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#Your body is a battleground
artschoolglasses · 2 years
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Untitled (Your body is a battleground), Barbara Kruger, 1989
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cygneeclectique · 2 years
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Barbara Kruger, 1989
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lewvithur · 4 months
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weight gain as healing is a very good trope but i thought of an offshoot which is just as good, maybe even better
may i present to you: weight gain as re-establishing bodily autonomy
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cultreslut · 3 days
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I find it hard to really understand the apolitical view cronenberg has on his own films . To me at least i find the body to be incredibly political and body horror even more so -- however at the moment i am willing to give him some leeway considering that cronenberg on cronenberg was released in 1997 and a lot can change in 20 years . Who knows tho
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nicholas1673 · 3 months
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Feminist art
Feminist art refers to works of art created by women that address and explore themes related to gender, equality, and the experiences of women, the feminist movement started in the 1960. Feminist artists sought to challenge and critique traditional representations of women in art, question gender norms, and bring attention to issues such as reproductive rights, domestic labor, and the objectification of women.
Feminist artists often deconstructed and critiqued traditional gender roles and stereotypes, questioning the ways women have been historically portrayed in art and popular culture.
One of the primary goals was to increase the representation of women in the art world. Feminist artists sought to depict women in diverse and empowering ways, challenging the historical objectification and idealization of the female form.
Feminist art explored the complex and multifaceted nature of women's identities. Artists addressed issues related to race, sexuality, class, and other intersectional aspects of identity.
Many feminist artists were actively engaged in political activism. They used their art to advocate for women's rights, reproductive rights, and social and political equality.
Feminist artists often worked collaboratively and formed supportive communities. This collective approach aimed to challenge the individualism often associated with the art world and foster a sense of solidarity among women artists.
Feminist art utilized a wide range of mediums, including painting, sculpture, performance art, photography, and video. Artists embraced diverse forms of expression to convey their messages effectively.
Feminist artists sometimes appropriated symbols and images to subvert traditional representations. This included reclaiming symbols of femininity and using them to challenge societal expectations.
Prominent feminist artists include Judy Chicago, Yoko Ono, Guerrilla Girls, Faith Ringgold, Cindy Sherman, and many others. The feminist art movement has had a lasting impact on the art world, contributing to a more inclusive and diverse representation of artists and themes.
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Feminist artist Barbara Kruger
Barbara Kruger, a prominent contemporary American artist born on January 26, 1945, in Newark, NJ, is celebrated for her bold and incisive cultural critique. Using a striking palette of red, white, and black, along with the Futura Bold Oblique font inspired by Constructivist Alexander Rodchenko, Kruger explores consumerism through a feminist lens with jarring sophistication. Employing short yet impactful phrases like "Thinking of You" (1999-2000) and "I shop therefore I am" (1987), she delivers pointed criticisms. Kruger, influenced by her studies under Diane Arbus and Marvin Israel, articulates, "I work with pictures and words because they have the ability to determine who we are, what we want to be, and what we become." Similar to multimedia artist Jenny Holzer, Kruger utilizes language across various mediums, including prints, T-shirts, posters, photographs, electronic signs, and billboards, leaving an indelible mark on contemporary art. Her influential legacy extends to a generation of artists, including Shepard Fairey and Lorna Simpson, as she continues to challenge societal norms through the potent combination of visuals and language.
Untitled (Your Body is a Battleground) is a seminal 1989 silkscreen portrait by Barbara Kruger, a renowned artist, feminist, and activist. Originally created for the Women's March on Washington to protest anti-abortion laws undermining Roe v. Wade, the artwork remains relevant, addressing contemporary gender inequality issues. Kruger combines mid-century images with bold Futura Bold Oblique titles on red panels, utilizing a determined language to emphasize reproductive rights as a societal battleground.
Kruger's artistic journey, marked by mature themes in black and white, involves dissecting and layering images with provocative text. The intersected face in the poster, gazing resolutely, represents the stereotypical societal view of women as objects of beauty. The composition initially suggests a division between pro-choice and pro-life perspectives, yet the caption "Your body is a battleground" transcends political battles, highlighting the ongoing feminist struggle against objectification.
The dichotomy in the image's positive and negative sides mirrors the tensions between women's rights and patriarchal control, challenging viewers to remain vigilant. The artwork compels audiences to confront the complex issues women face, with Kruger urging society to rethink stereotypes and consumption habits. The piece serves as a poignant form of protest, prompting reflection on women's rights, patriarchy, and societal expectations.
Kruger's insightful commentary extends beyond the visual, with her stating that the artwork explores the blurred lines between public and private in a seemingly shock-proof yet secretive society. The artist acknowledges the challenges women encounter in a society fixated on physical attributes, prompting contemplation on self-image and appearance.
In essence, Untitled (Your Body is a Battleground) transcends its initial political context, offering a powerful and enduring critique of societal norms, gender inequality, and the ongoing struggle for women's autonomy and self-perception. The artwork, with its bold visual language and thought-provoking captions, encapsulates Kruger's commitment to addressing profound societal issues through her artistic lens.
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Reference list
artnet (2022). Barbara Kruger. [online] Artnet.com. Available at: https://www.artnet.com/artists/barbara-kruger/ [Accessed 18 December 2023].
Public Delivery (2020). Barbara Kruger - Your body is a battleground. [online] Public Delivery. Available at: https://publicdelivery.org/barbara-kruger-battleground/ [Accessed 18 December 2023].
The Art Story (2017). Feminist Art Movement Overview. [online] The Art Story. Available at: https://www.theartstory.org/movement/feminist-art/ [Accessed 18 December 2023].
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imxnotxhere · 4 months
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Acotar Men Fic Recs
** Updated 09/02/2024 **
I already made a list for azriel which was actually meant as a list for all the characters I read for but I read a lot more of azriel fics because he's my baby and the list was getting too long. So here are the rest of the characters and I also added some more azzy drabbles sorry
Azriel (drabbles)
@gothicbabydollz
az spitting in your mouth - smut
@princess-tulip-writes
az pleasuring his mate with truthteller - smut, big fan of truthteller
@fieldofdaisiies
azriel... - fluff, smut
azriel's hands - fluff, smut
Rhysand
@azsazz
dioxazine part 2 - fluff, smut, modern au, art school au
the lord's work - smut
if you should die before you wake - smut, rhys x cass x azriel x reader
just hold on - smut
a court of four horsemen - smut, part of a series
double duty - smut, rhys x reader x cass
what's mine - smut, rhys x eris x reader
@tadpolesonalgae
mine - smut, check warnings!
knocked up - smut
vampire!rhysand drabble - smut
professor!rhys headcanons part 2 - smut
soothing - fluff, aftercare
@leafsandstarlight
easy like sunday morning - fluff, smut
@azrielbrainrot
my body keeps saying it's yours - smut
@writingsbychlo
home to us - fluff
rhys as a pleasure dom - smut - technically a drabble? blurb?
@azrielscrown
mirror mirror - smut
daylight - fluff
@acourtofwhatthefuck
shrinking violet - smut
@shadowdaddies
if i catch you i fuck you - smut
Cassian
@azsazz
mirror mirror - smut
take it - smut
a court of four horsemen - smut, part of a series
@tadpolesonalgae
on the strategy board - smut
pools of sunlight - fluff
@leafsandstarlight
halley's comet - angst, smut
@princess-tulip-writes
drabble - smut - az x cass x reader
Eris
@acourtofmenandthirst
runaway - angst, smut
fox hunting - smut
closed until further notice - fluff, smut, coffee shop au
smut blurb
smut blurb II
@leafsandstarlight
destiny's battleground - angst, smut
my lovely throne - smut
despite our differences - angst, smut, series
the prince of blood part 2 part 3 - vampire!eris
@tadpolesonalgae
servitude - smut
thumb prints - smut
@serpentandlily
sly fox, dumb bunny - series
@azsazz
the burning of the autumn leaves and the roaring of my yearning heart - angst, smut
soul on fire - smut
a court of four horsemen - smut, part of a series
@azrielbrainrot
fire on fire - angst?
@gothicbabydollz
riding eris' face - smut, drabble
riding eris' thigh - smut, drabble
@honeybeefae
cauldron fated - angst, smut
@princess-tulip-writes
making out with eris while giving him a handjob - smut, drabble
praise kink eris - smut, drabble
Lucien
@tadpolesonalgae
solecist night - smut
@acourtofwhatthefuck
yell at me again - smut
personal problem - smut
the moon on a string - fluff
@princess-tulip-writes
drabble - smut
drabble - smut, az x lucien x reader (kind of)
@gothicbabydollz
dom lucien - smut, human!reader
Helion
@leafsandstarlight
a high lord's scholar - fluff
@tadpolesonalgae
new mechanisms - smut
sweet like peaches - smut
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sankisarfira · 2 years
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More than half your body is not human
More than half your body is not human
According to scientists, more than half of your body is not human. Only 43% of the total number of cells in the body are human. The remainder is tiny colonists. Understanding our microbiome, which is the hidden half of ourselves, is revolutionising how we think about diseases like allergies and Parkinson’s. Even what it means to be “human” is being questioned in this field, which is inspiring…
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ozzgin · 4 months
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Yandere! CoD Headcanons: König x Reader x Ghost (II)
“Sharing is caring” is likely familiar to most, though the nuances of it may sometimes differ beyond the classic expectations. You’re trapped between two jealous, possessive and feverishly infatuated men with no escape in your sight. That implies, of course, you’ve been looking for a way out of this bizarre partnership. Have you? Be honest…
TW: NSFW, obsessive behavior, size kink, violence
Tags: @223princess
[Part I]
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Yet another classic rule that comes with your job is to always be ready to deal with the unexpected. Plan as well as you may, the battleground is not as generous as to stick to your schedule. Yet the same principle applies out of combat, too. It’s just…you had’t really imagined such an outcome to be possible. Your extensive training covered most scenarios, from raids, to ambushes, natural disasters, everything except, well, this. You wonder if the code of conduct might include a paragraph about work romance, specifically your teammates taking turns to fuck you shamelessly at any hour of the day.
You gaze at your reflection in the slightly fogged mirror and quickly look away, embarrassed. You can’t bear to see the markings that are peppered all over your body, betraying the depraved activities you’ve indulged in for the past weeks. How did it even come to this? You sit on the edge of the bed, drying your hair, and hesitantly replay the event in your head. Your helpless form crouched on the storage floor, looking up at the two large men gripping at each other’s throats. Behind their masks you could sense their ferocious intent to kill. How would you explain it to your superiors? You gathered up your remaining confidence and barked at them to stop at once. They were indeed taken aback by your sudden yell that could’ve put any drill sergeant to shame. You wanted to get to the bottom of the conflict and put all this bullshit behind as soon as possible. Until they offered you the honest cause of their hostile rivalry. You could only stare in disbelief.
Your first instinct was to wonder if this was some sort of elaborate prank. What the hell, were they a bunch of high schoolers learning to handle their first crush or fucking grown adults in the middle of a military operation? You were never oblivious to it: mixed gender missions always came with a lot of casual hookups to blow off steam. Not your thing, but there’s plenty of other people down to it. Your suggestion was met with angry, vehement refusal. Both Ghost and König were outraged at the insinuation they’d put their dicks in some rando, as if that’s all there was to it. As if anyone else would do. Ironically this is where they found their common ground. König had lifted you nonchalantly by the collar of your uniform and asked you if you’re playing dumb. You could only shrug, even more confused. Ghost joined him and explained, casually and matter-of-fact, that you can call it a hookup as long as you remember it’s a lifelong arrangement. You were to walk out that door with the knowledge you belong to them and they would take any necessary steps to ensure your compliance. The hunting knife that was meant to plunge into his rival was now propped under your chin, dangerously close to your throbbing artery.
