#my version of aces brother where he isn’t in a odd ship

[honeynclove]

if you’ve been on my blog any time recently you have seen the drawing above… BUTTT I wanted to make a post for him bc he’s my hcs for Ace’s older brother whom me n @localanimeidiot named Felix :D

some doodles of him + one of the crackships he’s in

[navtastic]

Some rimmer headcanons under the cut Bc I was thinking about writing a fic but have commitment issues when it comes to actually writing

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1. Rimmer is autistic and you can pry this out of my cold dead hands. Main ways he stims are his salutes and biting his knuckles. Huge parts of why he was bullied and treated poorly by his family come from the fact that he always has had issues sociallizing in the “”””normal”””” way and has related learning issues. Very obsessed with being punctual and following social rules that he doesn’t quite understand, a lot of his self esteem issues come from the fact that he knows he’s doing the right thing per social conventions but he’s doing it wrong?? Why is it wrong when he does his version of it, he’s trying his best?? Projecting onto a fictional character time: is very much the way he is in the show because he was able to repress a lot of the things that made him ‘obvious’ and now just appears to be an incredibly socially awkward/weird person as opposed to someone who just communicates differently. Likes repetitive, involved, logic and planning related type things (war strategy, board games, schedule and list making, engineering related stuff). Zero actual interest in Astronav type stuff but feels obligated to be good at it and has it drilled into his brain that it was the only way he was going to amount to something so he forces himself to try to be good at it, but that’s part of the reason he’s so crap at it. So used to being bullied that he feels like he needs to be above other people to protect himself because he’s so used to abuse of power being pointed at him.

2. Gay. that’s it, just gay. He knows it, he doesn’t deny internally as much as he did as a child. He’s absolutely absorbed so much homophobia from his family that he goes to great lengths to cover it up, but he isn’t unaware of it or so repressed that he’s convinced himself he’s not. All of the talk about women and porn and all that shit is a very elaborate and paranoid cover. He literally owns straight porn so when lister digs through his shit he thinks he’s found rimmers real porn and stops looking. Keeps gay porn stashed in some ridiculous hiding spot. Tells himself he’s verse but he’s really just a kind of dominant/pushy bottom. Did actually have sex with Yvonne because that was a gross and dodgy situation (on both ends but falls on rimmer because he was in control of his faculties) she was not fully aware of the situation but he was not the one who initiated it and essentially went along with it out of a lack of self respect and awareness for what was going to come of it (which makes him shitty because rimmer is still a scummy, miserable person). In his teen years and early twenties he thought maybe he could really ‘cure’ himself of it some way but everything he tried wasn’t worth it in the end and he just decided to never speak of it.

3: what made Ace different. Repeating a grade comes off like a joke when it’s explained that is why Ace is who he is. Really when he repeated that grade he was put into a remedial type class that tended to gather the kids with learning disabilities, bad home lives, trauma, etc (all the things that tend to make it harder for a child to suceed) and he was given new tools that boosted his confidence in being able to learn and socialize, maybe never got a proper diagnoses but just the proof that he could learn and do well if he approaches things in a different way was a huge game changer. Still had a lot of deep seated homophobia from his family and trauma from being treated differently from his brothers but it was easier to cope. Ace is still gay and the whole saving the damsel in distress and riding off into the sunset shit comes from following socializing as set rules instead of something involving nuance, follows the trope of a hero because if he’s going to go around saving worlds he’s going to do it the ‘right’ way, which is part why he has such an over the top ‘action hero’ stereotype vibe. Ace wishes that more of the rimmers he met were willing to listen to him because he just wants to drop a truth bomb and open of their potential. Ace still has a lot of unsorted issues, they just tend to be more internal than immediately obvious.

4: Relationship with Lister: incredibly, ridiculously angry and embarrassed when he realizes lister is attractive. Will never admit it but when Lister is first teaching Kryten how to break his programming he’s sad that no one ever taught him how to break out of his ‘programming’. His want to be friends with Lister is something he struggles with (early seasons especially) because he craves Listers respect but the only way Rimmer knows how to get respect is by outranking someone. Comes out to lister when he’s drunk. Lister has casually mentioned men in ways that he mentions women (but never directly says he’s attracted to men, so it just becomes a paranoid obsession in Rimmers mind, is he into guys or is rimmer just reading into it to much?) and brings up a story that is blatantly about a guy he’s dated (but rimmer still isn’t quite sure because it’s not a 100% straight forward statement) and Rimmer comments on his jealousy of lister being so open minded and nonchalant about men. Lister puts the pieces together from there and makes a point to try to make the environment of the ship more welcoming, still takes rimmer ages to fully come out. (Lister is the biggest bi on the ship and isn’t fully in the closet, he just doesn’t talk about it explicitly, people who know how lister communicates pick up on it, but most people just think he’s a friendly guy)

5. Clothes and presentation. This ones more for fun because I would love to see how rimmer would dress himself if he could get past more of his trauma. Shorts and cropped pants and tailored pants are a big one. If there wasn’t such a stigma on how gay men dress and style themselves he would be less afraid to wear something a little less baggy. Actually loves color (the uniform change from the khakis to the red, blues, and greens he wears later in the show is just absolutely fantastic. Not an accessory person, would rather just have a smooth, sleek look with well fit clothes and a pop of colors on neutrals. I think the cross dressing in the show doesn’t necessarily/purposefully come from a malicious place but is definitely a sign of the times, outdated ideas of humor and a lack of understanding of gender non conforming. Rimmer wouldn’t be opposed (well if he could get past his trauma (which is why we only see this trait in low rimmer or when he has the holo virus)) to dressing up in “””female”””” clothes, especially not the odd accessory or sexy outfit if it were a kink thing but has an overall more masculine sense of style. In a perfect reality where he was nurtured and encouraged I feel like he would identify and present in a more fluid way, but the cannon rimmer isn’t really capable of recognizing and expressing himself like that.

6: Sexual/romantic History. Oh boy. rimmer has been on dates with women, mainly to keep up apperences and make it look like he’s trying to be successful with women. Has no idea what good flirting sounds like because all the times someone has genuinely flirted with him he’s explained it away be convincing himself they’re just overly friendly or are trying to make fun of him (or he just doesn’t pick up on it). When he flirts it’s either completely over the top obvious garbage because he’s trying to get his point across or it’s vague small comments that really aren’t flirting because he’s attempting nuance or feels like he’s being to out in the open. Has had maybe one or two sexual encounters with men, always on shore leave as far from where the ship has docked as possible and always working to cover his tracks the entire time. By the time the stasis leak happens his sexual encounters with men had never reached penatration and really just amounted to some head and fooling around that he felt conflicted (but happy) about afterwards.

I probably have more floating around in my brain but I’ve really only just hit season three of my rewatch so this is all based on early seasons, some fanfic I binged, projection, and what I remember from the other couple of times I’ve watched the series.

[eene-fangirl]

Titanic: Never Let Me Ed Chapter 1

And here is the first chapter of @nintendogal55 and I’s crossover of Ed, Edd n Eddy, and Titanic, Never Let Me Ed! We’re so excited to publish this story to Tumblr! We’ve been working feverishly for months on story notes, and thinking up new ideas!

Victoria is actually a femme version of Eddy’s Brother!

We are each individually writing chapters! This is my chapter and then the next chapter to come will be written by @nintendogal55  We hope you enjoy this story!

The docks of Southampton were crowded to the brim as people basked over the gorgeous ship standing tall, like a giant, in the Atlantic Ocean. Its fresh coat of paint gleamed in the sun. Yes, today was sailing day. Titanic was ready for its maiden voyage to make history.

Stepping out of the carriage, Eddward Vincent-Blake stared up at the glorious ship, studying its features. Over eight hundred feet in length, enough to hold over two thousand passengers, and even equipped with three engines. He felt more than lucky to sail back home onboard the grandest ship of all.

“Eddward!” Snapped a woman’s voice. “Be a gentleman and help me out of the carriage!”

Frowning, Edd immediately obeyed. “Yes, Victoria, coming right away!”

“Pull your head out of the clouds, Eddward!” His mother ordered as his father assisted in helping her out from the carriage. And then his father was next to shoot him an icy stare, making Edd dip his head in shame.

“Seize this drifting into your ridiculous fantasies, Eddward! Focus!” He whispered sharply, tapping a rough finger against his chest.

“Yes, Father,” Edd nodded timidly.

Opening the car door, an immense woman, covered in this long red gown, and jewelry dangling from her wrists, neck, and ears, a large sun hat on her head shielding her from any light. Her eyes were an immense hazel-grey which startled Edd whenever he looked at her. Victoria’s stare was so hulking that it resembled Medusa’s evil stare moments before turning her victims into stone.

