#PLS READ IT I HOPE U LIKE IT

[hinamie]

"I'll show you every day that choosing to live was worth it"

some of my favourite scenes from @hijinks-n-lowjinks' fic things i would miss from the other side . this fic tore my heart out fr but like in a good way and i wanted to pay it homage the only way i know how <3

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: in which he realizes you were the one for him

warnings: none i think !

wc: 1100

Hoshina wasn't a player. He wasn't one to say yes to everyone who came his way nor was he one to lightly pursue just about anyone who slightly interested him— not to mention he didn’t fall easily to begin with. He was a busy man in a dangerous line of work so having a relationship simply didn’t make sense most of the time.

However, this is not to say he hasn’t had a few relationships here and there. He loved those he dated, he really did. He did not believe in dating for the fun of it nor did he believe in starting a relationship he knew would end at some point, but subconsciously he tried not to get attached. He kept his distance and locked away his heart to keep from getting hurt. Was it unfair? Well yes, but he was scared. Everyone has something that terrifies them greatly, this just so happened to be Hoshina’s.

Yet, recently he could tell that something was different with you. It had only been a few months since you started dating, but he feared the shift in his feelings. He knew what it was— he knew very well, but as soon as he admitted it, it would be over. There’d be no going back for him. He knew he was being rather irrational, he knew that if he sat down and confronted these emotions he’d realize they weren’t that big of a deal, but he couldn’t. He’s never been able to.

However, while fighting this kaiju, it became plain obvious that he was simply in denial. 

It upset him how important you were to him, but more than that it upset him that he knew he was important to you. You had made it so painfully clear that he meant the absolute world to you and that broke him to pieces every single time.

To him it was easy being alone— he just had to make sure his job was complete before he died. If he could ensure everyone’s safety or at least help Mina out, there was nothing more he wished for. Yet while fighting Kaiju no. 10 today, when he saw his life flash before his eyes, his immediate thought was of you. If he died you’d cry. And that alone was going to get him home alive.

He’d rather die than make you cry. Especially not alone.

As he stood up again, he could see his blood dripping from his wounds and immediately it made him chuckle. You’d cry anyways when you see the state he’s in. 

I’ll have to be around to wipe your tears at least, he said to you in his head.

He was incredibly lucky that you didn’t work on the battlefield, his heart simply would not be able to take it. But he did, and for you he’d have to get home safe. Even if no one else cared that much, not even himself, he knew you would.

All of a sudden, it was easy to admit. He was hopelessly in love with you, in a way he didn't know he was capable of. He wished that he would spend the rest of his life with you and he hoped you would spend the rest of yours with him. Perhaps he was just afraid and a little flustered to admit that he was important to someone, especially someone special to him too. He had seen how painful it was for those left behind, a little too often. 

But there was an easy solution to that, he’d just get back to you safe every time. He just won’t make you worry and he’ll be there for you. This was supposed to be a dilemma, something he thought he'd stress over, but in the moment he felt eerily relaxed, definitely not like he was fighting an identified grade kaiju. The rest of the fight was a blur, he couldn't remember much. His head was clear but the fatigue had taken over at that point, but before he knew it, the kaiju laid in front of him still.

He was faintly conscious as they rushed him into an ambulance and patched him up. Once he was properly treated and awake, they had warned him to stay put and take it easy, but all he wanted to do was see you.

As soon as he left his assigned room, he immediately bumped into you. You had been waiting to be let in to see him. You took one look at the way he was patched up and tears welled into your eyes. He could tell you didn't mean to, you didn't want to worry him.

“Please don't cry,” he said softly, wiping your tears away. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of you. “I'm perfectly fine.”

“I'm not crying,” you said with a scowl on your face, but the way your voice cracked was not very convincing. “I'm so glad you're back.”

“Can't live without me?” he teased. He knew you couldn't live without him, but he couldn't either. Yet, now he even hated the thought of you living without him, let alone with someone else, so here he was. And here he always will be.

“Shut up,” you said. “You know I can't.”

He knew, but hearing you say that still made his heart flutter. He reached out with his right hand to grab your left and held it carefully. He leaned in to kiss you, but it was so much sloppier than the careful ones he usually gave you. Forgive him, he was terribly exhausted.

“I can't either,” he said, snuggling his face into your shoulder.

“You can't?” you asked, a little surprised. It broke his heart that he had possibly made you feel such way.

“Not for a second,” he said, still avoiding eye contact. “I'd rather die than wake up without you next to me, actually.”

You wouldn’t reply, so he brought his head back up to look at you.

“Oh, don't cry,” he said and chuckled a little, wiping your tears away as he kissed you again. “I didn't mean to make you cry.”

He hadn't let go of your hand and although he was gentle, he held it firmly. He didn't say anything, but he vowed to himself that he'd put a ring on it someday. He wasn't letting go of you ever.

You were the one for him.

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[kentopedia]

ᡣ𐭩 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈 . . . the french are glad to die for love

after a night performing, you meet with the duke, but he's not anything like you'd been expecting.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. ft. sanji ! f!reader, moulin rouge au, alcohol, smoking, romance, prostitution, burlesque/cabaret dancers, humor, very very brief mention of suicidal ideation, suggestive content. 8.7k words.

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, i'm very nervous to post this so pls be kind to me ‪‪❤︎‬ if you aren't familiar with moulin rouge, the writing's a bit silly / eccentric at times, which is a little outside my comfort zone. so if you hate it... say nothing lol ><

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 .˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈 .˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊

Paris was the city of lovers, as they said. Romantic and doused in shades of red, painted with hearts for stars and a dazzling galaxy complete of past romances. 