Now this should’ve been your sign to nod obediently, pack your suitcase at the earliest convenience and get the hell out. And that was your honest intent, initially. You could almost visualize the documents granting your absence from duty. Then you felt your buttons pop from their seams, forcefully ripped apart by König’s large hand. It occurred to you that you were propped against the wall by two men twice your size. You could hear their now labored breaths, muffled by their masks. The Austrian man roughly readjusted your posture, having you rest against his hips and throwing your legs around his waist. You gasped quietly once you sensed a bulge pressing into you. He fumbled with his zipper, but Ghost interrupted him with an irritated scolding. “You can’t just ram it in, you fucking dumbass.” You didn’t take long to understand the meaning and shivered at the thought. Without a warning, Ghost slid his hand into your now unbuckled pants. Two fingers begun pressing circles over your underwear and an unconscious whine escaped your lips. Satisfied by your reaction, he brought himself closer and increased the pace until he felt the moisture pooling in the fabric, which was enough encouragement to gently slip his way inside of you. In an attempt to help, König lowered his head over your breasts, fondling your now sensitive nipples with his tongue. His mask draped over your skin, adding a mild tickle to the overwhelming buildup. You suddenly remembered the storage no longer had a door after König kicked it out of its hinges, so you tried to push the muscular man away. “W-what if someone comes in?” Against your will and to your surprise, the question rolled out like a prolonged moan and you blushed awkwardly. “They won’t, if you shut up.” Ghost responded curtly. He considered it for a moment, and added smugly: “Don’t worry, that pretty mouth of yours will be real busy soon.” You closed your eyes tightly and prayed you wouldn’t be caught.
And you weren’t. You got away with it. That time, and the other time, and all the other times. At this point you question whether your other teammates truly haven’t noticed or have since learned to look away. Another possibility is that the psychotic duo has threatened the others into silence. Given their cocky attitude whenever you protest about the openness or risky timing, it wouldn’t surprise you at all. Even worse, their libido seems to be increasing exponentially as a consequence to their incessant competition of owning you. They seem to be plagued by a delirious need to have you at all times, and you’re rather afraid to admit that your desire to flee is slowly being replaced by a similar addiction. Rabid dogs in heat. That’s the only analogy that comes to mind.
Last time you didn’t even get the chance to return to the base. The soldiers had exited the truck, cheering their success and marching towards the gate. König had been quiet the entire ride, not even bothering to hide his ardent stare, his eyes hooded with lust. You were about to hop off yourself when you felt his burning grip on your wrist, pulling you back in and onto his lap. Oh, how he loves fucking you like this. His toned legs are sprawled out dominantly and his calloused hands guide you over his erection. No matter how many times you do it, the start is always painful. He’s just that big. But that’s his favorite part. Seeing you wince and tear up, holding your stomach as if shielding it from the foreign object assaulting the walls of your frail body. Then the thrusts become smoother and your movements break into an erratic pleading for more. He wants to witness it all. God, you turn him into a wild animal. His fingers dig into your skin and towards the end you’re a whimpering mess, shamelessly drooling over his uniform in a daze. As you coat him with your slick cum, he grunts and barely manages to speak. “Fuck, I’m gonna lose my mind for good one of these days.” His voice is deep and reverberates against your heaving chest.
Scratch that. Last time you didn’t even make it to the truck. You were laying behind a boulder, wiping the sweat and dirt off your face. You’d just finished taking out your targets and announced your return in the headset. Ghost approaches you with a hidden smirk and squats before you, extending a hand towards you. “Need help?” You nod with gratitude and take off your helmet. You reach for his hand, hoping he’d pull you up, but instead his fingers claw around your throat and push you against the ground. “Good, I have the perfect thing for a little slut like you.” He climbs over you without letting go of your neck and undoes your jacket with ease. Hell, he’s been doing it so often he could manage even blindfolded. With the free hand he shoves one of your legs away to make space. Truth be told, he’s very much biased towards this particular arrangement. He can already feel the unbearable pressure of his member waiting to be freed. He adores being able to take all of you in. Your expression, your small body trapped under his massive frame. He can fuck you as he pleases, until you turn into a rag doll, and there’s no way out. You grit your teeth in anticipation and hold onto his arm that’s choking you once he goes in. You must’ve been molded just for him. There’s no other explanation for his feral clinginess, scratching and biting and pulling in desperate, agonizing pleasure. After the deed has been done he can admire his masterful work, gazing lovingly at your flustered, disheveled form, gasping for air and dripping with his seed.
Your shake your head and try to chase away these perverted memories. You’re still damp from the shower and continue massaging your scalp with the towel, when you hear a knock on your door. Oh, no. No. “Busy!” is all you manage to shout. The door opens nonetheless and Ghost and König waltz in, entirely indifferent to your refusal. “Can’t I have one moment to myself?” You groan, frustrated. König leans against the wall and Ghost kneels in front of you. There’s a hint of cheekiness in his voice. “Sure. Tell us to go away and we will.” You blink and ponder his words. Remembering all the past encounters has gotten you a little bit eager, that’s true, but… “Say it.” He repeats himself. You squirm and look away, a deep red spreading across your face. Your lips are pursed. König lets out a soft laugh and closes the door, then faces you. “Since you wanted to be a brat, you have to beg for it now.”
What have you gotten yourself into?
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primaviva · 3 months
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PUCK YOU
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featuring. hockey!ellie williams x fem!reader synopsis. after winning the final game of the season, ellie wants you to join her in celebrating in the locker room. warnings. descriptions of the female body, suggestive content, hardcore making out ( i. e. breast play, grinding, hair pulling…) read at your own discretion
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eighty six—the number that defined your girlfriend's prowess on the ice.
it was the number you witnessed gliding effortlessly across the frozen surface, scoring goals with a mighty grip on the hockey stick. it was the number you saw when her frustration reached its peak, her helmet flying across the room, marked unmistakably with that bold eighty six.
and now, as you watched the game unfold, you proudly donned the same number on your back. the vibrant red jersey draped your frame in a comfortably oversized, boyfriend-style fit. originally ellie's, she had lovingly given it to you, fully aware of your affinity for wearing her clothes, with the added sentiment that it’s her team jersey adorning your figure as you cheered her on during games.
in the highly anticipated matchup against the seattle krakens, ellie found herself facing off against her arch-nemesis, abby anderson, who always seemed to harbor an unspoken animosity towards her. perhaps it stemmed from abby's envy of ellie's successes in the industry, or maybe it was fueled by a longing to occupy the same position. whatever the reason, their encounters invariably generated newsworthy headlines.
ellie was well aware of the power of making headlines, understanding that the public loved a good rivalry. the crowd, amused by the tension between ellie and abby, eagerly absorbed every moment of them clashing on the monitors. well, everyone but you. unlike the spectators, you knew the toll it took on ellie. while you delighted in witnessing the furrow of ellie's brows and the intensity in her evergreen gaze, you understood the weight of her anger, knowing how overwhelming those emotions could be for her during gameplay. ellie also just didn’t like getting angry, as she knew how terrible she could get when succumbing to the emotion.
as the game against the seattle krakens reached its exhilarating climax, the scoreboard displayed a tense deadlock. "ellie" and "abby" reverberated through the arena, transforming into a fierce battle of vocal support among the spectators. the names echoed through the crowd, each fan fervently chanting for their favorite player to emerge victorious.
you leaned forward, leaning over the barrier that separated the passionate crowd from the icy battleground. eager to catch a glimpse of the unfolding spectacle, you yearned for a front-row view of the action.
"kick her ass!" your voice rang out, carried by a surge of adrenaline as you fervently waved your hands in the air, willing ellie to triumph with every fiber of your being.
with each stride, ellie's instincts took over. in a swift, fluid motion, ellie seized control of the puck, effortlessly maneuvering past defenders with her unmatched skill. among the sea of opponents, her eyes locked onto abby, her greatest rival, who relentlessly pursued her, driven by a desire to strip ellie of the puck. with precision and agility, ellie danced around abby's relentless advances, her stickwork a symphony of finesse. the crowd watched in awe as the two players engaged in a thrilling duel, but with a burst of speed, your girlfriend left abby in her wake, weaving through the defense.the crowd held their breath, captivated by the scene before them.
the ice seemed to tremble beneath her skates as she closed in on the goal, her heart pounding in her chest. time seemed to stand still as she unleashed a powerful shot, puck sailing through the air and evading the outstretched glove of the goaltender, finding the back of the net. satisfying, it reverberated with a resounding thud as the puck found its mark, securing victory for ellie's team. the arena erupted in a chorus of thunderous cheers, the crowd's jubilation mirroring the euphoria in ellie's own heart.
as the final buzzer echoed through the arena, signaling the end of the intense match, the spectators began to disperse, their cheers fading into the background. ellie along with her team members, elated by their hard-fought victory, eagerly made their way to the locker room to celebrate.
that was the routine of those games. the teams would go to the locker rooms to change out of their gear until they come back out to wait for their bus which left a little later as the coaches made sure the media got some press with the stars of the teams. you would wait for ellie outside of the lockers to greet her with a well deserved kiss and hug before it was time to hit the road.
however, what wasn’t apart of the routine was ellie taking much longer than her teammates, to the point where everyone had left the lockers to go outside and get some fresh air in the dark night sky. usually ellie was eager to get out of her sweaty uniform and lay flat on the floor in relief that it was over, one time she had practically taken her shirt off before leaving the rink.
as you contemplated walking inside, dina, one of ellie's teammates, approached you with a knowing look.
"dina, where's ellie?" you inquired, crossing your arms over your chest as you eagerly awaited her answer.
the raven-head sighed softly, her eyes conveying a sense of understanding to your anxious state. "she's still in the locker room," dina replied, voice laced with empathy. "she needed a moment to calm down. it got pretty intense out there."
your heart skipped a beat as you took in dina's words. you knew all too well how overwhelming emotions could be for ellie, especially in the aftermath of a fiercely contested game like this one. without a second thought, you made your way towards the locker room.
as you entered the dimly lit space, the air was heavy with exhaustion. and there, in the corner, you spotted ellie, her figure slumped on a bench, her equipment scattered haphazardly around her. the sweat glistening on her forehead and the lingering fire in her eyes showed you all you needed to know.
her distant expression revealed a mind lost in deep contemplation, seemingly oblivious to the world around her, including your presence at the doorway.
"ellie," you softly called out, breaking the spell of her introspection.
in an instant, her head snapped up, the fog of her thoughts dissipating as a radiant, toothy smile graced her face. it was the kind of infectious grin that only ellie, with her unique brand of endearing quirkiness, could effortlessly rock. rising from the bench, standing tall as she strode purposefully towards you.
closing the distance between you, ellie enveloped you in her strong arms, lifting you up effortlessly off the ground. her face nestled into the crook of your neck, her warm breath sending gentle shivers down your spine.
the world outside the locker room faded away—as she held you, you could feel the weight of the game lifting from alongside her.
"there you are," she murmured against your neck, her voice muffled but happy nonetheless.
amidst stifled laughter, you attempted to speak. "did you hear me cheering?" you managed to ask.
"how could i not hear you, baby? you were the loudest one out there," ellie retorted, another smile gracing her face. she loved how supportive you always were of her. "thank you for always being there for my games. it means a lot to me, having my beautiful girl cheering me on."
tenderly, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, her pale green eyes brimming with warmth and love. on the field, ellie exuded toughness and fierceness, but with you, her armor melted away, revealing a softer, caring side that you brought out in her.
you couldn't help but chuckle at her remark about being the loudest, preferring to describe her as passionate. "you good?" you asked, your gaze fixed on her as your vision readjusted from being taken to the ground. "i know how much it gets to you when abby tries to rile you up during games."
ellie let out a sigh at the mention of abby. "i'm fine, don't worry about her," she replied, her voice laced with frustration, her hand absentmindedly rubbing the back of her neck.
but you could see the tension in her jaw, the way her body seemed to hold onto the irritation caused by abby's actions.
"thanks for checking on me," she expressed, her voice softer now. ellie leaned down, resting her forehead against yours, and released a deep sigh. it felt as if she were fully surrendering her body weight onto you, relying on your support. she was exhausted, both mentally and physically.
you weren’t buying tickets to her act.
as you studied her face, you noticed her tightly shut eyes and the creases forming around them. "i find it hard to believe you're okay. you look exhausted. sit," you firmly stated, placing your hands on her shoulders and gently guiding her back down onto the bench, encouraging her to rest.
ellie sighed and didn't resist as you made her sit back down on the bench. as tough as she was, she knew better than to argue with you when you used that tone.
