#i want aroace bars

[pottletheidiot]

there are gay bars and lesbian bars and then “normal” straight bars so i think there should be aroace bars where absolutely none of that happens and we can sit there and discuss warhammer lore instead

i think that would be cool

[aflockofravens]

*dying pterodactyl noise*

"Chance or Something More" already had me in a chokehold but the English dub!?

I thought for sure we'd get the frantic over-the-top Jinshi when he sees that Maomao saved him, but instead we got the quiet, disbelieving, heartbroken, terrified voice of a man who is so so scared to lose the best thing that's ever happened to him.

And then his resolve carrying her out of there, calmly? Not making eye contact with anyone, pace unbroken, thousand-yard-stare of a man who almost lost everything?

He doesn't even care that he almost died. He doesn't care who's around to see him carry a low born servant girl out of the temple. He doesn't care about propriety or cultural expectations.

His Maomao is injured. She is his priority. Always.

[xerayn]

Angels do dance. Just only in the right company

[shamera]

top manhwa reccs this month

So this month I seem to have thrown myself into manhwa, and oh boy I sure read a lot to calm myself down through the holidays. I find that my favourite stories are always the ones that really immerse you, and make you love the characters a lot. So here's the top 3 stories I could not put down until I got to the latest update!

A Stepmother's Märchen

The story of a 16 year old girl who finds herself a widowed stepmother of four with a story spanning across two timelines. In one timeline Shuri von Neuschwanstein grows and struggles to connect with her stepchildren for a decade and ultimately thinks herself a failure when she's told her eldest son doesn't want her at his wedding, only for her to be murdered on the celebratory day. She wakes to find herself eight years in the past newly widowed, determined to this time connect with the children so they won't exclude her from their lives.

Top of the list because I genuinely could not put this down while reading. It's beautiful and emotional and really delves into how family is what you make of it. The characters are all so good and genuinely feel like kids who are struggling on their path to growing up. They are imperfect, immature, make all the wrong decisions, but so very wise at random moments and the misunderstandings (that break my heart) all feel realistic and not at all forced. Gave me Fruits Basket vibes!

2. The Player Who Can't Level Up

Kim Gigyu thought he finally had the chance to give his mother and sister a better life when he became a player with a unique ability... only to spend the next five years struggling to take down the simplest of dungeon monsters, unable to get above lvl1. He chose instead to guide other players so they can get strong, until one day he steps to take the first test of the tower and encounters an Ego for the first time: a sentient sword who will be his partner and level in his stead. With his unique ability 'partner of Egos', he sets out to find other pieces of Ego and unravel the mystery of the tower and just why it appeared in the world.

Normally for this genre I have to read over 100 chapters before they start hinting at the mystery of the world. This one started in chapter 12. It's also refreshing as it has a good balance between fighting and building character relationships as there are plenty of chapters where Gigyu spends time with his family and friends. Also there are great positive male friendships! There are lots of badass girls! The main character talks to other people about his traumas and his worries!! The growth feels plausible and I-- I have a weak spot for the Egos. They are now part of his family, I don't make the rules.

3. Dungeon Reset

Jung Daeun was thought dead after he fell into a death trap, and when others cleared the dungeon floor and moved on to the next, he was still stuck when the floor reset to respawn all the defeated monsters. He had no fighting skills, and instead decided to survive by building a shelter and figuring out a food source. He soon figures out that because players are all moved out of the dungeon when it reset, he's now a glitch in the system with partial immunity to the worst things, but also without the benefits that other players get. After accidentally affiliating with the Dragon of Life, Daeun starts running the dungeon his own way-- by building and farming and learning how to not just survive in a dungeon, but live in it.

aka the one where a Minecraft player is hacking a dungeon Death Game? So fun. It's a pinch of Dr. Stone mixed into a good food anime and dropped onto the dangerous dungeon trope. It's got characters who all end up so human and a main character who is absolutely a little shit doing what he wants aka sure he wants to pass the Dungeon Game and go home, but he's not going to live like an animal while he's doing so. He's going to make good food and have a good bed and take baths and develop hobbies while he's at it. He's going to make friends and learn new things and show that winning isn't all about fighting, but about perseverance and adaptability. Sometimes you don't have to win the fight-- you just have to survive it.

Honorary Mentions (aka I read through it! It was pretty good!):

Trash of the Count's Family

SSS-Class Suicide Hunter

Solo Farming in the Tower

The Lone Necromancer

Return of the Frozen Player

Solo Max-Level Newbie

And then there are series I've read but didn't finish as it didn't appeal to me personally:

My Daughter Is the Final Boss

Leviathan

SSS-Class Gacha Hunter

Tomb Raider King

The World After the Fall

The Beginning After the End

[jewishdainix]

Dislike how characters will literally be queer in canon but people will act like its fanon because the authur/creator hasnt confirmed it or it wasnt said explicitly (despite being explicitly shown)

[ebbarights]

.......... i can feel the not-crush returning. somebody shoot me please

[pikp0kcas3]

The Hazbin Hotel fandom’s issue with accepting aromanticism and asexuality

Now that it is officially Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week, I want to talk about this!

I find that, as an aroace myself, I am constantly grasping at good representation and coming up empty— it usually ends up in one of two ways.

One: the character is portrayed as emotionless, cold, and robotic in nature. It’s the question aromantic and/or asexual people are often asked: “Are you heartless?” The answer is no, of course, but general media makes it out to be the opposite.

Or two: Their lack of attraction is seen as something to “fix” because they “haven’t found the right one yet”, and they end up with a partner as a “happy ending”.

It frustrates me greatly because of how little people actually see aromanticism or asexuality as a true part of the LGBTQIA+ community.

So when I watched Hazbin Hotel, and I found out about Alastor being aroace, I was over the moon. I was on cloud nine. I also saw how his voice actor has looked up the term as an attempt to learn about aroaces, which makes me OVERJOYED?? Amir is truly a blessing, and I love that he’s proud to embody a character that’s part of our community. It’s so beautiful to finally have a proper character, a fan favorite at that, who just so happens to be aroace— and that’s another thing I love about this.

It’s never explicitly stated in the show (though it is stated in interviews), but it’s rather clear when you’re watching, isn’t it? Alastor’s aversion to any sort of sexual advancement, coupled with Rosie’s blatant “I know you’re an ace in the hole” comment sort of spell out his asexuality pretty clearly, as well as what side of the spectrum he falls upon. In addition, his Valentine’s day card was strictly platonic, which caters to his aromantic side. It feels so validating to finally be represented, to finally have a character in media who shares the same lack of interest in romance and sex as I do.

When I entered the fandom to look for more content, I kind of expected to see the same respect for Alastor’s orientation there too. But that… wasn’t the case? I am fully aware that aromanticism and asexuality are both spectrums— of course, aromantic and/or asexual people can enter those kinds of relationships. I’m not denying that and they belong in the community as much as anyone else on the spectrum.

But, the more I see the same line again and again and again, the more it feels like an excuse to just ship what you want.

Usually I don’t mind shipping? I’m often a firm believer in people shipping what they like as long as it’s harmless and they don’t go crazy over it. I also know for a fact that Viv doesn’t have a problem with people shipping her characters. They are fictional, after all.

But in this case, people are ignoring the very thing that makes Alastor a part of the aroace community! People are ignoring his lack of romantic or sexual attraction!

Is this not the same as changing a gay character’s orientation to suit a straight ship? If not, how so? I’m told that we are a part of this community, so why aren’t we being treated like it? Why is it so hard to accept the people on the end of the spectrum who aren’t interested?

Something I’ve been noticing throughout my life is that society has not exactly progressed very much on the idea of accepting asexual or aromantic identities. Maybe we have, a little, since the old days— but hell, people in “the old days”, which in truth wasn’t very long ago, believed that asexuality was a medical condition to be “fixed” by taking the right medication or having sex. That’s a pretty low bar to clear. And on the romance side, you’re seen as a “late bloomer” or “boring” if you don’t express interest. These days, being friends with someone is treated like a gateway to them possibly becoming a lover. Not getting married, not going on dates, not wanting a partner— it’s all treated like a crime when it’s not.

Maybe I’m selfish, or sensitive, or I’m butthurt over nothing, or I’m making it all about me. Maybe I’m gatekeeping or whatever the term is. But please, please, please, I just want an aroace character like me who simply is not interested in sex or romance.

And I want fandom to respect that. I admire the creations that fans make— the art, the animatics, the writing and the character analysis. And I want people to keep creating because creation is indeed a beautiful thing.

But I really would like people to treat aroace identities like they’re important. Like it’s more than just a spectrum to get wiggle room to wrangle in another ship.

[dexterlovescoffee]

I met a boy the other day (not like that) at my cousin's birthday party and we got along really well. The party was sleepover, and when he left he hugged me which took me by surprise but was so sweet at the same time. I hope I see him again

[chaoticace2005]

Thinking about one sided Vox/Alastor has also made me think about Huskerdust, and it’s kind of interesting the way they mirror each other.