Red, yes, was the color of Paris. But it came from not from dalliances, but from blood and tears, the scarlet hues mixed in shades of pain and misfortune. Nothing you had expected when you’d first stepped foot in the city with a half-developed mind, just off the boat from your own country. You’d had a suitcase filled with your finest clothes, which truly weren’t much, and a few necessities. But you’d been leaving from nothing, and you’d go on to have nothing, finding yourself in yet another desperate situation. 

In the wake of revolutions, Paris was supposed to be a place of rebirth, to start fresh and finally live out your dream as an actress. But things never turned out the way they were planned — such had been the case since the beginning of time. 

Instead of finding your way into the Palais Garnier, on the stage in beautiful velvet gowns, laced with glittering diamonds and rubies, you found yourself on the streets, singing for anyone who would listen. Then, you were acquired by a man who promised you a life of luxury and an opportunity to be a star. 

And who were you to refuse such an offer? 

Thus concluding the simple, albeit melancholy tale of how you found yourself at the Moulin Rouge, part-time singer, part-time dancer, and full-time actor. A cliché story of ambition and lost dreams, of aspirations that had never come to fruition.

Still, you had your moments of stepping into the role of the glittering ruby, the dazzling diamond. There were even times when you felt that, maybe, you were shaping up to be the prima donna you’d dreamed of becoming. That you had already taken that role on and made it your own, not in a golden opera house, but on a stage of darker colors, crafted for those that crept in the shadows, rather than the heavens. 

But what being an actor at the Moulin Rouge meant was forgetting what it was to be yourself. Each evening, you put on a mask of beauty that you didn’t feel to your core, shrouded in cheap jewels that had become meaningless in the face of giving up your real dream. No matter how many times you told yourself this was right, a stepping stone to the path of greatness, it still felt like a lie.

But the years carried on, and the pain subsided. You got used to the sharpened eyes of hungry men, of people that would never want you for any longer than an evening. They were charming, sure, and they paid a pretty penny for a night — if you were willing to give it to them. 

It was enough. It had to be. 

Things weren’t so bad, you supposed. You’d left your home like you’d always planned to, even while this shapeless existence was hardly any better.

Still, returning to your house of cards, of rags and dirtied floors, seemed like an even bigger failure. Perhaps not to your family, who would’ve deemed your life as a courtesan the greatest shame of them all. To you, though, the greatest shame would have been to admit that you were wrong. 

Your fifth year of working at the Moulin Rouge set into motion the beginning of the end. There was nothing different about the evening that tipped the first domino… Not that you could recall, at least. 

As always, an array of stars glittered over Montmartre, a beautiful Parisian night, lit up with red. From the streets, the Moulin Rouge glowed like a beacon, combating even the loveliest parts of the French skyline, outlandishly bright, but mystical all the same. It wasn’t often that you saw the outside of the cabaret, not the way your patrons did. Sometimes, you wondered what it was like for them, to walk in for the first time and see the beautiful stars, dancing just for them on the candlelit stage. 

The very stage you were soon to find yourself on.

A necklace of rubies — undoubtably fake — hung heavy on your chest, weighing you down just like a cough in your lungs did. From beyond your four walls, you could hear the crowd that had formed in the intimate hall, already wet with anticipation of the dancers. And while some, perhaps, were doubtful, here for the first time, you knew they would leave with an itch to return, if only to see the star of the Moulin Rouge.

You.

Staring into the mirror, you listened to the heels of your friends click across the stage, getting into position for their first number. It was comforting, almost, how the simple sound was there for your every night, alerting you of just how much time you had before your final act. 

You smeared rouge across your cheeks, sporting a grim smile, and made sure the color was bright enough to combat the lights that would illuminate you. 

Then, you inhaled, and stood from your chair, to get dressed before your number began. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t get far, already crowded by the chest of your keeper, the flashy owner of the Moulin Rouge. Buggy. 

He was dressed as he always was — to the nines, and impeccably lively. Much livelier than you would ever be outside of the glittering nightclub. Sometimes, you wondered just how much of his persona was an act, and how much of it was every bit the extravagance he’d been born with.

“There’s my star,” Buggy said, dragging a finger across your cheek, eyes lit up by his pale makeup. “I’ve been looking for you.” Your name left his lips cheerfully, and you smiled, thinly plastering on enthusiasm. 

“Well,” you answered, batting your eyelashes heavily. “Here I am. Where I’ve been for the past five years, every night, at this very time.”

He threw an arm over your shoulder as he always did, like the two of you were old friends, and the air of professionalism you tried to keep between you was needless. “Yes, yes,” he responded, waving off the slight bit of sarcasm. “Listen. I have a manner of business to discuss.” 

Your smile quickly fell. You knew what that meant. “Buggy,” you said, unreeling yourself from his embrace, his hot palm dropping from your shoulders. “It’s hardly been a day since the last one. You promised me I wouldn’t have to take on any more.” 

Not that you’d believed him when he’d said that, but… There were only so many men you were willing to seduce, especially when the other dancers would have gladly accepted the work. You weren’t the only courtesan at the club, and just because you were the star, didn't mean you would put the others out of a job. 

“I did, I did, and I’ll keep that promise… After this last time.” Buggy’s words were on the edge of charisma, but they weren’t able to reach that delivery. Full of a dramatic flair, sure, but nothing further. His smile was thin, desperate, and though you wanted to ask his true intentions about this particular meeting, you wouldn’t. You already knew the answer.

You held his gaze sharply, eyes narrowing before you relented, a heavy sigh leaving your lungs. 

There had been talk about the finances, only recently, and just through the grapevine. Claims that the Moulin Rouge was going bankrupt, and there was only one person with enough beauty and charm to save it.

A heavy burden to bear, indeed.