"you know me too well,” ellie noted as she relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, closing her eyes. you always seemed to see right through her facade of being fine. the game had taken more out of her than she cared to admit.
you sat there, quietly observing her presence. the sheen of sweat adorned her forehead, causing strands of stray hair to cling to the sides. her skin appeared moist, a clear indication that she had recently stepped off the rink. your eyes remained fixed on her, capturing the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each inhale and exhale, a rhythmic cadence that grew slower and more deliberate. as you watched, your mind couldn't help but wander, envisioning the strength and definition of her abs concealed beneath her jersey. surely, the intensity of her performance left her core muscles taut and sculpted.
"will you sit with me for a bit?" she questioned, opening one eye to look at you hopefully. ellie just wanted a few quiet moments with you before the crowds dispersed. your presence alone seemed to ease her fatigue.
you nodded silently, a wordless affirmation of your unwavering support, before settling down beside her. her eyes attentively followed your every movement, capturing each subtle motion as you took your place next to her. she kept her gaze fixed on you, her emerald eyes shimmering in the softly lit room, as if trying to memorize every detail before finally closing them, her head finding solace against the wall.
"i really do appreciate you," she spoke amongst the silence. reaching for your hand, she brought it to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon it.
ellie, the dominant force on the field, always had a calm vulnerability in your presence. you provided the equilibrium she needed, a balance that no one else could offer.
you couldn't help but giggle at the sensations elicited by her tender kiss on your hand. "don't thank me," you playfully responded, a mischievous glimmer in your eyes. "come on, let me help you get undressed." as you rose from your seat, you noticed a devilish smirk on her face. "i didn't mean it like that, so don't even think about it," you emphasized, walking between her open legs as she sat, firmly grasping the bottom of her jersey.
she teasingly placed her hands behind your thighs, as if mockingly trying to keep you in place, before finally relenting and allowing you to proceed with removing her from her sweaty uniform.
"you know i can’t help myself around you," ellie playfully remarked, punctuating her words with a wink. however, as you tended to her, ellie surrendered herself to your caring touch, feeling the tightness in her muscles melt away.
she raised her arms, a silent invitation for you to remove her jersey. with gentle and skillful movements, you carefully pulled the fabric over her head, revealing the glistening sheen of perspiration on her skin. moving on, you deftly unfastened her shoulder pads, followed by her elbow pads. the expression on her face spoke volumes, a mixture of relief and gratitude as the weight of the protective gear was lifted from her.
ellie grinned up at you, thoroughly enjoying teasing you even when exhausted. you were just so cute when you got flustered. but she resisted making any other suggestive comments as you helped remove her pads and gear. she could tell you were going into protective girlfriend mode to take care of her.
as the last piece came off, ellie sighed in relief. "god, that’s so much better, thank you. i feel lighter already." she pulled you closer between her legs so your bodies were pressed together, though mindful not to squeeze you too tightly in her tired state. the tension began to ease from her muscles.
you just had that calming presence which soothed ellie's nerves. just being close to you helped her unwind after the stress of competition. she leaned back and closed her eyes contentedly.
"come here," ellie beckoned, extending her arm towards you, her desire for your closeness evident. "i just want to hold my girl before having to sit through a three-hour bus ride," she joked, a bit of truth in her statement.
with hesitation and curiosity, you placed your hand in hers, uncertain of what she had in mind. but before you could fully anticipate her next move, ellie swiftly pulled you into her lap, enveloping you in her embrace.
the suddenness of the action surprised you, but as you settled into her lap, you felt a wave of warmth and security wash over you. nestled against her, you could hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.
ellie wrapped her strong arms securely around your waist as you settled into her lap. she rested her chin on your shoulder and breathed you in deeply.
"mmm, there's my girl,” she whispered. holding you always made ellie feel centered. like the rest of the world faded away and it was just the two of you. she nuzzled softly against your neck, placing gentle kisses along your skin. "i love you so much," she spoke while holding you tighter, hoping you knew how much you meant to her.
ellie's tired muscles relaxed further as she embraced you. your presence alone seemed to ease the strain from her body. she rocked you gently in her arms, enjoying this quiet moment of intimacy.
"i love you too," you whispered in response, your words filled with nothing less of love. ellie's gaze locked onto yours, her pupils dilating as she immersed herself in the depths of your eyes. in that intimate exchange, she sought to discover every shade, every intricate detail that made your eyes uniquely yours.
her hand, which had secured your waist, embarked on a slow and agonizing path up your back, sending a tantalizing shiver along your spine. it finally settled at the nape of your neck, her touch both gentle and possessive. with a firm grasp, she guided your head towards hers, closing the distance between your lips.
ellie kissed you softly yet deeply, savoring the feeling of your lips against hers. all the anxiety and frustration from the game seemed to melt away in your affectionate embrace.
she gently traced her tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entrance in a way that was loving yet dominant. her hand cradled the back of your head tenderly even as she pulled you in closer.
kissing you always made ellie feel possessive yet protective at the same time. like she never wanted to let you go. she loved you so fiercely it sometimes scared her. but she knew you were the only one who truly saw her for who she was—not just an athlete but a person.
as your lips moved in perfect harmony, a sensuous dance of desire, you became lost in the intoxicating rhythm. the magnetic pull between you seemed irresistible, drawing you into a world where nothing else mattered but her body. the wetness of her mouth and the mingling of saliva heightened the intensity, an unspoken language shared between you both.
when you reluctantly parted to catch your breath, a thin strand of saliva lingered, connecting you both momentarily. ellie leaned her forehead against yours, her breaths heavy and labored. her pale green eyes bore into yours, radiating warmth and unbridled desire. “i need you,” she expressed with a raw simplicity, her voice husky and filled with need. in your embrace, ellie found solace, the only place where true tranquility resided.
ellie craved an outlet, a means to divert her frustrations and escape the overwhelming demands of the game. and in that moment, there was no better distraction than being consumed by thoughts of you, her mind freed from pucks and goalies.
with a swift gesture, she wiped away the saliva from her chin before firmly gripping your jaw, drawing your lips back to hers. the kiss intensified, akin to the crashing of rough waves against a sailor's vessel. each crash left an imprint, and you could sense the tender fullness of your lips bruising under the passionate onslaught.
a deep, resonant moan escaped your throat, merging with the union of your mouths. your hands found purchase on her shoulders as you adjusted yourself, straddling her waist with a sense of urgency.
ellie growled low in her throat at your moan, arousal spiking through her body in an instant. she gripped your hips tighter, grinding you against her as your movements stirred her growing need.
kissing you deeper, ellie dominated your mouth with her tongue, possessing you completely. one hand slid up your back, fingers clutching possessively. the other tangled in your hair to hold you right where she wanted.
she kissed like she played—with a fiery intensity and competitive drive to claim victory. ellie poured all her pent up passion and longing into the kiss, asserting her dominance yet caring for you completely.
when you finally broke apart again, panting heavily, ellie gazed at you with lust-darkened eyes. "fuck, baby, you're so hot,” she groaned, nipping along your jaw and down your neck, leaving her mark.
ellie was throbbing with want, craving the intimate release only you could give her after a game.
"ellie, did you forget we're in the locker room?" you began to protest, but ellie's touch interrupted your words, cupping your clothed boobs and giving them a slow yet tender squeeze. you hated how flustered she got you, especially when there were other people around. “cut the shit," you pleaded, but deep down, you knew that you were just as eager to help ellie find release from her stress.
ellie chuckled low in her throat at how easily she could rile you up. your flushed cheeks and dilated pupils told her exactly how turned on you were despite your words.
with a mischievous grin, ellie met your plea while giving your breasts another b squeeze. "aw, come on, baby, don't pretend you don't love it when i get you all hot and bothered," she teased, her voice low and seductive.
ellie lived for the challenge of pushing your buttons and claiming your body as her own, even with others so close. the thrill of potentially getting caught only served to heighten her arousal.
she leaned in to nibble your earlobe sensually, "bet i can make you cum before we even leave this room." ellie's hand slid down your stomach to cup your clit through your jeans.
"what do you say? want to put on a little after show for me?" she gripped your ass firmly with her other hand, grinding you down against her. ellie knew all your secrets and weaknesses, and was more than willing to exploit them.
you couldn't help but mumble, "fuck," as your hands gripped on her hair. you moved in for another kiss without thinking twice as you were too needy to keep her mouth to yourself.
ellie kissed you hungrily, all her earlier arousal igniting into an inferno. she moaned against your mouth at the feel of your hands gripping her hair firmly. oh, how the girl loved it when you took charge and matched her dominance with your own.
it was as if she was starving for you, devouring your mouth possessively. she grounded up against your core, feeling how wet you were already through your jeans. ellie delighted in unraveling your composure and leaving you a panting, wanting mess.
her hands roamed your body possessively, gripping your ass to grind you down harder. ellie sucked your bottom lip between her teeth, nipping teasingly. she wanted you aching and desperate for her. your girlfriend loved how responsive your body was to her touch, how you melted under her.
breaking the kiss momentarily, ellie gazed up at you with eyes dark with lust. "god, you're so fucking hot. think anyone would notice if i made you come right here?"
she traced delicate patterns on your warm skin, teasing ever closer to your core. ellie lived to unravel you, reduce you to a flushed, quivering mess before claiming your pleasure as her own. she rolled her hips up in a slow, deep circle, applying delicious friction directly against your clit now. ellie was determined to push you over the edge before letting you leave this locker room.
ellie groaned at your nails scraping across her scalp, spurring her desire higher. she kissed you back fervently, delving her tongue between your lips to tangle with your own.
your desperate little noises only served to spur her on. ellie was going to thoroughly ravish you right here, right now, and to hell with anyone who might catch them. you were hers.
"you're gonna make a mess of your uniform," you managed to gasp out, your words challenged by hushed breaths and the rapid beating of your heart. in the grand scheme of things, her uniform should have been the least of your concerns, but your mind was clouded, rendering you unable to think clearly.
ellie chuckled low in her throat as you panted and squirmed in her lap. you were always so cute when she had you this worked up.
"that's what the showers are for, baby." she rolled her hips up in another slow, deep grind against your clit. ellie nibbled along your neck hungrily, branding you with love bites. "don't care about the uniform, i just want you,” she declared while kissing you hard, refusing to break eye contact as her hand slid under your low waisted jeans.
ellie knew exactly how to unravel you, where to touch to draw out your pleasure. she could feel your arousal soaking through your underwear as you ground yourself down against her hand. your girlfriend swallowed your soft moans, owning your mouth completely as your hips began to ride her expert fingers.
her hands slid under the famous eighty six jersey she lent you to caress and squeeze your breasts skin on skin. ellie tweaked your nipples between her fingertips, rubbing them into stiff peaks.
"bet you’re close already," ellie muttered. she kissed you fiercely, tongue plunging into your mouth in time with her grinding hips.
ellie was throbbing with her own needs but lived for your pleasure above her own. she would push you over the edge a thousand times just to see your blissful expression.
the hockey player took such pride and satisfaction in reducing you to a quivering mess so quickly. and she hadn't even fucked you properly yet. by the time she was through, you'd be putty in her hands.
she smirked, loving how close she had you already. you began subconsciously grinding yourself on her through, back and forth as you sucked her tongue in your mouth. your moans of pleasure were like music to her ears.
"that's it baby, ride my thigh. feel how wet you're making me?" she continued to talk you through, emphasizing her words by grinding up against your core once more.
ellie captivated your lips in another searing kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy. her hands gripped your ass possessively, helping lift and lower your hips.
“ellie,” you mumbled, the intensity of the moment consuming you, as rational thoughts and the ability to express them struggled to break through the haze of desire.
the brunette's head quipped up as soon as she saw your beautiful visage. it was one of her favorite things to do at these times, to simply observe the obscene looks on your face that she made herself, tight with pleasure.
ellie took such pride and satisfaction in reducing you to a quivering mess so quickly. and she hadn't even fucked you properly yet. by the time she was through, you'd be putty in her hands.
