#greatly dislike that woman

[mcgeet]

#burrows end #d20 #burrow's end #burrow's end meme #d20 meme #only b+ i ever got #she also told us at the beginning of covid that half our grandparents were gonna die and that we had to get over it already #and that if we ever wanted to know the right answer to put the opposite of this one girl up front's answer #greatly dislike that woman

[lunellum]

Just had a neighbour come up to us to tell us to deal with the wild grass growing by our back gate because "people have been complaining about the mess" and

Dear neighbour, we know "people" means you. You're the neighbourhood busybody. It's you.

#lunellum personal #I pulled most of it up because I don't want to make a fuss but honestly I dislike that woman greatly #Also I prefer a little green in the back alley over everything tiled always even if some people think they're weeds #there is no such thing as a weed except what humans deem undesirable #tiles are very bad when it comes to how hot public spaces get #this blog is pro weeds and anti tiled over public spaces

[ioniiaa]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2

Quick Notes:

This is when both reader/you and Alastor are both alive. (... we'll probably end up in hell later on btw so stay tuned...)

Reader is an artist/painter.

Part 2:

Every day and night you had to stay trapped at home, it felt like nails on a chalkboard after that one fateful meeting that night.

The only thing that made the time bearable was the radio. Alastor told you he hosted a radio show. As so, you soon became one of his most loyal listeners. Anything to relive the moment when you felt like a person again.

So when the night finally came, that you could escape to Mimzy's establishment the next town over, you were over the moon at the chance to see Alastor again.

Luckily for you, your husband was going to be away for a week this time.

That night, you made it to the bar a bit later than usual, you had to be extra sure that it was safe to leave town unnoticed after a close call of almost being discovered by some relatives that lived nearby.

When you enter the bar, you hear some piano music. It wasn't unusual for Mimzy to invite musicians or let patrons play some music at the piano that resides in the bar, as long as they didn't get boo'ed off the stage. But this music stirred something in your soul, making you hurry into the bar.

It was Alastor.

You gasp, your heart beating a million miles a minute. You were so drawn to him. In this moment, the jazzy music that filled the air and filled up all the holes in your heart. You were captivated. So captivated, that you forgo greeting Mimzy and the bar entirely, in favor of walking over to Alastor at the piano.

He gives you a surprised look before smiling and immersing himself in the music once more.

You smile back and you can't help but sing along to Alastor's piano playing. The song was a classic, and also one your personal favorites.

As you sing, you sit down on the piano bench next to him. You notice he doesn't open his eyes, but the smile on his face deepens as your duet continues.

When your song comes to an end, it feels like you came back down to earth. The bar erupted in applause, the embarrassment flushing your whole face pink. You look over to Alastor who's looking at you with such a warm expression.

"My dear, what a lovely voice you have. Your talents truly seem boundless. I am quite surprised you knew that song."

You spend the rest of the night tucked away in a private corner talking with Alastor about all sorts of things, interests, likes, dislikes, deep conversations about life, and even your fears. But never once did you mention your home life, you'd rather die than let Alastor find out. The last thing you need is for him to treat you differently.

When you mention you listened to his every show ever since the night that you first met, his eyes light up and something in him clicked. He took your chin gently in his hand and brought your face closer to his, "Oh my, I have never met a finer woman with even finer tastes in entertainment~" which caused your heart to flutter like never before.

The tension and feelings between the two of you were palpable. It was clear to the rest of the bar that the two of you were smitten with each other, something akin to love at first sight. You tow were inexplicably drawn to each other.

You wish you didn't have to leave and go back home. But you knew you had to get home before dawn, even if you were going to come back the next day/night anyway. Relatives and in-laws usually liked to stop by unannounced and if they found the house empty, you'd be in for a world of punishment and pain. It happened once, and you would rather not relive that experience ever again.

So even though it pained you greatly, you had to say goodbye to Alastor. As you stood up to leave, Alastor's hand still held yours, you could tell he was reluctant to let you leave. Very rarely did he have the chance to enjoy such cultured and lovely conversation. With a sad and somber expression, you walked away, his hand slowly sliding out of yours.

"I hope you come back to me, ma chérie ..."

-> Part 3

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #fanfic #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor radio demon #alastor x y/n #x reader #x you #reader insert #female reader #fem reader #part 2

[bleachification]

⸻ JEALOUS, JEALOUS BOY

pairing: sanji x reader

word count: 5.7k

synopsis: life as a pirate is never boring, especially when your best friend is sanji—a flirtatious chef who can’t seem to sort out his feelings, or yours, for that matter. that makes things all the more complicated when you’re forced to go undercover and sanji is dragged along with you as your very fake husband. the million-dollar question is: when lines start blurring, how do you differentiate between what’s fake and what’s real?

+ + + + + + + + + + + + +

“We broke up.”

“How long? Two months?”

You shrug. “I stopped counting anniversaries after the first couple of failed ones.”

Sanji swings his knife a tad too forcefully. The loud THUD of it smashing into the cutting board causes you to jump. You peer over the counter and grimace at the sight.

“God, what did that poor tuna ever do to you?”

Sanji continues slicing into the red flesh, more aggressively than before, but still with the same care and precision that he affords every ingredient he touches.

“Why?”

“Why what?” You lift your gaze to his face, smiling softly at the concentration twisting his features. It’s one of the things you admire greatly about Sanji—the sheer dedication and love he has for his craft.

“Why did you break up with him?” Sanji repeats. He’s chopping up a variety of garnish now. Again, with more aggression than necessary.

You raise a brow, but decide not to comment on it.

“What makes you think I was the one who called it quits?”

He sets the knife down and turns to you, blonde bangs falling across his face. Sanji flashes you his signature flirtatious smile, but there’s a strange hint of tension attached to it.

“Who would ever think to break up with you?” He leans in, gaze darkening. “They would have to be crazy.”

You pull back, rolling your eyes. He’s always like this. Coy. Intimate. The ultimate womanizer. Sometimes… you wish it could be different.

“Well, he must have been crazy then.”

“What?” Sanji pauses, confusion etches his expression. “You… wait… he broke up with you?!”

“Don’t sound so surprised. He only beat me to it by a week. I had the decency to try and wait until after Valentines,” you note. You aren’t particularly broken up about the whole thing. Your ex is barely an ex—a summer fling, if anything. But Sanji, on the other hand, is acting as if some horrible crime has been committed.

“I’ll kill him.”

You blink. “Okay. A bit of an overreaction.”

“How dare he…” Sanji mumbles, not hearing you. His hand tightly grips the knife handle, and you swear the temperature just dropped even in the presence of boiling pots and simmering roux.

“Alright, enough. Don’t be so dramatic,” you laugh, moving to gently pry his fingers from their iron grip on the handle. He lets you—watching as you take the blade from him, and relishing in the soft feel of your skin against his. He itches to grab your hand and pull you closer. But he doesn’t. He won’t.

He can’t.

Sanji learned very quickly that his charms and gimmicks weren’t going to work on you. In all fairness, they rarely do, but for some unfathomable reason, he can’t seem to let that particular rejection go. He will always resent that part of him for pushing you away and drawing that boundary—a line you both delicately toe, never to cross over to each other’s side.

Your first meeting was… disastrous, to say the least. Sanji had just met the crew, and was tripping over himself to impress Nami, when you had made your way back to the others after a quick break in the powder room.

You had witnessed all of his shameless flirting and blatant promiscuity on your way back. You immediately took a strong dislike to the blonde chef, his behaviour reminiscent of exes that were none too pleasant.

“I’m back.”

At the sound of your voice, Sanji beamed, turning to strike up another flowery bombardment of compliments and flattery… only to freeze in place when he saw you.

For once, his silver tongue lacked its luster, fumbling before the sight of you.

For once, he knew not what to say or do. He could only stare. Only admire and behold.

“Good job. You broke the chef,” Zoro deadpanned.

You pulled an expression of slight concern and mild annoyance.

“Um… are you alright?” You waved a hand across Sanji’s face. No reaction. The rest of the crew barely paid him any mind, too busy either eating, drinking… or arguing, in Nami and Zoro’s case.

You slipped into the booth next to Zoro, choosing to ignore the bizarre situation, when a deep, rumbling voice belonging to a peg-legged old man boomed from across Baratie.

“SANJI!”

It snapped Sanji out of his stupor, grounding him back into reality.

“Marry me.”

But perhaps not logic.

“What?”

Zoro pulled a face of disgust eerily similar to your own. Somewhere in the background, you vaguely heard Ussop choking on his drink. Nami clapped thunderously on his back. Is she trying to help him or kill him?

Luffy, through all of this, watched with bright, curious eyes.

“Yuuummphh fuu’yyy,” exclaimed Luffy, his mouth full of bread, gravy, and what you can only assume is a whole ribeye steak.

Zoro turned his disgust toward the captain. “Are you kidding?”

Luffy scarfed down another forkful of food, grinning wide as he swallowed the last of his meal. He patted his stomach, content, before turning his attention back to Sanji.

“You’re funny!” He laughed.

“That’s what you were trying to say?!”

Luffy ignored Zoro’s exasperation and just giggled in his usual carefree manner. Sanji ignored them all, choosing only you to spare his attention. You shifted uncomfortably, tension coursing through your veins at the way he watched you. As if you were the greatest treasure in all of the Four Seas and he was the king of the pirates—a man would do anything to covet it. Covet you.

Zoro and Luffy didn’t seem to grasp the situation as they continued to bicker in the background.

“Boys. Stop… FIGHTING!” Nami barked out. A swift smack from the ginger settled them both down, each sulking in a corner as she berated them for their behaviour.

You took a deep breath, willing your nerves to calm. You met Sanji’s eyes and they shone with hope.

“You want me to marry you?”

“Yes. Desperately,” he breathed out.

If heart eyes were real, they would beat within the passion of his gaze. Strong. Intense. Unabashed. You despised it. How could he look at you in that way after mere moments of greetings? It was lust. Nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

“SANJI, GET YOUR ASS BACK IN HERE!”

Sanji clenched his jaw at the voice, frustration and irritation barely contained. His expression smoothed over as he spoke to you.

“Think it over?”

You raise a brow. “What? The proposal?”

“Precisely that,” he smiled. Gorgeous asshole.

“Over my dead body,” you scoffed. Your rejection didn’t seem to deter him though, the grin on his face still present even as he left for the kitchen.

So many sleepless nights later and Sanji still can’t help but sigh whenever he remembers that day. He wishes he could take back his words, his actions… his everything. Maybe you would love him back if he did. Maybe you wouldn’t be dating morons who don’t even come close to deserving you—not that he does, but he would try.

For you, he would try it all.

Your soft voice breaks him out of his trip down memory lane.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal,” you reassure.

Sanji wants to shout, But it is! Don’t you get that? How could losing you not be a big deal?

Instead, he shakes his head and takes a long draw from his cigarette. He watches the clouds waft up in lazy rings, circle around your head, and disintegrate into the kitchen heat. Sanji finds it increasingly difficult to meet your eyes.

“Are you alright, love?”

His genuine concern for you makes you smile. “I’m alright, Sanji. I wasn’t that attached, anyway.”

That twinkle in his eyes. It's back again.

“Really? Then what about my initial offer?” he jokes. Though it doesn’t sound like a joke to him. Doesn’t feel like one either.

“What are you talking about?” You ask. You take a spoonful of the broth and bring it to your lips, ignorant of the tense atmosphere. At least until the magnitude of Sanji’s next words drops.

“You know… marrying me.” Sanji holds his breath.

Shit. Why did I say that? He thinks, regretfully.

You falter, the spoon quickly forgotten in the pot. Your appetite disappears just as swiftly.

“Everytime I think we’re having a nice, serious conversation, you just have to go and… say something like that. Aren’t you bored of it? Tired of all the false promises and sweet talk?” You shake your head and stand up to leave.

“[Name], I–”

You cut him off. “I’m disappointed, Sanji.”

“Please, just hear–”

The kitchen door bursts open to show Usopp, who hurriedly beckons you both outside.

“Crew meeting, come on!”

Sanji turns to you, about to say something else, but you ignore him and follow Usopp out into the hallway and up to the deck. Sanji has no choice but to do the same.

Winter has arrived in the form of early nights and fresh snowfall—as if the chilling temperature itself isn’t enough of an indicator. Your breath crystallizes in the air as the three of you venture outside to where you meet the rest of the crew.

Nami has a large sheet of parchment spread flat across the floor with each member of the crew positioned around it in a wide circle. Upon closer inspection, you realize it isn’t one of her usual cartographic maps. It’s a blueprint. And the subject of it… is a castle?

“Nami, what is this?” You ask as you take a seat next to her.

With a pen, she circles a small room located in the eastern wing of the building’s upper level. It sits above a sprawling space. A ballroom, you wager. The schematics look complicated enough.