Nobody would ever think to see a woman like Victoria out on the streets. She hovered over Edd, who was tall himself. This secret could not escape his mouth, but it was very easy to mistake Victoria for a man. Her voice was deep, but rich, one of the only giveaways that she was indeed a woman.

Smiling timidly, Edd presented the grand Titanic to his family. “Isn’t it absolutely beautiful? Headliners have named Titanic ‘The ship of dreams!’”

Victoria only sneered, as did his parents. “‘Ship of dreams’, you say? I was expecting more!”

Feeling a sting in his heart, Edd couldn’t let her negative words get him down. After all, they were going home! Their time in England had been a wonderful experience, exploring the cities. It was Victoria’s home. She had insisted that Edd come and meet her mother. Her father had passed on some time ago. Upon glancing at old photos, Edd could immediately tell who Victoria resembled most.

And his parents came along, too. The trip could have been more memorable if his parents wanted to spend a day with him. Edd couldn’t remember the last occasion where they spent time together. Or even spoke.

Putting those thoughts aside, Edd couldn’t wait for their return to America. He’d start his studies in school and go about on adventures of his own.

“Rudy, here, take my bag for me!” Victoria commanded practically dropping her large bag onto the small man. Struggling, Rudy groaned and sneered at the woman from behinds. His tired expression made Edd laugh quietly behind his hand. This was Victoria’s newest help. All the rest she had fired for unreasonable excuses. Only one quit. And boy did they regret that.

As the family walked towards the gangplank, Edd felt an arm wrap around him.

Victoria smiled down at him. “Let’s be the first, darling.”

She had a pretty good grip on him. There was no escape. Glancing over his shoulder, his mother and father were happily whispering to one another.

“Try to keep up. Don’t scrape those shoes,” Victoria nagged.

They were boarding Titanic. Titanic!

Meanwhile, over at a small local pub, close to the docks of the famous ship about to set sail, a card game was in battle. Blocking out all the shouting from the excited crowds, Eddy concentrated. The tickets for Titanic sat in the middle of the table.

Removing his cigarette, and blowing a puff of smoke, Eddy did not bat an eye in disgust. Scowling a horrid smile, their competitor chuckled, “Scared?”

“Of what? People running away from your dentures?”

Clearly insulted, the man chugged his beer. His friend immediately stopped chuckling when the other gave a threatening look.

“Focus, Olaf!” He ordered.

Just then, Ed leaned into Eddy. Eddy recoiled a bit, not liking the close proximity. Especially Ed’s terrible odor. “Eddy?”

“Yeah, Ed?”

“Are you sure we can do this?” he quietly asked, blocking his nervous demeanor behind a small deck of cards.

Smiling, Eddy gave his friend a pat on the back. “Don’t worry, Ed! We got this!”

“But we’re betting against nothing but our only quarter we have left!”

That quarter sat on the table, resting peacefully, shimmering Eddy’s reflection. Eddy stiffened, averted his gaze, saving himself before a familiar reflection would make him slip up his calm demeanor. No, not now. He had to get out of England. Eddy had to escape back to America.

A crowd of spectators in the pub were watching the game at hand, whispering to one another. Eddy didn’t mind as he rested the cigarette on the other side of his mouth. Smirking, he looked up at their competitors.

“You wasted your bet!” He laughed along with his buddy.

Ed gasped. Not due to being scared, but instead of the four aces Eddy proudly laid out on the table! “Wanna rethink that?”

“Yeah! We’re going to America!” Ed cheered giving Eddy a playful nudge.

“For once in our stinkin’ lives, we’ve hit the prime!” Eddy waved his fist in glory. That was when the man, known as Sven, grabbed him by his shirt collar. Going to throw a punch, Eddy flinched. His started heart raced, immediately sweating.

Instead, he socked his pal, Olaf, in the jaw cussing at him in his foreign language.

Eddy swiped the tickets off the table before anything could happen to them. And even his lucky quarter.

“We’re off to America, Ed! We’re ridin’ in high style, baby! On the TITANIC!”

“Hey, you two,” the bartender caught their attention. He then pointed towards the clock on the wall. “Better get moving! Titanic leaves in about five minutes!”

Eddy wallopped himself in the head, hauling the only bag he owned onto his back. “Shit, Ed! We gotta motor if we're gonna make it!”

“Vroom, vroom, Eddy!” And Ed scooped his best friend onto his shoulders, raced out the door, and ran through the sea of people crowding every inch of the docks. A gigantic smile stretched across Eddy’s face. He could even feel tears threatening. No, no tears! He did not dare to even look back. Even this was too good to be true!

“Hurry, Ed, hurry!”

Ed was like a horse, galloping along, huffing and puffing, jumping over a gateway and avoiding crowds of people.

Right when they approached the gates, Eddy leaped off Ed’s shoulders and ran up the gangplank with his ticket waving his hand. The doors were just about to close as the gangplank was just starting to roll away.

“Wait, hold on a sec, we’re passengers!” Eddy yelled, half in a panic.

The officer opened the door back up and looked at Ed and Eddy up and down with a smug look. Eddy had to agree that Ed’s pits wreaked, and his own clothes were not a site for sore eyes. They were the only clothes he had that didn’t belong to his brother.

“Have you been through the inspection queue?” The officer asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Ed’s lip frowned, but Eddy smiled giddily. “‘Course! We don’t have lice! We’re Americans!” Eddy happily presented himself to the officer.

The man sighed. Someone else caught his attention saying they needed to close up. “Alright, come on!”

Ed and Eddy hopped aboard into the grand ship. After their tickets were inspected, and even more odd looks, an officer showed them to their rooms. They followed down a bunch of hallways and passed other passengers. A lot of them didn’t speak English which was proving to be tough for the officers.

Once they got to their room, it was miniscule with two bunk beds, and dirt covering the floor. Two men already occupied the room. One had blue hair, and the other was bald, carrying a hunk of wood with a face on it The two men looked them up and down in a bizarre manner, and then at each other.

Eddy friendly tipped his invisible hat to them. “Top of the mornin’!”

“And all the gravy and chickens!” Ed added, following suit.

As he and Ed turned their backs, the man with blue hair mumbled something to the other. The name ‘Sven’ was heard. Snickering smuggling to himself, Eddy was prepared for the trip of a lifetime.

Pulling out the beautiful painting of the talented Claude Monet, Edd studied the walls in his own bedroom. Their stateroom was enormous. It more resembled a hotel. A hotel sailing on the ocean. The maid and butlers and other servants were busy fixing up the room, and even pouring champagne in glasses.

A porter wheeled the last of the Vincent-Blake’s belongings into their stateroom. Of which was Edd’s vault.

Quickly taking his safe into his room, Edd passed his parents who were making conversation with Victoria and laughing. Why did they find talking with her easier than him? Edd felt so relieved to not read a sticky note for at least a month. Even then, all their questions were asked through Victoria.

He placed his safe in his own room, on a desk. Soon he’d be in America, studying!

“Put the bags right in here, Rudy!” Victoria ordered walking right into Edd’s bedroom. Rudy immediately collapsed to the floor as soon as victoria’s bags were placed on the ground.

“Oh, stop huffing about, Rudy, there’s more!” Victoria ordered pointing out the door.

Edd jumped timidly, almost dropping the painting. “Oh, uh, a-are you sleeping in here?”

“Well, where else, Eddward?” Victoria answered as if it were a stupid question.

“There are three bedrooms,” Edd pointed out in the most respectful way possible.

And then Edd’s mother appeared in the room. “Don’t be silly, Eddward! There’s a room for me and one for your father!”

“Oh, but perhaps it would be more respectful if we slept in different beds for your sake?” Edd suggested his cheeks flushing. “Victoria could take this bedroom, and I myself could sleep on the couch.”

Victoria’s thick hands smoothed down Edd’s arms, sensuously. Edd jumped. A thick chin leaned against his shoulder. Victoria’s perfume was so strong that it made him cough. Whenever she did sleep with him, Edd could barely get his own rest without gagging from the smell.

Then Victoria frowned, staring at him disdainfully. “We’re inside, Eddward. Take your hat off.”

Edd’s heart fell into his throat. “I’d rather not!”

She scowled at him, emitting the groan of a dragon. But, she smiled once more, continuing to rub Edd’s arms with her long fingers. “Just think. When we crawl under the sheets tonight, we’ll still be the first.”

Edd’s parents kept smiling as Victoria prowled around Edd, wrapping her arms around his thick lanky shoulders. They were such a contrast to each other in physicality. That bothered Edd immensely. He couldn’t lift anything heavy unlike how Victoria could. She could lift a ship if she even had that power.

“The first and only. Forever,” she continued to whisper into his ear.

Wanting to tear himself lose, Edd just snuggled against her. “What do you mean, forever, Victoria?”