“yeah? if you have something to say, you gotta use your words (y/n). so if you want it, then tell me you want to cum all over my hand while i fuck you right here,” ellie taunted, now nipping at your bottom lip, her husky voice dripping dominance and desire.
the words that escaped her lips left you stunned, rendering you momentarily speechless. your eyes watched her intently as she adjusted her stance against the wall. her every movement seemed deliberate, commanding your attention.
with trembling hands, you reached out to steady yourself against a nearby surface, the weight of her words sinking in as you opted for the wall behind ellie. as she moved her arm once more, your gaze followed. her strong fingers dipped past the fabric to tease your entrance eagerly. "come on baby, don't leave me hanging,” ellie ordered gruffly, knowing the sound of her voice could send you over the edge.
she held you flush against her body, grinding up to meet your every roll of hips. you swallowed each other's moans with deep kisses, tongues tangling erotically. ellie was determined to push you over the edge right here in this very locker room.
all of a sudden, a disruptive knocking sound echoed through the locker room door, shattering the fragile bubble of intimacy that had enveloped you both. a voice, belonging to joel, ellie's hockey coach, seeped through the other side, brimming with impatience.
"ellie, hurry up! the bus is outside, and our asses will leave you here to hitchhike if you don't come out in the next five minutes," joel's voice boomed, giving his last warning to your girlfriend.
you exchanged a knowing glance, the disappointment and longing apparent in your eyes. ellie growled in frustration as joel's voice interrupted your intense moment. of course, right when she was finally forgetting her problems, the problem came knocking on the door.
"shit," she muttered under her breath. ellie rested her forehead against yours as you both panted from being out of breath, the rhythm of your heartbeats gradually slowing, but the desire within you remaining unquenched.
"we're not done here," ellie whispered huskily, giving your ass a possessive squeeze.
louder so joel could hear, she called out, "yeah yeah, we're coming!" you tried not to laugh, but ellie giggled to herself, a sly smile on her face at the double meaning which caused you to roll your eyes.
ellie's lips pressed against yours for one final, ravenous kiss, a bittersweet taste that left you yearning for more. "we’re gonna finish this later, i promise,” she declared in a hushed tone, fueling what already thrummed between you.
with a playful slap on your ass whilst she got off the bench, ellie teased you, her touch electric against your skin. time was of the essence as you swiftly assisted her in changing out of her hockey gear and into more comfortable clothes.
the weight of disappointment settled upon both of you, and with mutual understanding, you tenderly brushed each other's disheveled hair back into place. gently, you attempted to wipe the sweat from each other's faces, trying to look as unsuspecting as possible. Not to mention, it was also severely embarrassing.
leaving the confines of the locker room, you stepped outside and joined ellie's teammates on the bus. taking your places among them, you immersed yourself in the multiple topics that would usually take place, ranging from animated discussions about the game to reflections on personal improvement and snippets of their everyday lives. or, they simply just talked shit about the other team and how stupid their name was—it could even go as far as saying how ugly and mismatched the team colors would be.
ellie knew you'd be aching for her touch until then. it would be a long, frustrating bus ride for both of you back to jackson. but the anticipation would make the payoff so much sweeter.
she knew she would get her after-game reward.
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maxwell-grant · 4 months
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So is Worm good from what you have read
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"Yes" doesn't begin to cover it but yes. Worm is a brain-rewiring mobius strip disguised as a bible disguised as a superhero web serial that either cured your cancer or shot your dog or both depending on who you ask, and it has many extremely dedicated, brilliant scholar priest surgeons publicly dissecting it on this platform on the regular to the point I don't think I have much to add to the conversations surrounding it, even if I do have some The Thoughts about it. I had never even really seriously thought about superhero prose before and Worm isn't a thing I go back and reread frequently but it did a complete and total 180 on the way I think about superheroes and even fiction, and I've never stopped thinking about it since I've read it.
It is a monumentally impressive story with completely absolutely incredible characters that I cannot stop thinking about. No matter where it was going, even past stretches that were less interesting or more of a slog to read or worse, I could not put the story of Taylor Hebert down for one minute. Tattletale fascinated me every step of the way, I had to keep up with her. Rachel Lindt was a character I feel like I'd been waiting my whole life for. What was I gonna do, not see them through? I feel like Worm easily loses you if you don't particularly connect with the characters enough to justify to yourself the amount of time you'll spend with them, but man, I could not unglue my eyeballs from these people enough (I love all the core Undersiders, to be clear, I'd say it's Rachel > Taylor > Tattletale > Aisha and Alec and Brian, there are very small gaps between these, I just don't go berserk for the last three like I do for the first three, I'm taking Bitch and Skitter to the grave I'm dead serious)
Worm irreparably destroys your ability to engage with superhero fiction the same way ever again, as evidenced by the fact that it destroyed the author's own ability to engage with his own superhero fiction ever again. And everybody who read it has one or several gripes with it with some major dealbreakers in the mix. Tumblr's kinda the only place online where you can really talk about them at length without the spectre of John Wildbow hanging over the discussion, which enables discussion to the point where yes, maybe it does look like to outsiders that nobody can agree on whether Worm is good or what is it even about or whether it even has worms in it (it has at least one, although it's a very big one).
And it is good, it has the Undersiders in it and the Undersiders are one of the greatest groups of characters ever put together, but everyone has at least one major point of contention with Worm whether it's the timeskip or the length or the racism or the gross fatphobia or aspects surrounding the Dallon-Pelham Torment Nexus and etc. I'd say it has maybe the most racist vision of Latin America I've ever seen in a superhero text a hair short of pro-colonial tracts in Golden Age comics and that is a tall fucking order by any metric (part of why I started WEON4 as a project was motivated by spite, to try and make my own stories about non-American superheroes even if just as practice). It is Complicated, and that winds up making it so fascinating to talk about.
Worm has self-sustaining ecological systems of posts up here, far away from the Spacebattles and Reddit battlegrounds where it has different ones and that's not getting into Weaverdice or the sequel or Wildbow's larger body of work, which I haven't gotten to and probably will not any time soon because Worm was enough of a commitment as is. Do I recommend Worm to everyone? It is certainly not to everyone's tastes and I personally find it difficult to describe it simply enough to make it sound appealing or not like a pyramid scheme. But yes I do think it's good, in fact great, in fact, amazing, except when it isn't, and except it Plainly Sucks, but then something like Taylor vs Mannequin or Kevin Norton's interlude or "You needed worthy opponents" happens and it fucks harder than anything has ever fucked before and you don't walk away from it the same, so yes I guess "good" will have to do now.
It's certainly a lot but I definitely found it worth my time to read and then read the texts written about it here. You'll have to take my endorsement of Worm as proof of it's quality and proof of how deranged it makes it's readerbase, they're not mutually exclusive. If you can make it, Worm and the wormosphere has layers and layers to wade through and talk about and enjoy, despite how we're all so very small in the end *gunshot*.
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Pacified
Trafalgar D. Water Law x Reader
a/n: set after the fight on Wano.
Summary: Law is afraid of love, big shocker
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The tavern was crowded but there was no doubt in Law’s mind that it was you burning a hole in the back of his head. Your gaze was like fire, and he felt a prickly feeling on the base of his neck, so much so, that he rubbed at it. His cheeks burned as he finally looked over his shoulder and met your stare with a quick withdrawal. He felt ashamed and cowardly, but he couldn’t even manage a hello to you when he walked into the bar with your crew mates. He knew it, knew it to his core – getting involved with the Straw Hats was going to be a pain in his ass but what he didn’t anticipate was something far worse.
A pain in his heart.
The barkeep slid a glass of ale in front of him, Law thanked the man and proceeded to down it in one gulp. His nerves were shot, body ached from all the fighting; now that things were settled in Wano, he could finally breathe but for how long? How long before you inhaled him so? He felt like he was drowning in this odd feeling, a foreign feeling that had him looking for you on the battleground. Every other thought had been about you – were you safe? Had you pushed yourself past your limit? The worst: were you even alive? He should have known, you were a damn Straw Hat, of course you’d end up fine.
If fine meant badly wounded and at the point of death but alive.
He had personally tended to your wounds and gave Chopper specific orders for your recovery. Days later, he saw you for the first time. Refreshed and smiling as you walked through the town with Roronoa Zoro. You looked well and he could never forget the relief that swelled in his chest, but he acted cowardly and ducked into a sweets shop. He watched from the window as you walked by with the swordsman, your laugh filled the muffled air, and he felt a cramp in his heart. It was sickening, he felt sick watching you walk away but at least you were alive and breathing.
If only that could be enough for him.
All he wanted was to get on his ship with his crew and leave Wano for good, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it even days after the final battle. Of course, Bepo and the others were having a good time but all he could do was wallow because what was the point? He had his crew and you had yours – and that was that. Wasn’t it?
“Tra-guy!”
Law cringed at the sound of the Straw Hat’s captain voice and attempted to get off the stool for a quick escape, but Luffy had an arm around him in seconds. He pulled him toward a large round table, where the rest of the crew sat, including you. Law grumbled as Luffy called for a toast, pushing a drink into the doctor’s chest. He took it reluctantly and avoided you as he listened to Luffy give a short, dumb little speech until everyone cheered and clinked glasses. It then, as everyone laughed around the table that Law found himself looking in your direction. He anticipated your gaze, but you were laughing at something Jinbei was saying and all he could do was stare. His heart pattered and all he wanted to do was pluck it out of his own body, throw it away in the sea. That way he wouldn’t have to feel it bursting in his body attempting to burn right through his chest.
“Law.”
He blinked a few times and realized you were standing in front of him – how long had he zoned out? He cleared his throat before commenting on your recovery. “You look well.”
“Because of you,” you smiled, hands behind your back. “When I woke up, Chopper explained what you had done for me. Thank you.”
“Of course,” he replied quietly, afraid to move a muscle but it seemed you were set on making him go into cardiac arrest because you drew slightly closer to him. He could feel his cheeks go warm as you asked if he planned on staying longer in Wano.
“We’re set to leave in a few days. I am sorry to leave this place,” you confessed, and he asked why. Grinning, you reached down for his hand, not caring that there was room full of people, specifically, your crew surrounding you two. Law held his breath; your hand was warm and gentle as it was that night…
“It’s such a beautiful place but this is the place I got to know you better, Trafalgar. I’m glad we got to spend some time together, I just wish…. we had more time, don’t you?”
Oh, God, this was it – he was going to die. He couldn’t contain himself any longer and he quickly, without meeting a single person’s look, gripped your hand and led you quickly out of the tavern. He maneuvered you through the tables and chairs, drunk people out into the cool night. Once outside, he pulled you off to the side, away from the festival lights and sounds. His hand around yours, he stumbled over his words. It was upsetting, unnatural for him to feel so clumsy and unprepared. - that wasn’t him, what a fool love made him.
Love.
“We’re from two different crews…”
“Thank you for stating the obvious.”
You teased and it relaxed him for some reason; that’s what you did to him. Soothed away all the anxiousness he had built up, gave him a sense of calmness – which was laughable considering the crew you were apart of. How he wishes he could steal you away to be his. “I won’t ask you to come with me,” he said quietly, thumb pressing into your skin. “I know you wouldn’t, and I wouldn’t want you to choose…”
“Because I would always choose my crew.”
Law smiled softly and looked down at your hand in his; his grip softened, and he laughed, mostly to himself. “A damn Straw Hat, of all people….”
“Believe me, I wasn’t looking for this either,” you laughed, giving way to a deep sigh. Law finally gave in, fully gave in, and tugged you to him. With ease, you melted against his body as his arms wrapped around your back and he held you close to his chest. A brief sadness danced around the two of you, as the sound of Brook’s violin carried the night. It sounded so lovely, and Law closed his eyes, holding you close – mesmerizing this moment for later, when the nights on his ship would be quiet and lonely. He’d have this to look back on but more importantly, he’d have this to look forward to.
Law pulled back to look at you, hands gracing the sides of your face; his thumb caressed your cheek, and he studied the look in your eyes before telling you it wasn’t over. “It doesn’t end like this. We’ll go our separate ways for now, but let’s find each other again. I can wait, can you?”