Both Vox and Angel (both people who have some kind of relationship with Valentino) push the boundaries of the guy they’re interested in. Both guys turn them down. Both times they react poorly to being turned down. The difference is how the stories begin and ended.

Husk was forced after Angel, jumped in to protect him and made the first step. He started a dialogue that Angel reciprocated in, not because Angel thought Husk would finally return his feelings, but because he was happy to finally have someone who understands him. Their relationship is then created where they care about each other. Whether or not romantic feelings are reciprocated isn’t the point, they formed genuine connection.

Then we have Alastor and Vox, where they were friends BEFORE the confession happened. Alastor must have been willing to be vulnerable to some degree to form attachments with the man, and for a while it was reciprocated, until Vox confessed and pushed. This caused Alastor to leave and then we see the fall out later with Alastor and Vox’s battles.

Huskerdust and radiostatic have the same pieces of the story, just told in very different orders:

Huskerdust: Push boundaries- needle each other- fight- one reaches out- they bond- friendship

Radiostatic: One reaches out- they bond- friendship- push boundaries- fight- needle each other

The difference between the two is not just the order but also the fact with Huskerdust they recognize they needed to stop. Husk was in no way obligated to take the first step because Angel kept pushing him, but he did, because he recognized something in him. Then with Angel’s treatment of Husk later Angel recognized he needed to stop. What Angel was doing was a persona and self-defense mechanism, yes, but that explains why he did it, not excusing it. And to change he must be able to recognize that.

With Vox though, he doesn’t recognize it. We don’t know exactly where Vox’s feelings from Alastor stem, they may not be a persona like Angel’s but they’re certainly unhealthy, and he refuses to recognize it. Focusing only on his own comfort and hurt, which Angel similarly did until he was pulled out of the loop.

I want to again reiterate the reciprocity of these feelings isn’t my point of discussion. Radiostatic isn’t “more toxic” than Huskerdust because Alastor is aroace and doesn’t reciprocate Vox’s feelings, while Husk potentially grows to have feelings for Angel. Alastor isn’t in the wrong solely because he denied Vox. That’s not the point. The point is their similar reactions to rejection and how their relationships changed from it.

In Huskerdust we have the creation of trust and forming of a bond.

In radiostatic we have the loss of trust and fracture of one.

(Literally just exponential growth vs decay)

(Also im just comparing the relationships. I am in no way saying Angel and Vox are the same person or Husk and Alastor are. Everyone has their own separate fucked up shit going on and different degrees of fucked uppedness. Husk and Angel don’t seem near as sadistic as Vox and Alastor are, I’m not equating them to “villains” in that sense. The whole point of this is the fact that their relationships have such different end results BECAUSE Husk and Angel are able to recognize their faults to a degree and WANT to change. With the other two we don’t really have that.

Angel could have continued down the whole “incel” route and told Husk to fuck off every time he tried reaching out. Too snubbed by the fact that he rejected him. Husk could have decided to leave Angel out to try and not help him at the bar. Hell, he could have watched the whole thing happen and fucking enjoyed it. But he didn’t.)

[cha-lii]

scottish garp

iñaki’s accent

fight choreography

the music

ZORO GIVING THE MIDDLE FINGER

buggy as whole (surprisingly? i didnt even like anime buggy but la buggy is so good)

the way iñaki says nami

nami’s glasses

nami and zoro spending 5 minutes alone together and immediately reaching World Weary Parents status

USOPP (literally known him for 2 mins as i’m writing this and i love him already)

kaya’s bedroom please and thankyou

“you look like nami?” luffy you ace king

the whole wardrobe sequence, honestly

zoro eyeing up the gold shirt “👀👀👀👀👀👀👀…nice”

zoro in suit

luffy in black

usopp in open jacket

nami in nami

merry mi amor

nami and kaya friendship superiority

usopp asking luffy and zoro for relationship advice PLEASE

USOPP AND KAYA FUCK YEAH

WE ARE! FUCK FUCK FUCK YEAH

sanji is perfect

PATTY

baratie is perfect

sanji introducing himself to the crew then being so suave with nami

the scene with the bill - luffy signing it for some reason makes me feel warm and fluffy inside??? and calling sanji “my good man” and sanjis wee grin 👌

zoro ‘madam’ing nami

usopp and zoro making fun of nami and sanji, and luffy just looking confused af lil aroace king

any and all sanji cooking scenes

i want to drink at the baratie bar so fucking badly

sanji talking about the all blue was so fucking good

and sanji’s music!!!

USOPP DANCING FUCK YEAH

zeff and sanji being the ones to patch up zoro

luffy being so soft and affectionate with zoro when he wakes up

THE FACE CRADLE

[saccharineomens]

i've been poking at this too long to care how visually appealing it is anymore. My headcanons for the main characters' sexualities, based on canon information! (has no bearing on ships.) Canon speculation below the cut.

marcille (bi): fascinated by romance and loves romance. we only see her show explicit interest in a male (fictional character (General Halleus from the book series she loves)), but i don't think she's fully straight.

falin (aro? ace? lesbian? genderqueer?): falin's only interest in relationships in canon is 'she considered accepting shuro's proposal because she was afraid nobody else would want her, but felt it'd be unfair to him because she had no feelings for him'. i consider whether she's aroace or a lesbian or maybe bi/pan, and she also seems like she might have some genderqueer feelings, based on some of her discomfort with her body and wearing certain types of femme clothing. (Also the fact that she‘s part male dragon.) Since she ends the story going on a journey for herself, it feels like she'll finally get the chance to figure out what she wants.

laios (pan, demi): he hasn't shown explicit interest in men, but similar to marcille, i don't feel he's fully straight. He’s aesthetically attracted to monsters, at the very least, so gender probably doesn’t factor in for him. romance/sex just don’t seem to be much of a high priority to him in general, but he did think his ex-fiance was cute and didn't seem uncomfortable with the idea of marriage (just seemed unhappy with being trapped in his hometown), so i feel like demisexuality fits him well.

About his succubus: He was very noticeably not stopped in his tracks by it like Chilchuck and Marcille, but that could possibly be because it just….looked exactly like Marcille, not an obvious fantasy. He started blushing and stammering heavily when it turned into a monster, which like….this boy is definitely a furry/monsterfucker, if anything, but that doesn’t speak on his attraction to actual humans.

I think it speaks for something that the succubi are able to literally read minds and craft the perfect fantasy for their specific target. And for Laios, it wasn’t just “his friend Marcille”. It was a version of his friend Marcille that wasn’t grossed out by monsters, didn’t think he was weird for wanting to be one, and was able to turn Laios into one. It was a Marcille who understood him at his deepest level that made him become a blushing, stammering mess to rival Chilchuck. Which is why I think he’s Demi, and needs a strong emotional connection with someone before he finds them attractive.

kabru (pan): his special interest is people, and he's bold enough with his sexuality to kiss rin despite not being in a relationship with her. so being pan/bi feels appropriate.

chilchuck (bi): he has a wife, and they were childhood friends, so he's definitely allo. but his comments and behavior towards senshi makes me suspect he might be bi, and just never considered the possibility due to being in a committed relationship.

senshi (gay, ace): this is 90% off of vibes. he keeps to himself in the dungeon and doesn't seem to have any need for social company, he's a complete hermit. Being ace makes sense to me, but so would him just having a low social drive. His succubus was 'a woman he hadn't seen since he was a child', but his journal implies it wasn't a romantic/sexual attraction.

namari (bi/lesbian): she is at the very least attracted to women, given her behavior with kiki, but she does make a point to say that kaka is also attractive to her, and her friends at the bar tease her about Kaka being her “new” boyfriend (implying previous boyfriends).

shuro: the token straight (in love with falin, asked her to marry him). i love you shuro <3 (but i can also see him being into men. there's no evidence to the contrary)

izutsumi: aroace. literally no question. her succubus is her mother.

[onesidedradiostatic]

My worthless Radiostatic headcanon is that Vox met Alastor because he was new to hell and captivated by the pretty redhead at the bar swigging gin and was flabbergasted that nobody was asking him to dance. He was also equally oblivious to everybody else at the joint shitting their pants as this absolute NOBODY approached the Radio Demon for a dance. And Alastor who was bemused by his ignorance and idiocy can still admire someones moxxie and agreed to dance. And listen, this is mostly because with all these great shipper tag names I can't help but call their past partnership "electro-swing." So yes they danced to something like this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b3hjodKJTRs. Suffice to say Vox was enamored and Alastor was surprisingly amused and it was the start of both of them chasing that high.