“Eddward,” his father started. “Your mother, Victoria and I have been in conversation.”

“What about, may I ask?” Edd asked nervously.

“When you return to America you’re not attending that university,” his mother stated with a smile.

Edd’s heart burst. “But... I have saved up my money-”

“And that amount of money is enough for an important item,” Victoria stated.

Edd craned his neck. The maids and even one porter still occupied the room. He noticed Rudy smirk. This was so embarrassing! A man who couldn’t even stand up for himself!

“How do you know the percentage of my own funds?” Edd asked.

Victoria laughed a beautiful, cruel noise. “Eddward, we have to know our funds if we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together!”

Edd stared at his parents hoping they wore the same shocked expressions. But, they were happy. This was not good! First, he was aboard the ship of dreams believing it to be his path to freedom.

Then Victoria pulled out a small, but a beautiful blue diamond ring.

“As you know, my father owned a jewelry store. Eddward, you saved my mother. My father left us in such debt after his passing. With your payment, my mother can live her life in peace because of your generous deed!”

Edd shook his head. “I didn’t buy that...”

“You most certainly did. It was a surprise...”

“But, my money-”

“Our money, Eddward!”

Edd felt the tears creep into his eyes. His mother made a noise of disgust. “No-No...”

A hand gripped his arm. “You have to, Eddward.” his father threatened.

“I was planning to attend school to become a scientist!” Edd fought. He knew he was powerless, but anything to help himself.

“Eddward,” his mother spoke with a sharp tongue. “Perhaps your marriage to Victoria will help you straighten things out.”

Edd’s heart ached knowing full well what she was talking about. It was only two years ago. The small, but very brief, period with... him. It wasn’t anything. The other man wasn’t even interested in him. Was anyone at all?

“I am who I am, mother,” Edd said to her, gritting his teeth. “I don’t want to marry Victoria!”

Victoria sighed as if it were no big deal. She cleaned off the blue diamond against her dress. “That’s alright, Eddward.”

“Is it?”

“Of course? After all, you can buy back the ring, and my mother won’t have anything, the poor woman. But, then where are you going to get your money, Eddward? If you were all alone in the world?” Victoria asked in a mocking tone. “It’s a lonely, cold, and gigantic world out there. Alone you'll become a worthless dog on the streets like one of those despicable third class!”

Edd’s inside steamed. His fists curled, but he released them. Control your temper. Hot tears boiled in his eyes. If he weren’t such a passive little lamb he would have left long ago to start his own life before his parents brought Victoria into his life. It was so unfair.

“What do you say, Eddward?” His father asked.

Victoria handed him the blue diamond ring. “Do it, please? I’ve always dreamed of a man getting down on one knee.”

Edd took it out of her hands and reluctantly did as he was told.

“Victoria Von-Bakewell?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“Yes, my darling?”

He stared up at her. “Will you be my bride?”

Victoria joined him on the ground, staring him into the eyes like a hawk. She cupped Edd’s cheek, her sharp nails digging into his face, most likely leaving red marks. And then she delivered a smothering kiss, enough to suffocate him. “With pleasure, Eddward Von-Bakewell.”

Ed and Eddy ran up the bow of the ship once the crowd finally dimmed off the deck. They were off! Titanic was sailing through the sea.

Leaning over the railing and looking at the ship breaking through the waves, their hair roared in the wind.

“We are the luckiest sons of bitches, Ed!” Eddy noted before howling like a dog.

This was what it was like. Freedom.

Eddy hopped onto the railings, standing tall and mighty as he stared out into the Atlantic Ocean. It was beautiful! It was years and years ago when he traveled from America to England. He had no idea he was sailing into the darkest period of his life. Now, hopefully, he was sailing into new and better dreams.

“I can see the Statue of Liberty already, Eddy!” Ed joked, pointing out to the sea.

“I’M THE KING OF THE WORLD!” Eddy bellowed out to the sea. He then spread his arms, mimicking a bird flying through the sky.

“YEE-HAW!” Ed cheered.

Barking and screaming out in their utmost excitement Titanic sailing on through the great waters going to make history.

[margridarnauds]

001 olympe/solene please!!! (also i know i haven't answered in 8 years but please bear with me, i haven't forgotten i'm just very late)

Thank you! (Also it’s fine; I was just a little worried I’d finally scared you away!) The following thoughts might be slightly rambling, given my family’s doing our daily rewatch of Toho!1789 and Maniaque just came on, thus short circuiting my brain. 

when I started shipping it if I did: I seem to recall a conversation between you and @couldntgiveafox some ages ago where you were discussing alternative 1789s, and I believe I stumbled across it in my fall to 1789 Hell. I don’t think I really started actively SHIPPING it until I was writing Pour la Peine and the (still a WIP) Modern AU where they go to Disneyworld, since it showed off more how they would WORK as a couple. (Yes, really. In my defense, there’s something about Solène and Olympe working together to get Artois stranded on “It’s a Small World” that warms the cockles of my shipping heart.)

my thoughts: I think they have a lot of potential as a ship; I would REALLY love to have seen more of them in canon because I think that they’d have had a lot more potential than our canon ship. (Not that that’s SAYING much, but…) The two of them have two very different ways of dealing with things that really make them complement each other well. Like, Solène has a much more direct way of doing things; she probably had to shut down most of Ronan’s fights with the other kids in their village when they were younger, whereas Olympe…can handle herself, obviously, but she tends to prefer sidestepping it if she can and tends to prefer using the gun only as an absolute last resort. And Solène and Olympe both…fill in the gaps, with each other? Like, Olympe’s a woman who everyone sees as this simple little governess who can be walked over but has a spine of steel beneath those stays, whereas Solène is a woman who presents herself as being basically untouchable and unbreakable, but she has a lot of vulnerability beneath the surface. 

What makes me happy about them: Solène has this blunt, rough edge that really works well against almost everyone, but the second that Olympe enters the room? She melts. Even if she’s terrified of what exactly that means and trusting someone again. She’s basically the embodiment of “I’ve only had Olympe for a day and a half, but if anything happened to her, I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself.” And Peyrol. Even if he’s not in the room and had nothing to do with it, she’d still kill Peyrol for good measure. And for Olympe, she has someone who’s genuinely in love with HER and would be willing to bend over backwards for her. (It’s not that I dislike Antoinette or that I’m even particularly criticizing her, but I do think that she can be insensitive when it comes to Olympe’s crush right until the very end when she lets her go and that sometimes, she takes advantage of Olympe’s feelings without realizing it, causing Olympe to get into trouble. See: Je Suis un Dieu.) Like, Lazare and Solène would never ADMIT it, because fundamentally they have way too much between them, but they have more in common there than they’d ever admit. 

Finally: BLESS the Toho for giving me, like, five seconds of interaction between them. It might not have been much, but THEY TOUCHED HANDS. While watching Solène’s brother being brutally shot by his boyfriend, but hey, it’s not the WORST first date idea. And Solène’s CLINGING onto this girl she’s just met in that scene, after rushing herself in front of Peyrol’s line of fire to do it. 

What makes me sad about them: Obviously, the lack of interaction between them, even though, on the positive side, it means the show can’t ruin it for me. Solène is hard as a character to write, because all three Solènes are written so very differently from one another that it’s hard to get a grip on her, especially since it’s obvious that the French really didn’t…CARE about her, as a character, and that also means that trying to get their dynamic can be hard. Like, I still feel after all this time that I don’t have them down as well as I have L/R, which is something that I’m always trying to rectify. 

Also, from an in-universe perspective: I think…Solène is very like her brother, in the sense that she doesn’t see HERSELF as inherently inferior or incapable of love (the one thing no one has EVER accused the Mazurier Siblings of is a lack of confidence), but that so much has happened to her that she kind of takes it for granted that this isn’t going to end well. Our girl’s canonically lost her brother and father, she’s PROBABLY lost her mother (I mean, unless she’s just…living as a hermit somewhere since Ronan and Soléne ran away or left Papa Mazurier to become a famous adventuress, I think it’s a safe assumption), and it’s safe to assume she’s lost at least 2-3 siblings, if not more, and…as much as I’m against the idea of the Tragic Sex Worker, she’s also probably seen Things in her time on the streets. If nothing else, then sex work was very much a transitory job for many women, who would take it up in off seasons in-between other jobs (or marriage, for some women), so there are probably plenty of women who she knew and tried to get attached to who just…moved on. 