Say yes, please, say yes – he wouldn’t know what to do if you said no. Can he move on and continue his journey. Can you become a small pebble in his story? A cliff note, a passing thought? A fond memory he can look back on when he’s much older and trying not to regret the choices he has made in his life? Can he be that strong?
“You’re worth the wait.”
Stunned, heart stunned, as you smiled. He searched in your face for any sides of hesitation but all he saw was love and hope – things he thought he lost so long ago. Dozens of thoughts ran through his head, but everything went quiet when you leaned in for a kiss. He was pacified with love as he leaned in to capture your lips with his. How tender life felt as your hands moved up around his neck, his hand on the small of your back , fireworks painting the sky, and the land of Wano thriving, once again.
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leafsandstarlight · 9 months
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Destiny's Battleground - Eris x Reader
Request: Hi! Can you write a story where Eris finds his mate on the battlefield? Thank you! Description: When the bond snaps for Eris during the battle against Hybern, he realizes that he would do just about anything for her. Warnings: depictions of a battle, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of past childhood trauma and abuse Author notes: This was so fun to write! Thank you so much for the request! I'm planning to write a part 2 for this piece/maybe turn it into a series :)
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The battlefield was packed with bodies, the scent of blood and sweat filling your nose.  You could feel your own sweat trickling down your limbs under your armor as you swung your blades at the closest Hybern soldier.  At least you hoped it was sweat rather than blood from one of your scrapes and gashes.
Out of your peripheral vision, you saw a soldier lunge towards you, his blade shimmering in the sunlight.  You dodged quickly before slicing him with one of your twin blades.  It was a move Cassian had taught you in the training ring.  One you had perfected over the decades you had been working and training in Velaris.
You had been born in Hewn City, the daughter to one of Kier’s closest advisors.  You had grown up amidst the leeches and brutes of the Court of Nightmares, treated as little more than a pawn in their wicked games.  Growing up, there was little joy in your life, little comfort.  Your family was cruel, and you hated witnessing the violence and lechery of your home city.  The only light in your childhood came from a certain blonde friend with whom you could always share a smile or a hidden laugh.  You and Mor grew up together.  You were quick friends - both of you realizing that the other shared your desire to get out of the Court of Nightmares, to be more than a pawn in your parents’ games. 
When Mor was tortured and left to bleed out in the Autumn Court, you had never experienced such rage, such loss.  You had screamed at your father and at Kier calling them both disgusting pigs and earning your own brutal punishment.  A part of you, though, was just happy Mor got out.  You hoped that whatever awaited her outside of Hewn City was better, kinder.
When Rhysand became High Lord and Mor had settled into her life in Velaris, she came for you.  She helped you escape the life your father had planned for you in Hewn City, and Rhys took you in.  Together, you and Mor started a new life away from the horrors of your childhoods.
You poured your rage and pain from your childhood into training with Cassian and Azriel.  Cassian taught you how to protect yourself.  He taught you how to wield your blades so that you never had to fear being at the whim of powerful males again.  Azriel taught you how to hide in the shadows, how to go unnoticed and unbothered in the world.  Along with your friendship with Mor, they helped you build a life for yourself.  They helped you start to become whole.
You became a spy for the Night Court under Azriel.  Living in Velaris had saved you, and you decided that you would do whatever it took to help protect it; to help protect the dreamers.  Azriel would position you in various courts, have you woo and manipulate various lords and courtiers to gather information.  You forged yourself into what you had been so desperate to be as a child in Hewn city: powerful.  You were a lethal seductress with an alluring figure, friendly eyes, and a lethal tongue. 
As you stood amongst the battlefield, dodging between Hybern soldiers’ attacks and using your blades to strike down opponents, you were grateful for your years of training and sparring.  You were lucky you had survived this long, especially given the way Hybern’s forces vastly outnumbered your own.  When you heard the Autumn Court arrive with Tamlin followed by the Seraphim and humans, you breathed a momentary sigh of relief.  Perhaps, you thought.  Perhaps, you really could win this thing.  The brief second of optimism was gone before you could even enjoy it as the blade of another Hybern soldier swung towards your core.  You dove to the ground to miss the strike, slicing the soldier’s legs as you fell.  You avoided contacted with his blade as you struck him down. 
Covered in dirt and blood, you continued fighting your way through soldiers as adrenaline coursed through your veins.  You were lost in the battlefield, surrounded by Illyrians and Hybern soldiers.  You could barely tell which was up and which way was down. 
You didn’t see the blade that finally struck you, seeping through your armor and into your side.  All you heard was a loud growl as you felt the blade rip through you.  As you fell to your knees, you felt the soldier rip the sword out, tearing your skin and muscle with it.  You could barely hear the battle cries as you felt your side warm with blood, as you felt your side pulse in excruciating pain. 
You tried to stand, willed your body to push forward and continue your fight.  You leaned on your blades, trying to gather yourself to no avail.  Your body fought you; each movement made you delirious with burning pain.
Your vision faded, the battle around you became nothing more than a blur before your world turned black.
Eris’s POV:
When Eris arrived at the battle with Autumn’s forced behind him, he felt the rush of battle course through his veins.  He surveyed the battle ensuing, the way Hybern’s soldiers slaughtered their way through Prythian’s allied forces and prayed to the Mother that he was not too late.  He cursed his stubborn father as he gave his soldiers the signal to attack, a deep growl that acted as their war cry. 
As they met the Hybern soldiers that awaited them, Eris fought and burned any enemy who stood in his way.  He used his flames to push them back, to strike them down.
As he fought, as he channeled his never-ending rage towards the soldiers who tried to force Prythian to its knees, he felt something deep inside him pulling him towards the center of the battle.  He couldn’t name the feeling, couldn’t identify what it was that wanted him to find his way through the battle so desperately.  It was like an invisible string luring him towards something he couldn’t identify.  He tried to shrug it off, ignore the feeling, as he fought, but it called to him in the sweetest, most alluring voice he had ever heard.  Eris swept the auburn hair that had fallen in his eyes off of his face as he pushed towards whatever called him.
Eris burnt his way through the battlefield, cutting down anyone who tried to get in his way.  When he felt the force strengthen and become almost tangible, he stopped and closed his amber eyes.  Eris winnowed, allowing the Mother to take him wherever she was trying to lead him, hoping she would bring him to wherever he needed to be.
When he opened his eyes again, Eris was standing before you as he watched a Hybern soldier push his blade through your skin.  He heard you call out in pain, the most heartbreaking sound he had ever heard, and felt the bond snap inside of him.  As you fell to the ground, Eris acted on instinct, motivated purely by the drive in his soul telling to protect his mate.  He butchered the Hybern soldier, barely aware of his own movements.  When he finished with that soldier, he let out a ring of lethal fire that burned any of the unfortunate Hubert soldiers who were standing within fifty yards of your fallen body.  When he was done, when his instincts faded slightly and he could finally catch his breath, his eyes found your broken, bleeding body. 
Eris pulled you into his arms, holding you close to his chest, as he cursed the Mother for not allowing him to find you sooner.  He cursed her for not letting him find you before that sword was in your side; for not letting him meet you in a safer place, a kinder world.  Although, his curses were halfhearted at best.  He couldn’t help but be grateful that he got to see you at all.  Even covered in mud and blood, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  If he only got to enjoy this one single moment with you as you bled out in his arms, he would cherish it.  He would hold the memory in his heart forever.
Eris shook the thoughts out of his mind.  No, he growled internally, you will not die today.  You don’t get to die before I’ve even gotten to meet you. 
He hauled you off the battlefield, winnowing into the healer’s tent and shouting at the first healer he saw to help you.  As a healer rushed to attention, motioning for him to place you on a cot in front of her, Eris hoped his voice didn’t show his complete and utter desperation.  Even as you lay there unconscious, he couldn’t help but be wholly and unconditionally devastated by you.
Reader’s POV:
When you awoke and the world slowly shifted into view, you had to shield your eyes from the bright fae lights of the tent you were in.  You looked around slowly, trying to piece together where you were, what had happened.  You recognized the walls of the healer tent and wondered how you had gotten there.  You vaguely remembered a growl, a bright light, and being carried through the battle, but none of your memories made sense to your muddled brain.
“You’re awake,” a voice called out to you.  It was soft, silky, almost like satin against your ears.  You looked around, your eyes searching for the voice that called to you through your delirium. 
When you found Eris’s sharp features and amber eyes staring back at you, your body tensed in shock.  You recognized him instantly.  His auburn hair was tousled and matted with blood while his armor was covered in blood that almost matched his hair.  He was the male who had caused you friend such pain.  He had left her to bleed out with a nail in her womb.  You had promised yourself long ago that if you ever had a chance to get close to Eris, if he ever appeared in front of you, you would send a blade through his warm freckled skin.  You wouldn’t kill him, of course, that kill was Mor’s if she ever wanted it.  But you would make him pay for what he did to her, for the pain he caused.  It was likely why Azriel never stationed you in the Autumn Court. 
And yet, here he was in front of you.  He was the only one in the healer tent with you, leaning against the tent wall with his arms crossed casually.  If you hadn’t just had a blade through your torso, you might’ve lunged at him. 
Perhaps he saw it on your face.  “I mean you no harm,” Eris told you with a faint smirk as though the idea was humorous to him.  You could tell by his eyes, however, that he was deadly serious.
“You bring nothing but harm,” you grumbled at the male in front of you, as you pulled yourself up into a sitting position on the cot, wincing in pain as you did so. 
He took a step towards you as though he might help you up before standing down at the glare you sent in his direction.  Amusement colored his sharp features.
You were grateful when the healer entered the tent at that moment, thankful to have another fae in the tent with you.  Eris never took his eyes off you as you turned your attention to the healer.
“What happened?” You asked, and the healer gave you a gentle smile.
“You received a pretty nasty wound to stomach and likely passed out due to the blood loss,” the healer told you, her voice gentle like the passing of a summer breeze, “You were very lucky that Eris brought you to us before you lost any more blood.”
Your eyes widened at her words and their implication.  Why would Eris have brought you here?  You didn’t even know each other, why would he care whether you lived or died?  Your mind was spinning as you looked over at Eris to find him watching you intently.  His attention caused a shiver to run up your spine.
“I’m surprised you saved me, I’ve heard you have a knack for letting females bleed out in front of you,” you snarl at Eris, your voice still quiet as you recovered your energy, but containing enough viciousness to get your point across.
Eris’s face shifted slightly, as though you suddenly made sense to him.  “Ah, a friend of Morrigan’s I take it?” You nod, trying to convey all the malice you had for him through your eyes.
“Don’t you think a little gratitude is in order, darling?” Eris asked, and his features morphed into a feline smirk.  You wanted to shake it off him, or perhaps smack it off him.  If you had your full energy, you likely would have tried.
Instead, you roll your eyes at him before giving him your own smirk.
“You’re right, Eris.  Some gratitude is in order,” you say, your voice dripping with malice as you turn towards the healer, “Thank you very much for healing me.  Your time and effort are greatly appreciated.”
The healer gave you a warm smile and bowed her head to you.  Eris merely scoffed at your response, clearly believing he deserved some of your gratitude.
He stared at you silently and you stared back, a challenge, as the healer looked over your newly healed wound.
“Looks as good as new,” the healer told you both, though you didn’t know why she thought Eris would care.  “You will likely feel a little woozy and tired given how much blood you lost, but you should be completely fine after a good night’s rest.”  You nodded your head at the healer with a smile, truly grateful that she saved your life, as she left the tent and left you alone with the prowling fox in front of you.  
As soon as the healer left, you turn your attention back to Eris whose eyes were burning into your body, “Why the hel did you save me, Eris?  What is your game?”  Your voice was cold, hushed, but you desperately wanted to know.  You didn’t even remember seeing him near you when you were injured. 
His warm amber eyes surveyed your face.  You could see specks of brown and red in them.  On another face, you might’ve thought they were lovely.
“I suppose for now I will keep my motives to myself,” Eris told you with a soft smirk on his face as he reached down and tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.  It was a gentle touch, and yet it set you on fire.  You couldn’t help how bothered he made you, how the simplest look or touch seemed to aggravate all of your senses.  You blamed it on your centuries-long hatred.