And while you were hopeful, devastatingly so, that the claims weren’t true, you weren’t blind to the dwindling waitstaff, the decreasingly lavish decorations. One of your dancers had even left in the last week, a young girl who didn’t bring much to the table, but didn’t deserve to be tossed back onto the streets either. 

You’d be a fool not to notice that there was trouble… Trouble Buggy had convinced you not to worry about, but that concerned you all the same. 

With a frown, you bowed your gaze, then perked back up with a smile. As if holding a tiara high on your head, you straightened, erasing the depressing dimness from your eyes, hoping you shone as brightly as he wanted you to. “Alright,” you hummed, softening your voice, “What do I need to do?” 

Buggy grinned, face revealing perfect showmanship, and pinched your cheek. “There’s my star.” 

The man you were to seduce on the stage tonight was a duke. 

He wasn’t from Paris, wasn’t from France at all, but instead, from some intriguing land further East, hailing a vast amount of wealth and a large wallet that could easily bankroll the entire nightclub. Salaries, performances, food and so on. That alone told you all you needed to know. 

Just one night. That would be enough to convince him that you were a dazzling diamond, and you deserved a place on the stage. A different stage. It would be enough to get him to put his money on the table, entranced enough by the energy of the evening to invest in the Moulin Rouge. Enough to intrigue him, even if he was a difficult man to please. 

One night might not turn out be just one, you knew that. But you’d do anything, anything it took to achieve you dreams. Not just for yourself, not for Buggy… but for all of the others that you called your friends. You deserved an opportunity to be a real actress, and they deserved a place to live, a place to work. 

Besides, you were getting older, already closer to thirty than your early teenage years, and those of the underworld did not want an aged woman, so much as they sought the delicate features of a barely turned adult. It was a disgusting, filthy world you lived in, but it kept you alive, and sometimes, that was all you could ask for. 

“Remember,” Buggy’s words echoed in your ears, sharp and desperate to be heard, even over the drowning noises of the orchestra. “He’ll be in the back booth. There’s a group of men with him, they’ll all have drinks. Just catch his eye, sometime during the dance. But don’t worry too much about that, otherwise you’ll lose your focus.” 

What you got from that was: You should try extra hard to catch the eye of an impressive man, but you should not seem like you were trying at all. 

A somewhat daunting task, but it would be simple enough. There hadn't been a man yet at the Moulin Rouge who hadn’t stumbled over himself when you gave him your brilliant smile.

You breathed, a deep inhale that cleared out the anxiety lingering in your chest. Then, you blew it out, and the curtain rose, blinding you with overwhelming yellows and reds from the lights, ones that ignited the jewels on your neck, outlining your chest, drawing everyone’s attention to you.

It was hard to see anything at all, but you could feel all their eyes on you — a hundred or so pairs that scoured you like a piece of meat.

And when you got to the floor, close enough that you could feel the hot breaths of your favorite clients, they threw bills at you until you could no longer hold them in the tight lines of your bodice. 

You smiled at every individual like you’d never smile at anyone again, patted their cheeks until they passed out with red, swooning faces. Then you left them, still reeling from your touch, eyes glued to you with the focus of a tortured scholar.

Performing had always been a rush to you, left you lively and with an energy that you’d never found in anything else. But sometimes, performing like this, exploiting no one but yourself and your magnetic charm, left you empty at the end of the day. You left the stage cold, drained of every ounce of warmth that had been dragged into you from the spotlight. 

It was invigorating to be wanted, but it could never compete with the crushing loneliness that came with being used.

And that warmth you got from the stage, the rush of devotion and adrenaline that came with incessant adoration? Well, you’d never felt anything like that, never been able to replicate it either, until a set of eyes landed on you from a distant booth, where the Duke was said to be sitting. 

You felt the heat before you saw him, the candy-red color of desire bleeding into you. It dragged across your back, digging into your shoulder-blades like a needle, piercing, but only lightly. There was something soft around the harsh edges of want, and when you turned to meet that stark desire, you almost faltered in surprise. 

He wasn’t what you’d been expecting.

Just as Buggy had said, the corner-most booth held a man, surrounded by many others. The table was littered with glasses — both empty and full of alcohol, and a cloud of smoke hovered around them. All of the men leaned over the table, eyeing you with awe-struck eyes, as you sparingly gave them your sweetest smile. 

But it was the innermost man that you honed in on, one being jostled around by the wealthy others in his booth. Blonde, blue eyes alight with a conflicted sort of desire, wearing a suit tailored to fit him perfectly. 

The Duke. 

Allegedly. 

From what you’d been told, there were enough clues to convince you that this dazzled man was the one you were looking for. Surrounding him were older patrons, ones that were familiar with Buggy, and nearly all of the dancers. Rich men that would have gladly accompanied a foreign noble, shown him the beauty of Montmartre before the sun rose and they were back to respectable conversation. 

Yet, he seemed… 

Well, he didn’t seem very lordly. 

That, though, was not a question you wanted to linger on for too long. Your mind would spin into uncertainties, and you would fuck this up before you could fuck him. 

Instead, you sharpened your smile, lowered your eyes seductively, and continued your performance, painting more attention onto that side of the room. 

Which raised another red flag that you were all too happy to ignore. Far opposite of what Buggy had sad, the duke did not seem like a difficult man to please. Rather, all you could think was that he would be an easy catch, with the way his cigarette dangled from his lips, parted in awe. His irises might as well have shaped into hearts as he watched you, tracing your every movement without so much as blinking. 

You brightened. For some reason, his adoration gave you much greater satisfaction than you would have liked to admit. 

Riding on the elation that your prey, the source of your future, was in the palm of your hand, you wrapped up the rest of your performance perfectly, tying it up with a beautiful scarlet ribbon. Buggy was standing on the edge of the stage as you made your way down, bowing dramatically, knowing that you had succeeded in every goal he’d set for you. 