Nami begins to explain. “This is a blueprint of Ceres Palace, a high-security manor sitting atop the nearest port city. It is home to a powerful noble family…”

She flips the paper over. “…and this.”

A mass of glimmering golden ink shines under the moonlight, every meticulously painted stroke deliberate and delicate. The image is clear.

“Is that a devil fruit?” Robin inquires, eyes narrowing.

“One crafted from solid gold and pure diamond dust, gilded with sea jadeite. It is the most monetarily valuable ‘devil fruit’ in the world, depending on who you ask,” Nami answers. She flips the parchment again. “And we are going to steal it.”

“Wait a damn minu-“

“Hold on-“

“Are we sure that’s-“

A chorus of protests and concerns rise from the rest of the crew, and for good reason. From just a first glance of the palace grounds, you can tell this will be a risky heist, and something in your gut tells you that there’s more to it.

Nami shuts them all up with a pointed glare.

“Do you realize how long I spent drawing up this stupid thing?! One more word from any of you and I will shove it down your throat. Whole,” she threatens.

No one speaks.

“Good. Now, as I was saying, this heist will consist of two parts. The actual theft and the distraction.”

Sanji raises his hand. Nami points at him and nods.

“Why, exactly, are we stealing someone’s gold…er…artifact? I get that we’re pirates but… a bit out of the way, isn’t it?”

Nami, Ussop, and Chopper sigh in unison. The latter ambles your way and climbs into your lap, snuggling for warmth.

“Hello baby,” you murmur. You smile softly as the little reindeer tucks himself into your welcome embrace. You give Chopper a scratch under the chin before turning your attention back to the conversation at hand.

Zoro barely pays any attention, head bobbing a bit. He’s already falling asleep. Typical. Robin, on the other hand, seems to recognize the object.

“I’ve heard of this. Its original name was The Monarch’s Heart. It belonged to the royal family of that island. Twenty years ago, the king’s most trusted advisor spearheaded a coup d’état and a violent rebellion broke out, ending with the execution of the royal family, as well as the usurpation of the former, now exiled, king.” Robin crouches and lightly brushes the blueprint, tracing along its curves. “All this time, the Heart was believed to have been lost amidst war. You’re saying one of the nobles stole it?”

Nami scratches her head and grimaces. “Well, yeah, kinda.”

“What do you mean, ‘kinda’”? You ask.

“We don’t have any proof. Not really,” she shrugs.

“So, again, why are we doing this?” Sanji reiterates.

“We have proof!” Luffy grins. Your captain finally speaks up, too preoccupied with messing with a sleeping Zoro moments ago.

“Luffy—” Nami starts.

“What? I believe the old man. He’s a good guy.” Luffy pats his stomach. “He fed me.”

“What old man?” You’re getting more and more confused as the meeting drags on.

“Luffy. You met the exiled king, didn’t you?” Robin’s eyes twinkle with curiosity.

“Um… I don’t know? I forgot his name but he was nice. Told me about how his stuff got stolen unfairly so I promised to get it back for him.”

“So you don’t even know if he’s telling the truth? What if he was the bad guy, and the nobles who took over overthrew a tyrant?” Sanji blows smoke from his cigarette as he prods.

“He was not,” Robin states factually. “The king was known to be kind and benevolent, catering only to the needs of his people. Since that nation's birth, the royal faction was always at odds with the avaricious nobility. That tension came to a head in the form of a brutal uprising. Though massacre is much more fitting of a description for what occurred.”

“Mhm, mhm, mhm.” Luffy nods vigorously at her words. “So we’re gonna get his gold back for him.”

“Liberating another nation, are we?” Zoro yawns, barely waking up.

“Seems like it,” Nami sighs.

“It’s what the captain wants,” Robin smiles.

“And what Luffy wants…” you begin.

Everyone else groans.

“Luffy gets.”

“So…” Sanji shifts next to you. Closer. His warmth clouds your senses a little and you try to ignore the dizzying effect it has on you. “How do we do this, exactly?”

“I bust down the door and slice ‘em up,” Zoro offers.

“In your dreams, Mosshead. I could take down—”

You pinch his side. Sanji jumps and turns to you, a slight pout on his face. Despite what happened earlier, you find yourself trying not to laugh.

“You’re not doing that, Zoro,” Chopper scolds.

The swordsman tsks. “Fine. Then how the hell are we actually pulling this off?”

Nami explains the plan.

Sanji turns white.

Your mouth drops open. “Excuse me?!”

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 　

“Oh god, I’m going to throw up.”

Robin chuckles as she hands you silken gloves. “Don’t worry. You’ll do just fine. Remember, get in, pull the alarm, get out.”

“Easier said than done,” you grumble.

The plan is actually much more complex than what Robin makes it out to be.

The palace itself has two separate alarm systems—one for the vault, and another in case of fire. If both are activated at the same exact moment, they cause a complete system break, and the fire alarm overrides the theft security, forcing an evacuation with everyone none the wiser.

The plan is for you and Sanji to infiltrate the party under the pretense of a foreign dignitary and his spouse, survey and locate the alarm, cause a distraction, and pull the alarm the precise moment Nami unlocks the vault. All communicated via Den Den Mushi earpieces.

Easy peasy.

Your clothing sticks to you uncomfortably—tight in areas you don’t normally expose to the world. The scented oil in your hair makes you smell like you had just popped fresh out of the oven. A layered film of glittering makeup rests on your features, rendering the person in the mirror a complete, hapless stranger.

“Why did it have to be me?”

And Sanji?

You don’t voice that last bit.

“Nami’s the thief, the other boys would blow their covers immediately, I have other matters to attend to, and Chopper… Well, Chopper’s a reindeer.”

You run a hand through your hair. Anxiety claws at your skin. You feel a sudden urge to feign illness and rid yourself of this ridiculous plan.

“Must we pose as a couple? Surely there are other ways,” you implore.

“The invites we swiped were from married nobles,” Robin reminds.

You groan. Robin pats your shoulder supportively.

“There there. Don’t fret, you’ll do fine. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Robin gives you another encouraging pat before she ushers you out of the dressing room.

You make your way outside, shivering slightly as the winter winds bite into your skin. The thin fabric of your garments do nothing to shield the cold.

Someone lets out a sharp inhale. You turn towards the noise. Sanji stands to your left, clutching an envelope in hand. His usual suave demeanour is displaced by an air of buzzing anxiety and a starstruck expression.

He’s dressed in a sleek three-piece black suit. It pains you how devastatingly handsome he looks.

“You clean up nice,” you note.

“I…uh. You—Sorry, yeah, what?” Sanji replies, all smooth and intelligent.

“…Pardon?”

Robin watches the entire interaction with a pained grimace. Having enough, she steps up and gently steers you towards Sanji.

“Hurry up, now. They’re expecting you both soon. Don’t forget to stay in character, lest you end up blowing your covers.” She winks at you both, but you can’t help but think it was directed more towards Sanji.

“Shall we?”

Seemingly recovered from whatever alien had possessed him seconds ago, the chef offers you his arm with a small smile. You place your hand around his bicep and try to ignore his rippling muscles underneath your fingertips.

“Color me surprised. I really thought you’d have showered me with compliments by now,” you joke.

“I thought you didn’t like that part of me.”

Disappointment blooms in your chest.

“Right. I don’t. I just…” you trail off. You just thought you looked nice tonight. And maybe a small part of you was hoping he felt the same.

“Never mind.”

You slip your hand out of the crook of Sanji’s arm and start walking a little bit faster, hoping he doesn’t notice the conflicting emotions on your face.

When Sanji first joined the crew, you made yourself a promise: that you would never fall for his charms. But as time went on and he showed you a mountain of kindness, understanding, and empathy… that promise, steadily, became much harder to keep and much easier to forget. It wasn’t his flirting and charms that were dangerous—it was the man buried underneath all that playful pretense. A man who has stubbornly found his way into your guarded heart, despite your best efforts of keeping him out.

It was always easier that way. Easier to turn away, to shut him out. Easier to walk away when you catch him with others who drew his interest and to stop listening as he murmurs sweet nothings in their ears—the very ones he had whispered to you. It was easier to accept that you are not, and will not, be special to him.

You refuse to be just another mark in his book of conquests, and if all it takes is a silent heartbreak to avoid such a fate, so be it. You’ve survived much worse before.

The palace soon comes into view, a grand structure that stretches into the vertical horizon. The path towards the marbled entrance is busy with bustling guests and the glowing orbs of rainbow fireflies. You steadily, and as elegantly as possible, make your way towards the host out in front.

“Good evening, may I see your invitations for the night?” He asks, gloved hand outstretched in expectation.

Sanji flashes him a million-berry smile. “Of course, my good sir. I have them right here.”

He pulls out the envelope you had seen earlier from inside his black suit jacket. The greeter accepts the documents and diligently scans them. After a few seconds, he nods, satisfied by what he sees, and hands the papers back to Sanji.

“Enjoy your night.” He moves aside to let you pass and holds an arm out, guiding you both through the white stone doors.

As soon as you step through the entrance , you are greeted by a foyer fit for kings. A cascading staircase blanketed by red velvet leads to even larger double doors, both white like the walls, but trimmed with gold linings and spiral handles. A crystal chandelier, bigger than you ever thought possible, hangs from the ceiling. It casts shining diamonds in every reflection of the room.

Sanji holds out his arm for you again as you both prepare to execute the mission, but you don’t immediately go to take it. Sanji must sense your hesitation because he sighs and gives you a strained, yet still affectionate smile.

“[Name], please. If not for me, then for appearances. We’re married, remember?”

“Fake married,” you correct, although you relent and slip your hand in the crook of his elbow anyway.

“You don’t have to remind me.”

Arm in arm, Sanji leads you to the ballroom. The doors open to reveal hundreds of nobles draped in silk and pearls, dining on delicacies, and mingling with others of their same social echelon. You already want to go home.

You both find a small table tucked into a corner and stand around it.

“We have to wait until Nami gives us the signal. First, let’s blend in and make sure to look like we belong,” you whisper.

Sanji leans in to hear you better. “What do you suggest? We could hit the banquet table, the food doesn’t look half bad.”

You peer over his shoulder at the platters of hor d'oeuvres and fancy desserts. “They don’t look nearly as good as what you make.”

“Was that a compliment?” Sanji grins.

“Don’t get used to it. Your heads already far too big,” you smirk.

“I don’t have that much of an ego,” he grumbles, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve.

“Hey, don’t do that.” You gently swat at his hand, admonishing him for trying to pull the string out.

“Why? It’s annoying.”

“Yeah, but you’ll ruin it even more if you just yank at it. Hold on.” You pluck a small oyster shucker from a passing waitress’s pocket, with her none the wiser. With the knife, you smoothly cut away the thread and flick it into a bin behind you.

Sanji stares at you in awe. “Did you just pickpocket the…”

“Not a word.”

“Got it.”

“Anyway, we don’t want to ruin these clothes. They’re borrowed. And so much nicer than what we’re used to.”

You pull at your collar to adjust it, only to realize Sanji is staring at you again, but with a different glint in his eyes. One with more… heat. It is only now that you realize how close you are to him—pressed up against his side, thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, as you both converse away from the crowd. Sanji exudes warmth that, mixed with your own cluttered feelings, makes you a bit dizzy. You take a step back. Sanji’s gaze never leaves you.

“Did I tell you earlier how good you look?”

You swallow. “No.”

He steps closer, closing the gap again. “You look good. Really, really good.”

“Thanks. Formal clothing does wonders.” Your laugh comes out more nervous than you intended.

“Unbelievably good,” he murmurs, almost to himself—like he can’t believe what’s right in front of him.

“Sanji–”

A screeching violin note interrupts you and the strange moment you both got caught up in. Sanji snaps back to his usual self and quickly shakes his head, as if clearing away a fog.

“Food,” he coughs.

You blink. “Right. Food.”

“I’m gonna…” Sanji motions towards the buffet.

You’ve never seen him this… awkward. You’re not sure what to make of it.

“Yeah. Go ahead. I’m gonna scope out the place and figure out where the alarm is.”

He stiffly nods, then makes his way across the ballroom. You turn heel and begin walking along the corridors, scanning for anything that may resemble an alarm.

A static noise crackles in your right ear.

“Can…I—“

A sudden spike of sharp feedback makes you wince.

“Sorry! Can you hear me?” Nami’s voice pipes up.

“Yes. Comms are working. What am I looking for, Nami?”

“Something resembling a button, maybe? Look for a red button or something along those lines.”

“Understood..”

After about ten minutes of searching, you finally come upon it, a small red lever nestled in a corner behind the bar, protected by a square glass casing.

You spot Sanji across the room, mid-conversation with a beautiful, young noble. Your chest twinges, but you push the feeling away. His eyes flit to yours and you subtly wave him over, gesturing to the alarm handle.

Sanji excuses himself and briskly makes his way to you.

“You found it?”