HAHAHA I like this, there's like so many different ways to imagine their first meeting, and like imagine this being like. okay you know how he probably couldn't openly like men in life but once he landed in hell he realises it doesn't matter anymore (depends on if you interpret him believing himself to be straight(tm) and closeted prior or he already knew but just couldn't act on it openly), so he's freshly landed, walks into a bar and just walks up to the first cute guy he sees cause he no longer has to hide it LMAO. he gets what he wants (the dance) for NOW, but of course, getting what he wants doesn't last forever, and he was kinda doomed from the start when he made a beeline to making moves on the aroace guy.

also part of me is going like. this is the 1950s. electro-swing didn't exist then. (just roll with it anyways. just roll with it anyways. just roll with it anyways.)

^^(link in ask)

[gothicgender]

Heeeeeeey I loved your Velvette head-canons !

But now I need somehting with Alastor. I want to see how accurate you can make him !

What do you think about some fluff with Alastor ? For example slowly dancing with him or visiting Cannibal town with him.

Thank you !

I was waiting for someone to request something like this.

I love Alastor but some fans just make him...less Alastor. He is a maniac and a sadistic man that warms up really slow to someone, like we see him with Nifty. Also he is a manipulator sooo yea...

Fandom : Hazbin Hotel

Type : one-shot

Genre : fluff/ romantic

Warnings : female reader, she/her pronouns used, aroace reader, manipulation, reader doesn't know how to dance, 20s slang used !

Summary : Slowly dancing with Alastor before the battle with Adam

''Whatever redemption really means, I know you all tried. I have seen the good in all of you. And it's...I-I'm just...I love you all, so much, and-and live tonight however you want because-''

''We're all gonna die!''

Those words echoed in your mind for the rest of the night. How were you, the others residents of the hotel and a bunch of cannibals going to battle against THE Adam and his exorcists ?

You couldn't help but look down at the others whiel they were having the night og their lives before the battle. Worry was filling your thoughts. How were you going to live ? How were you going to battle against them ? How were you and the others going to survive ? You sigh and look down at your hands.

''I dub thee, King Roach.''

''Oh, to understand your twisted little mind!''

Maniac laughter brings you out of your thoughts and make you turn to your left to see Alastor and Nifty laughing togheter. How could they be so calm and relaxed when they could be living their last night right now ?

''Why the sad look, my dear ? Like I always say, a smile is a valuable tool ! What's eating you, hmm ?'' Alastor asks you while Nifty rushes to kill some bugs. He lifts a hands to pinch your cheek.

''I'm not sad it's just that....I don't know, aren't you afraid for the battle ? What if we aren't going to make it ?'' You look back down at the others.

''Afraid ? Ha ! Why are you afraid ? With the weapons we have and my help, I think we are going to bumb off those useless beings'' He says his smile widening careless about the big event coming up.

''But...what if we don't ? I don't even know what to do. Charlie said to live however we want and everyone is except me. Aren't you going to do something to make this night memorable for you ?'' You ask Alastor, feeling desperate to do as many things as you could that night...just incase you don't get to do it ever.

Silence fills the air, the only sound being laughter and voices from the others that were at the bar.

Suddenly Alastor clears his throat to get your attention. He exteends a hand to you and leans forward a little.

''I suppose I have an ideea for the night.'' He says and waits for you to take his hand.

''...What is it ?'' You ask him, curious and weirded out at the same time.

''Just a little dance ! Back in the day when I was alive I would always impress the women I danced with. I was quite the hoofer around my town. Come on, baby, I know the best songs !'' He says with a the same big but prouder smile, holding your hand and bringing you closer to himself. He didn't like physical touch that much but it never harmed to dance.

''Alastor, no...'' You protest, as he pulls you away from everyone's eyes and a radio appears on the floor next to the two of you.

''Alastor..I can't really dance'' You sigh and look away embarrased. ''Ah, there's no need to worry my dearest ! Like I mentioned, I always was the wonderful, copacetic dancer ! Just follow my lead and you'll be a ritzy hoofer in no time with a teacher like me''

He says and then an old song from around Alastor's time begins to play. It was a slow but rather elegant song with a man singing about his lover.

Alastor begins to sway you around, holding one of your hands while his other arm was holding your back. I told you to hold his arm and you did, keeping the pace with him...or atleast trying.

''See ? You're already learning sweetheart ! There's no beef big enough to not be resolved, you are quiet a fast learning babe'' He says and begins to dance a little faster. You keep dancing with him as the music continues.

He continues to yap about how he used to dance and freqent a speakeasy. He explained his favorite dances that were the tango and black bottom, tho he only used to dance black bottom when he was really canned. It was a relaxing thing to do when everything was about to go downhill. The dance bought you a nice, pleasant feeling of relaxation as you moved along with the demon. The conversation went on as you kept asking him questions about his time in the 20s. He didn't respond to all the questions but atleast you got an ''I love jazz and used to play it at the radio.'' and a ''I didn't have much time to dance and visit the speakeasy but when I did I was the floorflusher''

You didn't realise when the dance slowed down and when your head begun to rest against his shoulder but suddently the music stops and Alastor pinched your cheek again to bring you back to your senses.

''It was a delightful experience (your name), but as the others went to rest I realised you indeed should too. So, break it up and go to bunk. I need to take care of something first. Sleep well, my dear and thank you for the dance. It really brought back memories.'' Alastor laughs and kisses your hand, a thing he always used to do after finishing dancing, then walks away while you make your way to the stairs. You thank him quietly with a soft smile, feeling just a little tad better.

A dance, 20s style one can sometimes make you feel better and think about something else except the battle.

So, I don't really like how this turned out but uhm- yea....anyway I used a lot of slang from the 20s because I imagine Alastor would most likely knew the slang I mean..he is a radio host.

I kind of rushed the end because I really didn't know how to end it plus it's late and I literally want to sleep so bad (My sleep schedule is really fucked up).

Hope you enjoyed it tho, I liked to reserch the slang.

Thank you for requesting, darling.

[inuhalfdemon]

You Caught Me At Just The Rut Time

My contribution to a Hazbin Fandom Challenge I created: here

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Rating: MATURE (Smut)

Word Count: 3,193 Words

Summary: You are a female red deer demon. By chance, you happen to meet Hell's great radio demon and the timing could never be more...perfect.

Note: This is not aroace Alastor; at least not for the moment. It gets pretty smutty in here...

You are a red deer hind/doe demon. You’ve been in Hell for some time now; but are still learning the in’s and the out’s in surviving this after-life. There’s been a lot of talk and stirring with the events surrounding the Hazbin Hotel following the war with Adam. Charlie Morningstar is hosting a kind of Open House event to welcome any and all potential new clients who wish to tread her planned path to redemption. Having nothing really better to do and seeing on one of the advertisements – scrawled messily in crayon – that there would be free booze, you decide ‘what the hell’ and go to check it out.  

There is a decent turnout; demons and sinners all curious about this new development and wanting to know more. Most – of course – have nefarious reasons to being here but the Princess of Hell is pleased as punch, just the same. As soon as you are able; you excuse yourself to the bar and order a drink. The bartender – a Hell demon cat with intricate wings - is expertly taking orders and sending drinks out promptly to all the patrons. A little – ‘bug?’ – demon is scurrying about the place; cleaning in a frenzy and collecting empty glasses to take back to behind the bar counter. The bartender quickly pours your drink and with a flick of his feathered tail; he has it sliding right into the palm of your clawed hand before starting on the next in line.

Most of the others are grouped among themselves – conversing – throughout the hotel lobby. Some are meandering or exploring the new building; talking with the current residents. The corner of the bar where you sit is relatively quiet. Stirring your drink with one clawed finger, you amuse yourself by watching everyone.

When someone approaches your part of the room; you are surprised to find that it is in fact Hell’s infamous Radio Demon – Alastor. Despite his wide smile and buoyant attitude; everyone parts from him as if they were the Red Sea, giving him a more than respectable space as he comes to lean over the bar counter near you.

“Husker, my good man.” Alastor calls to the bartender. “A rye, if you would.” His voice crackles in old-timey radio.

Without so much as acknowledging the Overlord’s presence; the winged demon cat uses his tail to pour from a bottle into a whiskey glass containing some ice beside him – his hands busy preparing other drinks. He had seen Alastor making his way to the bar and was ready for the order. Curling his tail around the glass, he set it on the counter and flicked it smoothly to him just as he had for you.  

“I very much thank you, my friend.” Alastor lifted the glass; and sipped. Husker ignored him; focusing on what he was doing.

You watch this interaction with interest; comparing it to how others now were giving your corner of the bar a very wide berth.

Alastor took his seat; sitting at the bar stool just next to yours. He shifts himself so that he is casually watching the goings-on of the grouping of demons and sinners throughout the room; but he has one long ear – the one nearest you – slightly turned and rotated toward you. It is an invitation to engage in conversation…if you wish.