“Do you think I lured him in?” you asked softly, accepting the robe given to you by one of the stage-hands, a man just on the cusp of his twenties. 

Buggy smiled, his red-painted lips spreading across crooked teeth. “I don’t call you the diamond for nothing, do I, my dear?” he said, pinching your cheek. 

The rouge came off between his fingers, and your eyebrows crinkled, before releasing, as you remembered all the ways you could keep yourself from looking older. You swatted your friend-not-friend’s hand away before wrapping yourself tighter in the robe, feeling so much smaller and younger than you truly were. 

Despite all the men you’d taken to bed, all the nights you’d shared in throes of passion (their’s, of course, never your own), you still felt the scared, hardly-adult you’d been when you first set foot in Paris. 

Buggy noticed the change in your demeanor, as you tried to gear yourself up for an encounter with the Duke. The charming, blonde noble seemed kind enough, softer around the edges than many of the men you’d seduced over the years. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. 

Never, though, would it be something that you wanted to do.

“What’s the matter, my gem?” Buggy asked, not quite in a way that was kind, but enough to show concern. His eyes were gentler than the rest of his appearance, and you weren’t sure you were grateful for it.

You curled away from his hands, sniffing back the onslaught of doubt and self-loathing that always came upon you when you used your body in such a way. It was something that you’d been taught to feel disgusted by, even though it kept a roof over your head, and the heads of the people that you’d come to call your family. 

“It’s nothing,” you said, because it was the truth. It was nothing new. The same blur of feelings that had haunted you since the first day you’d sold yourself to another still lingered. You’d always thought it would get easier… but it hadn’t. It still ended with you wanting to tear your skin from your body, but never following through with a slide of poison down your throat. 

Because that was the easy way, wasn’t it? A quick way to end your torment, without knowing if you’d ever see the other side. And, perhaps you weren’t as brave as you wanted to believe, but you wanted to see if there was another side. If there was a brighter end, a brighter future, where you could shine on the stage of the Palais Garnier as a real actress, and not just in the glittering scarlet lights of the Moulin Rouge. 

Buggy eyed you skeptically, any kindness in his irises now gone as his lips turned into a thin line. “It better be nothing,” he said, guiding you across the stage, before reaching a doorway that would send you up into the Elephant Room.

Which was the most private area of the Moulin Rouge, one saved for the most illicit affairs. It was your room, and only those patrons that were willing to pay the highest price were allowed entry. 

“Remember, I’ll send him up to you, and all you have to do is give him a night he won’t forget, alright?” Buggy stood in front of you, gripping your shoulders in a warning. “Now, show me that dazzling smile, diamond.”

Reluctantly, but with all the passion you had gathered in your chest, you smiled, knowing that it was real enough to set something alight in his own. The reaction — just a small quirk of his lips in return — was enough to let you know he was satisfied with the show you’d put on.

“There she is. We’ll have a new investor soon enough.” 

You were certain of that. You had to be certain of that, or your livelihood would be down the drain, and a future of shimmering lights and diamond-encrusted gowns would be out of the question. 

On the walk up the stairs, you spoke soft words in your head, hummed the same tune you did for every show. It reminded you of who you were — at least, who you were to them. The ones who would have sold an arm and leg for a chance to win your heart, even though, after all the years that passed, you didn’t think you had one to give anymore. 

The stage was all the love you had to offer. Perhaps, the only type of love you believed in, anymore. 

You made your way up the spiraling staircase to the Elephant Room, and opened the door with a sigh, letting your weight rest against the doorknob. For a moment, you deflated in the threshold like a woman in a Shakespearian tragedy, exhaling the tension that had wrought in your shoulders. 

Until you felt eyes slide across to you, unexpectedly, and you found you weren’t alone in the Elephant Room. 

Without pretense, the Duke was waiting for you, his eyes dancing along the interior, taking a moment to gaze at every corner of the room. There was interest in his irises, as he searched for other secrets of your life through your belongings

Then, the door slammed shut behind you, and the spell was broken. The Duke turned to face you, eyes widening with alarm, as your back went straight as a wire.

He wasn’t supposed to be there already.

A second slipped by, and you gawked at each other, your own mouth dry with the confusion and surprise of his ill-timed appearance. Surely Buggy hadn’t sent him to the Elephant Room already? You’d only just parted.

Well, you supposed it didn’t matter now anyway.  La vie continue.

Smoothly, you recovered, raising your shoulders to release an air of confidence, and smiled brightly. You twisted your hair across your collarbone, hoping it would highlight the smooth planes of your chest, where the ruby necklace had already been removed. “Ah, my apologies, monsieur. I wasn’t aware you were waiting for me.”

The Duke blinked as you strutted past him, taking the two quick steps to your vanity. Just enough to brush against him, feel the desire rolling off of him in waves. 

Pointedly, he tried hard not to let his eyes drift lower, tracing just along your hips before snapping back up to to the back of your head. “How would you have known?” His words came out thick, as if something was lodged deep in his chest. “I haven’t even introduced myself.”

“Oh, there’s no need,” you said over your shoulder, lowering your voice huskily. “I’ve heard so much about you. I trust your visit to the Moulin Rouge has been pleasant?” 

He met your gaze through the mirror, seemingly enraptured, and cleared his throat as he calculated a response. “Très agréable, mademoiselle.” 

You smiled, humming through an affirmative, before continuing. “Wonderful. I’ll be ready in just one moment.” Imperceptibly, you sprayed perfume, hoping it would mask the sweat that had gathered from your performance. Then, you made your way over to a cart, sifting through expensive bottles of alcohol. “Drink?” you said, speaking softly to yourself. “I have champagne or…” You shook each of the bottles, realizing they were all empty. Not a drop left. “Well. I have champagne.” 