“Of course. It’s the whole reason we’re here, remember?” You ignore the lump in your throat.

“Sorry, I got distracted. I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine, Sanji. You were having fun. You don’t have to apologize. Did you get her number at least?” You try and coolly play it off.

His eyebrows knit together. “No. No, I—”

“Anyway, we should figure out how to distract the bartender. He’s the only one who is in the way.”

If Sanji notices your blatant attempt at changing the subject, he doesn’t show it.

“Sure. Any ideas, beautiful?”

“One.”

“What’s the plan?”

You fidget with your sleeve. “He’s been eyeing me all night.”

Sanji makes a disapproving noise. “...I noticed.”

“I’ll distract him. You get the alarm,” you shrug.

Sanji’s eyes narrow. “How, exactly, are you going to do that?”

“C’mon, Sanji, you can’t be that dense. I’m going to seduce him.”

His reply is immediate and final. “No.”

You balk at his flat tone. “What do you mean: no?”

“No. As in opposite of yes. As in absolutely not,” he hisses.

“Sanji. I have t-”

“No as in not okay!”

You place a hand over his mouth in an effort to stop his outburst. “Shhh! Stop that. Are you trying to draw attention to us?!”

He pulls your arm away, undeterred by your growing panic of being found out. “If it’ll get you to reconsider, then yes!”

“Sanji, enough. What is wrong with you? Why are you so worked up?”

“Do you seriously have to ask that?” He cries out, exasperated.

You open your mouth to retort, but Nami’s voice interrupts you.

“Sorry to break up whatever dumb fight this is, but I need someone to pull the alarm in exactly 60 seconds.”

You give Sanji an expectant look. He firmly shakes his head.

“Not happening.”

Before you can stop him, the chef makes his way to the bar, stumbling as if drunk. Before you know what’s happening, Sanji pulls a whiskey bottle from behind the bar, much to the bartender's protests and dismay. He takes a large swig, and you blow out a breath of relief when he sets it down.

Then he picks it back up again. You watch in horror as he lifts the bottle up and… accidentally pours the entire thing onto the champagne tower beside him. The glasses overflow, and the weight of the extra liquid becomes too much. One by one, the glasses come tumbling down in a landslide of alcohol and crystal.

The bartender cries out in distress. Sanji is unapologetic.

You run to the alarm amidst the mess.

“Ready, [name]?”

“Whenever you are, Nami.”

She begins counting down and the moment you hear: Now!, you pull the handle.

All hell breaks loose.

Blaring alarms ring out, drowning out every other possible sound. Sprinklers sprout from the ceiling and rain down on the partygoers, soaking them and the luxury furniture. Hundreds of panicked patrons scramble to leave, directed by equally flustered staff.

You feel a tug on your sleeve. It’s Sanji.

He tries saying something but is drowned out by the chaos around you. Frustrated, he beckons you over and motions for you to follow him.

After a couple minutes of navigating through screaming nobility, you end up on a secluded balcony away from all the activity. The alarms are barely louder than bells on this end of the palace.

You take a second to catch your breath. Both of you are drenched to the bone, and the chilly winter air does nothing to help your chattering teeth.

Sanji notices your shivering form and immediately drapes his jacket over your shoulders.

You smile gratefully at him, but falter when you see the frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Take it out.”

You blink. “What?”

“The earpiece. Take it out,” he says, impatient.

“Why?”

Sanji runs a hand through his hair in both irritation and anxiousness. “Because I’m going to confess my love for you and I don’t want everyone to hear it. They’d never let me live it down, especially that green-haired freak.”

You freeze. Your thoughts freeze. Every fucking thing stops dead in it’s tracks, including your heart.

“Sanji, this isn’t funny.” Your voice trembles.

“Baby, take the earpiece out. Let me talk to you,” he asks softly.

You don’t say anything, you don’t trust yourself to. With shaking hands, you take the Den Den Mushi out and turn it off.

It is only you and Sanji now.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you echo.

“[Name].”

God, why does he have to say your name in that way? Like it means something more than friends—like it’s worth its weight in both diamonds and gold.

“This still isn’t funny.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not joking,” he says, tone as serious as you’ve ever heard it.

You sigh. “What are we doing, Sanji?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m trying to confess my undying love to my favourite person in the world. It’s scary.”

“You say that—”

“I mean it,” he interjects.

“What makes me different? What makes me…”

Worthy of your love?

Sanji reaches for you, but stops himself at your expression. You continue questioning his words.

“How do I know this isn’t just some temporary thing? A fleeting crush?” You swallow hard. For some reason, you’re unable to meet his steady gaze. “How do I know this is real?”

He rubs the back of his neck, conflicting emotions flickering across his face. Sanji struggles to find the words needed to convince you. He tries his best, anyway.

“I know what my reputation is like. I know the personality I present to the world. But after I met you, none of it seemed worth it anymore. There was no appeal to living that type of life,” he pauses. Sanji lifts his head and stares straight at you, unwavering in his words. “The moment I saw you, I thought I’d die if I couldn’t be yours. I still think that now.”

Oh. Your chest is trying to kill you. That’s the only explanation for the ache you feel.

“I trust you with my life, Sanji. But not my heart.”

The alarms have stopped by now. Soon, people will come trickling back inside and the mission will be over. This moment in time will soon fade into the background of reality.

“I only ask that you give me a chance.”

“What makes you so sure that you’re the kind of guy I want to be with?”

“As opposed to your exes? Those guys—none of them deserved you,” he scoffs, annoyed at the mere mention of them.

You raise a brow. “Do you?”

“No. Of course not,” he answers. “But I want to try. Please, god, let me try.”

Your hands are still shaking, but not from the cold.

“We should get back to the ship,” you say, a strained smile on your face.

Sanji’s face falls at your deflection, but he accepts it and doesn’t push. He nods, and you both make your way back to the Merry, an uncomfortable silence hanging over you like a wet blanket.

You are only a couple hundred meters out from the ship when you stop abruptly. Sanji almost crashes into you, but steadies himself at the last second.

“Is something wrong?” He asks in concern.

Before you can lose your nerve, you whirl around and utter two words: “One date.”

It takes Sanji a few moments to understand what you just said, but when he does, he lights up like a kid on Christmas Eve. One who just met Santa. The sheer joy on his face makes it all worth it.

“You’re not messing with me, right? Please say no,” he shakily pleads.

You shake your head. “One. Make it count.”

Instead of answering, he throws his arms around you, wrapping you in his warm embrace.

You loop your arms around his neck and he melts into you, never wanting to let go.

“I’ll make you say yes to a second one. And then a third. And then a lifetime of dates after that. I swear it on my honour as a chef.”

“It’ll have to be a pretty damn good date then,” you laugh.

Sanji presses his forehead on yours.

“It’ll be the best date.”

“And how do you know that?” You tease.

“Because you will be there.”

—

˚ · . tags: @zjarrmiii @aiizenn @emyyy007

#x reader #one piece #op #one piece live action #opla #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x you #luffy #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #zoro #nami #usopp #nico robin #chopper #one piece x reader #one piece fic #one piece fanfiction

[warrioreowynofrohan]

A few different people have been observing that Scrooge begins to change more quickly in the book than is often shown in adaptations. The Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come isn’t the one crucial factor breaking his obstinacy, but rather a final message to drive home a point that Scrooge had already become receptive to. I want to trace the shape of Scrooge’s progress over the course of the book and see what it reveals. (There will be some ‘spoilers’ here, since the story seems fairly universally known even among those who are reading the book for the first time.)

After Marley’s appearance, he is disturbed and discomfited, but still trying to hang onto denial and not face what he’s been told.

With Chistmas Past, adaptations often treat it like a psych session - see, you hate Christmas because you were so miserable during it. But in the book, that isn’t the point at all. Scrooge sees times when he was unhappy as a boy, but he also sees what comforted him during those times - reading and imagination, which his adult self would dismiss asfrivolous and unprofitable - and recaptures his joy in those things. He sees times when he was happy, like at Fezziwig’s Christmas party. And he sees how he’s become the kind of person who made his younger self unhappy rather than happy, and how easy it would to be otherwise.

He sees himself asan unhappy child, and wishes that he’d been kinder to the young boy singing carols at the door. He sees himself happily employed with a kind, generous and personable employer, who could create a vastly more pleasant workplace climate at trivial expense, and wishes he’d been nicer to Bob Cratchit.

And then he sees Belle, and is shown that his unhappiness is of his own making and the consequence of hus own choices. His being the selfish, avaricious person he is is not the consequence of Belle breaking up with him; it is the cause of it. She saw him already becoming that person, and chose not to follow him in that path. Her choices left her a happy, loving and loved woman; his left him unhappy and alone. Scrooge cannot bear this, and rejects and fights the spirit rather than face it.

But he has nonetheless already begun to change. Whereas he initially did not want to go with Christmas Past (“a night of unbroken sleep would be more conducive to [my welfare]”), he willingly goes with Christmas Present and expresses the desire to learn and benefit. He sees people in all manner of circumstances, good and bad, choosing to take joy in each other’s company and the comforts, small or great, around them. Many adaptations fail in this, focusing Scrooge’s attention on the idea that people dislike him (Mrs Cratchit; his nephew’s joke) but in the book Scrooge clearly greatly enjoys his nephew’s party, the nephew is being good-humoured and generous and expresses his goodwill towards Scrooge, and Scrooge doesn’t mind the joke at all. He sees the Cratchits making the best of what they have, and how he is making their lives harder than need be. He sees, in many ways and places, how he could be making others happy and being happy himself, rather than making evrryobe miserable, and it is an appealing picture. And Present calls him out, several times, on his past words and sentiments, and Scrooge repents them.

By the time he meets the Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come, he is already willing and prepared to change, and making deliberate plans to do so. The thing that I think is emphasized through the scenes with Yet To Come, as a driving home of the point, is that Scrooge’s actions up to this point have not only made him and others unhappy - they are an utter failure at getting Scrooge the one thing he had prioritized: wordly security, respect, and dignity. In Belle’s words, his turn to avarice in his youth was in hopes of avoiding the “sordid reproach” that the world has for poverty. He was fine, and even pleased, with being feared rather than loved - what he did not want was to be patronized, despized, looked down on.

And now he sees where that got him! His business partners don’t even care to attend his funeral. Men whose respect he hoped to have gained don’t even give him a second thought, and for the brief moment they do, think ill of him (“Old Scratch” is Victorian slang for the devil). His chambers and even his body are plundered (tomorrow’s reading is even more graphic about this, in some lines, than most adaptations). He’s buried in an obscure, untended, weedy churchyard, because no one cares enough about him to make other arrangements. He has none of the worldly respect, regard, dignity for which he turned to money as a protector. Past and Present showed that he was wanting the wrong things; but Future shows him that he wasn’t even achieving the things he thought he did want, amd was in fact achieving their opposite.

The point of Future, then, is not to convince Scrooge to change. He has already chosen that he desires to change. Future alone, without the earlier spirits, would be supremely ineffective; showing Scrooge that his servant and the people around him hate him, without first showing him that he can be happy and make other people happy, would only make him more of a misanthrope. This is not a “scare ‘em straight,” as some adaptations play it. The point of Future is as a final guard against backsliding, against regret: you are losing nothing by changing, because your current path is losing you even the paltry things you sought to gain by it.

Also, I hadn’t really registered this on previous reads, but this is the very near future - the Christmas one year after the period of the book. This is never stated outright, but Christmas Present says of Tiny Tim, “If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my race will find him here” - meaning, no future Christmas. And, in the visions with Christmas Future, Tiny Tim has died only a few days ago. In the words of Dante (paraphrased) “the time was perilously short for turning.” The Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come doesn’t teach the lesson - that’s the previous spirits - but he makes sure it sticks.

#dickens december #a christmas carol #charles dickens #scrooge

[justmediocrewriting]

“White Lace,” {v.s}

Summary: it’s laundry day on the Merry, and ever the gentleman, Sanji offered to take Nami’s place when the navigator explained that she was too exhausted to attend to the chore. Sanji expected to simply find a sore back and pruny fingers by doing so, but instead he found much more…

Or: Sanji finds a pair of your white lace underwear, and you catch him in the middle of washing them, resulting in some tension and embarrassment between the both of you.

Genre: spice (no smut, but dirty thoughts and suggestive themes)

Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Requested: ❌

Warnings: I kinda feel this could fall under voyeurism to an extent, because Sanji does find a pair of your panties and kind of like plays with them, so maybe it does? Idk. Some rather not-so-innocent thoughts from Sanji, sexualization, very slight virginity kink if you squint really hard, panty sniffing, panty licking, sexual tension(ish?), female pronouns and parts mentioned

A/n: so I’ve got roughly 10+ things in my drafts right now but this literally WOULD NOT LEAVE ME ALONE, so I knew I had to write it. I hope you hoes enjoy ❤️ might do a part 2 idkkkk. 18+ under the cut, ye have been warned.