And I think that Marie Antoinette’s ghost is always kind of going to be there, in the background, even as Olympe moves on from the full force of her old feelings. And Olympe has her own issues when it comes to loss, not just with Ronan (who was a friend if nothing else) and her mother (if we’re going with the musical-canon where Charlotte du Puget’s been dead for awhile), but also with probably seeing Louis-Joseph die in front of her. 

things done in fanfic that annoys me: WHAT FANFIC? There’s so little of it available that it’s kind of impossible for me to find ANYTHING to really annoy me. The thing that annoys me when I’M writing them is that there’s this…odd tendency, with femslash, for things to be sanitized and clean and saccharine, as opposed to M/M and F/M ships. And, on one hand, I DESPISE that mentality, but on the other hand, I find that I’ve internalized some of that, even though realistically S/O have…so much that they could bicker over. If they wanted to. So I try to keep at least a realistic level of conflict in their relationship, without reaching R/O or even R/L levels. 

things I look for in fanfic: Existing is always a lovely thing. 

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Olympe/MA is always going to be a tragic crush for me; I’m not sure if it’d have worked in the long run as an actual RELATIONSHIP, but I’d be perfectly comfortable with Olympe being happy. Or accepting Artois’ offer, biding her time in London while slowly poisoning him so that she can retire in an obscene amount of wealth when the new king of France “tragically” dies only a few months into his new reign. 

Even though I’m pretty attached to Olympe being a lesbian and Lazare being gay and/or ace, I’m also not OPPOSED to them marrying each other as a matter of convenience post-canon, though…obviously. After the Takarazuka and Toho productions, there are going to be…issues with that one. (Lazare is incapable of being with someone when he hasn’t at least tried to kill their father.) Matthieu Carnot and Camille Lou in the original cast had HELLA chemistry with one another, and I’m not entirely willing to toss it all away.     

And for Solène…I’m not sure I’d go with ANYONE in the main cast. My main headcanon re: Solène and sexuality is that she’s bi, but the whole “Betrayal by her idiot of a brother” thing has really put her off the idea of being romantically involved with dudes for an extended period of time. Sexually? Sure, for the money involved. It’s her JOB, but she’s not going to go for anything that requires trust. Lucile is the obvious alternative, but I’m not sure how Lucile’s upper middle class upbringing would work with Solène and her profession, and the entire business with the engagement +…Lucile’s ultimate fate would work. (Also Lucile’s part in The Scene in the Toho version…it hasn’t put me off her as a CHARACTER, I still love her very much, but…it’s made me…less keen on her with Solène.) I also crackship her with Marie Antoinette. Marie Antoinette gets all the ladies in the main cast. 

My happily ever after for them: In the canon verse? They leave Paris, either getting out of the country or quietly running into the country, where they can live in peace without the Reign of Terror getting them. They establish a domestic life together, where both of them learn to trust again, even as Solène keeps her own funds Just in Case, because some things are a little harder to move past than others. Lt. du Puget knows, but he’s been too traumatized by his own experiences with the Bastille, as well as too grateful to the Mazuriers for all they’ve done to raise a fuss, and he becomes like a second father to Solène, with Françoise being a sister and partner in crime to her. Solène doesn’t lose track of her friends in Paris and visits them from time to time, even as she gets used to middle class life, and she never entirely loses her fire. They both die of old age, many, many years after the Revolution (because, as we all know, Olympe does not die at the end, and there has never been a time where she died at the end; it is her destiny to outlive the rest of the cast with her girlfriend.) And then, in the afterlife, Solène gets at least one slap in on her brother before they’re one big, happy family again. Because he does deserve it, tbh. 

Out of canon, I would honestly love to see a world where Solène/Olympe and Lazare/Ronan could have co-existed with each other as a family, albeit an insanely unorthodox one. I could see Olympe and Lazare having a marriage of convenience, with both of them having their own sections of the house that are just theirs, and with sex not even being a consideration. (Solène takes it more as a matter of course and the best possible option, even if she doesn’t LIKE Lazare; Ronan runs off and spends, like, a week crying somewhere before they can get him calmed down enough to explain.) Like, their wedding night is spent playing cards in bed until they can sneak out to their separate rooms, and at some point Ronan’s in-between them, drooling on Lazare’s shoulder while Solène glares daggers because if he hurts her girlfriend or her brother, she will not HESITATE to destroy him. Everyone knows that they’re gay AF and that a former under-governess to the royal family is sleeping with a former sex worker, mainly because Artois never shuts up about it (because if he can’t have Lazare under his thumb and he can’t murder the hypotenuse, he’s at least going to do his best to make his life miserable), but, does it matter? No. What are they going to do, not invite Lazare or Olympe to one of their salons? The horror, the horror. One year, for her New Year’s present, Ronan gives Solène a pair of earplugs so she doesn’t have to hear some of the ungodly sounds that come from his and Lazare’s side of the house. Everyone’s happy. 

who is the big spoon/little spoon: See, my GUT instinct is Solène for big spoon, since it gives her a place of security without her feeling pinned in, but also I love the thought of Olympe sometimes taking over, nuzzling into Solène’s neck and having Solène wake up and being like “Holy shit, this is real” even years later. 

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Taking walks together, reading. I like to think that Olympe helps Solène learn how to read (which is one of the areas where I feel like they differ from R/L. Even though I think Lazare would read out loud to Ronan, I’m not sure he’d go through the trouble of TEACHING him, especially since that’s…giving Ronan some serious power as far as being able to page through any of Lazare’s papers.) Sometimes, Solène just prefers to hear Olympe read out loud, with her absently putting her hand on Olympe’s arm as time goes on and she relaxes, since Olympe has a very bright, expressive voice that suited her well when she was an undergoverness, and even if she doesn’t mean to, she finds herself taking on different voices for different characters, which makes for an entertaining reading experience,. The two of them also help each other with their daily toilette, getting each other’s hair and clothes prepared. 

This? Is an Olympe innovation. 

And this? Is a Solène. She Tries. And Olympe loves her for it. 

[kenbunshokus]

it’s a long way forward

zoro/sanji | 5k words

Because the universe hates him, out of all the weird Devil Fruits out here, Sanji gets hit by one that’s absolutely laughable. Of course. A Devil Fruit powers that doesn’t allow you to smile? What kind of ridiculous power is that?

It’s funny, until it isn’t.

(ao3)

This work is commissioned by FenrirBass on twitter.

+

In Sanji’s experience, nothing good ever happened following the phrase, there’s good news and bad news.

It isn’t exactly the worst phrase in the world, but it’s definitely somewhere up there on the list. Right above, there’s a marine ship outside, and below the much dreaded, Luffy, no, get back here right no—oh shit, he just left. Most of the time it’s not even Good News and Bad News—it’s Bad News and Even Worse, Absolutely Terrible News, Fuck You.

Which is why when he wakes up in the infirmary bed and hears Chopper say, there’s good news and bad news, he dramatically announces, “I’m going to die, aren’t I.”

Chopper looks more amused than horrified by the theatrics, which is a good sign. “You’re not going to die, Sanji,” Chopper says with a smile on his face, though it quickly slips into a frown. “Unless you feel like dying. Oh my god, do you feel like dying, somebody call a doctor—”

“You’re the doctor,” he reminds the little doctor, giving him a calming pat in the head. “And don’t worry. I’ll be fine, Chopper.”

He tries to give Chopper a reassuring smile at that, but somehow finds himself unable to. It’s an odd feeling, like trying to flip a light switch at the back of his head, only to see it flip back off by itself. He brings a hand to his face, almost instinctively, and prods at it, but there’s nothing there except his skin; no bandage or weird wounds, or worse, an iron mask— 

That’s one dangerous train of thoughts, so Sanji changes the subject. “Is Ace still around?”

Chopper shakes his head. “We parted ways right after the fight.”

It’s a little bit disappointing, but not surprising—the skirmish mostly involved the Whitebeard Pirates and a pirate crew who held a grudge towards them; the Straw Hats were just tagging along, having run into Ace again after they left the Sky Islands.

Sanji feels a certain kind of wistfulness at the thought of Ace. He likes Ace—the confident way the man carries himself, yes, but mostly the way he assumes the role of a doting, loving older brother so naturally, like a second skin. Luffy clearly looks up to him, and Sanji feels a tug at his chest when he remembers Ace affectionately ruffling Luffy’s hair. 

Not that Sanji knows what a good older brother is truly like, though. Not when— 

He balks at his own thought. Get yourself together, dumbass, he mentally scolds himself—it’s rare that he thinks of them these days, and rarer still that he’d do it twice in such a short time. The attack from the other pirate crew must’ve knocked him more than he thought.

Speaking of. “So, what’s the good news?”

Chopper nervously flips through his charts, avoiding Sanji’s gaze. “You only broke your left leg.”

Sanji groans. “That’s the good news?” 

“There’s no apparent long-lasting damage,” Chopper quickly adds. “It’s a clean break, so everything will heal perfectly. It usually takes around six to eight weeks to heal a broken bone, but considering your constitution, I would put it at three weeks at worst.” 