You assess him briefly – wondering if he really, truly is a red deer demon. They are not terribly uncommon in Hell, but some only resemble the form of a Cervidae. It can be tricky to tell; even for those who are. If he is a Cervidae – he’s a very powerful one. And, it’s obvious to you that’s not all that he is. You – yourself - are very athletic, agile, clever and quick due to being the type of demon that you are but he – he emanated a type of power that could never be fully comprehended.

“It’s a good turnout.” You offer; initiating conversation with him.

“Why, yes. It really is. Charlie should be proud.” He replied happily; shifting now so that he is politely engaged with you.

“You’ll have a time…can’t say there are many here that look like they’ll make the cut.” You sip from your drink.

“Oh, I’m fully prepared to deal with some of the riff-raff, believe you me.” He chuckled into his drink. “Have your sights set on high, yourself, darling?”   

“Hm…not really. The thought of redemption really doesn’t interest me much.” You reply, honestly.

“Well, that bodes all too well for me…” He says, eyes firmly fixed on you.

 And, there it is. A hint of…a scent. Cervidae demons – true Cervidae – demons are commonly known for their deer-like tendencies. One very prominent one being that they experience fluctuating periods of cyclic mating periods – termed the rut. There’s a lot that gets rather muddled with this natural occurrence; confusing even for the demons that experience it because each and every individual is different in the timing, frequency or intensity of their own personal mating cycles.

You know that the scent that you caught – be it just a whiff – is a musk. A musk that red deer stags produce when they are…interested. It is a pheromone that only other Cervidae demons can detect. Incidentally, you are aware that you yourself are currently…receptive…and that you are producing your own pheromone that he can easily detect in your response.

Your body reacts to this development rather quickly. A flooding of hormones, cascading and overwhelming your senses. You feel the hair on your head and at the base of your tail bristling, rising slightly. Your mouth has gone dry and your heart rate has sharply increased.

He laughs lightly; reading your response. Throwing back the rest of the whiskey before setting the empty glass onto the counter.

“Do not trouble yourself, Husker.” Alastor called over his shoulder as the bartender reached for another whiskey glass with his tail. “That will be all for me this evening, I think.”

Smoothly, Alastor slides from his seat at the bar.

“I’d very much like to show you more of our amenities here.” He tells you, offering his hand. “If you’d be so inclined…” His musk trailing off of him; becoming more potent.

The message is crystal clear; and he’s offered you an easy out. You are free to politely decline, walk away from this…proposal. Honestly though, you could do with a decent fuck. And, everything this radio demon is promises a rather good one. 

“Aren’t you a little too old for me?” You ask him; though he’s more than fully aware that really won’t pose any sort of an issue here.

“Quite so.” He admits. “I assure you though, I am quite spry.

Throwing back your own drink, you take his offered hand, letting him chivalrously help you down from your bar stool and following him out of the lobby of the hotel. Other demons and sinners move readily out of your way, so intent on ducking and avoiding the attention of the smiling Overlord that no one notices you leaving with him. The other residents of the hotel are so caught up in their own tasks with ensuring that the Open House is a success, they pay absolutely no mind to Alastor’s departure from the event.

Alastor leads you to his room; a lone door standing, eerily placed within the entirety of the hotel’s 13th floor.

He pauses at the doorway with you; considering you seriously.

“You are sure?” He asks you; his musk surrounding you entirely: heightening your arousal. “I can and will stop at any time you tell me.” He says. “But, it has been some time...for me. This could get…intense.”  His eyes are burning; a soft deep green glow penetrating the soft light of the hallway. His antlers had thickened at their bases, points lengthening, widening as he spoke.

Despite everything. Despite his obvious readiness at having you, taking you now; here, at the very peak of his rut… Despite the absolute betrayal that was your own body telling him how receptive you were right now; how ready you were for him. He was giving you this last and final chance…to walk away. You knew what this was; you knew what this would be…and you readily accepted the terms.

If anything, the deal was only made sweeter by his considerations. Most stags are so consumed by the intensity of their rut; they struggle with restraints. Hind/does too.

Struggling with your own senses – now – you swiftly close the gap between you and him. In one quick movement; you leap so that he when he catches you; you are wrapped around him, your legs hugging his waist and your arms winding around his neck. Quick as a whip, he saw you coming and easily pulls you into him. Your momentum presses his back into the doorway. You are kissing him in a desperate way; any thought of reservations melting quickly away. He matches your fervor; his tongue pressing between parting lips and finding yours.

He breaks the kiss briefly and you realize that he is pulling you with him into the hotel room now; the door having opened without you noticing.

“A good little doe…” He muses; carrying you into the room. Stepping inside, he spins so that it is you that is now pressed against the door; it closing behind you as he pushes you firmly against it.

He presses himself against you; pushing you into the wood. You can feel his erection; pressing into you through clothing. You tighten the hold on him that you have with your wrapped legs; moving your hands into his hair, you ball your clawed fingers into fists and begin pulling and biting at his lower lip.

The prod pressing into you starts to become more firm and carefully breaking away from you; he sets you down, steps back and starts to loosen his bowtie. As he slips out of his suit jacket and unbuttons his shirt, you slide out of your own. It lands at a heap on the floor. Looking at him, you briefly register all of his raised and jagged scars – covering his body - but then you suddenly realize that you are standing near a very old and intricately styled mirror. You blush slightly, seeing your aroused reflection looking back at you from its surface.

He chuckles darkly, pressing you back into the door with his long body standing, pushed against you.

“You’re not a shy doe are you?” He purrs into one of your erect long deer ears, one of his clawed hands softly but firmly grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at the mirror.

You gulp, watching the reflection. He is poised over you; a predator enjoying the freezing state of fear he has induced in his prey. Your blush only deepens when he presses into you more; his bare skin touching yours; his member pressing much more sharply into your thigh. You watch yourself reacting to all of this – just as he meant you to – and you are only made more humiliated by the knowledge that all of it arouses you even more.

“You should see how pretty you are when I make you blush, my dear.” He holds your head tilted, making you watch through the mirror as he begins softly kissing, licking and biting at your exposed neck. You squirm and he laughs; soft puffs of breath touching your sensitive skin. Using his free hand, he slides clawed fingers underneath the fabric of your bra; finding a breast. He pinches your nipple and it sends a tightening jolt of pleasure into your belly that sinks lower and lower. Your face flushes deeper, a hint of a sheen of sweat breaking across your forehead.

You gasp and seeing how you do; sends you further into spiraling.

Mesmerized; you watch through the mirror as he releases your nipple – slipping his hand out from your bra - and reaches around, unclasping the hook easily with deft fingers. Still not releasing your face; he hooks the garment in one claw and tosses it aside. Leaning down; he softly kisses your tight, and firm nipples before taking one into his mouth and softly sucking.

“Ahhhhhh….” You breathe, squirming more.

“Hmmmmmm.” He hums, going to the next nipple and sucking again.

You’re quivering now and you’ve started panting. Your pheromone is absolutely pungent and it is making him almost dizzy with each inhale he takes. You see your obvious arousal but you also see his in response; his antlers are stretching, widening….his eyes are flaring a deeper shade of green and casting eerily moving shadows across your skin. Next you feel his erection; jutting from behind the dress pants he still wore – stabbing into you with much more urgency now.

He knows that he would find great pleasure from making you watch yourself – coming undone – by his having you; then and there. But, he also feels his little game overwhelming you now and knows that it really could be just too much. He shifts himself briefly; sliding his hand to the rim of your pants and experimentally pulls at the waistband with one claw. You see this happening through the mirror; a kind of panic grips your heart – knowing where this could lead – and your face jerks slightly as you flinch. This confirms it for him and he immediately releases you; allowing you to finally look away from the mirror.

The shadows move around you and there is a swirling vortex forming a portal just behind him. He steps back into it; reaching his hand out for you to take – if you are so willing – to follow him. Feeling more aroused than you could ever remember – and feeling an incredible adrenaline rush from the mirror play – you readily take it and let him lead you through the swirling dark.

You step onto a soft bed of spring grass, stars and moonlight overhead. Shocked and surprised; you turn all around and assess your surroundings. You were so…distracted…before you hadn’t realized that his room was actually a splitting of dimensions. Seeing the part of the room where the door and the mirror stood just further away now; you realize that he only moved you to a new location within the same hotel suite.

Fireflies skittered about; owls hooted and other soft nightly sounds were drifting from the surrounding swampland. The air smelled of cypress. The entirety of the environment was calling to your demon form; fueling it with an energy and pleasure you had not previously considered. With the scent of the cypress was the sharp scent of Alastor’s musk. Looking at him now, you saw that he was incredibly in need of some relief. Still wearing his dress pants, he was fully erect; his antlers still heavy and long upon his head; eyes flaring but looking at you narrowed and hazed.