{=================================}

Sanji found comfort in routine. For some, a humdrum life would become quickly boring, but for Sanji repetition was key to his sanity. It was the main reason that Sanji was so fluidly quick in creating a new routine from the first day he’d agreed to set sail with Luffy — that and that it had helped cure the insistent anxiety of being at sea again after so many years of remaining stationary.

Sanji greatly disliked breaking routine unless the situation absolutely called for it; a battle, for example, or in this morning’s case, a beautiful woman asking him for help.

Sanji enjoyed routine, but he enjoyed satisfying women a lot more.

So when Nami had entered the galley, hair mussed and eyes hazy and unfocused with a small basket of laundry perched delicately on her hip, Sanji was quick to abandon the first step of his daily routine (taking inventory of the galley stock) and pluck the basket from her arm.

Nami sighed gratefully and her shoulders slumped with relief.

“Thanks, Sanji.” Nami muttered, voice heavy with exhaustion, and Sanji felt his heart lurch with sympathy. It wasn’t as though he was a stranger to fatigue.

“I spent most of the night drawing the charts to the next few islands. I guess I got so wrapped up in it I just hadn’t noticed how much time had passed.”

Sanji nodded along to her explanation as he gently set the basket of clothes atop the island counter, and in the process he inadvertently let his eyes skim across the articles within. Colors popped against one another, like a cluttered rainbow of pinks, blues, whites, reds, and teals — from what Sanji could see they were mostly shirts.

“Laundry day, aye?” Sanji asked conversationally, tearing his eyes from the basket to smile at Nami. She groaned and brought a hand up to massage the back of her neck as she nodded.

“Yeah. There’s a few of my shirts in there, but it’s mostly (Y/N)’s clothes. She washed mine last week, so I agreed to wash hers this week.”

Sanji frowned and appraised the tired woman before him; it pained him to see a woman like Nami having to work so hard. He’d always felt that life at sea, what with so much to maintain, was far too harsh for a lady — ladies were meant to be spoiled and taken care of, at least in Sanji’s eyes. Nami had chosen a life at sea, and Sanji knew that with this decision she’d long accepted the responsibilities of such, and he had no doubt that Nami could handle it, but if Sanji could do something to help relieve her of some of the work he would.

“I can take care of it for you, if you want.” Sanji said, and Nami’s eyes snapped open. She looked equal parts relieved and panicked by his offer, and she hesitated for a moment before shaking her head.

“No, Sanji, I couldn’t ask that of you. You’ve already got enough on your plate.” Nami murmured, and then, as if it were an afterthought, she added, “we all do.”

Sanji rolled his shoulders in dismissal of her worry. “You’re not asking, love. I’m offering. And I’m not too terribly busy; it’s still early, so I’ll have plenty of time to prep breakfast before Luffy wakes up.”

Nami bit her lip, and she looked minutely closer to accepting the offer, but there was still a hardened hesitation in her eyes. Sanji smiled ever gently at her.

“It’s alright, Nami. Why not go back to your quarters and rest for a bit? I’ll take care of this.”

Finally, Nami sighed and relented to acceptance. With a small but grateful nod, she gave Sanji a tired smile before turning on her heel to exit the galley; before she did so, she placed a manicured hand against the door frame and sent him one last glance.

“Really, Sanji, thank you. Once you’re done washing them you don’t have to worry about hanging them to dry; just come get me and I’ll do that.” And with that Nami breezed from the galley, and Sanji gave a small chuckle at her attempt to take some of the load off of him. Even if it was Nami’s turn to do the laundry as was her responsibility, Sanji wouldn’t allow her to set them to dry — he’d do that himself, as well; and he even set it in his mind that he’d fold them as well.

It wasn’t until Sanji pulled out the first shirt that he began to feel as though he shouldn’t have offered his help; because the fabric in his hand was familiar, and it dawned on him that the majority of the clothes in the basket were yours. It was a detail that Sanji had skimmed by when Nami was explaining the situation, and now the reality of it was hitting him like a ton of bricks.

Sanji’s skin prickled as if he were committing the most atrocious sin, and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself. The shirt in his hand was one of your favorites; you’d worn it a lot, and just looking at the rumpled article supplied Sanji with various memories of you donning it. It looked rather pleasant on you, especially when the hem of it rose slightly to reveal the smallest sliver of skin when you moved in just the right way, and Sanji had to quickly place it back in the basket and take a deep inhale to staunch the blood flowing towards his groin.

Sanji’s attraction to you was something that he vaguely felt might be out of hand; he was a lover of women, yes, but never had he experienced a pull as strong as the one he had towards you. Maybe it was the way innocence practically poured from your aura, or the way your cheeks brightened with any pet name or compliment he offered you, as if such attention was a completely new experience for you — whatever it was, it was highly alluring to Sanji, and he found himself wanting more and more of it – of you – every day.

Sanji flared his nostrils a few more times, every breath deep and steadying, repeatedly telling himself that he wasn’t doing anything wrong and his intentions were of the best, and to get a fucking grip, Sanji. Just wash the clothes and be normal!

As he relocated the basket next to the sink and pulled out a pale yellow shirt Sanji deliberately tried to focus his thoughts on anything other than the fact that he was touching your clothes, that you’d worn them and they’d clung to your skin and more than likely smelled of you, of that wonderful floral perfume that was subtle but nearly overpowering in close proximity — that thought alone had Sanji itching to bring the fabric to his nose and inhale, and he had to quickly turn the faucet on and shove the article beneath the stream of water to avoid doing so.

Piece by piece, mechanically and as empty headed as possible, Sanji soaked and washed the clothes under the stream of water, wringing each article out generously to avoid the chance of mildew. By the time he was half way through the basket, Sanji felt confident that he could get through the process without too much trouble (or too many inappropriate thoughts or southward flowing blood); but that was quickly wiped from his psyche when he mindlessly groped within the basket and laid touch to something soft and small and lacy.

Upon pulling it out to examine it, Sanji was hit with a flush of arousal so strong that it nearly knocked him off his feet; gripped within his fingers, soft and lacy and so, so delicate looking, was a pair of white, sheer panties. Sanji’s entire being short circuited, train of thought screeching to a halt and brain being instead assaulted by a myriad of images — of those sheer white panties clinging to your hips, cupping the swell of your ass in such a tantalizing way, hem resting against your tummy and rising in time with your labored breaths as Sanji picked you apart molecule by molecule —

“Stop,” Sanji hissed to himself, cursing his traitorous dick when it hardened to half mast in his dress pants, twitching in approval with each new image and thought that flashed into his hind brain. Sanji knew he should look away, knew he could stop these reactions if he just put the panties away, abandoned the task and fetched Nami instead to finish it — and though Sanji swore to himself that he wouldn’t do that due to his pride as a gentleman, the deepest part of him knew that he wasn’t going to do it because he was curious, and he was enjoying this, as much as that fact ashamed him.

Panties were one of the most, if not the most, intimate articles of clothing a woman could wear; they covered the sweetest fruit, kept it protected and out of sight, and they constantly shifted and hugged that sensitive pearl beneath. They were precious, and the fact that they belonged to you made them even more so.

Sanji nearly groaned at the thought; he could so clearly see you wearing the panties, see the way they hugged against your pussy, could imagine just how drenched the center would get as he worked you into oblivion with his lips —

Sanji opened the panties and this time, a groan did slip past his lips — because right there, in the center of the bridge of the panties, right where they would cling to your pussy, the fabric was slightly darker, and Sanji’s dick jumped at the sight. The overwhelming urge to shove them against his nose and breathe in the phantom traces of your slick sent alternating waves of arousal and intense shame through Sanji, because that was dirty, these panties were dirty, they were yours and it would be such an abuse of your trust in him if he did something like that — but the longer he stared, the stronger the urge became, and soon enough arousal had completely consumed shame, and Sanji quickly brought the panties to his face, shoving his nose directly into the center and inhaling. Sanji panted heavily against the fabric as the sweet scent entered his nostrils; it was faint, as he’d assumed it would be, but it was there, and it was so much sweeter than Sanji could have ever imagined.

Sanji pressed his hips into the counter as he took in lungfuls of your scent, hissing lowly at the pressure against the straining bulge in his pants, hips moving just so to chase a semblance of friction — consumed by sudden lust and the thought of you, the scent of you, and the urge to taste where you were sweetest, Sanji laved his tongue against the dried patch of slick, moaning haughtily into the softness of your panties.

Sanji’s surroundings and reality seemed to completely melt away as he lost himself within the sensations of smelling and tasting you, something he so longed for — just as much as he longed to corrupt you, to show you all the naughty things he shouldn’t, like he longed to see you wearing these panties, so innocent and white, and see them become forever stained from actions that were too devious and sinful for such a color.

Sanji wanted to stain you — he wanted your innocent little brain to fog over with lust, to see you discombobulate on his cock as he stretched you wide, as he took you to heights you’d never been, watch those beautiful eyes of yours roll back and watch you bare that lovely neck to him, to bite and mark and cover, to claim you, inside and out.

Sanji let out a guttaral groan as his hips picked up speed; the counter was firm and hard against his cock, a far cry from the soft, wet warmth he craved to be buried inside, but it offered friction, and with how hard his cock was, that’s what he needed, even if it was a bit unpleasant.

As consumed as he was by the myriad of sensations stoking his arousal, the soft rapping of knuckles against the wooden doorframe of the galley was almost lost on him; but thankfully, his ears had picked it up, and as if they had burned him, Sanji threw the panties into the sink below him. There was a soft splat against the steel, and Sanji winced as he realized the bridge of the panties had been soaked with his saliva — thankfully, the sound was too faint to be heard from the doorway, and the relief that offered Sanji increased tenfold as he turned to look over his shoulder and caught sight of you.

Sanji’s breath caught in his throat, and nearly all traces of arousal had been chased away by deep-seated shame, and Sanji did his best to smile at you through the guilt.

“Good morning, love. Is there something you need?” Sanji forced his voice to stay calm despite the sheer panic and guilt threatening to weigh it down; Sanji’s heart was thundering within his chest, battering against his ribcage with the force of a raging bull, and he willed his erection to just go away —

But his dick was not cooperating with him, and it stayed rock hard within his pants as you smiled back shyly and began to approach him; as you turned the corner of the island counter, Sanji belatedly realized that you had a small basket tucked under your arm, with a few articles of clothing within.

“Nothing much, Sanji. Nami told me you were helping with the laundry today, and I found these in our room so I thought I’d bring them in and offer you some help—”

Sanji watched with growing dread as you paused just a couple inches from the sink, your eyes zeroing in on the panties within and widening as your mouth dropped into an ‘o’ shape (which did not help with his erection, as his mind went to very shadowy places from the sight), and your cheeks went from normal to beet red in seconds (which also didn’t help, because it was far too pretty of a color on you).

Heavy, awkward silence fell over the galley as you stared, frozen, at the sink — Sanji wanted to look away from you, knew that you were far beyond embarrassed right now and that his staring was certainly not helping, but he simply couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Arousal was still thrumming beneath his skin, and it was like seeing you in a whole new light; knowing that those sweet, innocent, pretty panties belonged to you, that you’d worn them, that they sat snugly against your pussy and became saturated in you, in your innocence, had his dick twitching and fingers itching to pull your body flush against his. He wanted to see you wearing them for him, wanted you to bend over and present to him, so that he could see the outline of your pussy, soaked and ready, through the fabric —

Sanji inhaled sharply and tore his eyes away from you, and part of him wanted to stutter out an apology, beg for your forgiveness — he was being so shameful, sexualizing you objectifying you in the way he was, craving to take away your innocence, something that was so deeply ingrained into who you were —

But the words were stuck in his throat, unable to move past the lump of sheer shame and regret, and even if they could, would Sanji really have the courage to admit what he’d done, let alone apologize for it?

He truly didn’t know if he would.

Sanji’s actions had been so unbecoming, had went against the very essence of his code — but that was just the simple fact of it; you had this effect on him, a tendency to bring out the worst in him. And if Sanji were being honest with himself, he enjoyed it. He secretly loved the fact that you could draw that dormant beast from its slumber, all without even knowing you were doing it.

“Those, um… those are…” to Sanji’s surprise, it was your voice that broke the silence, and though he knew it would only stir him up more, Sanji snapped his eyes to you. You vehemently ignored any eye contact with him, gaze still locked on the sink, and in the blink of an eye with movements that were much faster than Sanji’s fuddled mind could perceive, your hand shot out and you ripped the panties from the sink, throwing them hastily into the basket before resituating it on your hip.

“I’ll w-wash these later,” you mumbled, cheeks still flaming, and Sanji hated the way his dick twitched at the sight. It was such a show of innocent bashfulness that it made Sanji heat from the inside out. Finally, you made the briefest of eye contact with him and gave him a small nod. “Carry on.”