Sanji tries to shift his left leg. There’s a small jolt of pain at the movement, but it feels dulled, and doesn’t seem so bad. It’s still going to be a pain in the ass to cook with, though. “And the bad news is…?”

Chopper sighs, and seems to steel himself for Sanji’s reaction, before finally saying with a whisper. “It’s your face…” 

Sanji feels his stomach sink. His face? What happened to his face? He looks at the way Chopper’s shoulders sag downwards, and expects the worst—a terrible gash on his face, maybe? What would the ladies think? Oh, shit, he would match with Zoro. Disgusting.

He scrambles towards the mirror, making sure he doesn’t put too much weight on his broken leg, and sees a haggard version of himself staring back from the mirror. It shouldn’t be a surprise—he just came out of a fight, after all—but he is, because there’s a tired edge on his expression that feels bone-deep, his mouth turning downwards. His eyebrows are knitted in a scowl, and he tries to smooth it away.

Except—he can’t. 

He tries to smile, this time. His lips tilt up, in a way, but the smile still looks pained. He tries to laugh, and his face just forms a nasty grimace.

“Chopper—what exactly happened to me?”

 +

 “One more time! One more time!” Luffy cheers, launching himself towards Sanji, only to be met with a kick to the face.

Sanji kicks him towards Usopp, who’s already lying face down on the ground, and they fall on top of each other with a loud, oof. He stares threateningly towards the pile. “Anyone who pulls any other stupid shit will get kicked overboard.”

Luffy and Usopp give a reluctant, oooookay, and Zoro snickers at that, but thankfully nobody dares to say anything else. 

When Chopper broke the news to the crew, they’ve mostly taken it in stride. Expression-altering fruit isn’t even in the top ten of the list of Weird Things the Straw Hats Have Come Across in the Grand Line, and Sanji doesn’t feel like telling them that it may have affected him more than just his face.

Usopp immediately tried to tell a joke, and when then failed, dove with Luffy towards Sanji to tickle him. They both earned zero laughs and two kicks to the face.

“This isn’t funny!” He scolds them.

“It’s a little funny,” Robin chimes in with a cruel, little smile on her beautiful face.

“Robin-chwan,” Sanji whines, and falls down dramatically in front of her.

“Oh!” Zoro says in mock surprise, “the face fits now.”

Sanji tries to glare, but only ends up looking sad. He feels sad too, and doesn’t know if the constant scowling makes him unhappy, or if the unhappiness forces him to permanently scowl. It’s like some kind of a fucked up vicious cycle that’s starting to wear him down.

Sanji pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself down. “Where’s the guy who did this?” he asks. 

The crew shares looks among themselves, before Luffy speaking up, “Ace took him with the rest of the other pirates for punishment.”

Forget calm. Sanji is this close to throwing himself overboard. “What!? How can we fix whatever’s wrong with me then!?” 

“Calm down, Cook,” Zoro cuts in. “We’ve interrogated him.”

“His power freezes the person’s expression in line with the memory and emotion felt when the power hits,” Chopper explains. “The devil fruit user doesn’t have control of the expression afterwards; the owner of the expression must resolve the feeling he had to release themselves from the control of the fruit. Sort of like finding a closure.” 

Usopp slowly sits up from the floor and tilts his head. “Why did you look so sad?”

“Because my leg was fucking broken?” He grits out, and Usopp yelps and scrambles away. “I don’t know, it happened pretty quickly, and it’s not like I was conscious afterwards.”

That isn’t exactly true. Sanji remembers the moment the power hit—the familiar feeling of pain mixing with the unfamiliar sensation that must’ve been unique to the devil fruit’s power, like someone shoved their hands into his chest and squeezed, ribs and bones and heart altogether. Sanji prides himself on his high constitution and pain tolerance, but he remembers the flash of fear in that moment, the few seconds when he thought, this is it. I’m going to die. 

And just like the starving kid on the rock years ago, the only thing on his mind when he was dying was—

“That’s easy, then!” Chopper says cheerfully, snapping Sanji out of his train of thoughts. “The expression stemmed from the pain from your broken leg, so as soon as your leg heals, the power will be gone, too!”

Everyone seems to agree with Chopper and considers the case closed. Sanji doesn’t want to concern them, so he plays along with it, even though he doesn’t buy that explanation even one bit. 

Judging from the way Zoro’s eyes follow him throughout the exchange, neither does the swordsman.

 +

 When Zoro walks into the galley, Sanji has been expecting him.

“Hey,” he says by way of greeting. He’s balancing himself against the kitchen counter, his broken leg bent and away from the floorboard. His other hand is stirring the soup he’s boiling for dinner. “Dinner’s not ready.”

“I’m not here for dinner,” Zoro says, direct as always. That, too, Sanji has expected. They may’ve been together for only a couple of weeks, but Sanji has known Zoro—as a nakama, as a rival, as a person—longer than that, has learned and understood him better than he understands himself in the months they sailed together.

The arms around his middle is unexpected, though.

“In case you didn’t notice, I have a meal to cook,” he teases, trying to keep the tone light. He leans into Zoro’s embrace, back pressing against the swordsman’s chest.

Zoro is clearly buying none of his false cheer, because he just grunts and buries his face into the crook of Sanji’s neck.

Sanji sighs. He puts the lid on top of the pot. “All right, I’ll bite. What is it?”

“You look like shit,” Zoro says into his shoulder. 

Sanji scoffs at his boyfriend’s bluntness. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“No. I mean it. You—” He pauses, seemingly in deep thought. Sanji tilts his head back to catch Zoro’s expression; he rarely sees Zoro so distressed, and it’s starting to worry him. “I’ve seen you fight countless of times; I know how good you are at handling pain. This… look you have on your face—this isn’t just from the hit, is it?”

Sanji can hear his own heart thumping. Count on Zoro to notice all these little things, even in the midst of a fight. Sanji racks his brain to avoid the conversation he isn’t ready to have yet, and immediately thinks of a new distraction technique he recently learned to pull off. Quite well, if he may say so himself.

He turns his body and pulls Zoro into a kiss.

It’s sloppy and messy, all lips and tongues, but it’s a good enough distraction because Zoro returns the kiss with a delighted hum. Sanji bites Zoro’s lower lip playfully, hard enough to make Zoro’s hands tighten their grip on Sanji’s sides.

“I wasn’t done,” Zoro complains once Sanji releases his lips, but it’s a weak argument, if the way Zoro’s hands have slipped towards Sanji’s ass is any indication. 

“Right,” Sanji says, and wishes he could give Zoro a cheeky smile right now. He makes it up with another kiss against the hollow of Zoro’s collarbone. “Can we just drop this for now?”

Zoro tips Sanji’s chin up with a touch of his hand, gentle, gentler than most would expect him to. The gesture makes Sanji’s heart stutter against his ribcage, and Sanji is glad when Zoro dives into another kiss, because he might have said something stupid. Like a cheesy confession or something.

“I’ll drop it,” Zoro says against his lips after a moment, but quickly adds, “for now. Only because you’re good with your mouth.”

Sanji really wishes he could make a cheeky smile. “Did Marimo just admit I was a good kisser?”

“Shut up,” Zoro says, but doesn’t disagree. Sanji counts it as a win. 

As Zoro trails kisses along the nape of Sanji’s neck, Sanji thinks the brute is just being his overreacting, overprotective self. Sanji can handle himself—always does—and he can absolutely handle something as simple as this.

 +

 He can’t handle this.

He bites down on his cigarette and spits it on the sidewalk in frustration.

It’s been three weeks since the disaster with the shitty devil fruit, and while his leg is healing at a rate most people could only dream of, whatever mumbo-jumbo affecting his face doesn’t seem to show any signs of healing.

The pitying looks have been annoying enough—he has had strangers at the market tell him to go home and rest, as if a sad face had magically transformed him into a crippling old man. He usually tries to brush them off, but it’s not easy, considering he can’t even smile back at them. Supply runs take twice longer than usual, and by the time he gets back to the ship, he usually doesn’t have enough time to do anything else.

The random bar fights add to the nuisance—there are people who think that he’s weak just because he looks like he’s going to burst into tears at any given moment, which is, fine. That’s a fair assumption. He isn’t letting anyone alive after assuming that Black Leg Sanji, out of all people, is weak, and he’s been kicked out of bars more times in the past three weeks than he’d been in a lifetime.

But then, there are the ladies.

The ladies on the islands they dock at, of course. The ones who deserve his smiles and his utmost attention, who now only get creeped out by his presence. Flowery words and grand romantic gestures don’t exactly look welcoming when your face looks like you just killed your neighbor’s dog, after all.

But the worst of it all, is the reaction from the ladies on the ship.