“I’m alright, madame. Merci.”

You began to pour your own glass, which you would certainly be needing, when it dawned upon you that his accent was rather Parisian, and absolutely not as foreign as Buggy would have had you believe. Your champagne slipped, nearly spilling over the edges of the cup, before you turned to eye the blonde with what you hoped with a sultry grin. 

“Ah. Your French is very beautiful,” you said, smiling over the edge of your glass as you sipped at it, wondering if your eyes were as alluring as you believed. “You’re a quick learner.”

He stared at you, lines creasing his features as his lips parted, obvious skepticism weaved within his posture. Then, without another word, he ignited the cigarette he had slipped between his lips, the end glowing before he inhaled. A long drag was taken from it, settling in his lungs. “Je suis désolé, mademoiselle. I’m not sure how to answer that,” he said, exhale releasing a cloud of smoke into the air. 

You laughed, a high-pitched giggle that turned you back to face him, his free hand stuffed in his pocket like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. “Usually people answer compliments with another thank you, but it’s no matter.” You forced another small sound up out of you, suddenly unsure exactly what to do next. 

He was… not what you’d been expecting, and the usual turn of events wasn’t progressing as it should have been. The Duke was supposed to be an intimidating man, one who knew what he wanted and would take it without question. That's what you'd heard, anyway. You were starting to wonder if what Buggy had told you were nothing but rumors. 

Waving the comment off, you made your way back to the vanity, checking that your scarlet lipstick had not smeared. His lingering gaze still traced against every curve of your body, and you stuck your hips out further, leaning towards the mirror with a small grin. “I apologize I didn’t have time to change. I wasn’t expecting you here so soon.”

The Duke nodded, only slowly processing your words before tapping on the cigarette. “Oh, there’s… no need.” Then, he shook his head, blinking, as if cringing internally. “Unless you’re uncomfortable. In that case, I’ll um… turn around.” 

You laughed, hiccuping as the quick gulps of champagne came bubbling up inside of you. “Well, it’s no matter, really. I’m sure they’ll come off soon enough.” The comment was meant to be a simple segue into the rather normal routine of your work, low and seductive. 

Instead, his eyes went wide, cheeks flushed as he looked, quite pointedly, anywhere but you. “No,” his voice rang at a higher pitch as you stalked towards him, your glass of champagne drained and discarded. “No, I’d really rather you keep them on, actually.”

You blinked, a bit puzzled by that. But it wasn’t the strangest request you’d ever gotten, and you were determined to please him, just as Buggy had requested. “Alright. Whatever you want, amour.” 

Like a cat, you crept up to the Duke, splaying your hands across his chest. A small sound left his throat, cheeks turning a darker shade as he took a step back, grasping for words. Your hand fisted his tie, satisfied by his reaction as you followed his stumbling lead back towards the bed. 

“How would you prefer to start?” you whispered, as his knees hit the edge of the heart-shaped mattress, legs buckling until he was flat on his back, gawking up at you from the bed. “I admit you are a hard one to read. Just say the word, I can be whatever you want.”

You scrambled on top of his thighs, dress hiked up to reveal the smoothness of your own legs, which quickly caught his attention.

“I-I’m not sure that we’re on the same page here,” he said, swallowing, though watching every one of your movements with rapt attention. 

You plucked the cigarette from his lips, and took a long drag, smiling down at him. 

The smoke filled your lungs, calming your nerves marginally. They were cheap cigarettes — not those usually desired by the nobility, but who were you to judge for odd preferences? He’d found his way here to you, after all. 

“No?” you answered softly, taking one more long inhale of the cigarette before you leaned forward, placing it into the ashtray, still burning. There was a long streak of red from your lipstick, staining the thin cylinder of white. “Then what is it that you’re here for?”  

He exhaled, fingers reaching up along your thighs, the touch so featherlight that you almost weren’t sure it was even there. For a moment, he seemed to have forgotten the question entirely, jaw slackened as he stared at you above him, before he swallowed, and sat up on his forearms. 

The movement brought your faces even closer together, his nose just centimeters from brushing your own. It was then you realized just how blue his eyes were, the color illuminated by the dim candlelight, deep hues of turquoise and navy swirling together to create a stormy sea. His thick, blonde eyelashes fluttered closed as he blinked at you, and the movement alone brought you out of your stupor, his voice raspy upon each syllable.  

“I’m here for the play…?” 

You drew back, needing a moment to breathe as you squinted your eyes to study him. It was rare for you to get a client like him, wealthy, but so uncertain, a charm about him that you couldn’t quite pin. They were never as handsome either, most far older than you, willing to throw cash at a younger, beautiful woman. 

Questions raised at the back of your mind, desperate to be asked, but you ignored them, beaming as you angled your head. “Ah. Of course. The play.” Your voice was saccharine, octaves higher than your usual volume. “What is my role, then?” you asked, tugging off his tie as you leaned into him, your lips just barely brushing his own. His breath was hot against your mouth, a hint of cheap alcohol still lingering on his breath. “I’m far too used to being the seductress, but I can be the damsel in distress, if you’d prefer that.” 

“Your role…” It was said more to himself than anything, not stopping you as your fingers began to unbutton his starched white shirt. You tilted your head forward, noses brushing together as you rested your forehead against his. 

The air grew warm between you, and for a moment, a beautiful, fleeting second, you lost yourself. Your grip on his top grew slack, fingertips caressing the warm expanse of his chest. He breathed into your mouth, and your eyes fell shut, letting him connect his lips to your own, the moment exploding in a rush of beautiful, ruby fireworks. 