Then you were turning on your heel and swiftly exiting the galley, leaving Sanji alone with his own thoughts, a half empty laundry basket, and a roaring flame of shame and guilt that Sanji didn’t think could ever be doused.

#opla #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #sanji x reader #op #one piece

[sassydefendorflower]

I've just realized something about General Olivier Mira Armstrong.

Finally, I've come to understand the reason why she hates Mustang so much - and why she still respects his men.

Olivier Armstrong is a military woman down to her very core. In that she is an interesting character because she is in many ways complicit with the military dictatorship ruling Amestris while also condemning it. She's a political moderate, a mediocre politician, a fierce warrior, and a great leader.

We don't know much about General Armstrong outside of her military career - and her relationship to her brother. We know she's the only female general in the upper brass, we know she's been nicknamed "The Northern Wall Of Briggs" and "the Ice Queen", we know she cares greatly for her soldiers... and she despises cowards.

Now how does she define a coward?

That's were things are starting to get interesting. Because General Armstrong called her brother a coward multiple times because he failed to do what was right in Ishval - but, important to note, it wasn't the heinous acts themselves that she condemned (though it is implied that she does indeed condemn them) but the fact that her brother didn't follow his own principles. He didn't abandoned the Amestrian army to fight for the people he had sworn to protect even though he wanted to. He just went home. And that's what makes him a coward in her eyes.

This aligns with everything else we see about her. She calls Mustang a "sniveling coward" multiple times and notes his lack of a backbone. And yet her dislike of him doesn't seem to run as deep as her disappointment in her brother. Some of that might just be that Alex is family and that means personal relationships do indeed play a role... but some of it is probably the very simple truth that Mustang is trying his best to make up for what he did.

He also failed in her eyes, following orders he knew were wrong, but where her brother fled, Mustang had the strength to stay and look his victims in the eyes as he killed them.

Mustang's team on the other hand did something that General Armstrong very much appreciates: they chose Mustang and his goals the same way the men of Briggs chose her.

Mustang might be a coward and a fool in her eyes, but she can respect the choices his team made.

There is one scene near the end of the show that showcases that beautifully. In episode 58 (or 57) Izumi and General Armstrong get the general to confess the brass' plan to sacrifice the Amestrian people in front of a bunch of soldiers and - after hearing their own death sentence uttered by a commanding officer - the soldiers are unsure how to proceed.

And Armstrong gets angry at them.

Because they are simply following orders. They were killing her people and condemning her country - simply because of some orders that they never learned to question.

And in General Armstrong's eyes that's the actually unforgiving act. Killing and slaughtering for the army is not something she has any problem with (as evident by the Briggs soldiers bloody takeover during the Promised Day) but it needs to be an act of conviction. Looking away and hiding behind orders is what Armstrong sees as cowardly.

It's what Mustang did in Ishval and what his men failed to do when they followed him willingly. It's what Alex couldn't see through, but Olivier made sure her soldiers knew before joining her.

She wants to change Amestris and it's military, not because she's an idealist like Mustang, but because she wants a military in which each soldier is responsible for the people they kill.

It's fascinating because General Armstrong doesn't have the moral high ground - she doesn't see the military as rotten the same way Mustang does, and she doesn't see killing as wrong the way Edward does. She doesn't even contemplate her own kills with shame the way Hawkeye is prone to, or judge the system as harshly as Izumi does.

But she does have a strong moral core as a character, one that would perhaps even agree with Kimblee's famous quote: "Look straight at the people you kill; don’t take your eyes off them. Do not ever forget them because they won’t forget you." - and if you don't agree with an order given? It is your duty as a soldier to defy it.

That's why she can trust her men to plan a coup without her being there to lead them - because she knows every choice they make will be one they can live with. Just as every order they follow is one they can justify.

She is an interesting character because she questions the system while endorsing it - and that puts her at odds with both the military complex and Mustang and his team. It achieves complexity in what could very easily have been a simply narrative.

Olivier Mira Armstrong hates cowards - but she respects those who stand up for their believes, even if those believes defy her.

#fma #fma meta #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #olivier mira armstrong #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #edward elric #fma brotherhood #character analysis #alex louis armstrong #solf j. kimblee #shes like... a moderate at best #she is definitely pro military #but at the same time #she would have supported every soldier #who changed sides during the ishval genocide #because at least that meant they were ready to die for their believes #and stand up for them too #very cool and complex character writing

[iceandpeaches]

Heyy I was wondering if you could do a Luke castellan x Child of Apollo Reader, where She’s loves her dad so much but gets disappointed by him and joins Luke into joining Kronos and they’re like the evil power couple?

sorry it took so long! also.. sorry for how short it is i’m in a bit of writing block..

you loved your father. you were awfully loyal toward him, defending him at any opportunity that others tried to dull him down. you looked up to him greatly, praying to him everyday and thanking him for everything. some could say you were apollo’s favourite child. there were times that your father disappointed you though.

he had sent you on a quest to retrieve a sacred lyre to restore the balance in the mortal world having to confront rogue demigods who were disrupting this balance. you had picked out luke and another friend of yours to go on this quest with you.

the quest didn’t succeed. you and luke barely made it out alive, but your friend died.

you came home to camp with scarring on your face, which destroyed the sweet apollo child look you always had. your blonde hair was dirty and bloody, dulling your appearance. your brows were furrowed, permanently creased into an angry frown. you were angry, furious even. you hated your father. you wanted nothing to do with apollo. you had lost respect for your father, ranting your distaste to luke.

luke empathised with the dislike, which made you bond with him closer than you had before. so it was no surprise when luke decided to recruit you. destroy the gods, he said. take back our glory, he said. your loyalty towards your father was lost and your loyalty towards luke had grown. of course you joined him. you wanted your revenge.

when luke had revealed himself to be the lighting thief, you were ready to depart from camp to go on the run. you had met up with luke in the woods, escaping with him. for months, you both spent your days recruiting other demigods while having a spy at camp, eventually finding the princess andromeda as residence and base of operation.

years go by and you’re basically luke’s right hand woman. every moment you by luke side, leading the army along side him. there was no turning back for you anymore, you were no longer the sweet and kind apollo girl you once were at camp.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackson #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan oneshot #charlie bushnell #i hope this was what you wanted… #sorry if it isn’t :( #peach's fics

[molsno]

I've already written about why male socialization is a myth that needs to be discarded, but in the responses to those posts, I sometimes find tme trans people who concede that yes, the concept of male socialization should be rejected, but refuse to let go of their own supposed female socialization. this always makes me quite reasonably angry, for two reasons:

I dislike it when people hijack my posts about transmisogyny to talk about things that aren't transmisogyny.

rejecting male socialization but embracing female socialization is still innately transmisogynistic.

you might find yourself wondering how that second point could possibly be true. it's true for a lot of reasons, and I'll explain to the best of my ability.

"female socialization" is the idea that people who were assigned female at birth undergo a universal experience of girlhood that stays with them the rest of their lives.

right off the bat, this concept raises alarm bells. first, it is a bold (and horribly incorrect) assertion to claim that there is any universal experience of girlhood that is shared by all people who were afab. what exactly constitutes girlhood varies greatly based on culture, time period, race, class, sexual orientation, and many, many other factors. disregarding transness for a moment, can you really say that, for example, white women and black women in modern day america, even with all else being equal, are socialized in the same way? the differences in "socialization" only become more stark the fewer commonalities two given people have. to give another example, a white gay trans man born in 2001 to an upper middle class family in a progressive city in the north is going to have a very different life than a cis straight mexican woman born in 1952 to an impoverished family and risked her life immigrating to the us in the deep south. can you really say anything meaningful about the "female socialization" that these two supposedly have in common? I think that b. binaohan said it best in "decolonizing trans/gender 101":

Then in a singular sense we most certainly cannot talk about 'male socialization' or 'female socialization' as things that exist. We can only talk about 'male socialization**s**' and 'female socialization**s**'. For if we take the multiplicity of identity seriously, as we must, then we are socialized as a whole person based on the nexus of the parts of our identity and our axes of oppression. ... Indeed, it gets complex enough that we could assert, easily, that each individual is socialized in unique ways that cannot be assumed true of any other person, since no one else shares our **exact** context. Not even my sister was socialized in the same way that I was.

and while I could just leave it at that and tell you to read the rest of their book (which you should), it wouldn't sit right with me if I just debunked the concept without explaining exactly why it's transmisogynistic at its core.

now, I should preface this by saying that I believe trans people have a right to identify however they want, and I think that trans people deserve the space to talk about their lives before transition without facing judgment. there are tme trans people who consider themselves women and there are trans men who don't consider themselves women at all but nonetheless have a lot of negative experiences with being expected to conform to womanhood. I don't want to deprive these people of the ability to talk about their life experiences. however, I do want them to keep in mind a few things.

first of all, "female socialization" is terf rhetoric. terfs talk all the time about how womanhood is inherently traumatic, which they regularly use as a talking point to convince trans men to detransition and join their side. when your whole ideology hinges on the belief that having been afab predestines you to a life of suffering, who is a better target to indoctrinate than trans people for whom being expected to conform to womanhood was a major source of trauma and dysphoria? the myth of female socialization is precisely why there are detransitioners in the terf movement who vehemently oppose trans rights.

that's why when tme trans people talk about having undergone female socialization, it's almost always steeped in the underlying implication that womanhood is an innately negative experience. even if they don't buy into the biological determinism central to radical feminism, that implication is still present. because, you see, womanhood can still be innately negative because the result of being viewed as and expected to be a woman is that you are inundated with misogyny.

that right there is why clinging to the notion of female socialization is transmisogynistic. it allows tme trans people, many of whom don't even consider themselves women, to position themselves as experts who understand womanhood and misogyny better than any trans woman ever could. that's why I find it disingenuous when a tme trans person claims to reject male socialization but still considers themself as having undergone female socialization; how could they possibly benefit from doing so, other than by claiming to be more oppressed than trans women, by virtue of supposedly experiencing more misogyny?

by being viewed as more oppressed than trans women on the basis of female socialization, they gain access to "women's only" spaces that trans women are denied access to. their voices are given priority in discussions about gendered oppression. people more readily view them as the victims when they come into interpersonal conflict with trans women. they become incapable of perpetrating transmisogyny on the basis of being the "more oppressed" category of trans people.

how exactly could such a person not be transmisogynistic, though? if they believe that gendered socialization is a valid and universal truth that one can never escape from, then what does it even mean for them to reject the concept of male socialization? if they were to actually, vehemently reject it, then they would no longer be able to leverage their own "female socialization" to imply that trans women aren't real, genuine women on account of not having experienced it. and make no mistake - there are very few tme trans people who subscribe to the myth of gendered socialization that even claim to reject male socialization. most of the time, they're very clear about their beliefs that trans women have some "masculine energy" that we can never truly get rid of after having undergone a lifetime of being expected to conform to manhood. and as a result, they continue to treat trans women as dangerous oppressors.

that's why gendered socialization as a concept needs to be abandoned wholesale. there's nothing wrong with talking about your experiences as a trans person, but giving any validity to this vile terf rhetoric always harms trans women, just like it was intended to do from its very inception.

#txt #transmisogyny #my writing #1k

[smartycvnt]

Sacrifical*

Title: Sacrifical

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Reader

Summary: Rhea gets a little bloodied during a match, and Y/n gets excited.

MINORS DNI, 18+, SMUT WARNING

Word Count: 1028

Y/n bit her lip as she watched the blood drip from Rhea's nose. It was likely to be broken, but Y/n would take good care of Rhea to make up for it. Nia was putting Rhea through the ringer in a way that Y/n doubted that anybody else could. The woman had no idea that she was doing Y/n a great service. Rhea might complain about the soreness and aches from the match in the morning, but she'd be satisfied to take it that night.

Rhea knew not to doddle backstage after the match. She made her way straight to Y/n's office under the guise of getting checked out. Dom tried to follow her back, but Rhea reminded him how greatly Y/n disliked him. He wanted to make sure that she had the best care, so Dom left Rhea alone to see Y/n.

"No shadow this time?" Y/n asked teasingly. Rhea crossed her arms over her chest as she stared down at Y/n. Y/n tilted her head to the side a little as she looked over Rhea. The Australian seemed to get a little uncomfortable and backed down.

"You two really should just make up already. I'm sure that he'd be more than willing to listen to you now," Rhea suggested. Y/n brushed it off. All it would take was an apology from Dom, but the man didn't feel like he had done anything wrong.

"Let's not talk about him when I'm about to fuck you," Y/n said. Rhea seemed happy to not press anything else as she hopped up onto Y/n's examining table. "What do you want from me?"

"I want your fingers." Rhea leaned back and spread her legs open in front of Y/n. She was ready for Y/n to come and fuck her, but Y/n seemed to have other plans. Rhea got her hopes up when Y/n kissed her, assuming that they would get right down to business then and there. Y/n quickly drew back, however, and walked over to make sure that her door was locked.