“Surely you didn’t mean that, Nami-san?” he says, voice almost a squeak. He tries to smile, mentally begging his facial muscles to pull the ends of his lips upwards, but all he manages is a weak grimace. 

“No, really, Sanji-kun,” she says, and at least looks a little bit guilty. “All the…” she gestures vaguely at Sanji, “swooning gets really weird with the face, so either you tone down on it or you just stay away from me and Robin for the time being.”

Preposterous. Impossible. That’s like telling him to choose between jumping into a sea of lava or sleeping on a bed of needles. He turns to Robin for support. “Robin-chan...”

”I’m sorry, Cook-san,” she says, clasping her hands together apologetically. “Maybe once your leg heals.”

”If that’s what you wish,” he concedes, and feels as miserable as he looks.

 +

 His leg heals, over time.

His face doesn’t.

Everyone starts throwing worried glances at him. Sanji tells them he’s fine, and ignores the way the grief against his heart seems to sharpen every time he fails to smile.

 +

 Sanji wakes up with a scream lodged on his throat.

He jerks upwards, the movement so sudden his hammock sways and almost tips him towards the ground. Zoro is immediately alert, thankfully, sitting up and putting his weight on the other side of the hammock, steadying it.

They’ve been sleeping in the same hammock more often than not these days. It’s a tight fit—Merry’s hammock wasn’t exactly built for two male young adults—but it’s the good kind of tight fit, the kind that allows Sanji to feel the warm press of Zoro’s body lulling him to sleep every night.

But now, with Zoro’s eyes boring into him with unnerving intensity, Sanji wishes he had slept alone just so he could hide this. 

“Another dream?” Zoro asks, almost in a whisper, so as not to wake the others up.

Sanji doesn’t see a point in lying, so he nods. “Yeah,” he admits.

“That’s the third time this week,” Zoro points out. It’s getting worse, he doesn’t say, but Sanji can hear the words anyways, hanging heavy in the space between them. 

Sanji presses a hand to his chest, feeling his heart pound loudly. He can barely remember his nightmare now, the memory quickly fading into blurred colors, but he can guess what it was about, and he hates it. Hates the way those bastards still have a hold on him even after all these years, hates the way his hands still shake at the thought of seeing his siblings again, hates the way he can still feel the phantom bruises along his torso—

“I’m fine,” he chokes out. It doesn’t sound convincing even to himself, but it’s the best Sanji can muster right now. 

He jolts in surprise when he feels Zoro’s hand on his cheek.

“’Fine,’ huh,” Zoro says. The tips of his fingers are cold and wet, and Sanji suddenly realizes that he’s been crying.

“Shit,” he says, trying to wipe the tears away, but it’s like opening the floodgate of emotions. “Shit, shit, shit,” he curses. feeling all the dense, suffocating pain he has tried to tamp down around his chest burst open and spilling all over and he can’t stop crying, what the fuck. 

He barely notices Zoro pulling him into a hug, and he sobs into Zoro’s chest as the other man rubs soothing circles at the small of his back.

He falls into a heavy, half-slumber while a part of him remains awake. The back of his eyelids burns and his ribs hurt like knives, and he thinks of Zoro, who’s never been anything but honest with him, and maybe sharing this part of his past with someone else doesn’t seem so bad.

 +

 “’I want to cook for my mother,’” Sanji says.

He waits for the words to sink in; watches Zoro slowly look up from his meal and blink. “What?” 

They have just docked at another island. It’s just the two of them on the Merry, so it’s not like there’s anyone who can overhear their conversation, but Sanji still can’t bring himself to say the words out loud in more than a whisper. “When the power hit, I thought—I thought I was going to die. And that’s the only thing I always think of whenever things go to shit,” he explains. “You’re right, it was never about the broken leg. It was, ‘I want to cook for my mother.’”

Zoro stares at him, and Sanji squirms under his scrutiny. There’s a moment of silence before Zoro asks, “you remember your mother?”

“Not much, but I remember—enough,” he says. Zoro has told him everything about Kuina, about his past, and Sanji reminds himself that the man deserves at least this much from Sanji. “I was eight when she passed away. She used to try my cooking, back when I was still learning, and I—wonder, sometimes, what she’d think if she could eat my cooking this time.” 

Zoro nods at that. Sanji is grateful that Zoro isn’t offering him some half-assed condolences, and realizes that Zoro probably knows, better than most, what it feels like to deal with the kind of grief that’s been dulled by time.

“You think this is what keeping the powers?” Zoro guesses. 

“Couldn’t think of anything else,” Sanji shrugs. “And—look, I know this is stupid, but the fantasy kind of, uh, morphed over the time, so it kind of involves cooking for my mother with my lover,” he mumbles the last part.

It takes a moment for the words to register in Zoro’s brain, and Sanji can see the exact moment it does as Zoro face breaks into a stupid smirk.

“What was that? Couldn’t really hear the last part there, Cook,” Zoro says.

Sanji feels his face heat up. “Shut up.”

“You want me to meet your mother, huh?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Sanji half-yells. Zoro laughs, loud and free, and Sanji is secretly grateful that the swordsman didn’t freak out and break up with him or something. “Anyway,” he says loudly over the peals of laughter, “I was thinking of making her something simple, like a bento.”

The laughter finally dies down at the mention of food. Predictable, that brute. “Oh? Thought you would make one of your stupid fancy food.”

“My ‘fancy’ menus are not stupid, asshole,” Sanji retorts as he starts to gather the ingredients. “And I used to make her a lot of bento, so I thought it would be fitting if I make her one too, this time. So she has something to compare it with, you know.” 

Zoro hums in agreement, and stands up to lend a hand. He usually only helps out with the dishes, but Sanji has seen him handle his swords—he can make use of that in many ways in the kitchen. “Cut this,” he hands Zoro a knife and a cutting board with a bunch of onions on them. “Just dice them into small pieces, and don’t cut through the cutting board.”

“Hn,” for once, Zoro doesn’t argue with him.

They fall into comfortable silence, Sanji speaking out only to give the occasional instructions. There was some incident involving a burnt plate, and Zoro did accidentally cut through the first (and second) cutting board, but all things considered, everything went by smoothly.

They both stare at the finished bento almost disbelievingly.

It’s Zoro who first speaks up. “Hey, uh, Sanji’s mom,” he says. “Your son is a pain in the ass, and he’s a shit cook.”

Sanji almost kicks him for joking about this before looking up and finding Zoro stare at the bento, completely serious. “But, uh, he makes good food sometimes, and he makes the crew happy. He makes me happy.” Zoro says, rubbing at the back of his neck in a rare sign of insecurity. “So I hope you are too, wherever you are.”

For the first time in what feels like the longest time, Sanji feels a brush of warmth beneath his ribcage. It takes a few seconds for him to realize that it’s happiness, and for a moment he is content, in the middle of his kitchen with Zoro’s shoulder pressed against his. He's free, far from the floating kingdom of his childhood, and thinks he can see his mother smile, somehow.

 +

 This is the part in the fairy tales where the book ends. The characters find their closure. The princess gets a kiss from the prince. Everyone lives happily ever after.

Sanji’s life is not a fairy tale.

He is content for that moment, and then he tries to smile. He can no longer ignore the sharp ache that almost chokes him when he realizes he still can’t.

 +

 Sanji trudges towards the ship with heavy steps.

It’s been almost a week since he cooked with Zoro, and he’s far from recovering—the suffocating feeling in his chest still drags him down, and the night attacks are becoming even more common, rearing its ugly head almost every night now.

It reminds him too much of the early days after his escape, when he was still a little kid with a too-empty stomach and phantom bruises along his limbs, and Sanji is suddenly hit with a visceral feeling of disgust towards his own weakness. Disgust towards himself. 

He’s too preoccupied with his own thoughts that he doesn’t realize the eerie silence that’s blanketing around Merry, much to quiet for a crew like them, and the shadows behind the galley windows, as he swings the door open.

He’s greeted with a confetti to the face.

Literally.

It hit him right in the nose, and he’s rubbing his face as he hears Nami’s exasperated, “You’re supposed to aim it over his head, stupid!”

”Ow, sorry, Nami!” Luffy says in a tone that’s clearly a failed attempt of a whisper. “Stop yelling, I thought we were gonna surprise him!”

“I believe it’s too late for that,” Robin’s voice comes out, and at that, someone flips the ligth switch on.

There’s food on every available surface. A huge bowl of rice on the counter, surrounded by plates of vegetables and meat, and on the kitchen table is a towering, multi-layered cake that even Sanji admits looks pretty impressive. He's seen everyone's cooking at least once; knows that the meals are mostly Usopp and Robin's doing, and the cake has Nami written all over it.

There’s a large banner hanging over the ceiling with the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SANJI, lovingly hand-painted and decorated by Luffy’s familiar scrawls.

