inside. You immediately walked over to her vanity as that was where she always fed from you right after brushing out your hair. You turned to her and smiled but she stopped next to her own bed. “Come here to me, my little love.” You walked up slight confusion on your face. “If any of this makes you uncomfortable, I want you to stop me. Can you do that for me, draga mea?” You nodded slightly. She sat down on the edge of her bed and reached her hand to wipe the wrinkle that etched on your forehead in your confusion.

“My little doe, you mean more to me than you could ever know.” She pulled your hand to her and moved both of you to the head of the bed. Gently she cupped your chin in her large hand. You closed your eyes and suddenly you felt her lips press against yours. Gods they were so soft but so cold. You reciprocated her kiss. Alcina had craved this for too long but she needed to pace herself. She has the rest of the afternoon until the night to indulge in anything your freely gave to her. You didn’t move to stop her and she took this as invitation to continue further. Keeping your lips pressed to hers, her hands roamed your body lower than just your back. She relished in the soft skin of your thighs and the way you felt under material that had softened from years of wear and wash. She couldn’t help but think of how your bare skin would feel under her own hands.

Your own arms snaked their way to her face as you cupped the sides with both hands. Your lips continued to move in tandem with her own letting soft whimpers escape here and there. Her hands grabbed the hem of your dress and slowly made her way up to removing the garment. You whined when she separated the kiss to completely remove the dress. “Are you still okay, little doe?” You answered with a small yes and moved to undo the buttons behind her own dress. Once the buttons were undone enough to slide her dress down you moved the sleeves down her muscular arms. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of looking how small your body was compared to hers. How soft and unblemished your skin was. All she wanted was to kiss every soft inch. Even the one side of your neck that she fed from ceased a single indent. She always made sure to feed carefully as to not rise suspicions.

She pulled you back into her slightly laying over you and began to kiss you once more as her hands roamed to your chest. She wrapped her hand around to undo your bra carefully to free your soft tissue from their confines. She separated once more to look at all of you that was exposed. The gods certainly took their time in creating such a spectacular woman she had thought. Her whole hand moved down to palm your breast lightly. She could feel the bumps raise and your nipple harder under her touch. You let out a little moan under her touch. She could spend eternity doing anything to hear your little sounds. Little sounds only she could make you release. She looked into your eyes creating the distraction for her hand to move to your underwear. You stared deep into her golden orbs never breaking as she sought out your core with her finger. Your breath hitched when you felt her slide down your soft folds and move back up to your clit. You were warm and wet and all for her. Alcina’s sweet little doe. She pressed a small peck to your lips then moved her mouth down to your breast that her hand had just been. She began to suck as she teased the entrance to your tight hole. She relished in the feeling of your most intimate parts and the sounds she could draw out from your delicious mouth. You were arching your back into her wanting nothing more than to be so close to her.

Your hands gripped anywhere the could. Her arms, shoulders, neck, hair. Everything she was doing made your brain go crazy. You did everything you could to find where your hands fit best. Her soft tongue swirled around your nipple while the tip of her finger pressed deeper into you. She was losing patience in having more of you and it was taking everything in her body not to devour before she was content you felt as good as she did all those times she tasted your blood. But damn did she want all of it. He finger pressed deeper until she was down to her knuckle. Your soft panting didn’t give any indication that you were in pain. She started to move her finger in and out at a slow pace to get your body use to the intrusion. Your panting grew louder and so did your moans. You wish you could feel this way everyday from this moment on. So cared for, so deeply wanted. Alcina kissed her way up from your breast to your neck. Leaving light nips and soft kisses near where she could feel your pulse quicken. He finger moved faster inside of you, pressing at your soft walls until she found that spongey spot that would surely get more sounds out. She had to take her time though.

‘Ohs’ and ‘ahs’ were all you could really get out along with all of your sickeningly sweet moans. Alcina never expressed out loud but she wanted you to say her name. Moan her name out from your lips, cry to the gods or whoever would listen that she could make you feel bliss like you’ve never felt before. No one ever got this much want out of her. She never wanted anyone the way she wants you right now. The way she’s been wanting you since you came to the castle. Her little doe unraveling under her half naked body. You were finding it harder to contain any noises and began to moan louder the faster her finger moved. All of a sudden curled her fingers, hitting that one spot. “My Lady!” It made Alcina hummm. “Tell me little doe, do you know my true name?” It took every fiber of your being to come up with an answer for your Lady. “N-no my Lady. T-the maids, they d-don’t talk.”

It was amazing you could come up with that through your haze. The Lady was sucking on your neck while she curled her finger more to get you to come undone the way she wanted. “It’s Alcina little one. I want to hear my name fall from your lips.” The knot in your stomach grew. You were getting very close from her sinful fingers buried inside your tight hole. Alcina could feel your Wales tightening around her. As she felt you get closer she bit down on your neck to drink from you the way she had truly craved. The knot broke and you came hard on her fingers, screaming her name to the high heavens. She continued to feed through your orgasm and once she felt your walls stop pulsing she lid her finger out and detached away from your neck.

You were sweating at this point. Utterly spent wrapped up with your Lady holding you tight. She wiped the little droplets that formed on your neck and pulled you onto her as close as she could get you. Your head rested there on her chest still panting. She would go to the farthest parts of the world for you. Hopefully she would have all of the time to prove it to you now.

“I could drink a case of you.” She whispered into your hair before placing a kiss to your crown. You mumbled a little getting more comfortable and sinking into Alcina’s chest.

Sleep began to take over you. “I would still be on my feet.” Was the last thing you said before slumbering in your Lady’s arms.

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