"Don't pout," Y/n said softly as she moved back over to stand in between Rhea's legs.

"I can't help it," Rhea told her. Y/n chuckled a little and shook her head before going in for another kiss. This time, Rhea pulled Y/n's body forward and caged her in. Y/n let Rhea jerk her around a little as they kissed, too focused on the metallic taste of blood on Rhea's lips.

"Come here." Y/n pulled at the leather trunks that Rhea had been wearing. Once Y/n's fingers were in close enough proximity, Rhea started to grind herself against them. She waited somewhat patiently for Y/n to reach her entrance. Rhea closed her eyes as Y/n's fingers stroked her cunt, making a mess of the wetness.

Rhea buried her head in the crook of Y/n's neck, smearing some of the blood against Y/n's skin. Y/n got a rush from seeing the red streaks in the mirror as she moved her fingers to push against Rhea's entrance. Rhea didn't waste any time in pushing her hips forward to draw Y/n's fingers inside of her. They could have had all the time in the world, and Rhea still wouldn't have been able to wait a second more.

Y/n started out with a fast pace, knowing how rough Rhea liked it. The build was quick at Rhea's demand for more and more. She wanted Y/n to fuck her so hard that she couldn't breathe, and Y/n was happy to comply. Especially since that generally resulted in Rhea sinking her teeth and nails into Y/n's skin so hard that they drew blood. Y/n was able to get a couple marks in retaliation, ones that she would happily take care of for Rhea whenever they were finished.

Rhea held Y/n close, never giving the woman a chance to withdraw. She wanted to feel every bit of Y/n's upper body strength fucking into her. Y/n could feel her arm start to get tired, but she pushed on. Each little moan and string of muffled whispers that came out of Rhea's mouth was a better motivator than anything else Y/n could think of. She would have moved mountains to make sure that Rhea came as quickly as she wanted to.

Y/n didn't just stop at one orgasm for Rhea. She pushed through the burning pain in her forearm as Rhea started to buck against her fingers. Rhea let go of Y/n as she laid back, somewhat exhausted, but unwilling to stop just yet. Y/n could see the glimmer of Rhea's arousal against her skin as it dripped down her hand. If they had more time, Y/n easily could have spent all night in between Rhea's legs like that. Instead, they were cut short as Y/n heard some of her colleagues begin to have their stations cleared out.

"This is it babe," Y/n said as she held onto Rhea. Rhea's second orgasm hit her harder than the first. Y/n reluctantly withdrew the contact between them, earning a small whimper from Rhea. Y/n pressed several kisses to Rhea's face and neck as she helped Rhea fix her shorts.

"I'd hate to ruin your fun, but I probably shouldn't go out there covered in blood and bite marks," Rhea said. Y/n made sure to take in as much of Rhea in that state as she could before she passed a hoodie over. Rhea grabbed one of the alcohol wipes from Y/n's supplies and wiped away the blood and her makeup in the mirror.

"You should probably go. I am sure that they're waiting for you," Y/n said. Rhea gave her a few quick kisses goodbye before she left with the promise of meeting back up at the hotel later. It wouldn't be easy to sneak into her room, but Y/n would manage it like she had countless times before.

#my writing #one shot #wwe x reader #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley

[attackurheart88]

Ooo if it’s okay, can I please request a Soft Yandere Morpheus x fem!innocent!human!reader where she somehow accidentally ends up in The Dreaming and Morpheus is fully ready to let out his wrath at her intrusion, but after talking to her spending time with her, he decides he doesn’t want her to leave, ever, and intends to make her his Queen

You weren't supposed to be here.

Morpheus watched in the shadows as the woman hummed peacefully to herself weaving flowers unaware of the danger lurking behind her. As soon as Mathew alerted him to your presence, Morpheus teleported over in anger. It was only a few months since his capture and his dislike of humans had increased greatly. The dreaming was the only place where he could live peacefully without any worries or fears he would not let a human ruin it.

The birds flew away and the deer and squirrels were quick to scurry. Once Morpheus made himself known the happiness in the air dissipated. He watched as you tensed finally feeling his presence and turned.

“Who are you?” his voice wasn't raised yet it carried such force you were quick to back up. “You're not supposed to be here.” he snarled.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn't know I just sorta appeared.” Your voice was so soft and sweet. It suited you. “I didn't mean to trespass, my name is Y/n.” Morpheus stared blankly at your outstretched hand. You were being kind? Why? You were clearly afraid so why go through the trouble? Was it a trick? A way to get into his head?

A small peep drew his attention behind you. There was a bird wounded by your feet. Morpheus anger sparked up again. “You dare come into this forest and harm its inhabitants.” A sudden force flings you back into a tree.

“Ow.” you slid down painfully watching in horror as he made his way closer. “Wait, please! I didn't hurt it. It fell from a tree I was trying to rebuild its nest.” your small hands were held up as you explained. Morpheus took notice of the small scratches and cuts on your fingers.

As quickly as that anger came it lessened.

One look at your doe eyes and tender expression had Morpheus’s head running. It contained glimpses of fear but no hint of lies. You were telling the truth.

Releasing you, Morpheus took a step back and waved his hand.

The bird flew in circles now fully healed and the scars that once littered your hand vanished.

“Incredible,” you whispered. “Thank….you.” But he was gone.

Morpheus made his way back to his palace. Scouring through the books of his library for information on you. He should have banished you, threatened you, captured you. But he didn't. He couldn't. Despite the way he acted he couldn't find any fault with you. Nor did you harbor any sort of anger, hatred, or evil in you. You were too kind. The animals of Fiddler’s Green were not welcoming to strangers and would have attacked if you held bad intentions. Instead, they danced and sang to entertain you, to please you.

Why? Why were you here? Why was the dreaming so welcoming to you? Why was it he found it difficult to hurt you? Why did he feel the urge to touch you, kiss you, devour you.

Morpheus wasn’t new to the feeling of love. But the emotions inside his chest were different. They weren’t pure or sweet or gentle. They were fierce dangerous addicting. It was only a few hours since he saw you. But his mind was flooding with images of you and impure thoughts. Thought to take you to own you to take your innocence and corrupt it. Your sweet voice will be for him to hear, your soft eyes his to gaze at, and your body? His to ravage.

You were a virgin he was sure of it. He could smell it on you, innocence and purity radiating in waves just begging to be taken away.

“Lucienne.” The woman walked over. “My lord. Have you taken care of the intruder?” “Just about to.” Morpheus smiled to himself. Lucienne furrowed her brows confused.

“Prepare a room. I want it fit for a queen.”

For the next few days, Morpheus waits anxiously for your return. He's made all the proper preparations for you transitioning as his queen. A large bed, mountains of presents, and in case there are any resisting, some lovely chains to keep you still. But he's sure he won't need them for long. Soon enough you’ll learn your place and accept your new role happily. Unlike his former lovers, there will be no mistakes as you’ll never be allowed to leave his side.

Your sniffles and sobs could be heard echoing throughout the room. Morpheus is there with his arms around you. Gentle rubs on your hair as he whispers in your ear to console you.

“I-I want to go home,” you repeated for the hundredth time. Morpheus only smiled and shook his head. “This is your home, now love.” he cooed. “There is nowhere else for you to be.”

You will soon love him and depend on him for everything. Morpheus would become you're only priority as you his. Anyone who gets in the way of that, friend or foe will suffer the consequences.

As his darling, be sure to be obedient and never escape or look in another person’s direction. The consequences will be severe. You could be starved for a couple of days or perhaps be delivered the bloody head of the man who dared to talk to you.

Morpheus is passionate about his love but is equally cruel. Slowly he’ll break you down with love and punishments until you're his perfect wife where he’ll be able to love you and cherish you to his heart's content.

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #my posst #yandere morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #obsessive love #yandere x darling #dream of the endless #yandere dream of the endless #innocent reader #fem reader #dream of the endless x reader #@attackurheart

[arklayraven]

I can't sleep rn while this annoyed/pissed off. So time to remind people OM is canonly a queer game as hell and to tell the queerphobes and transphobes to FUCK OFF. (Seriously, why are you following me if you hate queer and trans people/characters? Get out of here.)

This is a official post by OM devs over the creation of OM and their MC. Read the left section well.

"OM isn't a queer game" many like to say.

The game, writers and characters beg to differ.

From someone kind who felt they knew all about the game and characters well, even tho they played it themselves.

Let's go back to that official post by Solmare about OM and this section specifically.

Hope you read that well, and the person(and many who think/believe this) learns how damn wrong they are.

Also...God don't bring up my Asmo and act like you know all about him. Another thing from that kind person.

Firstly, canonly none of the characters have set labels. But they are all in fact canonly queer. Whether you like to believe/accept this or not. It's fact, was fact from day one.

Asmodeus is the most openly proud queer boy in the series, and gender nonconforming too at that, even if he uses only he/him pronouns(but he's been shown to be fine being called princess, queen, etc. So he's clearly open to all gendered/less pronouns/labels I feel).

He drips of gender fluidity, and going against gender presentation norms(Babe has presented so fem and nonconforming for awhile now. Learn to look at him and appreciate him better). So take note of all of that, and never say again he's not queer, because that's a damn fucking lie.

Also I hate how bi is used as default for queerness as a whole for characters who are interested in more than one gender, and wish for the day people stop using it as so. (Use MSPEC or just queer if you wish to sound more inclusive of all possible labels/identities for a canon queer character with no canon label set.)

Second, back to what I said before, ALL THE CHARACTERS IN OM ARE QUEER. If you ship your MC or yourself with them, know that's a canon queer character you're pairing them/yourself up with. And you can't erase their queerness and identity. Especially if it makes you personally feel bothered or crap.

And before you say anything, dating them, as a straight woman, doesn't automatically make them straight now too. They are still queer, but are dating you, who happen to be a straight woman. (stop being damn queerphobic challenge.)

I'm already tired of this crap, so gonna end this now and fast.

OM is a canon queer game, and was made with a MC who is genderless to be inclusive of ALL PLAYERS. This opened the door quickly for men, nonbinary, etc players to enjoy the game too, and be part of the fandom as well. There's as much men and nonbinary players in the series like women are, but only difference is in the fandom mainly. Many people choose to see which fans or MCs are more accepted in the community, and which ones to show more love/attention too.

If you tried to expand your horizons more, you will surely quickly find people who identify as men, nonbinary, etc in the fandom as well. And learn how we're here, always been here, just greatly drowned out or ignored by a vast majority of people just because of who we are. (Lots of people with dislike for MCs who are men, or just plain damn queerphobia and transphobia in the works.)

The more people try to ignore the clear fact men and nonbinary people play OM too. The more easier it is for them say OM and its characters aren't canonly queer, and they can feel special/happy about playing the game. That they want to believe was just made to cater to women only. But in reality it was made to be catered to all players, no matter their gender identity or lack of, and same for romantic/sexual attraction.

Also another thing I forgot to add to put more facts that OM is a queer game to be inclusive of ALL PLAYERS.

Already, the undateables from day one are canonly queer too. If you need to be reminded and stated that as well.

That's pretty much it on this annoying tiring topic.

Enjoy playing OM, the canonly queer game made for ALL PLAYERS. <3

#;little raven speaks #;raven om calamity

[kairiscorner]

guys i had this thought now it's driving me crazy

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

imagine watching howl's moving castle with noir.

"a moving castle?" he'd ask himself with a head tilt as he'd adjust his glasses to see the title better. you nodded. "i promise you, it's an amazing film, peter." you'd beam. he'd shrug, and smile. "well, if you say so, love." he'd say as he sits back on the couch as you put the movie on. at first, peter believed this was another, probably childish and whimsical, children's movie that you somehow found nostalgic. he doubted that it was as amazing as you claimed it'd be, but he stood corrected. he was already in awe at the different kinds of colors there were on the screen--all kinds of blues, greens, reds, oranges, and yellows--they all blended beautifully and perfectly, in ways he had never thought would fit together.

he loved the witty dialogue from the characters, his most favorite character being calcifer. "poor little flame," he'd whisper as you two watched the scene where sophie was pressing the pan down on him to cook breakfast. he disliked howl at first, he seemed like quite the womanizer. "oh, if i were sophie's father, i'd never let her leave without me." he'd say as he'd lean forward in his trance as he watched. you giggled as you leaned against him on the couch, his arm wrapped around you as you rested your head against his shoulder. "and why not?" you asked with a smile. peter glanced at you and chuckled. "well... i'd never want my own daughter's heart to be eaten." he said as he adjusted his glasses again.

"you know he doesn't actually consume hearts, he just..." you trailed off as peter held you closer to him. "i know, i know; it's metaphorical. but no matter what..." he said as he placed his hand under your chin and slowly turned your head to look at him as the movie continued playing.

you looked so stunning all the time to peter, every little bit of you shone, literally and figuratively. but here, in the dimly lit living room you two shared--with you looking deep into his mesmerizing eyes--with the light of the film's ending playing out in the background as you two swam in the expanse of each other's eyes for a second or two, you looked breathtaking.