He realizes, with a start, that in the middle of all the mess with the stupid devil fruit, Sanji has forgotten his own birthday.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” The crew cheers. It’s barely in unison, Luffy’s drawl from having his mouth pulled by Nami clashing with Chopper’s over-excited applause, and it’s still the most perfect thing Sanji has ever heard.

”How did you—“ he sputters, flustered. He can't believe that the crew remembers. Hell, he can't believe they even knew—he never told them about his birthday, has long forgotten what it felt like to be grateful about the birthday he shares with those bastards. “I never...”

 "Swordsman-san was generous enough to share the information with us," Robin says, ignoring Zoro's protest in the background that no, there's no way he bothered to memorize the Shit Cook's birthday, shut up.

And in that moment, with his crew bickering lightly around him, celebrating him, everything suddenly clicks into place.

He broke his leg, but he’d felt worse pain. He’d assumed he was thinking about his mother, but he was wrong—the dreams have clued him in on what this really was about.

As if sensing Sanji’s shift in mood, Luffy cranes his neck from the counter he’s perched on. The strawhat appears in Sanji’s vision before the owner does, but they both do, eventually, one side of the brim tipped low over Luffy’s right eye.

”Do you like it?” Luffy asks.

Sanji is chewing on Nami’s cake, but he thinks Luffy isn’t asking about that. Not exactly.

He doesn’t take more than a second to answer, “yes.”

”Are you still sad?”

Sanji takes a moment to consider that. There’s a steady ache around his heart, and maybe it’s always been there, now that he thinks about it. The devil fruit power may have intensified the feelings, but it couldn’t work on something that wasn’t there. “I think I always am,” he admits, voice low, remembering the lonely little kid with the iron mask and the prison bars. But then he thinks of the party set up just for him, of the Straw Hats, and adds, “but not right now, no.”

“Not right now,” Luffy repeats.

“I think you’ve made it better. All of you made it better.”

Luffy grins at that, sunny and wide. “You’re happy.” It’s a statement, not a question.

Sanji watches the cacophony around him. “I’m happy,” he agrees.

”You know what people do when they’re happy?” Luffy says, and he pulls his hat off his head and places it, steady, on Sanji’s head. “They smile. You should smile, Sanji.”

Sanji feels the way the strawhat fits around him, its warmth snug against his heart; and he does, finally, smile. 

 +

 Sanji remembers being a little kid.

He remembers the dark prison cell, the pungent smell of the iron mask, the way the bruises on his skin left ugly marks like a brand on his heart even after they disappear. He remembers that sometimes they would dock at an island, and he would sneak away, watch the island’s locals from afar. He remembers seeing another little kid, playing with his siblings, and thinks, I want a family like this.

He also remembers the day the devil fruit power hit. That day there were two attacks—one directed at him, and another at Luffy. He remembers seeing Ace, stepping in front of Luffy, pulling him away. He remembers the way Ace protectively wrapped his arms around Luffy.

Sanji remembers being a little kid; he also remembers being an adult, years away from being a little kid, but still feeling like one—seeing Ace and Luffy and the way they don’t hurt each other, and thinking, I want a family like this.

 +

 “I have a bed time story.” He says as soon as he climbs into the crow’s nest.

Zoro continues to lift his weight. “I’m not sleeping anytime soon.” 

“Once upon a time,” Sanji continues, ignoring him. “There was a little kid. He was young and small and lonely. His father was made of gold and his mother was a ghost; he had siblings, but they only learned how to hurt others.”

Zoro pauses at that. He slowly lowers his weight to the ground.

Sanji doesn’t meet his eyes. “When he was eight, his family had enough of him and threw him into a dark cell, hoping he would die and rot with the rats. He didn’t,” he says, and pauses, feeling his voice waver and pushes through, “but sometimes he thinks a little part of him did.”

He looks up to meet Zoro’s eyes. “The kid’s name was Vinsmoke Sanji.”

Zoro takes large strides across the crow’s nest and pulls him into a hug, steady hands wrapped around his shoulders. Sanji breathes into the nape of his neck.

“You know what’s the most messed up thing?” He laughs, but it’s the kind of that grates at the back of his throat. He swallows. “The kid thought he deserved it, for the longest time. He thought they were the family he deserved.”

He feels Zoro’s grip around him tighten. “They’re not—that doesn’t sound a lot like family.”

Sanji closes his eyes. “That doesn’t, yeah.”

He watches the rise and fall of Zoro’s chest—a steady, calming beat. And then Zoro says, “The kid found his family, though, in the end.” He pauses, before adding. "A real one." 

Sanji thinks of Usopp’s nervous chuckle whenever someone calls out on his lies and Chopper’s little giggles whenever someone makes a stupid joke; of Robin’s barely-there smiles that mean a lot more than an insincere laughter ever would, of Nami’s grin whenever he makes her favorite drinks. He thinks of Luffy’s rubbery smile, stretched across his face, and Zoro, his partner, his rival, his equal—who holds him like he means something.

The ache around his heart remains. It’s been there, for a long time, and maybe it’ll always be there. But when he looks up now he can see the grinning faces of his crew, and when he tries to tilt his lips into a smile, it does.

“The kid found his family,” Sanji agrees, and leans into the embrace. It's not a happily ever after, but it's enough.

[reconditarmonia]

Dear Trick or Treater

Hi! Thank you for writing for me! I’m reconditarmonia here and on AO3. I have anon messaging off, but mods can contact me with any questions.

Alternate Universe Works | Assassin's Creed | Far from the Madding Crowd | Fidler Afn Dakh | Simoun | Sleep No More

General likes:

– Relationships that aren’t built on romance or attraction. They can be romantic or sexual as well, but my favorite ships are all ones where it would still be interesting or compelling if the romantic component never materialized.

– Loyalty kink! Trust, affectionate or loving use of titles, gestures of loyalty, replacing one’s situational or ethical judgment with someone else’s, risking oneself (physically or otherwise) for someone else, not doing so on their orders. Can be commander-subordinate or comrades-in-arms.

– Heists, or other stories where there’s a lot of planning and then we see how the plan goes.

– Femslash, complicated or intense relationships between women, and female-centric gen. Women doing “male” stuff (possibly while crossdressing).

– Stories whose emotional climax or resolution isn’t the sex scene, if there is one.

– Uniforms/costumes/clothing.

– Stories, history, and performance. What gets told and how, what doesn’t get told or written down, behavior in a society where everyone’s consuming media and aware of its tropes, how people create their personas and script their own lines.

Smut Likes: clothing, uniforms, sexual tension, breasts, manual sex, cunnilingus, grinding, informal d/s elements, intensity; stories whose resolution isn’t the sex scene. DNW "pussy."

General DNW: rape/dubcon, torture, other creative gore; unrequested AUs, including “same setting, different rules” AUs such as soulmates/soulbonds; PWP; food sex; embarrassment; focus on pregnancy; Christmas/Christian themes; focus on unrequested canon or non-canon ships; unrequested trans versions of characters.

I am requesting exclusively fic, but open to art treats!

—

Fandom: Alternate Universe Works (Treat or Trick)

Character(s): Female Li Shang (Mulan 1998), Female Ishmael (Moby Dick), Female Captain Ahab (Moby Dick), Pokémon Trainer Harrowhark Nonagesimus

Female Shang - I would...just love it so much if you Monstrous Regiment-ed this canon up. Shang also being a woman would give her even more reasons to be a hardass (is she in disguise, and thinks that her regiment failing would invite suspicion on her? is she openly female and needs to prove that she’s as good as her father and the country need her to be? is she paranoid about other women in the army, or does she want to have a female regiment?) If you want to write F!Shang/Mulan, I’d also love to know how falling in love with a woman plays into Mulan’s whole arc - it’s certainly not what her family was preparing her for, but neither was being a soldier and saving China. What does seeing another woman dressed as a man (whether Shang is openly female or not, I imagine she’d wear men’s clothes), or a group of women dressed as men, make her think? What are Yao, Chien Po, and Ling like in an AU where they’re also female, if that’s what you choose to write?

I’d be happy for just about anything in this vein - Shang character study, Mulan/Shang romance/sex (this is a canon that is a Lot about bodies and clothes), gen shenanigans with the rest of the squad, both? During canon or post? I love loyalty kink and butch characters a lot.

Female Ishmael, Female Ahab - I’d love to know more about these female sailor(s) and what drives them. A female Ishmael might still decide to sign on to a ship whenever she gets the blues, but it’d be socially fairly different, mightn’t it? (Worldbuilding-wise, I’d be more interested in a world where sailing and whaling are still typically male things as in our world, even if you make them a little less exclusively male, than an egalitarian or matriarchal world; something that women might do, without necessarily disguising themselves as men, but a GNC thing to do.) Would her already diverging from the “expected” female path in this regard affect her reception of Queequeg as someone who’s an outsider to Nantucket society? And, if Queequeg is also female, the the intimacy she offers? What does she still find outlandish? (If you also write f!Queequeg, is her life a typical female life for her home culture, or not?)