And you were keen, then, to let him do whatever he would have wanted, his touch so featherlight and gentle, you wondered if you could have fallen in love with him. How quickly your heart, coated in steel and another layer of iron, betrayed you, dropping from your own chest right into the palms of the man that you needed as a savior.

But the moment did not last so long, and your vulnerability evaporated as quickly as the layer of dew beyond la Seine. As if coming back to himself, he choked, pulled away from your lips and pushed you back by the shoulders, staring at you with wide eyes and warm, tinted cheeks. 

You paused, watching as he rushed to his feet like he couldn’t get up fast enough. How easily the mood had soured, even as he muttered one apology after another, unable to meet your gaze. 

The Duke’s hands were shaky as he held the cigarette to his mouth, eyes fixated on the ceiling. He had plucked the same one back up from the ashtray, the streak of your bold, crimson lipstick imprinted on the end of it.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, hoping the worry wasn’t obvious in your words. If there was a problem, you were desperate to fix it. You couldn’t afford to ruin this, not when so many things were at stake.

He hesitated, another cloud of smoke leaving his mouth as he waved his hand around, ash falling from the cigarette. “I’m sorry — I’m sorry. I can’t focus when you’re,” he swallowed, cheeks burning, despite the hardness very obvious in his pants, “looking at me like that.” 

“Focus?” you said in gentle confusion, eyebrows pinched tighter, as the beginnings of a dreadful realization dawned upon on you. 

Feeling discarded on the bed, you sat and watched as he pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket, straightening like it was an important doctrine, before clearing his throat, and reciting a beautifully composed poem. 

The words were horrifically romantic, each line strung into another as if they had been pieced together by his very own heartstrings. And though you had not processed a single word, it had still struck a cord down deep in your weathered heart, and you continued to stare, sick with your own shame. 

It was beautiful — hauntingly so — a poem of love that could rival even the greatest of French writers. But, all you could think about was the pounding in the back of your mind, the panic steadily rising up within you.  

“You’re here for a play. An actual play,” you said stupidly, gaping back at him, your entire body going rigid with embarrassment. “You’re serious.” No longer was your tone beautifully high-pitched, innocent despite your sensuality. It had lowered in horror, your eyes going wide as you realized that all of this was a terrible, terrible misunderstanding.

Which seemed a lackluster reaction to whatever he was looking for, and he frowned, tilted his head back before heavily inhaling another puff of smoke. “Well, I suppose I would prefer that sort of reaction to hearing that my writing is awful. The play wasn’t my idea, just for the record.” 

“Writer?” you screeched, scrambling to your feet. “You’re not a Duke? Not the Duke?” 

His eyebrows lifted, searching your face for any hint of a joke, and when he found none, he laughed, face splitting beautifully with a smile. He gestured to himself like he was amazed you would even think so, his suit hardly of the latest fashions, the cufflinks a dulling silver. 

Which, in hindsight, was truly a marvelous mistake. 

“No, I am not a duke.” His forehead wrinkled, and he, finally, stamped the cigarette out on the ashtray, subtly putting the stub back into his pocket. “Is that why you thought I couldn’t speak French? Je viens de Paris. I thought that was obvious.” Once more, he laughed, smiling in a manner that was far too out of place for the situation. Then, just as dramatically, his face fell, eyes going wide with concern. “Hold on. Did you not know that I would be here?” 

“No!” you exclaimed, putting your finger to his chest as you shot forward, glaring with the heat of a thousand suns. Your features morphed into something horrible, though you doubted it was as intimidating as you hoped. “No, I have been waiting on a Duke, not some amateur, impoverished writer from this dreadful city I regret ever stepping foot in. And if you tell me that you’re another one of Luffy’s tragic bohemian protégés—”

He smiled sheepishly, tilting his head before you could even finish your sentence. “Well. First of all, I wouldn’t say I’m an amateur.”

Your hands flew to your mouth, a sound leaving your throat in dismay as another voice — the exact voice you were hoping not to hear — called out from the window. 

“Sanji!” Luffy said, a headful of black hair falling over the side, grinning at both of you. “How’s it going? Have you convinced her yet?” 

“No!” you shouted, already rushing towards the window, shooing Luffy away. Over and over you repeated the word, Luffy merely swinging back and forth from whatever rope he’d tied himself to, more amused than anything “Get out of here, Luffy! I should’ve known it was you that put him up to this.” 

For years, Luffy had been trying to recruit you, hoping you'd be an actress in one of his performances, and that the Moulin Rouge would be the place that funded it.

With his endless confidence, Luffy was certain that one day, he would create the best production in the history of Paris. But you were certainly skeptical of his ideas ever taking off, Buggy even more-so, and he refused to put even a single franc towards funding any of Luffy's productions.

Despite the rejection, you continued to get pestered, Luffy somehow convinced that he could help you become an established actress quicker than your current occupation could.

Luffy laughed, still with the audacity to ask if you liked Sanji’s writing, and you pushed his head back out the window, muttering profanities to yourself. 

“Who’s with you? Usopp? Zoro? I’m going to kill all three of you!” 

You yelled that last bit louder, just to be sure the two men you knew were up on the roof could hear you as well. And, just as expected, a muttered string of words escaped Zoro, and a much louder, panicked sound came from Usopp. 

They peeked their heads into the window with Luffy. 

“I tried to stop him,” Usopp said, wailing as Zoro hushed him, his dark eyes clouded with regret. “I knew it was a horrible plan, I’m so sorry.” 

Your lips drew into a thin line, unconvinced, despite all the theatrics. “I want you all out! Get back up there before—” 

Footsteps started up the stairs, and your eyes went wide, panicked as the voices of Buggy and the Duke, the real duke, started up the stairs. 