"now... it might just be a movie and all, but... i'd never let anyone eat your heart." he said with a slight chuckle as he took your hands in his, a blush coming on his face as the tips of his ears turned a bright red, along with the bright red and pink on his cheeks. "it sounds weird, i know, but i'd never live with myself if i knew someone else would be capable of stealing you away from me, much more a womanizer like that... howl pendragon. i know how you look at him." he teased as he nuzzled his nose into your cheek.

you chuckled. "he's a drawing, peter..." you responded. "yeah, but... i want to be the guy that makes you feel pretty even on a bad day, a guy who'd make you fall for him over and over and over again even if we've known each other from long ago. the guy who you'd... you know..." he said as he moved his face closer to yours. "...the kind you'd... wanna marry one day." he'd say as your eyelids fluttered, tickling his cheeks.

at that moment, you felt like you were sophie hatter; the humble love interest to the most perfect man in the world, peter parker, who was sort of like howl in the movie. he was witty, he was charming, he was emotional at times... and he loved the real, rawest version of you. even if you believed to yourself you were ugly, you were getting older, that nobody would look at you with such pure love that you didn't believe the world could ever give you--peter was always there to prove you wrong. he was there to prove you were perfect, stunning, and most of all: you were beautiful no matter how old you got, how bad your day was, or how tired you were. you were always, always beautiful to him, that much he knew, and that much would never change--ever.

"i love you, my dearest... you're so beautiful. you're too beautiful for my heart to handle, love..." he'd murmur as you planted a kiss on his soft lips that only wished to kiss and be kissed by your own. be it with lipstick or none, with tears coating them or dry and chapped, be it in the morning, noon, or night--your lips are the only ones he'll love kissing, over and over and over; even when an eternity would pass, he'd still remember and fall in love with the shape, the softness, and the loveliness of your lips--for they are the lips of the most beautiful person peter has ever met, and ever will meet.

"that's my girl." peter muttered as he pulled away, blushing fiercely after you kissed him. "you're red..." you pointed out as you pulled him in for another kiss, with him mumbling out some answer that was pretty much a compliment within a compliment for you. the movie had ended, but your night with peter had just begun.

a/n: gonna leave this here for y'all to be delulu about what you two do after <33

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @sabcandoit @binibinileonara @connors-cumslurper @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @fictarian

#spider noir #spider noir x reader #spider noir x you #spider noir x y/n #spider noir fluff #studio ghibli #howl's moving castle #atsv #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #itsv #itsv imagines #itsv x reader #itsv x you #itsv x y/n #itsv fluff

[pinkthick]

I’ll always be there for you

Credits: @bluekernal / @quaritchsgirl

Pairing: Avatar!Miles Quaritch & Kid!Miles Socorro

Summary: Even though it's challenging to be a single parent, let alone an avatar, Quaritch is doing his best to care for little Miles. But he still finds himself thinking about his previous life.

Notes: Please take a moment to read this. Check out @bluekernal/ @quaritchsgirl’s blog because she created this AU, and let me tell you, her artwork is incredible.This fanfiction was greatly inspired by her drawings.

While Miles did pass away in this fanfiction exactly like in the original film, the RDA would have started this project earlier because the avatar body was already on Pandora and the humans hadn’t been sent back to earth. The humans are still living there, but the Na’vi still don’t accept them so fights ensure from time to time. Even though Quaritch is an avatar now, he still retains his previous memories, and he continues to serve in the ‘military’ on Pandora without his consent since he literally became the RDA’s propriety, but Jake Sully isn’t that important to him, his son on the other hand is what matters most to Quaritch.

Miles forbade his soldiers from having relationships between them. His first instruction as their commander was that. A weakness they cannot afford to have in the battlefield, according to his father, is having sentiments. And from a very young age, that was ingrained in him.

He couldn't believe it was him who had broken his most crucial rule.

Paz Sorroco. She was a bold and fierce woman. She had always been a more devoted soldier than he had ever been. Determined in everything she was doing. Paz even disregarded some directives that her superior had given her. She always thought it was worthwhile to fight for their home. She has always been very stubborn, something Miles has always found admirable in her.

Being completely honest, he never imagined that so much could change in just a short period of time. He always believed that there was nothing more in life that he could have asked for. Everything he ever wanted was given to him. But, as all stories go, something–er, someone came into his life. His baby boy, Miles Sorroco, came into the world. Paz’s greatest gift to him. He never understood why she had wanted to name the boy after him, but somehow right now, it brought him comfort. When Miles first saw him, he literally lost his ability to breath. He truly believed that the he could blow him away with only a small exhalation because the baby appeared to be so frail.

When Paz held the baby out to him, he was so insistent on refusing. He refused three times before the colonel finally took little Miles from Paz’s demanding hands. He hadn’t any clue on how to hold him. He had to sit right beside his partener in order to receive instructions. How the tables have turned. He tenderly held his head as he slowly rocked him. It didn’t feel real to him. Oh, how he remembers how his tiny hand wrapped around his finger. Paz could swore that she saw tears. When the little boy first opened his eyes, the soldier was shocked to see how much the boy resembled his mother.

Miles finally spoke “I’m—I’m a father, Paz.” His breathing was wavering and he just couldn’t believe it.

The woman besides him giggled “Yeah, you’re a father.”

He simply lifted the baby’s fist that encircled his finger and kissed it softly. “I promise you that I’ll always protect you little one.” He was unsure of why his father never felt this way about him, but he undoubtedly won't behave in the same way as his old man. He would try his best no matter what.

But he was unable to protect the boy's mother. That was the only time he disliked her stubbornness. Paz wanted to be there, to fight for their cause. So she didn't remain with another unit. Even now, he continues to hold himself responsible, but the idea that he was somehow lucky is something he still finds repulsive. He didn't fully recall how he died, but thanks to some insurance he had, they were able to transfer all of his memories into an avatar body. He was now RDA's property, a “Recom" as they call him.

The tail was what first upset him the most, which was strange. Most of the time, he made an effort to control it but had little success. Though he swiftly adjusted to his new form, he eventually came to terms with the fact that his ears and tail would always respond to his emotions, whether he liked it or not.

Although he was still on Pandora and felt secure knowing that not all of the unit had been destroyed and that it was still standing, he didn't give the other people any thought. His son was the most important thing to him right now. From this point forward, the toddler had only his father and he couldn’t help but feel guilty that his son will grow up without a mother.

For approximately six weeks, the boy had been staying with some nurses. He knew his son was safe but Miles couldn't quit thinking about him. He wasn't sure if the toddler was crying or eating properly, and he wasn't allowed to leave the grounds until the examinations were over. He didn’t like not knowing what was happening to his child.

The first time Miles saw Quaritch as an avatar was when he was a year old. He wasn't sure how the youngster would react, but it wasn't at all what he had anticipated. The soldier leaned over the tiny boy with both interest and fear as little Miles was hugging one of the nurses' legs and then child gazed up at his father. He would certainly not want to frighten the young boy so he moved slowly. He knelt to be closer to the toddler's eye level, but his son no longer turned to face the colonel. He continued to cling to the nurse like a monkey, burrowing his face into her leg. His heart began to race because he didn’t know exactly how to approach the young boy, but he tried, softly asking, "Miles?"

Finally, the young child turned to face him, his eyes a little moist as though he was about to cry. As the colonel drew near, his son murmured in a weak voice, "Dad?" When the child didn't back away from him, he felt more at ease and said, "Yea," chuckling as he added, "It's me Miles, your dad." The young kid immediately recognized his father's voice, but he wasn't certain it was indeed him. When Quaritch reached out with his blue hand, the boy let go of the nurse. Seeing a smile on her face as he looked up to get some form of confirmation, he realized everything was alright.

Little Miles approached the avatar slowly and gazed into the colonel's yellow eyes. Quaritch wasn't sure exactly what to do, he didn't want to frighten the child away, so he didn't move, and the boy eventually grabbed his hand.

He was unable to fathom the boy's current size in relation to himself. The youngster was so small. He didn't believe his son was capable of being cuter than before. When the toddler smiled at Miles, the soldier thought that he would have died of cuteness right there. His son’s little hand couldn't even grip three of his fingers. Paz, you would have cherished seeing this.

It will be hard taking care of the boy, he ain’t going to lie to himself, but he’ll manage, that’s for sure.

Quaritch heard beeping nearby, which he instantly picked up, but he soon realized that he could actually sleep in today because his meeting wasn't until later in the afternoon. Even though he didn't want to open his eyes, he did so after stretching out an arm to shut the alarm. He checked on Miles and saw that the boy was still tucked in bed besides him. The only problem? Is that the alarm woke him up.

As he turned to face his father, the child rubbed his eyes a little and grinned when he realized that his father was also awake. Returning the smile, Quaritch once again buried his face in the cushions since he was unable to keep his eyes open. God, he was exhausted.

“Dad?” The four-year-old hopped over his father and said, "Come on, it's eight in the morning.” A huff was nevertheless pushed out even though he hardly felt the boy land on him.

“Just give me five more minutes to sleep, boy. “ He muttered into the sheets as little Miles got off the avatar and the bed.

“What am I supposed to do then?” He inquired, his voice containing a tinge of disappointment.

The recom didn't even have the energy to turn his head to look at the boy, only saying, "Play for a little while."

Knowing that his son hardly slept in, Quartich understood it was pointless to try to coax him to. Yet, little Miles never, ever played in silence, which forced him to wonder what the boy was up to. But, the colonel's five minutes of sleep quickly grew into an hour.

He didn't hear the child leave or enter the room again. With his plate of food still in hand, Miles carefully climbed back into bed. The soldier next to him woke up when he sensed movement, but he remained still. Given the smell, the young kid most likely eating an omlet.

“Dad?” his son asked with his full mouth.

“Mm?” He didn’t manage to even form a full word right now.

“It’s morning.” The little boy repeated as he put the plate on the night stand and went towards his father.

For a few minutes, Quaritch remained silent. But when Miles prodded his arm, he finally uttered a worn-out "no."

"Lyle went with me to the canteen," the kid huffed, flopping onto his back and started to gaze up at the ceiling.

The small child was quite frustrated that the colonel was still quiet. He gave him another hour to sleep; wasn't it enough for his father? He wanted to play with him because he knew his father was soon to leave on a mission and he wanted to spend as much time as possible with him before that happened. However, Quartich slept when his father could play with him. That won’t do at all.

The soldier was surprised by another tiny prod, but this time it was against his ribs. He initially tried to ignore it and try to get back to sleep, but then the poking started again, this time a little more forcefully. Little Miles appeared to laugh when his tail began to move slightly under the cover, but he still persisted in prodding his father.

He pushed himself to open his eyes with a quiet grunt. "Bud, please stop." Of course, his son continued on. Back against the pillows, Quartich groaned while pressing his face against them. He sometimes felt like this boy could be the death of him.

“Dad, wake up!” He chanted as the soldier supported himself on his arms to look at the boy. His son gave him a sweet smile in response.

“Miles..” he let a whine as he tried to now grab the little boy without much succes. He flipped over, still with his eyes half closed and that’s when the kid attached to the man before him. He started to use his father as a climbing frame.

As he resisted his father's attempts to catch him, he giggled and said, "I want to play."

Finally Quaritch managed to grab him and wrestle him off his neck. He looked at the boy and understood that there was no way that his son would let him go back to sleep so he accepted his defeat quickly. His tail started to flick playfully and then started to tickle the young boy, who erupted into giggles. A sleepy smile spread across his face at the joyous laughter emerging from his son. Little Miles gasped for air and the soldier finally stopped.

The boy began to jump up and down on the bed once more and the colonel sighed as he finally turned to look around the room, wanting to see the state it was in. The fact that there were toys all over the floor didn't bother him; however, the slime that was stuck to the wall did. How on earth did he pull that off?

He thought that maybe it was more preferable than Miles drawing on the wall. Just as long as he doesn't have to repaint the walls…again—it’ll be alright.

“What did you do to the wall?” Quaritch questioned as his son stopped bouncing and refrained from even looking at him in the eyes.

“I didn’t mean to.” Little Miles spoke in a low voice and he just couldn’t be mad at him. But that doesn’t mean he won’t be the one to clean it.

“It's alright, buddy, but you still need to clean it, y’know.” After receiving a nod, Quaritch picked up his son so they could prepare for the day. He would deal with the wall later.

It was usually simple to give him a shower, but his child loathed brushing his teeth more than anything.

Miles wiggled to be set down as soon as they entered the bathroom. “I don't want to." he complained to his father. The colonel still tried to explain that if the little boy will clean his teeth, he won’t be going to the dentist anywhere near the future, but yet he always misunderstood what his father was saying to him.