Saying nothing, you go to him. Touching his waist, you look up at him – watching his reaction as you undo the clasp near the seam to his pants and slide your hand in. His eyes close and he groans; leaning into your touch. You slide his length out and nearly gasp at how…well…huge he is. It makes you more than a little apprehensive…he’s certainly the largest stag you’ll have ever been with. But, like him, you are fully aroused and are as ready for this as you ever will be.

Releasing him, you quickly start undoing your own pants; shoving them and your undergarments off as he hurriedly does the same for himself.

Knowing it will be the best position for what you both need from this; you kneel onto the soft bed of grass. He takes your face gently in his hand; looking at you with heightened arousal and a kind of…appreciation. Watching you, he moves so that he is stepping around and coming to settle himself behind you; also kneeling.

Your long ears flick back; bowing your head so that you can see him in your peripheral. He reaches for you; you expect him to push you down or forward but he pulls you into him so that your back is pressed against his chest. He slides his clawed hand to your neck, tilting your head back against him as he kisses and nips at your skin. His erection is pressed into your back and you can feel it tracing trails of pre-cum against you as he shifts. He wraps his other arm around you; pulling you closer into him as he firmly takes your breast; teasing your nipple into firmness in his fingers.

You can feel a sliding wetness between your legs and know that you are ready. You groan at his teasing and pushing yourself away from him so that you are now bent down; face to the ground rear raised. He follows you down; briefly touching and stroking your tail before positioning it comfortably out of the way from being inadvertently bent or crushed.

He rises himself on his knees and when he enters you; it’s a deep and blissful penetration. He slides himself in slowly; giving you a moment to adjust to his girth. You can feel a seeping of wet touching the inside of one thigh.

He makes a growling purr; deep in his chest.

“You are so…wet.” He groans, pressing his face into your back.

You don’t say anything; you focus on staying as relaxed as you can. He’s not too big but very nearly.  

Slowly, he starts to move – back and forth – and your body responds; adjusting. 

You are flooded with heat; a heavy sweat breaking out all across your skin. His musk is flooding your senses and you begin to moan pathetically….desperately. Your pheromones are affecting him as well; and he remembers telling you that: he could and would stop for you at any time - but he is praying to each and every of the seven deadly sins that you don’t ask him to.  

Your hands make fists in the grass; and you sink down lower.

This angle gives his length more to access and his tip is pressing, pushing and grinding against that oh so sweet spot you’ve got hidden inside. You can fill his shaft stiffening; filling his member curving inside you and it’s about to drive you both over the edge.

He grips your hips; claws digging painful, pleasantly into the skin: as he thrusts himself into you – deeper and deeper; grunting like the rutting animal he is.

Feeling a delicious coiling of tension; you arch yourself into him.

“Ffffffffuck!” He responds to the movement; his hips jerk sharply; jolting one or two more thrusts into you before he comes undone.

You’re already there; chemicals flood your senses as you reach orgasm. You feel his member stiffen; filling you up with its release before it softens again – your walls tightening and releasing all around it. You notice there is more wetness running down your legs now.  

Slowly, carefully, he slides himself out. You collapse into the ground, feeling boneless and weightless. You enjoy this feeling; letting it consume you completely knowing you’ll never have a fuck quite like this one ever again.

[taizi]

a song to bring you home

one piece word count: 4k written for the its pirates server sake exchange ! my giftee was @portgas-d-aroace who wanted "anything asl" and gave me an excuse to write the most self indulgent fic of 2023

read on ao3

x

“Again?” Sabo whispers, trying to sound mad. Whether he sounds that way or not doesn’t actually matter, since he’s already lifting his blanket in silent invitation.

“Sorry, ‘Bo,” Luffy mumbles thickly. He wastes no time crawling onto Sabo’s thin mattress, and Sabo pulls the blanket back down around them both, tucking it tight to keep the chill away. 

Luffy attaches himself to Sabo’s side like a barnacle, tiny fists curled in his brother’s shirt as if he’s afraid something is going to swoop down and try to wrench them apart. Sabo huffs out a breath that fogs in the air and lets him. 

“Nightmare?” he asks after a moment. He keeps his voice quiet in case Ace is still asleep, even though his twin is the lightest sleeper on the planet. 

Luffy nods once, face buried against Sabo’s shoulder. He’s not trembling, but the way he’s holding himself completely still and silent is its own red flag. 

It’s easy to forget that Luffy is not actually as spoiled as he acts. He whines and cries and pouts like any other privileged little master, he’s bossy and clingy and demands to go where his brothers go even though they all know he won’t be able to keep up, and sometimes—oftentimes—it grates on Sabo’s very last nerve. 

But holding someone like Stelly up to someone like Luffy is like holding an orange up to the sun. There’s literally no comparison. 

If Ace were actually as annoyed by Luffy as he pretends to be, then he wouldn’t be the first one to roll his eyes and throw up his hands and stomp back to collect their youngest when he falls behind. If Sabo actually meant all the mean things he says when they have to waste precious daylight dealing with a stupid scrape on Luffy’s stupid knee, then he wouldn’t suggest the pilgrimage down to Makino’s bar because she has those colorful bandages that always make Luffy smile. 

Luffy is as much an orphan as Ace is—as Sabo pretends to be—and he was so desperate not to be alone that he was willing to die for their reluctant, backhanded friendship. He would run after them until his arms and legs gave out, and then at that point he would probably crawl, just so they don’t leave him behind. 

Stubborn, selfish, stupid Luffy. The unwanted little kid that Ace and Sabo have begun to shape all their days around. 

Something in Sabo’s chest hurts to know that Luffy is afraid. He tips his head and adjusts his arms so that the smaller boy is tucked more securely under his chin. Stars pinwheel slowly across the sky, winter constellations that Sabo will teach his brothers how to find once they manage to get their hands on a halfway decent telescope. There are clouds forming to the east, low and gray, that promise snow. 

“Sing,” Luffy mumbles petulantly. 

“You’re such a brat,” Sabo complains. But he doesn’t make Luffy go away, and it’s only another moment before he starts humming. 

Sabo doesn’t know a lot of music, having successfully dodged his piano tutor for the last two years straight, but there’s a song he overheard on the docks a few months ago that stuck. Some sailors were singing it while they worked. Sabo didn’t catch all the words, so he made up the rest.

He made the mistake of singing it within his little brother’s earshot only once, but once was enough. Now he may as well be a performing monkey, because for every birthday and campfire and boring afternoon and bad dream, Luffy requests the same thing. 

“Now you've got the chance to travel oceans,” Sabo half-says, half-sings, letting it settle somewhere between a story and a lullaby. “I hope the world’s as wide as you were hoping…” 

Luffy sighs, a slow, satisfied thing. The fear-frozen shape of him softens with every word. He’s asleep again within one verse. Sabo sings two more, just in case. 

—

Two weeks and five escape attempts after he nearly died at sea, Sabo is finally allowed out of the infirmary. It’s slow going, and the doctor isn’t thrilled with him, but stepping into the fresh air out on deck is worth the man’s grumbling and sidelong looks. 

The whole left side of Sabo’s body is pins and needles and every breath feels like it burns, like the fire that almost killed him is still ready to snatch him up if he’s not careful. 

But it’s worth it. It’s so worth it to see the open ocean, stretching out forever under a sky vivid orange and blue with dusk. There’s enough sunlight left in the early evening that it cascades across the surface of the water so brightly Sabo can’t look at it for very long. 

This is freedom. And it’s important, so important he’ll cling to it with tooth and nail. So important he would set out by himself in a barely-sea-worthy boat to claim it. He just doesn’t remember why . 

Sabo knows his name. He knows he left something horrible behind—he dreams of running desperately through a place that glittered and gleamed to hide the rot underneath, of begging cold, lofty faces for help that never comes. He knows that he should be happy to escape whatever left that impression on his brain. 

But there’s a pit in his chest. A gnawing emptiness where something important is supposed to live. Part of him is so desperate to go back to where he came from that he would swim there if he had to. 

With time, that feeling would fade. He would overlook it so often that it would become second nature to pretend it wasn’t there. Time and distance would soften the frantic edges, years stacking on top one after the other until that little voice wailing I want to go home! was too muffled for Sabo to hear. 

If it was important, he wouldn’t have forgotten in the first place, he would reason to himself. Right?

But today, Sabo wins the contest of wills with the doctor, and he steps out onto the deck, and there is someone by the bow humming a familiar song while they work, and the whole world stops. 

“Hey,” the doctor says, alarmed, and a bracing hand lands on his shoulder, and that’s about when Sabo realizes he’s crying. 

His damaged eye stings horribly, and he’s making a mess of the bandages on his face, and he can hardly get enough breath in his lungs to say, “Take me back where you found me. I have to go back.”