“Leave!” you hissed, shoving Luffy and Usopp back out the window, before turning to face Sanji, who was rather uselessly standing in the middle of the floor. Groaning, you gripped him by the arm, pulling him across the room as you scanned for a good hiding spot. “Hide. I need you to hide. He can’t see you.”  

“What’s going on?” Sanji asked. “Luffy told me—”

You released a sharp laugh, rolling your eyes. “Oh, I’m certain Luffy told you a lot of things,” you huffed, letting your hand slip down into his own as you dragged him into a corner of the room. “Unfortunately, Luffy’s plans are sometimes too grand, and he needs someone to bring him down to Earth. Which you, clearly, did not do and now—”

Your name was called out from behind the door, and you cursed, pushing Sanji into the corner of the room, near the vanity. “Stay there. Just… hide under something!” 

“Where?” 

But the door was already opening, and you scrambled into a chair, running your fingers across your hair to make sure you seemed somewhat presentable. You brought your legs up under you, lowering your gaze to bat your eyelashes as the Duke and Buggy entered the room, both staring at you with intrigue. 

“Here she is,” Buggy said, gesturing towards you with a curious look in his eye, a dark smile forming on his painted face. There was a warning there, one that you were not foolish enough to ignore. “My beautiful diamond. Hopefully just as lovely as she was up on the stage tonight.” 

The Duke’s regard for you was hardly passionate, though you could see a sliver of desire under all the layers of intimidation. He was a tall man, dark hair falling to his shoulders in thick strands. A long scar ran across his cheekbones, over the bridge of his nose, and he looked down at you, studying every piece of you like you were nothing more than a decoration to admire. 

You waited for him to say something, but it was clear he was waiting for the same, and you stood, perhaps too rapidly, and made your way over to him. 

“Monsieur, what a pleasure it is to meet you,” you smiled, if only to ease the anxiety strung through your body. Dipping your head, you looked back up at him with siren eyes, “Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to visit.”

The Duke paused for another moment, studying you before taking your hand, and kissing it softly. It was a soothing gesture, despite the intensity of his eyes. Tension seeped gradually from your shoulders. 

“The pleasure is mine, my dear,” he said, his voice deep, raspy. “And there’s no need for such pleasantries when we’ll be acquainted soon enough.” His thumb ran across your cheek, before his hand fell back to his side. “I’d prefer Crocodile.”

Buggy, just feet behind the Duke, began to back away, exhaling in relief. “Well, I will leave you to it, then. And—”

That was all he could get out, as the scene shattered. 

Before Buggy could make his escape, a sound came from the window, a yelp, then an echoing shout, as Luffy, Usopp and Zoro fell down from the window, swinging into the room from the dangling rope. They landed in a somersaulting heap, just inches from where Sanji had been hiding, and your jaw slackened, before your entire body stiffened once more. 

Not a word rang through the room as you stared at the three of them, Crocodile sliding his gaze over to you for an explanation. The silence was tangible, heavy with uncertainty. 

A nervous laugh left Buggy, but it was quickly cut off as Usopp pulled both Zoro and Luffy up by their coats, and exclaimed, “Are you ready for rehearsal?” 

“Rehearsal…” you muttered, and at the same time, Crocodile posed the words as a question, his eyes narrowed, unamused.

“I wasn’t aware that there were other things going on this evening,” he said.

“Ah,” you continued, keeping yourself composed as you moved to stand in front of him. “Non, there’s nothing going on we just…” Internally you cursed, over and over, glancing at Buggy, who was near to shouting at Luffy, the two of them locked in a stand-off. There would be no help from any of them it seemed, as they waited for your reaction.

You placed a gentle hand on the shoulder of Crocodile, softening your expression into one of expectation. “Well, I know this isn’t what you had in mind, monsieur, but we thought now would be a good time to introduce you to our new production… Right, Buggy? While we’re all here together, of course. A once in a while opportunity.” 

You smiled, eyes narrowing exaggeratedly at Buggy, before the obvious question became clear to him. 

“Oh,” he nodded slowly, before bursting into the same smile he always used for your shows. “Right. Of course. Our new show—”

“Which, we have written specifically for you, Sir, if you would be so keen on investing.” You took Crocodile’s arm gently, leading him past the chair where Sanji was hiding, hopeful he would reacquaint himself with the rest of the troupe. And, as if reading your mind, Sanji scrambled to his feet, standing alongside Zoro and Usopp like he’d been there all along.

You exhaled softly, continuing to the Duke, “It was going to be a surprise, but we supposed it would be best for you to see it now, before we started any production. You are so wise with your investments, we didn’t want to be presumptuous.” 

Crocodile gave you an odd look, and for a moment, you weren’t sure he believed you. Then, you flashed him a hopeful smile, naive under all the great bravado, and he relented, amused by your earnestness. 

“Well, I am not usually interested in investing in such small ordeals, but…” He waved a hand, before running the other down the breadth of your spine, a touch that was near possessive. “If it stars our lovely diamond, it is sure to be a hit, no?” 

You relaxed, making a show of leaning into his advances. 

“Of course,” Buggy proclaimed, far too intense for your liking, as he tried to ease the Duke back out of the Elephant Room. “Would you like to get started on paperwork? How about we work out the details, and we’ll find another evening for you and—”

Crocodile raised a hand, the room swiftly silenced. “I need to know the story first, before we handle business. Not even the most beautiful of stars can carry a dying universe, I’m afraid.” He turned to you, his eyes so intense it was hard to muster up the courage to speak.

“Story?” You blinked, your smile falling. “Yes. Right. The story. Well, that’s an excellent question, and you would be certain to ask that, of course…” You looked to Buggy, then Usopp, who seemed all too happy to blend in with the shadows. Then to Zoro, who stood stiffly, and shrugged. Finally, your eyes landed on Luffy, who was grinning wildly and pushing Sanji forward, far too excited that this was all taking place.