His ears flopped down as he made an effort to reason with the 4-year-old. Finally when his kid finally took the toothbrush from his grasp, he began to think about Miles' first trip to the dentist.

When they both entered the hallways from unit 7, the scent of the sterile environment mixed with dental care chemicals was obvious. Quaritch had never been afraid of the dentist, even as a kid because he didn't have any dental issues and usually just went for a checkup. But today wasn’t about him, it was about his son.

It wasn't like little Miles would have any kind of procedure done to him—it was simply a straightforward dental exam—but his kid clung to him as he visibly stiffened. The young boy whispered softly, "I'm scared" as he still didn’t want to let go of his father.

The soldier smiled, attempting to reassure the boy that he had nothing to be afraid of. "All Doctor Palmer is going to do is look at your teeth for a little while," the soldier said. “That's all.”

Although his son remained silent, Quaritch could tell that he was still uncertain. "Do you really believe I would take you somewhere or permit someone to hurt you?"

Little Miles said, "No," as he encircled his father's neck with his arms. “But what if they remove all of my teeth and force me to wear fake teeth?”

Quaritch wasn't at all prepared for such question, and he was certain Lyle was responsible for instilling his kid with that ridiculous idea. He really wanted to speak with his soldier later.

“Don't worry, she won't.” He responded briefly. “And besides, that’s usually done for older people.”

“Oh. Like you and Lyle?" The young boy asked sincerely, and it's safe to assume that his father was surprised. But, one of the dental hygienists showed up before he could respond. He remembered her quite well. When they were still getting used to their new bodies, Doctor Palmer was one of the dentists who checked to see if anything was wrong with any of them.

“You must be Miles.” The little boy, that was still in his father’s arms, received a warm smile from the woman. “We’re ready for you now.” She didn’t say anything as they went to an examine room and as Quaritch ducked under the door so that he could enter, Miles simply tightened his hold on his father.

As she put down his tablet, the colonel also put the boy down even if he did get some protests from his son.

“Alright Miles, if you would take a seat.” Doctor Palmer said as she placed a booster seat on the large examaning chair.

The 4 year old took a step back and braced himself against his father’s legs.

“Miles, it’s alright. I’m right here.” Quaritch reassured him “Go on.”

He gave his father one last glance before turning to go towards the chiar, uttering a low "okay."

The soldier saw his son ascend the booster seat and breathed through his mask.

“Is he allergic to any kind of medication?” The doctor asked his father.

“No” He replied as he watched the woman jot down the details in a folder, then made his way over to the sink to wash her hands. The doctor then donned a brand-new set of latex gloves.

"So Miles, do you have a favorite animal?" She inquired so the little boy could loosen a bit.

“I like spiders.” He declared while beaming enthusiastically.

“Spiders? How so?"

“I saw the movie Spider-Man recently! He is the coolest superhero.” As soon as she noticed that he had somewhat relaxed, the woman smiled.

“I agree. I like how his suit the most.” She said to him as she started to raise her hands “So Miles, let’s see those teeth. Open wide.”

The boy's smile quickly vanished as he turned to face his father, who had a comforting smile on his face. The boy then finally opened his mouth.

Quaritch felt like the exam and the cleaning went well. Miles was calm while Doctor Palmer cleaned his teeth. It was when the metal instruments were starting to get used was when he noticed that his son started to grasp the chair tightly. The doctor was able to calm him somehow, but stopped abruptly when the boy flinched.

The colonel’s ears peeked up as he looked at them unsure at what was happening.

“It seems you have a cavity, Miles" The doctor continued, turning to face his father, "It's on his canine on the lower jaw.”

“What should we do?” Quaritch asked as he looked at his son, seeing that he was distressed.

“Normally, I would be thinking about getting it fixed right now since it’s small, but if you feel like we should leave it alone since it’s a baby tooth, we could do that.” She explained as she looked now at the agitated boy.

“I don't want it to cause him any issues.” Quaritch replied as he drew nearer to the boy.

“Will it hurt?” His eyes were glassy as he observed the woman in front of him.

She assured him, "No," and pointed to the device she was using. She gave the young kid an opportunity to examine the high-speed headpiece in her palm.

Miles finally opened his mouth once more, but he remained silent. But when Doctor Palmer turned on the instrument, that’s when the boy started to cry.

Quaritch still remembers how his son immediately came over to him. He really didn’t think that Miles would get scared, but he couldn’t do anything about that anymore. The cavity wasn’t that serious, but you never know. He would occasionally whine that his tooth hurts after eating sweets, but the baby tooth will fall out really soon according to Doctor Palmer. It wasn’t bad, but Quaritch still wanted to get it fixed. He made an attempt to convince his son, but it was useless. He was adamant about not wanting to visit the dentist ever again.

As he broke his train of thought, a smile reappeared on his face as he observed the child brushing his teeth. His son exclaimed that he was finished after pausing to rinse.

Without wasting any time, he exited the bathroom and shouted that he was going to clean the wall. Quaritch began his own routine but knew that his son would soon require assistance.

Even if being Miles's father was a challenge itself, the colonel couldn't deny that he would be lost right now if it wasn’t for the young child. He wouldn't trade his current life for anything.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ ?

Notes: I won't lie; it was difficult to write for both of them, but I genuinely wanted to turn Quartich into a soft dad. In addition, if you guys liked this, I think I'd like to write more of them.😅

#miles quaritch #spider socorro #avatar #avatar the way of water #recom miles quaritch #avatar miles quaritch #miles socorro #quaritch x oc #recom quaritch #quaritch fanart #spider fanfic

[etheries1015]

Hello there! I was wondering if you could write a Meleanor x reader.

It could be any kind of scenario i don't really have specific request. Sorry if my english is bad, it's not my first language btw.

Have a nice day/afternoon/evening!!

Sorry for the late response! Slowly but surely getting to my inbox after my little hiatus. heuheuheu.

I like this!! I can't say I've seen a Meleanor X reader yet! I love Mama Draconia and I too would want to court this woman. heuehueheu. thank you for this request!

Meleanor X reader - Flower crowns

General warnings: Gender neutral reader, taking place when you two were younger. Not very age specific, just classify it as first love!

TW: None! Just fluff. and lightning. but tis' what comes with falling in love with this hot headed fae <3

The princess always left you in awe. Her beautiful black long hair and marks of a dragon across her forehead always left you enamored- her beauty was beyond compare to that of any other fae you set your eyes upon. Although she did have a temper...and often attempted to strike you with lightning every time your feeble pick-up lines were below her standards...

However, the only thing you could think of as you watched the fae princess sitting against the tree was how ethereal she would look with vibrant flowers adorning her slick black hair and midnight horns. Meleanor was asleep against the tree, while you were now sitting on the grass a bit of a distance away with your legs folded and flowers in your grasp.

You wouldn't classify as being the best flower crown weaver to exist. It took a few times of unraveling and re-wrapping, even having to venture out into the woods to grab more flowers. Finally, you have finished creating your masterpiece. A flower crown with a vibrant variety of colors. Forget-me-nots, daisies, petals from peonies, marigolds, begonias, and the ever-so-popular red roses and thorns to match. You glanced down at your handiwork and looked back up to the sleeping fae. Even underneath the dusk of the setting sun, she was breathtakingly stunning. You crawled up to the fae crown in hand, before lifting it carefully above her sleeping form and setting it gently upon her head careful not to rouse her from her deep sleep.

You simply basked in this moment, watching Meleanors chest raise slightly and parted lips exhale gently. You were surprised when she hadn't woken up with your rustling, so you decided she must truly be exhausted from her duties (of constantly running away from her knight's eyes simply to be with you). You also found yourself yawning, removing your own jacket to cover the princess before leaning against the other side of the tree and lulling into sleep rather quickly.

You were woken up by lightning.

It startled you awake, but your reflexes were fast enough to dodge before it made contact. Looking up you saw a tall, angry Meleanor standing above you with her hands upon her hips and a scowl upon her face with bright rosey cheeks to match.

"Explain what this is," She abruptly said, pointing to the crown on her head to which a few petals had fallen to her black cloak and royal dress. You pursed your lips then smiled, showing her a toothy grin.

"A flower crown," You replied, "You look lovely, like a gorgeous blooming garden. The flowers truly do flatter you, my princess."

You were struck by lightning. Again. And she missed, again.

"Save me from your silly theatrics and cease your horrible flirting!" Although the words she spoke were exasperated, you could tell by the blush on her cheeks that she did not, in fact, dislike what transpired. Your words affected her greatly, she wasn't sure how to handle her strong emotions and beating heart. You chuckled at this and stood up, your hands hiding behind your back. This movement did not go unnoticed by the princess.

Meleanor aggressively grabbed your arm and pulled it forward. Upon seeing the first hand, she grabbed the other one to do the same. They were riddled in cuts and bruises from handling the thorned roses and picking of flowers, her eyes widening at this revelation.

"Come here," She grunted, pulling your arm and dragging you to the castle doors.

"You know i'm not allowed in the castle," You sighed, "I'm just a commoner. They will kick me out as soon as I step foot inside of there. AND you're gonna get in trouble with your parents." Meleanor huffed and shot you an annoyed glance, grey clouds overhead an obvious marker of her mood.

"Do you not think I am already aware of this fact? I have many ways of getting inside the castle away from prying eyes. Now shut your mouth and trust me!"

"Awe...does the princess have a soft spot for poor me? Are you going to kiss my wounds all better, Meleanor?"

Although another blast of lightning interrupted your incredulous flirting, she pursed her lips and paused in the middle of heading toward her secret entrance.

"...Perhaps just this once." You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head in confusion, mouth hung slightly open. You couldn't see what expression the princess held, for she was turned away whilst her hand remained on your arm trembling ever so slightly. Before you could inquire her statement, she continued.

"As a reward for this...'flower crown'...I shall grant you your wish. Just this once!" The fae took a deep breath in and turned around to face you, face red as a rose and puckered lips she placed them against your own. You gasped in shock at the sudden contact, unable to form a proper reaction before she was already turned back around and pulling you towards the castle at a rapid pace. You smiled fondly staring at the rambunctious fae in front of you, the flowers of the crown you weaved fluttering with every step she took.

If only she could hear just how loud your heart was beating.

~~~

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #meleanor draconia #meleanor x reader #meleanor draconia x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland fanfics #twst headcannons #twisted wonderland headcannons #twisted wonderland fanfictions #twisted wonderland meleanor #i'm gonna be so real right now I had a horrible time trying to figure out how to end this #I hope it was satisfactory! #I love this woman. I love women. Ugh. #Maybe i'll write one...I can see it now- an unrequited love between female reader and meleanor #my heart hurts just thinking about it WAHHH

[artemis-maia]

I always liked that Persona 2 also talked about the Christmas cake label and the theme when exactly a woman should marry, have children or why not never marry at all and live childless. I have always thought that it was annoying when people ask about ‚when will you marry, have children etc.‘

The three example that mention the Christmas cake trope are Junko, Ulala and Mizuno.

Kurosu Junko/Queen Aquarius in Tsumi wishes to be young again since not only is Kashihara dead in Tsumi making her far more nervous about her actress career (she likely fears that she will only get aunty roles and no interesting roles anymore) and obsessed with youth. Since Jun grew up as a latch-key child he on the one hand disliked this but also wanted Junko’s attention (he plays piano to please Junko, he likes omletts since she often made them, he hates cup noodles since he associates it with being neglected). Junko then ends up redeeming herself by sacrificing herself for Jun at Caracol when she realizes that Joker is Jun.

While Junko is still pretty young as a mother (37, thus she was 20 when Jun was born) there is of course always the subject with her job as an actress if she is still able to get good roles etc. 

In Japan when actresses have children and/or marry there are almost always immediately speculations whether the actress retires (it‘s always encouraging when you see that actresses don‘t give up and return). It‘s actually quiet good for Junko that she has ended up in business for so long already.

In Batsu Kashihara Akinari is alive and Junko merely uses Kurosu Junko as a stage name this time. The family are all close on This Side.

Junko is more relaxed and it is only implied that had she some sugery this time.

I also think she she greatly resembles Tsukikage Chigusa from Glass Mask in Batsu like mentioned in an interview.

In Ulala‘s case she was born on November 30, 1974. She is 24 close to her 25th birthday since Batsu takes place in autumn 1999.

This is precisely why she is so nervous about her love life, went to Omiai, constantly mentions that she is a Christmas cake soon.

Ulala has an inferiority complex regarding Maya since Maya has a better job, Ulala cooks, cleans, applies make up and chooses outfits for Maya (in mythology Callisto is Artemis‘ servant) and since Maya who is 23 doesn‘t worry about marriage etc. at all.

Maya‘s boss Mizuno is introduced as 30-something and still not married.

Even with her who is depicted as grumpy in the beginning she later on becomes milder and talks more about her former dreams etc.

#persona 2