The concussion makes it difficult for him to form new memories right now—his brain was rattled pretty hard. So he thinks the faces that peer at him in confusion and concern are the same ones that have surrounded him since he woke up on this ship in the first place, but they all swim together. Names are impossible. He knows the doctor by the cross on his shirt, and he knows the broad, looming shape of the man who saved him, and he turns to those two in particular. 

“I know that song,” he babbles, hysterical. “I made up the lyrics so I could sing it to my brothers. What if Luffy has a nightmare while I’m gone? Ace doesn’t know the words. I have to go back. Take me back.”

They take him back. 

The air smells faintly of smoke and melted garbage and burned meat even as far out as the beach. It turns Sabo’s stomach. His brain is topsy-turvy and confused and he wobbles so badly that the doctor has a pinched, pissed-off look on his face that gets darker with every step Sabo takes. 

But his feet know where to go. They’ve walked this coastline a thousand times. The sand gives way to grass, and he has to use his hands to make it up to the top of the hill, but finally he spills out on his back where the earth beneath him and the sky above him are utterly familiar and takes deep gulping sobs of air. 

“I’m here,” he says nonsensically to the man who followed him. The man who stayed a step behind in case Sabo fell but otherwise let him fight his own way back to the place he needed to be. “I’m home.”

The man studies him without speaking, his tattooed face impossible to read. Sabo’s thoughts are all swimmy, but he hopes he remembers this guy. He hopes he can find him again someday. His vision greys a few times, and at some point the man isn’t there anymore, but there’s a strong wind blowing in from the sea—steady and unrelenting, just hard enough that the nearby tree boughs start to bend. 

Someone says, “My hat!” 

Someone else says, “You and your stupid fucking hat—hurry up, it flew this way!”

Sabo is humming to himself when they finally find him, and falls asleep somewhere in the middle of those voices shrieking his name. 

Now he’s home. 

—

“I can’t even look at him,” Ace grinds out, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “That reckless little asshole.”

“Mm-hmm,” Sabo replies mildly. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, carding one hand through his little brother’s hair. “I wonder who he takes after more.”

“Shut up, ‘Bo! You’re just as bad as him!”

“If you children can’t get along, I’ll separate you,” Luffy’s friend, the extremely unsettling Surgeon of Death, says in a tone that suggests that he has both the means to make good on his threat, and also the absence of any god-given good sense to try it. 

Sabo, ever the peacekeeper, smiles at Trafalgar without teeth. “We’ll be on our best behavior. Thank you again for being there for my brother.”

The supernova cuts a sharp glance at him, dark eyes unreadable. His gaze travels to Ace for a long moment, and then finally drops to Luffy in the bed between them. There is something in his face—something more than the spite-and-caffeine-fueled monster of a man he would like the rest of the world to believe he is—something not quite so old, not quite so burdened, that looks down at Sabo’s little brother and sees someone who deserved to be saved.

But all Trafalgar says is, “Would’ve been too boring to let him die now.” He leaves the room after that, the door shutting behind him solidly. 

“Didn’t Nami say that guy only met Luffy once?” Ace says, bewildered. “What the hell is he doing risking his neck for a stranger?”

“Sometimes that makes it easier,” Sabo says. “A stranger could be anyone.”

Ace wrinkles his brow, an uncomprehending twist to his mouth. He has come leaps and bounds from the hateful little boy he used to be, but he has always clutched his brothers closest and kept everyone else at arm’s length. 

Since forming the Spade pirates, that tight-knit circle in his heart has inched wider. Ace thinks the world of Deuce, even if he will literally attack anyone who implies as much like a rabid coyote. Masked Deuce, who has actually referred to his captain as a rabid coyote on more than one occasion, within his earshot and to his face, would kill for Ace indiscriminately. The rest of the Spades are equally as long-suffering and entirely devoted. 

Secretly, Sabo believes that Whitebeard is going to get through to him one of these days. The last time Marco and Thatch came around with a recruitment pitch, Ace only set them a little bit on fire. 

Maybe some people would call it selfish to put you and yours first, but Sabo doesn’t think so. As long as Ace wants to live for his brothers and his crew, he wants to live. He’ll endure prison with gritted teeth, he’ll fight the guards every step of the way to the execution scaffold, he’ll never, ever go gently. 

That’s all Sabo asks of him. Hang on for one more minute. Survive one second longer. 

It was no grand fleet or sprawling armada that spread across the horizon to retrieve Fire Fist Ace from the hands of the World Government, but the Revolutionary Army was hardly going to stand by on this one. Not when it was their Chief of Staff’s beloved twin brother at stake. And so the war began long before the battle had a chance to start. 

Half of the military forces meant to be stationed at Marineford never arrived, picked off ship by ship in the week leading up to the execution. All radio frequencies were jammed the day of, transmissions in and out of the island blocked universally, and the media blackout of what was promised to be a globally-televised event had people talking. 

The only thing available on every channel was music—the tone dial recording of a skeleton musician bowing a familiar song on his violin. Looping on every station, every monitor, every snailphone. It drowned any attempt the soldiers made at communication, and more importantly it irritated the hell out of them, but it had a secret third purpose as well; if Ace heard it, he would know exactly who was coming for him.

(Ace heard it. The morning he was slated to be killed, a harried guard ran from one end of the cell block to the other with a malfunctioning den-den in hand, and the music echoed off the stone walls like it was trying to make a point. 

It wasn’t his brother’s voice, but it was his song. Ace knew it like he knew his own name. Shackled as he was, he couldn’t reach his fire—but for the first time since he was captured, he didn’t feel cold.)

In another world, his execution was overseen by all three admirals and most of the warlords, the military rightly assuming that they would need to meet the full weight of Whitebeard’s infamous protection head-on. 

But in this one, Ace is a powerful pirate captain of a relatively small crew, rising in fame and bounty, but attached to no great superpower. Still the demon spawn of the Pirate King, still an example waiting to be made, but there was no way Sengoku could have anticipated the battlefield Marineford would become. 

The Spades, the Strawhats, the Revolutionaries and the handful of ships sailing in Whitebeard’s name to fight for that cocky young captain he was so fond of brought more than enough of a fight with them. The Red-Hair pirates’ fashionably late arrival was kind of an overkill. 

Sabo made sure to say so. 

“What, so I should just sit back and watch?” Shanks laughed as they made their retreat, one newly liberated prisoner folded safely into their ranks. “No way. I’d like to be able to look Roger and Rogue in the eye when I meet them in the afterlife, thanks.”

“Is there a reason you’re covering your eyes?” Ace asked hoarsely, sounding a little bit like he didn’t want to know the answer. 

“I’m not allowed to meet Luffy again until he’s become a great pirate,” the man replied cheerfully, jogging down to the wharf blindly with his hand clamped over his face. Deuce, glued to Ace’s side for the foreseeable future, traded a long-suffering look with Benn Beckman.

After the clusterfuck that was Sabaody, Kuma sent the Strawhats safely to Baltigo one by one. When an RA mole within the Marines brought news of Ace’s execution, half of Luffy’s monsters went back to retrieve their ship, and the other half forged ahead with the rescue mission. 

So it’s the Thousand Sunny they made their getaway with, the cheerful little lion ship an extra special fuck you to the Marines that made Sabo feel warm inside. 

The team has since scattered, the Revolutionaries and Red-Hair pirates breaking off to lead the Marines on a very merry goose chase. The Whitebeard pirates don’t go away without first passing Ace along yet another offer to join their ranks—to their credit, they seem amused by the whole thing, as if Ace spitting sparks in sheer annoyance and the Spades’ prickly, proprietary offense are all part of the game. The Polar Tang is nesting abeam the Thousand Sunny while the Heart’s captain consults with the Strawhat’s very young doctor, something that seems to put the little reindeer at ease. 

They’re in the aftermath. Sabo takes a deep breath for the first time in what feels like weeks. 

Luffy collapsed the second his feet hit the grassy deck of his ship, his body crumpling beneath him like a puppet with its strings all cut. It would have been horrifying, if he hadn’t been snoring loud enough for Sanji to hear it from the galley and come out to investigate. Zoro scooped him up and Nami held the door open to the room she and Robin share, what would have been the captain’s quarters on any other ship, and Luffy was deposited carefully in a soft bed. 

“He needs a bath,” Nami said, nose wrinkled in a way that did nothing to disguise her affection as she combed his dirty, sweaty hair away from his face with her fingers. 

“It’s laundry day anyway,” Usopp replied, coming through the door with his arms full of someone’s well-loved blanket. Sabo smiled to see his spoiled little brother tucked in by his friends. Some things never changed. 

“Glad you’re okay,” Sanji said to Ace, the last one to linger in the room, keeping the door propped open with his hip. “Ghost pepper chicken curry for dinner,” he added, which was Ace’s favorite food, and the final straw for Sabo’s twin brother. He sat there blinking wetly at his own hands, at the bruises the sea-stone manacles left on his wrists, finally letting himself feel the weight of what he had survived. 