Without another word, Eris winnowed away, leaving you in the healer’s test to question his motives and what he could possibly want from you.
Eris’s POV:
As Eris watched the healer’s work on your unconscious body, he tried to stand still, to relax.  He hadn’t felt this unsettled, this fearful, in a long time.  Perhaps since his brothers were sent to kill Lucien.  Here you were, a female he had never met, and yet he would have done anything to ensure that you opened your eyes, that you lived to see another day.
When the healer’s actions made you whimper and grimace in pain, a growl left Eris’s throat involuntarily.  The healer gave him an apologetic look, likely understanding exactly what his territorial nature meant.  Eris hated being so transparent, hated having his feelings on display.  He had spent centuries learning how to hide how he felt from his father and his brothers, and yet here he was growling at a healer over a female he didn’t know.  He sighed, trying to unclench the hands he was unconsciously balling into tight fists.
When your eyes finally opened and you blinked lazily at the world around you, trying to piece together what had occurred, he felt a wave of relief, of gratitude flow through him.  There you were – his perfect mate.  You were more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.  Not that he had ever dared to imagine being blessed with a mate; for both his sake and the sake of whatever poor female was tied to him for the rest of her life.
When Eris saw the way you looked at him, the unbridled rage and disgust, he knew exactly what you were thinking.  He had known you were from the Night Court due to your armor and blades, but only a true friend of Morrigan would feel so strongly towards him.  He longed desperately that he could tell you his side of the story in that moment, that he could make you understand that he had only wished to help Mor, but he knew what it was like to have someone you love hurt by another.  Eris knew what it was like to feel that rage; that distrust. 
Someday, perhaps, he would be able to show you who he truly was.  Someday, when his father was dead, he could remember what it was like to be vulnerable again, to drop the cruel mask he had adopted long ago.  Maybe someday, you might even come to care for him.  But for now, he wouldn’t force it.  For now, he would let you live in the world thinking he was a monster; let you hate him.  If for no other reason than to ensure you were safe from his father.
For now, he would find some way to be okay with the way you were looking at him with all your anger and distrust because at least you had your eyes on him.  For now, that would be enough.
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munsonbrackets · 6 months
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Astarion x undying male reader (2)
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I rewrote it! I like this one more than the other one, hopefully you all enjoy ver. 2 as well!
TW: angst, graphic(ish) depitctions, SPOILERS FOR ASTARION'S STORY
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You and Astarion walk down the steps. The steps that are gonna decide the fate of him forevermore. 
Who lives, who dies.
At the end of the stairs, Cazador starts his speech. The rehearsed words fall into crumbling deafening sentences, leaving you silent as Astarion speaks up for himself.
“You son of a bitch.” Astarion sneers and leaps towards starting the fight against his former master himself. You do not manage to grab him.
Before anyone can even register what’s happened, Astarion is sent to his spot. His spot, his place in the ritual, it glows and shimmers as if to mock and disturb you. Which it does.
Cazador stares at you, the contained rage flittering across his expression. Next thing you feel is his closeness to yourself, the heat running from your throat. His claws had dug and slashed and you feel the burning, red hot, blood draws down and in, suffocating and heating and dizzying. You fall to the floor, the liquid leaving you, leaves you feeling restless, but so fucking tired.
The rest of your party startle in for the fight ahead as you lay useless, suffocating on your own blood. The next thing you see is your own blood forming around you, your eyes blacking out. It never stops hurting.
And as you wake, your companions are struggling, fighting against the plentyfull of foes that you so cruelly left them fighting alone. 
Your hand pushes your head off the floor first, no one has yet to notice the sudden life stuttering its way through your body. But the desperation never leaves your head. How long?! You scream, but no words leave you. Your mouth dry and parched, the words catching on the cut that is struck across your throat.
As you look up you realize that Cazador is at his last step. The last part, a mere handful of seconds left. You push yourself off the ground, your legs carry you faster than your newly living lungs can keep up with, but you catch him.
You catch Cazador as you leap towards the edge, a bone crushing grip settled around his ribs. You drag him to whatever pit of hell awaits under his sick idea of a ritualistic battleground that he had built to ascend.
To become great.
To take away Astarion.
The descent towards the floor of the pit goes by in seconds, but Cazador is scratching and pushing, biting and attempting to flee. You will not let him. Your keen ears hear his body connect with the ground a mere millisecond before yours does. A mere fraction of a moment, that you use to hope. Hope that this stopped the ritual, that Astarion is safe.
And once more everything is black.
You cannot help but wonder if they tried to pay Withers. To bring you back. What he said, what they discussed, would they try to get your body? Put themselves on the line for your unanimated corpse?
You were perhaps nothing more than a splotch on the ground, but you still thought. You were thinking. You are thinking.
Your eyes open with the same voracity as the breath you take in. No longer a splotch, no longer a pile of mess. You were in your own body again. In your own body, with heat. Heat pouring from your beating heart, pumping the blood and startling your limbs to reset. Your tears start and you sob. You wretch every gasp of air through your body as you lay at the bottom of a seemingly endless pit.
And as your brittle bones register the muscles surrounding them, they realize they are not so brittle after all. They are living. Moving, constricting, cramping, releasing. They tense as you push yourself to sit up.
Seemingly endless vastness peers down at you from the great beyond that you see when you look up. Climb, no think, just climb, no look around. Your head and heart scream, striking your ears with a piercing pitch. 
You look around first, no one just makes a ditch. It has to have a purpose. Your aching legs agree to push you up, the all too familiar burn spreading through your body. The burn that you have labeled ‘The experience of one more life’, the feeling of living. Again.
You trudge insecurely across the unstable floor that you cannot see in the complete darkness. Your eyes only adjust enough to see your own nose, you’ve learnt that your eyes wake up last, probably due to the separate immune system awakening to the…situation?
You put your hands up, stumbling into a wall, following it, finding an arch. A doorway, probably. And stairs. Stairs. Inside the doorway. You crawl up, making sure that one hand follows the edge, your other leads you. Slowly. 
As you get nearer to the top, your body no longer burns from life, but from exhaustion. Step by step, you near the dim light of the ritualistic battlefield that you fell from. Dead silence.
Your heart once more burns as you realize that you left your companions to fight, you forced a hand that Cazador couldn’t have dealt. You never even felt what should have been Cazador’s splotch on the ground that you awoke on, nothing sticky, icky or gooey. The light finally shows you your hands, which are covered in nothing but dust and dirt of some kind.
The far top reveals that you just climbed a tower, the bridge that would have led directly to Cazador’s ritual is completely broken. But your companions might need help, they might not have lived like you always seemed to. They might need you to pay Withers. Bring them back. Your legs brace themselves for the jump towards the center. You should have jumped further, you realize, as your chest collides with jutted bricks, your breath cascaded out as your nails dig into any crevice they can get hold of. A single slip and you start over. 
You refuse. You clamber up the edge, sitting right behind what would have been Astarion’s circle. No ashes, no bones, he must be alright. A quick glance tells you that no bones here are mildly human. You push your legs forward once more, stand up. Walk over past Cazador’s empty tomb, his distraught body slowly succumbing to the laws of nature. But not gone.
You stomp over his skull, then you pause, then you repeat. Again and again and again, the heat of rage spreads through you. Fuck this place, fuck Cazador, fuck this ritual. 
Your head thumps as you look towards the stairs leading up, leading out. The steps are tenfold worse than from the tower, the adrenaline gone, the rush faded, even the anger disappeared as quickly as it entered. 
The top of the stairs is adorned by voices, whispers almost. Then only the silence broken by your tired steps on the staircase. You practically drag your body the rest of the way. Another doorway, leading to…people.
People with swords pointed at you, bows drawn, daggers at the ready. The monster hunters stand ready, their weapons drawn. The center of them, just in front of the elevator that leads out. Astarion. Beautiful, kind, Astarion.
Astarion who pushes past the hunters in front of him, Astarion who runs to you, Astarion who leaps into your arms. Your legs barely brace for his body's impact, before they give in and the two of you collapse onto your knees, the hard floor doing nothing for the pain that shoots through your body.
Gorgeous Astarion who sobs into your embrace as you hold him. The tears stream down your own cheeks, the command for everyone to stand down is given. Astarion pulls away, peels himself away from you. The lack of him makes you feel cold.
“You-” Astarion sneers, “I saw you! What did y-”
He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence as the tears cascade over his angry expression and he sends a flurry of weak punches into you. A sob wracks through his body.
“Cazador knew you! You know he knew you.”
You realize Astarion’s eyes are not filled with anger directed at you, but himself. He remembers you. He remembers handing you to Cazador.
“I forgive you, Astarion. I would throw myself off an edge to save you a million times over.” You mutter back, your hands finding the sides of his face. You bring his face to yours, plant a sweet kiss on him. You pull away and plant Astarion’s forehead against you. His hands hold yours, still on his face.
“You’re that invulnerable boy. I’m so sorry.” Astarion mutters through more gasps and sobs.
“I forgive you, I forgave you a long time ago, before ever meeting you again. You’re my everything, Astarion. I wouldn’t change a thing about the past if it meant I would never meet you again.” You tumble out, the saltiness of your tears entering your mouth as your words stumble. 
You fall into each other's embrace again, a silent promise. Truth goes both ways. But not now. Now is reserved for this.
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beebopboom · 4 months
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Aziraphale’s Flaming Sword
get your mind out of the gutter - seriously it’s gonna get worse
i’m sure someone has already pointed this out and some meta post have been made but I just wanted to infodump about the actual history behind this sword so yeah
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His sword is modeled after the Roman Gladius -or is it the other way around ;) - specifically the Pompeii version - so let’s just get into breaking this sword down
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The Hilt
This type of sword has a three part hilt consisting of a pommel (which is used to counterweight the blade), a grooved wood grip (so your fingers fit better and thus have a stronger grip), and a guard (protects the hands from slipping onto the blade)
The Blade
For the Pompeii version of this sword it has double-edge sides that are parallel and come to a short, strong point - typically it would be made out of steel
Size
Usually ranged from 18-28 inches as it continually got smaller and smaller over the years
The History
(the most widely excepted one at least)
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The Pompeii is actually one of the latest versions of the Roman Gladius so let’s go back to the beginning
The official origins of this sword have been up for debate but as for how it came under Roman influence that is credited to the Punic Wars in 3rd century B.C. (Republican Rome) - specifically to the Iberians who were allies to the Carthaginians and used a short sword that came to be called the “gladius Hispaniensis.” After the wars the Roman army (besides the cavalry) adopted these swords and began to make changes to better suit their needs.
Thus the Mainz-Fulham gladii came to be. It was their first attempts at making this devastatingly destructive sword the perfect sword for their use so they pretty much ended up retaining the shape (wasp-waisted) and only really making it shorter - mainly used to get through chainmail
Then the Pompeii version comes along with new parallel sides and a shorter tip - along with also making the whole sword smaller once again - mainly used to get through plate armor
This sword would then last the Roman legionary and auxiliary infantry until 2nd century A.D. when they are replaced with the spatha
But in the end this sword served the Roman Empire for more than three centuries, in both their Republic and Imperial times - that’s pretty damn impressive
Fighting Tactics
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The Romans are pretty iconic for their tight formations and their Scutum shields
They also carried three different types weapons with them - couple of spears/javelins, a short sword, and a dagger. Obviously we are going to focus on the short sword
Soldiers actually wore their swords on their right side instead of their left because they were in such tight formation they didn’t have room to draw it across their body
With the exception for a Roman Centurion - who were commanders of a unit of about 100 soldiers and 60 of these guys(and their men) made up a Legion - as they wore their swords on the left
Now for what made the gladius so useful to the Romans was that it is mainly a thrusting sword - quick and efficient stabbing - which worked best with their formation but because it was also a double-edged sword it was great at cutting too if their formation ever broke
What they would do is while they were in their formations and trying to advance on the battleground they would take their sword and thrust it beside or above the shield - if they hit their target it more than likely resulted in a fatal injury. Though they weren’t above cutting their opponents at the knees - quite literally because if the opportunity arose they would lift their shields above them and slash at their knees.