As for Ahab - just imagine this fanatic, tragic, vengeful character as a woman - with the willpower not only to do all the things canonical male Ahab does but also in a society where women aren’t really supposed to sail or kill or lead! Is she the odd one out in an otherwise male crew, or are there more women in the crew by the time she’s captain?

Pokémon Trainer Harrow - It's a great idea!! I think she'd have a Duskull, but I'm very open to any choices you make in Pokemon-ing this universe up. Do different houses tend towards different types or no? What are their different cultures around Pokémon raising, training, and fighting? What is Harrow's relationship with her Pokémon like, singular or plural? (I don't need you to think through the implications of what Lyctorhood entails in this setting if you'd rather just write slice of life, and, you know, I was writing this and realized that that might make Harrow's Pokémon Gideon. Thanks, brain, I hate it. DNW Gideon as a Pokémon.)

—

Fandom: Assassin's Creed (Treat only)

Character(s): Aveline de Grandpré

I'm close to finishing AC Liberation and I love Aveline a lot! I really like how she basically makes New Orleans into her own little fiefdom and does what she feels like doing. Not in a #girlpower way, but in the sense where she considers herself to be the best person to judge and decide in any situation and to deal with happenings on any level in her various personas, and where becoming a business magnate is actually a part of her character and plot in a way that it wasn't so much for earlier Assassins? I imagine Assassins from other places talking about New Orleans and going "oh yeah, Aveline de Grandpré runs that whole city from the shadows," and then you go there to talk to her and she pulls a Lexa (as in The 100) where she uses her slave disguise to eavesdrop on you while you wait to meet with this Assassin lady merchant.

I like her friendships with other characters too - Gérald being there as the loyal support guy, Élise and Roussillon being the people she can be at ease with (she seems so happy to see them - "Bonjour, smugglers!"). I'd be happy to see something set in New Orleans as she takes it over or after she takes it over, in the Bayou as she lives there in a very different way (where and how does she sleep when she's there?), or in Chichen Itza if you want to expand on her discovery of all the weird shit. [Edit: I've finished the game now and I also like the aspect of her mission with Connor that's about how sometimes Assassin "brother"s from other locations will show up where you, another Assassin, are because there's something they need to find or do, and you'll work together? I guess that's also the premise of AC Rev, but.]

I do ship her with Élise and would love to read that if you do too! Fighting together, whether in the Bayou or on a mission further afield that's just them; Élise visiting Aveline in New Orleans for some reason (what if they go to a fancy party together with Élise dressed as a man?); downtime fluff?

Fandom-Specific DNW: Aveline/men, even mentioned or out-of-focus.

—

Fandom: Far From the Madding Crowd (Treat or Trick)

Character(s): Bathsheba Everdene

One thing that always sticks in my mind about this novel is the way Hardy calls Bathsheba “the young farmer” just as he refers to the men as farmers - which, just saying, is more than most people writing about this story can do - and so, that being the case, what I’m most interested in is something about Bathsheba as farmer. One day in the life or four seasons in the life or five plantings/harvests in the life, or pseudo-academic fic about a case study of a woman farmer in the Victorian era, or a conflict between the farm and nature that Bathsheba has to decide how to solve.

Feel free to bring in other characters if it suits what you’re trying to do, but what I’m really looking for is a focus on Bathsheba’s work, determination, and process of learning. (I like how Bathsheba’s relationship with Gabriel ends up playing out in canon, but I don’t want shipfic.) Other ideas: something like a merchant ship AU (as the first alternate setting that came to mind where it would be not exactly the done thing for her to captain her inherited ship and make commercial decisions herself - although I do have to point out that contrary to popular belief, there were a lot of women on shipboard in the age of sail, may this be useful - but also where nature and luck/fate are as influential as they are in the original setting), or something in which the land, superstition, and ritual are more overtly magical. I LOVE English folk magic and ritual shit.

I’ve requested both tricks and treats for this fandom, but would prefer that the outlook of the fic, including if you decide to incorporate non-canon magical/spooky/occult elements, be ultimately positive rather than the doom and gloom that canon leans toward at times. A seasonal treat would be right up the alley of this request.

—

Fandom: Fidler Afn Dakh (Treat or Trick)

Character(s): The Fiddler

I would love to read about the Fiddler from the recent Yiddish production of Fiddler on the Roof, understanding him/her/them as a real person with a backstory, present and future rather than a symbol. They seem to be female (and their actor describes them as female) but wear men's clothes and are on the men's side at the wedding, and everyone seems cool with that? I'm 100% on board with any gender identity you decide you'd like to write them with. How did he/she/they come to be who they are, and what are their interpersonal relationships (platonic, familial, romantic, any gender) like? What might an encounter between them and the supernatural be or have been like? Have they always lived in Anatevka or do they wander from village to village?

Fandom-Specific DNW: antisemitism as the focus of the story. I've requested both tricks and treats, and I acknowledge that it'd be unreasonable to pretend that antisemitism doesn't exist in the world of the story, but I would prefer for any dark/scary elements to come from supernatural horror (I grew up with Singer and other Jewish folklore horror, give me as many dybbuks and demons and witches as you like) rather than the human capacity for racist violence.

—

Fandom: Simoun (Treat only)

Character(s): Neviril

I've just completed a rewatch of this show, and it has reaffirmed for me that I love Neviril. She's a leader in both a military and a religious sense, respected by her squad and by the populace, but figuring out what that means to her is such a personal journey. I still love her scene in the hearing where she speaks aloud what no one has wanted to admit or talk about - that they're soldiers now, this is war, can they still call themselves priestessses? - but I was also struck on this rewatch by how Chor Tempest increasingly becomes a player in itself in the politicking (the bit in Episode 21 where the whole lot of them fly out against orders, because it's what they, with Neviril leading and giving voice to the group, think is what their role is about), and by the scenes of her blessing the people (when iirc she is needed elsewhere by the military governor for flight purposes) and Paraietta (after what Paraietta did to her).

I love the military aspects of this canon in general (and the associated tropes of loyalty and trust and bravery and positive/negative relationship to authority) and that definitely ties in to Neviril figuring out what her role is as the squad leader, but I'm also just here for that very process of figuring it out and defining it for herself.

So...what happens to her post-canon? What is the "new world" and her travel in it like? If she makes it back to the main world when war is brewing again, but her old cohort can't fly anymore, what does she see her role as being - a leader for peace, for war, something else? How do she and Aer interact with Paraietta, Rodoreamon, Floef, and/or Vyuraf?

Ship-wise, Aer/Neviril grew on me a lot! I appreciated Aer more as the determined bit-of-a-loose-cannon type than as the manic pixie this time, and noted Neviril's comments about how she was drawn to Aer's determination. But I'd also be up for a poly situation where she's involved with both Aer and Paraietta, who are friends, or, I guess, one where it's a three-way relationship, although I don't personally know what the Aer/Paraietta side would be like! (I do like how they work together in battle even when they're shown as having personal issues.)

—

Fandom: Sleep No More (Treat or Trick)

Character(s): Bald Witch, Sexy Witch

One of my favorite things about Sleep No More was the idea of this world of darkness and magic that’s underlying or intertwined with the social world, rather than in a separate space - I loved seeing the Witches at the ball and, holy shit, Bald Witch pulling off her wig after the ball in her solo ritual thing! (I hadn’t realized it was a wig until that moment.) So -

how do either of these witches interact with the normal world (Paisley/the hotel/etc.) or deliberately carve out other spaces (like the apothecary shop)? For that matter, I love the apothecary shop and Bald Witch's scene in it A LOT, so more about that would be awesome.

How did the Witches find each other - was it before or after they were witches?

Are they immortal, and if so, what’s that like for either or both of them?

How much do they have a day-to-day life vs. witching all the time?

Their card game is super cool and I'd love to know more about the Witches and cards.

I was very struck on my last visit by Sexy Witch's dance for Hecate after the rave. The fan material seems to describe it as her having trouble coming down, but it felt to me like pleading with Hecate for more power, more magic.

If you want to ship them together, and/or with Hecate (or both) I’m very up for that as well. Some sexy prompts if you go in that direction -

ritual sex magic to make something happen or share power?

If they have non-witch personas and sleep together while they’re being normal people, is there still magic?

Sex in one of the play locations - the apothecary, the ballroom, the bar that’s the empty shell of the real bar?

Slow dancing nude, or another inverted version of something in the normal world?

Fandom-Specific DNW: f/m ships with requested characters