And now Sabo pats the bed beside him. Ace glares at nothing for a moment longer, before he gets up to join his brothers. It’s inevitable, like an act of gravity. The mattress gives beneath him and Luffy mumbles crossly in his sleep, turning toward them without waking. 

“Brat,” Ace all but whispers. Then he says, just as quiet, “Thank you.” 

Sabo says, “Nothing exists in this world that could have kept us away from you.”

Ace puts his head on Sabo’s shoulder, this wild young thing who doesn’t know how to want to live for himself yet. It’s okay. He’s figuring it out. He’s getting closer and closer. Someday soon he’ll understand that his siblings and his crew—his family—wouldn’t go to the ends of the earth for someone who wasn’t worth all their love. He’ll realize how deserving he is of all that. Until then, Sabo will believe it for him. 

“I’m on your side and you can call me and just like that,” Sabo sings under his breath, “I’ll sing a song to bring you home.”

“Hey,” Ace protests when he stops, muffled against Sabo’s shoulder. “Keep going.” 

So he does. 

—

Sabo is twelve, almost but not quite thirteen, and he’s much too old to cry. 

He had been sneaking through the market, ceramic festival mask on his face and hooded cloak hiding his hair, pockets full of those hot cinnamon candies his brothers love so much, when he glimpsed them. 

His parents. They were strolling along the decorated streets, arm-in-arm. Stelly was walking at Outlook’s side, talking importantly and waving his hands. And on Didit’s side, holding her hand, was… 

Sabo had to run away before he did something awful, like show weakness where one of the rich monsters might see it. He ducked into a side street and started running the second he was out of sight. His heart didn't settle until he was weaving through the familiar dingy corners of Edge Town and picking his way over heaps of trash in the Terminal. 

Even when he makes it into the forest, and the trees shelter him on all sides and the owl monkeys make their racket in hello, even when he’s headed in a straight line toward the place he feels safest in the whole world, he still hurts. 

They replaced him. Again. With a little girl this time. She had blond hair and brown eyes, as if her whole little person was spun from gold. Her pinafore dress was cookie-cutter perfect. 

Sabo wonders which noble line they adopted her from. He wonders if they even told her Sabo’s name, or if Stelly is the only brother she’s aware of, or if she would care one way or the other. He wonders what kind of person she is—if she’ll fit in, or get eaten alive. 

He doesn’t care what his parents think of him. He doesn’t. He is certain in his heart that they’re the worst sort of noble—they’re selfish and shallow and don’t know the first thing about what it really means to be a human person on this planet. He knows all that. 

He was unbelievably lucky to fully escape his family, to be presumed dead in their eyes, and he’s never going back. An act of god couldn’t drag him back. 

But there’s this awful pressure behind Sabo’s eyes and nose, and his face feels hot and prickly, like there are needles poking at him. 

He doesn’t love them. 

It’s stupid, so stupid, that there’s a tiny part of him that still wants to be loved by them.  

Sabo climbs the ladder to the treehouse with numb hands, easing the trapdoor open carefully so the hinges don’t squeak. 

The ancient camping heater Makino gave them glows a steady orange in the corner, clanging occasionally as it works against the December night air. 

It’s early evening yet, but Ace has been pretty sick, and Luffy has subsequently been glued to his side. Even with the noisy fireworks down on the beach from the end of the year festival in Goa, they’re both sleeping soundly, curled up tight together like leopard cubs. 

There’s a pile of quilts folded messily on the other mattress, waiting for Sabo when he comes home. The sight of them causes a sharp pain in his chest that he can’t explain. 

He takes off the mask, climbs out of his boots and cloak, and drags the extra blankets over to his brothers. One by one he adds them to the nest, layering them neatly and tucking in the edges, and then worms his way in next to Luffy, because Ace doesn’t rest well if he feels stuck or boxed in. 

Sabo’s parents replaced him for the second time, two years after he was, to the best of their knowledge, blown apart at sea by their precious Celestial Dragons. Had the ink on his death certificate even dried before they brought their new daughter home?

Sabo’s brothers saved him blankets, the best ones without any holes, even though they could have used them. Should have used them. Even when he wasn’t here, they were thinking of him. They didn’t want him to be cold. 

The sob takes Sabo by surprise. He stuffs a hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears. He sobs again, as quietly as he can.

He doesn’t notice when Luffy wakes up, but he feels it when clumsy fingers land in his hair, pawing through it as his baby brother hums a familiar tune. A well-meaning mimicry of every time Luffy’s older brothers have done this same thing for him. 

“So you can keep me somewhere out of reach but if you need me,” Luffy’s voice warbles like a sweet little bird, “just hum these memories and you can feel me. I’m always standing by.”

If Sabo opened his eyes, he would see that Ace is wide-awake, scowling up at the sky; their tiny family’s stalwart protector, standing guard even when he has a fever and he’s buried under a small mountain of quilts. 

And he would see Luffy’s sleepy, scarred face split in half by a smile, beaming like he was trying to put the sun out of a job. 

But Sabo keeps his eyes shut, and buries his face a little further for good measure, that tiny part of him that wants to be loved crying I am! They do! It’s such a big feeling he doesn’t know how to hold it. He wants to just sit with it for a bit longer. 

“Ace, sing,” Luffy breaks off to scold loudly. 

“Don’t even dream of bossing me around, Lulu,” Ace snaps back.

Ace’s voice sounds hoarse and sore, but he joins in anyway. Of course he does. Only Luffy gets some of the words wrong in every verse, and it sparks a scathing argument each time—the two of them alternating singing together and shouting over each other, putting their rowdy owl monkey neighbors to shame. 

It’s the best thing Sabo’s ever heard. He’s laughing too hard to cry anymore. 

[justanotherhh]

alastor aroace semiotics: symbols/metaphors/codes (oh my!)

thinking about some of the aroace subtext, both in terms of what's definitely intentional, and things that one can pick up on within the burgeoning field of "what the heck does aspec (in this case aroace) semiology even look like in (this particular) narrative?"

there's the really obvious one of course "ace in the hole." funny as well, because ace in the hole could also reference Alastor being the card you play as a hidden advantage (potentially hinting that Rosie knows that Alastor has his own agenda and supports that, like she does in the song). Of course "Alastor is ace" is the main point of the joke, because it's a sentence that comes a little out of nowhere, and clearly confuses Alastor, because he doesn't know Stuff

2. secondly, there's the pilot episode's placing Alastor first next to and then on top of the Ace of Spades. tbh if this was an accident, it sure was a serendipitous one, because the Ace of Spades not only refers to being ace, but specifically aroace (with Hearts meaning alloace, Diamonds meaning demiace, and Clubs meaning grey-ace <- t Ace of Diamonds/Clubs are a more open to interpretation, I've seen some also use them for demiromantic and greyromantic)

3. Body language! Alastor's reactions to being propositioned or involved in a sex joke, or having to listen to romance talk ranges from discomfort (glitching), to blunt refusal/shutting down of the conversation, to boredom/distraction. I haven't made a study of Alastor's body language in detail, but I'd be interested in how his smiles potentially shift when around very sexual and/or romantic discussion, regardless of whether he's the centre of that (but probably moreso if he is). I think this would come more to the fore in future seasons if there were examples beyond Angel Dust, who also made Husk uncomfortable in the first half of s1, but Alastor -- especially in the pilot -- had very visceral reactions to Angel's "flirting/joking," moreso than anyone else, until Angel had really gone too far with Husk in ep4 (and he come onto Alastor as strongly/invasively as he did with Husk)

4. Speaking of Angel... Alastor not being present outside of a flashback in all of episode 4, and not in episode 6 either. Both episodes featured sex heavily, including Angel showing off one of his pornos, and the gang going to a sex club. Also, Valentino was in both of them (makes sense, seeing as they were Angel-centric). I wonder what Alastor feels about Valentino's whole... existence. He's also the only main s1 hotel character to not be involved in the trust exercises that lead them to the bondage/SM club. this has nothing necessarily to do with the character, but he's very much placed outside of sexual scenarios and places by the writing/plot, which is fun to notice, especially in the first two examples, as his not being in the episodes isn't actually explained. No Alastor in the sex episodes, because his fourth wall sex repulsed senses were tingling?