It was all a very efficient way of fighting that served them well
obviously this is a very condensed version of a lot of history but it is the Human history behind Aziraphale sword
(and yes this is the type of sword the Roman soldiers have on them at Jesus’s crucifixion)
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charlosvibesonly · 2 months
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Racing Hearts - Part 2
A Max Verstappen Imagine
Part 1
pairing : max x fem! reader/driver
the aftermath of their unexpected kisses is driving the racing world crazy. and y/n can't help but fall for him.
please lmk if you want this to be a series!
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The night air was filled with anticipation as you and Max stayed there, lingering in the aftermath of the unexpected kiss. As days passed, you found yourself inexplicably attracted to Max in a way that surpassed the excitement of the racetrack. The articles and headlines about your growing connection were impossible to ignore, and soon, even you were caught up in the romance that they portrayed.
Snippets from articles read,
"From fierce rivals to unexpected lovers, Y/N and Max's story is straight out of a Hollywood script. Once a battleground, the racetrack is now the backdrop for their burgeoning romance."
"Fans can't get enough of the unexpected chemistry between Y/N and Max. Is it love or a strategic move to keep the competition on track?"
"In a surprising turn of events, the racetrack has become the stage for a love story that transcends the finish line. Can these racing rivals make it work off the track?"
The tabloids and fans alike speculated on the authenticity of your relationship, dissecting every shared glance and lingering touch. Amid it all, you found yourself genuinely liking Max, a realization that both thrilled and terrified you. The thrill of racing was now accompanied by the happiness of stolen glances and the gentle brush of hands during press events.
It was the Silverstone weekend. Y/N went to a club at her friends’ persuasion. The dim, pulsating lights cast a hazy glow over the dance floor, where bodies swayed.
However, the vibrant energy took a swift downturn when you stumbled upon Max. His presence stood out amidst the chaotic dance floor, his sleek black attire making him an unmistakable figure in the sea of people. Your breath hitched as you caught sight of him, his arms wrapped around another girl, their laughter blending with the bass-heavy music.
At that moment, the world seemed to slow down, the rhythmic beats of the music fading into the background. Hurt and blindsided, you felt a sudden weight in your chest, and a knot tightened in the pit of your stomach.
His eyes met yours, you could see the realization dawning on his face. Without a word, you turned away, determined to escape the suffocating atmosphere.
Max hurried after you, pulling you back.
"Where are you going?" he asked a mix of concern in his eyes.
"Somewhere I don't bother you and your date," you replied, your anger palpable.
“Must have been so fun right? Playing with me.” your voice breaking.
Tears rolled down your cheeks, and you left without giving him a chance to explain. 
Arriving at the hotel, you retreated to the solitude of your room, hoping the night would make you hurt less. 
It was race day. And you wanted revenge. Max and you were in a very close fight for the championship, this win could give you an advantage. And you wanted it. 
Rain was forecasted. The downpour was obviously in Max’s favor. You cursed your luck. But decided to give him an equally tough fight. You weren’t the kind to back down.
As the cars navigated the treacherous turns, the rain intensified, challenging even the most seasoned drivers. The spray of water, illuminated by the headlights, created a dazzling display that added a layer of drama to the already high-stakes competition. The race unfolded like a dance between machines and elements, a battle not only against each other but also against the relentless forces of nature.
Amidst the chaos, Max executed a surprising move, a strategic decision that played a pivotal role in helping you secure the lead.
“Y/N wins the British Grand Prix!”
The noise was deafening.
But you weren’t celebrating. A thousand questions ran through your head. Your eyes searched for Max. Making your way towards to garage, you stood in front of him.
So many things you wanted to know, but all you could say was, “Why?”
"You stopped talking to me, Y/N," Max began, his voice cutting through the chaotic symphony of the rain and engines. His gaze bore into yours, seeking understanding. "You just went away. I wasn't playing around, and I certainly wasn't on a date. She was just a fan, a little too eager. You have to believe me; I'd never mess with you like that. I think I like you too much for it."
As he spoke, Max's emotions played out on his expressive face. There was a hint of regret for the misunderstanding, a touch of vulnerability in the admission of liking you, and a determination to set things right.
In the midst of it all, the call to the podium interrupted, leaving Max's explanation hanging in the air. 
On the podium, with rain still pouring down, the fans eagerly anticipated a kiss. The scent of wet asphalt mixed with the sweet champagne hung in the air as you stood next to Max. Your racing suits, now drenched, clung to your bodies, creating a scene that echoed the intensity of the race you both had just conquered.
In that charged moment, emotions swirled within you like a storm. The recent hurt and confusion from the club scene were still fresh, an ache in your chest that begged for resolution.
Seizing the moment, you took Max's face in your hands. Your eyes revealed a mix of emotions – anger and hurt were there, yes, but underneath it all, a burning desire to set things right, to redefine the narrative that had spiraled out of control. The kiss that followed caught Max off guard.
Surprised by your sudden boldness, Max responded with eagerness. He pulled you closer, the racing suits sticking to your bodies like a second skin. Max lifted you into the air, clearly showing how eager he was. As you hung in his arms, Fernando, sharing the podium, grabbed a bottle of champagne and poured it over both of you. The kiss continued, undeterred by the rain, and crowd.
As you broke away, you realized that you were no longer rivals; instead, you were something undefined, something that went beyond the racetrack.
The post-race interview was a chorus of questions about your evolving relationship. 
"Y/N, Max, can you confirm if this is a real romance or just a publicity stunt?" one reporter asked.
You exchanged a glance with Max, and laughing you replied, "It's as real as the rain pouring down on us."
Another reporter jumped in, "How did this happen? Weren't you arch-rivals just a while ago?"
Max, a playful smirk on his face, responded, "Well, sometimes, the best races happen when you least expect them."
The other drivers were caught equally off-guard. Charles said in his interview, ”I thought I was the only one with a surprising performance today, but clearly, I underestimated those two.” And he chuckled while watching their kiss being replayed over and over again.
During the interview, your phone buzzed with a text from Max, "Meet me at 9?"
Your smile was his answer. 
Clearly distracted, a reporter tried to grab Max’s attention, "So, are we going to see more public displays of affection in the future?"
Looking at you Max answered, "Well, you'll have to wait and see. We're just getting started."
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alienstardust · 6 months
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* come up for air and you pull me back to the start (sanji x f!reader)
♫ “GHOST” MEG & DIA
Fic request: she’s his wife and while at arlong park and gets shot in her side while fighting one of his crew members, and after taking him down she finds her husband.
She doesn’t tell him not wanting to be a burden or bother, and since she’s wearing a dark clothing it isn’t easy to notice the blood.
Eventually, after a bit her move meant become sluggish her face sweaty and her vision blurry. She passes out eventually.
it’s up to you if she dies or not - @writing-fanics
A/N: Sanji imagine. *PHEW* again. just took a lot of feels for this one lol! Love, i really hope I captured your request. The ending is a bit open ended? You can interpret how you see fit. Tapping into one of my favorite authors Paul Tremblay. Feedback and comments are appreciated! Thank you for all the reads! ♥ [Warnings: a bit of spoilers from the show, violence, TW death mentioned and some sweet stuff]
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This rescue mission should have been easy. It is something you have done countless times before. You aren’t someone new to the battleground. You grew up - a self-described - scrappy individual. You had to fight and outwit the strangers to get what you needed for your survival. 
You learned to fight by watching others, you taught yourself to be a sharpshooter. The pistol in your hand was an extension of you. You always were quick to draw it, take aim, and pull the trigger. It was the pivotal part of how you made it so far.  
So, how you let one of Arlong’s damn pirates get the best of you felt like defeat consumed your body. You attacked him first. You loaded your own gun, cocked it, and watched the bullet lodged into his arm. He ignored the fresh wound; he slapped you across the face and growled as he wrapped his hand around your throat. He lifted you up off the ground and shook you. 
“You’re on the losing side!” He tossed you aside watching as your body crashed into a nearby post and brought out his own pistol. You coughed after the wind was knocked out of you and wiped the blood from the tip of your mouth. 
You stood up to stand on your feet ignoring his next move - he pulled the trigger into your abdomen. You fell forward, gently touching your side and seeing the blood on your hand. “Losing…” he whispered harshly.  
You clenched your jaw, punched the ground, and got to your feet again. You ran at him, kicked his knees, and punched his jaw. When he was starting to stumble losing his balance, you held his shoulders and dug your knee into his torso. 
“I think you are.” You said to him as you reached for his spare gun at his side. You held it against his chest and shot twice. The pirate sucked in his breath as he tried to grab at you, clawing at whatever piece of you he could get to. But you stepped away and watched him fall over. 
You lifted your dark blouse and gently touched your wound. You shut your eyes, dropping down the blouse. It was going to be okay - you were going to be able to fix this. You had been shot before and you survived. This would be no different
Hearing the loud noises from everyone else, you knew you couldn’t stand around. You wiped your hands on your trousers and looked at your left hand. Your ring was covered in red. Grabbing a piece of your blouse, you cleaned off your wedding ring. You had to get back to him, you needed to help him. 
The pirate behind you was lifeless so you picked up his weapons and went on your way. 
“Sanji.” 
——-
THE BEGINNING. “Faster! Paddle faster!” The fellow escapee yelled at you as he desperately tried to force you to move, he had his hands in the water trying to make a faux paddle. You and him were trapped on a pirate ship, you took the first opportunity to take the dingy and set sail. He was only a young boy, you couldn’t leave him behind on that vicious ship.
“I’m going!” You growled annoyed at him as you tried to use the paddle. You glanced behind you and saw one of the pirates try to catch up to you. Ahead of you was a big boat that seemed to be like a restaurant. There had to be people there who could help you. “There!” You pointed.  
You and the boy paddled harder until you reached the dock. You leaped out and reached for the boy’s hand, yanking him onto the dock. Once you two were stable, you ran inside the restaurant. People filled the tables, eating their meals and talking quietly amongst themselves.  
“Help!” You yelped out. The boy squeezed your hand hard as he leaned into you. The people around only stared at the newcomers. No one seemed to budge or move. They stopped eating and gawked. 
“Yes?” A blonde-haired waiter cautiously walked over to you. “How can we help?” 
“A pirate. An Arlong pirate is after us,” the boy squeaked and turned to see the seaman walking through the door. The pirate huffed making his way to you. 
“This is mine,” he hissed digging his hand into your shoulder. He started to pull you back. The waiter politely, contently placed his hand on the pirate’s arm. 
“I will kindly ask you to leave.” He smiled calmly.
“Gladly.” He smiled wickedly and started to drag you backward. 
The waiter twisted the pirate’s arm, kicked him in the abdomen, and sent him toward the doors. You and the boy widened your eyes at what just happened, you yanked the kid to you and moved behind your savior. 
“I think you’ve overstayed your welcome” The waiter used the heel of his hand to ram under the pirate’s chin and shoved him outside. The pirate stumbled backward into the water. The waiter came back to you and shoved his hands into his pockets casually. 
“Hello. My name is Sanji. Welcome to the shitty restaurant Baratie. I’ll be your waiter for today.” He glanced at the boy then over at you, did a little nod of his head, and smiled. You breathed in. 
“Thank you.”
——
After taking down the pirate, you kept your hand pressed to your side as you wobbled your way to Sanji. You found him and he rushed to you, hugging you tightly. “Whoa. Okay.” You let out a strained laugh and looked at your husband. 
“Are you okay?” He cupped your face and kissed you softly. You only nodded thinking you could handle this. You kept reminding yourself that it was going to be okay. The wound didn’t even hurt as much anymore, you kept moving with Sanji.
“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” You put on a smile and kiss him again. “Is she safe?” Your eyes scanned the crowd to spot Nami with Luffy, Zoro, and Usopp. You felt a sense of relief when she was reunited with you all. It was your mission to rescue your friend, the crew member. She had been taken and you all made it your mission to get her home. She needed you all, and you weren’t going to leave her behind. 
Sanji studied your face for a moment, then pushed it aside as you placed his arm around your hip. You kept close as you both joined the others to exhale a big sigh of relief to be reunited. 