5. boundaries and power fantasies. that is, Alastor is a character who has very clear boundaries and ways of enforcing them. from blowing up Sir Pentious when he grabs his coat, to noping out of any space he wants to, to seizing the narrative from Vox and telling the story on his terms, to shadow tentacles (ironic), nobody touches him emotionally/physically unless they're allowed. Niffty, Rosie, and Mimzy so far appear to be the ones who have crossed into that "allowed" space the most, but considering he lets everyone (barring Lucifer and Husk, who don't want to) hug him in the finale, some of those barriers are coming down, which is another interesting analysis to make at some point

these boundaries aren't all entirely healthy either -- the way he lashes out at Husk who seems to actually be trying to look out for him (which suggests that Husk is emotionally close-ish to him, enough that he didn't realise he was overstepping), and the way he breaks down in the finale, shows that his inability to be vulnerable in front of others is... not actually a good thing. I wrote a whole bunch about how this part of Alastor's writing play into a very aroace-in-feel narrative for him, but suffice to say... a story about someone with boundaries that seems to be completely absent of "romance/sex will fix you" is refreshing. and very aroace coded

there's also a power fantasy in the idea that one can simply bend the space to avoid ones boundaries being trampled over. to be able to either nope out of a room or to make oneself so terrifying that nobody would want to try to get up in your space... it's got a little smthinsmthin of a "wish it were me" in there. being repulsed means an often constant erosion and invasion of boundaries, from people making your disgust and/or obliviousness the centre of their sex jokes, to being hyper-scrutinised and challenged every time you do or don't let someone into your space in whatever way, or challenge their notions of what's "allowed" as an aroace person. sometimes you just want to say "Demonic Powers Be Upon Ye" and be done with it

6. An Absence. most often aspec narrative is defined by an absence of allo-narrative. that is, Angel Dust, Husk, Charlie, Vaggie, Cherri, Sir Pentious, Lucifer, are set up as allo-figures with romance and sex featuring more or less in all of their stories. the only hotel residents so far who don't have that going on are Alastor and Niffty, and Niffty's story has yet to have the foundations laid out for beyond the very bare bones, and she flirts with others (her "bad boy" preference). whatever Alastor's journey is, it's not coded as alloromantic or allosexual in any way, whether through casual jokes/flirting, or a longform romantic and sexual relationship exploration, with the possible exception of...

7. Vox. the characters that Alastor seems closest to in this story are Rosie, Mimzy, Niffty, Charlie, and Husk (with the mysterious figure that owns his soul looming in the back as well). out of them, none of them are coded as anyone he's sexually or romantically involve with or heading in that direction. the last figure in Alastor's life that's very heavily figured so far is Vox. And Vox is obsessed with Alastor in a way that absolutely can be read as a bad one-sided break-up/jilted stalker type framing, with Alastor gleefully recounting his "no" when talking about their past, and otherwise putting Vox out of his mind, while almost all of Vox' big character moments revolve around how much real estate Alastor takes up in his mind (literally, considering his error message is all Alastor messaging)

Vox being a figure who is symbolically the trampler of aroace boundaries is a very good way of showing Alastor's total disinterest and even disgust (depending on whether or not he knows that Vox was/is into him), and can act as a future potential interesting barometer for other characters to be "less" invasive, but still not quite getting it to begin with (see, Angel Dust's casual flirting, Charlie's tendency to see everything from her perspective, who knows how Cherri and Lucifer might fit into this equation, and generally the sex-and-romance framing of a lot of the other narratives)

8. I talked about aroaceness being a humanising factor to Alastor in my other big ol' post I did, just want to mention it here as well. so far it exists somewhat as a Potential, in the sense that we're firmly in s1 and there's still a lot of ways this could all go, but I think it's worth mentioning as a form of foundational signposting work that's been done for his character

he's more on the dark grey end of the grey scale of all of these characters, he's manipulative, sadistic, cruel when he wants to be, petty, selfish, likes being the centre of attention + is easily rankled when he's not, and presumably he went to hell because he killed people for kicks <- these traits are not unique to him, considering the setting, but what is is the beginnings of a storyline exploring his particular relationship to vulnerability and power and why those things are a part of him in the way they are. this from the perspective of someone who is aroace (and possibly repulsed) instantly adds a potential sympathetic nuance to who he's become, similar to the layer of power fantasy mentioned above. both of these turn his narrative from a cautionary tale or a villain-played-straight (haha) trope into something much more interesting

with the semiotics of aroaceness already in place, these affect how we read the foundations for the rest of his narrative and where it's going. quite simply, it's one of the biggest factors right now that make all his other story beats more resonant and interesting, depending of course on where they take it...

9. his smile. since we've gotten deep enough into meta territory now that we're in hc/future theorising country -- the smile is of course a mask, that's known to everyone. there's a lot of future opportunities for how to utilise that alongside aroaceness-as-theme-for-him. aroaceness, or just "someone where there is a noticeable lack of romantic (and hinted at sexual) interest," is usually coded through a certain shallowness. a pathologisation of behaviours -- which is another deeper analysis post to make at some point (jeez there's so many). Alastor is off-putting, yes, but he's also very confident and charming when he wants to be, he can put people at ease despite themselves (see, Charlie). It's a very interesting mask to give someone who's aroace, because it makes him complicated, rather than a simple ableist "point at the weirdo with no friends, that's our Outsider/killer."

(it also hearkens back to the humanising factor, in that his shallowness isn't because he's aroace, it's because he doesn't know how to be vulnerable with people as the person he is in a world that is incredibly amatonormative and focused on sex)

His smile can be unnerving, but it can also be disarming, give others the illusion that he's in control, make it impossible to guess his emotions (etc. basically what he said to Charlie)

so quite simply, his smile as a twisted distortion of society's demands upon people. he's not being abrupt, aloof, asocial, unkempt, or all the things aroaceness is often stereotyped as. he's performing the most acceptable normative person you can imagine. his surface is unscratcheable because of normative ideals

it's a very fun, unique-to-this-story way of potentially telling an aroace narrative. I'd be interested in what it takes to make him drop it (if he can, or if the story takes the route of accepting that he can't -- the man who laughs kinda vibes) and whether that will tie into a piece of his story that itself takes on aroace proportions (perhaps related to worrying for others in a non-romantic way, perhaps in relation to being able to or being forced to be vulnerable in a non-romantic/non-sexual way, etcetc).

Potentials:

we haven't seen him around the aro/ace aroace colours yet as far as I can remember, which is a fun, easy way to signpost (see, Vox flashing the bisexual flag on his screen)

since we've had an "ace in the hole" joke, I think we could have an aro/arrow-based pun in there as well, maybe even as a deconstruction of when they're used in romantic ways -- (no aro going through his heart, too aro for cupid's arrow, idk I'm spitballing here) or as literal arrows in some way. also someone's gotta call him aces at one point, right? just cos? I feel like the "<2" emoji might be too niche (heck, maybe all of this is, but that's part of the point -- all of this should be ways we're able to signpost aro and ace and aroace characters), but there's characters who know modern emoji and online lingo

other asexual symbols I know of include stating a preference for cake or pizza over sex and/or dating and the black and white rings (worn respectively on right an left middle fingers, although since they only have four fingers in this world...)

I've really enjoyed "clueless cannibal about modern lingo" Alastor comics, including the one about serving cunt and the one about eating ass both by @nouverx. it goes nicely on from his being confused about "ace in the hole," with that HH style sexual comedy. there's a whole bunch of that one could play with

speaking of slang, confirmed bachelor has often meant gay, but the aro/ace community and the gay community has overlapped as long as anyone has been non-conforming. @creepysora suggested a gentleman never kisses and tells, either as Alastor being unaware that it's actually about sex, or as an aware deconstruction of the phrase that gives him the space (similar to confirmed bachelor) to sneakily go, "go mind your own fucking business 😊!" I'm sure there are others that could fulfill a similar purpose of allowing Alastor a certain kind of old-timey buffer

similar to the episode of Bojack Horseman that had Todd visit his girlfriend's parents (both Todd and his GF are asexual and not out to her parents), which depicted allosexuality from the perspective of asexuality as something nonsensical and Other, perhaps having something from Alastor's POV in which he's the observer of the rites of romance and/or sex in a way that shows their strangeness when one sits outside of their tenets

would kind of like to see him killing/hurting people for being pushy, either when alive or dead. I already see a lot of potentials for his past as a serial killer to be framed from an aroace POV, but I especially like this idea, similar to how Hannibal often targets people for being "rude."

more on what I was saying about aroaceness as a humanising trait -- more on how this affected him in life, how he feels about Vox's consistent obsessive behaviour, how it potentially makes it harder to imagine his place in a group setting like the hotel (which is rapidly being paired off into romantic couples -- often a nightmare scenario for aromantics), more on how potentially learning these words or something better to describe himself can make it possible for him to assert boundaries without shutting everyone out to a large extent, and also, tbh, to put Big Expectations onto a story that's barely even started, I hope that none of this takes away his less savoury traits necessarily. I hope he's still kind of an asshole, but simply that he is grounded in himself enough to be able to really believe in Charlie's work/aims and support her in them for more reasons than his own ends, and can admit to really caring for something

reiterating: I am interested in how his smile-as-mask will play into all of this

Any symbolism, metaphor, coding, and straight-up telling I've missed in the show itself? Any you'd want to see in upcoming seasons?