Nami smiled with mixed emotions at everyone she gave you a hug. You hugged her back, smiling softly at her. Everyone reunited and started making their way to the boat. You leaned against Sanji, pressing your thumb on your ring telling yourself it would be okay. You were fine. 
As you reached closer, you could hear Luffy saying something but it all sounded like mumbles. You widened your eyes as you tried to concentrate on his words. But nothing was making sense. Sanji turned to you as he said your name. The side of your body was becoming warmer than before, it was feeling wet. Your blouse was becoming too sticky to touch.
The crew members were doubled, so you blinked and it fixed itself. You took a misstep nearly falling but Sanji caught you. You forced a smile up at him and nodded when he asked if you were okay. 
“I…” You started to say and then stumbled forward nearly falling over onto the deck. Sanji yelled out for help as he hugged you to him. He knelt down with you to catch you before your head hit the wood. He was stuck between gently placing you down and holding you close. Your body was beginning go limp against him. 
“No. No. No. NO. Zoro!” He called out to his friend. Zoro and Usopp ran over to Sanji to help him carry you inside one of the rooms. They set you down on the bed. You couldn’t make out any words, your eyes opened and closed. Your hand was covered in blood as you tried to hold Sanji’s hand, but you couldn’t hold it. Your arm dropped to the side. Everyone was around you, trying to figure out what happened 
“She’s been shot, Sanji.” Nami gasped as she pushed up your blouse to see the wound and blood dripping down the side of your body. The red was smeared across your belly, soaking your trousers.
“Fuck! No no!” Sanji yelled out, his voice cracked as he knelt down beside you. He didn’t care that your palm was red, he still kissed your knuckles. “Don’t. Don’t “ He begged. “Please…I love you. Don’t leave me.” He pressed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes as he caressed your cheek.  “Please. This isn’t…don’t. Help.”
“Sanji, you should move back. Please…” Nami instructed her friend as calmly as possible but still carrying a soft tone.
 Luffy tried to grab the chef to pull him away from you. “Luffy. Please. I can’t lose her. This isn’t fair!” He cried out but forced himself to allow his friend to take him backward. 
——
THE MIDDLE. The rain was coming down hard. Your white bohemian-styled dress was getting drenched. The veil you made was beginning to fray at the ends. Despite the weather, you couldn’t get the smile to fade as your eyes locked with your future. 
“This wasn’t what I had planned,” Sanji laughed nervously as pushed his damp hair to the side of his face. He took your hands into his. His fingertips rubbed your knuckles trying to calm himself. 
“I don’t think I did either. I had something very different in mind,” you smiled happily. You kissed his cheek, wiping away the bits of water droplets. 
“Neither did I!” Zeff announced and looked between you. “Are you sure you want to do this? Marriage?” 
Sanji and you nodded in unison, giving Sanji a squeeze of the hand. 
“Alright. Let’s get you married, then!” Zeff said firmly. It was rainy but it somehow fit your story, yours and Sanji’s. He rescued you from the waters, it only seemed right to pay back Mother Nature with a joyous ceremony. 
You didn’t think you and the sous chef would be exchanging vows. You actually didn’t think you would get married. The thought of belonging with someone did mess with your head. You grew up taking care of yourself. Your parents weren’t in the picture. So being independent was all you knew how to do. 
Sanji weaseled his way into your story. After the day he scared away the pirate, you and the kid stuck around. Zeff allowed you to help around the restaurant and hired you to be a waitress. The boy was in charge of washing the dishes. 
You and Sanji started to grow closer. You mocked his flirtatious ways with the female customers. His comeback would be “Are you jealous, little dove?” You rolled your eyes and played it off, but you never answered the question. 
You would find little treats in the mornings when you started your shift. They were perfectly wrapped in small boxes, your name was beautifully written on a card that sat on top. You would pick it up, and glance in Sanji’s direction and he only gave you a lopsided smile. It was difficult to avoid him. You had been caught together in heated kissing sessions by other staff while trying to hide in the storage rooms. 
“Please. Take this to your room.” They would tell you. Sanji and you would smile guiltily. You did that. You found yourself spending less time in your room and would sneak into his. He would welcome you as if he was waiting for you. He scooted over on the bed, you slid in next to him. 
One night as you two lay in bed, Sanji was particularly quiet. You rested your chin on his chest, and traced his lips, tapping them with your fingertip. “Hey.” Your voice sounded drowsy and your eyes were halflided. 
“Hey.” Sanji smiled softly and traced his initials on your bare back. “I have a question for you.” 
“Yea, you are the greatest chef.” 
“Oh, I know.” Sanji scoffed playfully before pressing his lips softly against your forehead. His fingertips ran up and down your bare shoulder. “You've captured me. You’ve held me and I don’t ever want to lose that. You are who I have been searching for.” Sanji outlined your lips with the tip of his index finger. “Will you marry me?” 
Your eyes went wide when he asked unsure if you heard him correctly. “I’m sorry?” You gasped as your lips started to form a smile. 
“Marry me,” Sanji repeated as he intertwined his fingers with yours. He brought the clasped hands up and kissed your knuckles. “True love doesn’t happen every day. You shouldn’t let it go.” 
You nodded your head and let out a nervous laugh. Then, your lips crushed against his as your kiss filled with passion. A few happy tears streamed down your cheeks while you cupped the side of his face. “Yes. Marry.” You stumbled through the words. “Yes, I will marry you, Sanji.”
He laughed and put his arms around you bringing you as close as he could. He peppered you with his kisses. Then, he tucked his fingers under your chin and kissed you softly, slowly, savoring the moment. “Mrs. Vinsmoke.” He said your name sweetly. 
——-
Sanji sat next to you as you lay with heavy bandages around your abdomen. Your bloody clothes sat crumbled up on the floor. He had dressed you in an extra loose blouse. He held your hand, spinning the ring on your finger. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you.” He whispered to you. 
He kept his gaze fixed on you. The crew paced outside the room, mumbling to each other. He didn’t allow them inside. He feared they would try to pull him away. It had been a few days since the battle. There was no telling if you were going to pull through. Only time will tell. 
Luffy carefully took a step in with a plate of food. “Sanji…” He said in a cautious whisper. “I think you-“ 
“I love you, Luffy. But not now. Please leave.” His voice stayed monotone. He didn’t bother looking up at his friend. 
Luffy nodded and stepped back outside. This time, Nami came in and placed the plate down on the table. “Eat, Sanji. You think she would want you like this?”
“This is-” Sanji raised his voice and stood up. He narrowed his eyes at Nami but she didn’t back down, instead, she only looked at him. “Leave, Nami.” 
“Say it. It is my fault is that what you wanted to say? You can blame me all you want. I still love you and her. I will do what I can.”
“You don’t know what I want to say. Leave, Nami! Now” Sanji pointed to the door before he sat back down. 
Nami clenched her jaw and looked from Sanji to you. She walked to the opposite side and placed a gentle kiss on top of your head. “Wake up. Okay?” She whispered before walking out of the room, closing the door behind her. 
Sanji chewed on his bottom lip before caving in and picking at the food. He sipped the water. He leaned back into the chair. 
“I could see it. I don’t think I ever told you.” He started to say. “I could see us having a life together, building something of our own. It would belong to us.” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze. 
“We could open our own place. A little restaurant. Continue being pirates, I think. And our kids would help, of course.” He smiled sadly as he continued to paint his picture. “I’ve had a rocky relationship with my own family. So I wouldn’t want that for ours.” He took another bite of the sandwich and chewed quietly. 
“I know you’re not one to give up. So don’t start now. I’m here. You have me.” He kissed your forehead and closed his eyes. “Please wake up. If you were to lea…” He started to say but then choked on the words. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. “I’d follow.” The words were so quiet, barely audible.  
He turned letting your hand go. He walked to the door and opened it. His friends were seated outside. He looked at their faces before finally breaking. Luffy moved first to hug him tightly, soon the others joined. 
“I may not know much, but I do know she’ll wake up.” Luffy nodded and smiled at his friend. 
——-
THE AFTER. “You see my boy, it’s all about precision. You have to filet your fish running down the bones to the spine, you don’t want anything to go to waste.” Zeff spoke gruffly but gently as he held his fillet knife, slowly sliding it down the fresh tuna. 
A blonde boy with bright blue eyes stood on his tiptoes while balancing himself on a crooked stool. He smacked his lips together as soon as the piece hit the heated skillet and released the savory fumes. “It comes from the heart, always remember that. Cooking is a piece of you.” 
The boy nodded vigorously and gave him a meaningful salute. “Yes captain, my captain,” the words were forceful, imitating the chef’s facial expression, but then the boy couldn’t keep a stern face for much longer and smiled wide. He scooped up a handful of carrots and started munching. Zeff widened his eyes but then softened. He let out a light chuckle. 
“You’re just like your father.” Zeff continued to prepare the plate. The boy smiled wide and leaped off the stool. He ran to get his fishing gear, then headed to the dock to his usual spot. A small determination to catch the next largest fish was buzzing inside of him. 
He pressed the bait onto the hook and sent the line out. The boy counted before he would reel it in. However, his fishing trip was cut short when a large ship came rolling in and making dock. He abandoned his fishing gear and ran to the ship. “Papa! Mama!” The little boy waved his arms excitedly when he saw the Straw Hat pirates coming down, knowing who was next. 
Sanji and you exited the ship, helping to tie the ship to the posts. The boy leaped up when Sanji finally walked over to him, he picked him up and hugged him tightly. “Rei!” He kissed his son’s forehead, smiling relaxed, and let him down to run to you next. 
You were kneeling down on the dock, holding your arms open to welcome the hard hug. Rei tackled you down, making you laugh. It had been a long month since you last saw your son. Being around him finally made you feel at peace. 
You had a long conversation with Sanji about not taking Rei with you because of the rumors other pirates were after Luffy. Usually, Rei joined your adventures aboard the Straw Hats, but there were times when you felt it would’ve been best to leave him somewhere safe. 
“I missed you!” The four-year-old nuzzled into your neck as you welcomed Sanji’s hand to help you up. You didn’t let Rei go, you carried him to the Baratie. Sanji ruffled up Rei’s hair, smiling contentedly. 
The two of you weren’t sure if you could provide something stable for your son. Pirates raising a child? You were scared you would fuck up, but after a long conversation, many late nights, it was settled. Sanji reassured you that you both would figure it out together. He wasn’t going to leave you. If you got stuck, he would be there with you. 
“I missed you too.” You kissed his cheek a few times and smiled when he started to whine. 
“Yuck…” He made a face and cleaned off his cheek. Once you were inside the Baratie you placed Rei down who was already blabbing about Zeff teaching him cooking skills. He took his spot between the two of you, taking your hand and Sanji’s to tug you both. 
“What else did you learn?”
Rei scrunched up his face and then shrugged. “A lot.” He answered simply while he let go of your hands, then zigzagged his way to Zeff who was already waiting for him with a chef’s hat. 
Joy. The feeling exploded inside of you seeing your son so happy and safe. This wasn’t what you pictured at all. You were ready to lose it all back at Arlong Park all those years ago. You were ready to welcome death. 
Your friends were around you and waited for you to wake up. Sanji stayed by your side, refusing food while he waited for you to wake up. He kept asking you to not give up and keep fighting. You could vaguely hear him say that you were going to wake up, you weren’t done. 
“True love doesn’t happen every day.” 
“Hey.” He kissed your forehead, wrapping his arm around you. “I think you should get out of that head of yours, love.” 
“I am. I'm just happy.” A small joyous laugh found its way into your words. “We did this. It’s….”
“Grand?” He smirked. 
“Yes. One way to say that.“ You let out a little laugh and rolled your eyes. “Don’t wake me up if this is a dream,” you whispered to him as your lips pressed against his.  
“It’s our dream. We can stay here. Together.” You could see his demeanor was slipping into that relaxed feeling, a sense of quietness. He smiled softly at you. You searched his eyes for a moment not sure what you were looking for. This was yours. You. Him. It all came together. You exhaled. 
You intertwined his hand into yours to tug him along to walk to your son. You adjusted the chef’s hat on your son’s head as he smiled wide at the both of you.
Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while. - The Princess Bride.
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