“Here’s our writer,” Luffy proclaimed, patting Sanji on the back before taking a step away and crossing his arms. “Go on and tell them.” 

Which was a way to say the play hasn’t been written yet, and we’re making this all up as we go, in less obvious words. 

You wanted to melt into the floor, curl away from the hot palm that still rested on the small of your back, as you stared at Sanji helplessly, begging him to come up with an answer. 

And while the time seem to pass far too slowly for your liking, he didn’t even fumble for words as he nodded to you, dragging his eyes across the audience that was watching him expectantly. 

“It’s about love,” he said smoothly, confidence seemingly regained now that you weren’t the only person in the room. “It’s about love overcoming all obstacles.”

His eyes met yours once again, so deeply blue and beautiful. Against your better judgment, your heart surged out of your chest. 

“Yes! And it’s set in Switzerland!” Luffy exclaimed, laughing with delight. 

“No, no,” Sanji snapped, before recovering his story, mind working rapidly as he thought up a tale that would be imaginative enough to spark the interest of the Duke. “It’s set on the seas!” Then he lowered his overexcited voice, the words softening with adoration. “And there’s a courtesan. The most beautiful courtesan in the world.” 

Sanji's gaze fixed on you, and you blinked away, hating that awful feeling that bloomed in your heart. Still, a small smile tugged at your lips, one that you hid from everyone else. 

“But,” he said, tearing his attention away from you. “Her city’s been invaded by an evil pirate Warlord. Now, in order to save her kingdom, she has to seduce the evil Warlord. But, on the night of her seduction, she mistakes a penniless… A penniless…” He looked around helplessly, licking his lips. “A penniless cook, and she falls in love with him. He wasn’t trying to trick her, but he was dressed as a prince because… well… he was trying to infiltrate the Warlord’s headquarters.” 

“And I will play the captain of the crew that the cook works on!” Usopp interjected, taking a step in front of Sanji, his arms raised high with excitement, far too proud of himself. 

You coughed down a laugh as Crocodile regarded him with an impatient look. “Alright... What happens next?”

Sanji spared a quick scowl to Usopp, before regaining the attention of everyone in the room, weaving each word with precision. “Well, the cook and the courtesan, they are to hide their love from the evil Warlord—”

“With the help of their actual Captain, who has magical powers where he’s made out of rubber!” Luffy, this time, decided to add his own artistic storytelling, which silenced the entire room from skepticism.

Sanji blinked, hesitant. “Yes, well, that part’s still in the works,” he promised Crocodile, waving his hand dismissively. “There’ll be a crew, with a swordsman and a navigator… and of course the Warlord will have his own set of pirates working for him. It’s a grand production, the embodiment of the Bohemian ideals…” 

Sanji continued the story, crafting a plot of truth, beauty, freedom and love. But you were focused only on him, the passion with which he spun the tale, softening at the tragic romance that would take place between the courtesan and the cook. Every so often, your eyes would meet, and you would smile, if only slightly, with encouragement, enough to keep up his unwavering confidence until the end. 

"The finale hasn't been written yet,” he admitted, wrapping up his summary of the unfinished play, as the rest of you huddled around Crocodile for a reaction, his face dreadfully unreadable. “But—”

“We would love to get you involved artistically,” Buggy interrupted, excited by the prospects of the thrilling production and an investor. “If you have any suggestions.” 

A tense ten seconds passed, as Crocodile regarded each one of you, thoughtful. “The story could use some work,” he mused. “But, generally I like it.” 

An eruption of cheers burst out from each of you, and you smiled, giggling as you leaned into the Duke, hopeful that your gratitude was evident. Across the room, Sanji relaxed, lighting up another cigarette, and Buggy gestured forward, talking at such a rapid speed you were certain his words were slurring together. 

“Come, come with me,” he said, ushering Crocodile out of the room. “We’ll talk business.” 

Crocodile followed, but spared one last moment for you, as you followed the two men to the door, guiding him out. 

“I apologize that our evening together was different than anticipated,” you said, as genuinely as you could, tracing a hand down his chest. “Perhaps another night would be best for us to talk.” 

“Perhaps.” He hummed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his smile widening crookedly. “I still need to get acquainted with our star. Fame will suit you, my dear.” 

You smiled, a surge of pride overcoming you, one so strong that you couldn’t even wallow in the discomfort of his touch. “I look forward to it.” 

The two of you parted, the moment evaporating as Crocodile followed Buggy out the door. And, when it finally slammed shut behind the two of them, you exhaled, all of the anxiety leaving your body in a flush. 

The four other men went silent as you whirled on them, expressions dour as they waited for you to be the first to speak. Sanji’s jaw was tight as he looked away from the door, back to you, regarding you with an unreadable expression.

But, you were still reeling on your success, too excited to care about the anger you’d felt earlier. You broke into a cheerful grin, rushing to throw your arms around the young ring-leader. “Luffy,” you said, close to weeping. Things weren’t over yet, but there was a parting in the clouds, a sun shining through, as the hope of a future, a better one, became real. “Thank you. For the first time, one of your ridiculous plans actually worked. I’m very grateful.” 

He smiled like it was nothing, and your laughter became infectious, bubbling out of you in an effort to keep down your tears. You turned to the other two, both watching you curiously. 

“Usopp, thank you for that wonderful recovery. I’m not sure what we would have done if you’d not planned an emergency rehearsal.” 

He grinned wide, puffing his chest out. “Ah, well, I knew someone had to act fast.” 

Lastly, you turned to the green-haired man, and his name sooner died on your lips, when you realized he had contributed very little. “Zoro. You were useless actually.” 

Sanji snorted, and though Zoro’s face twitched, he didn’t bother saying anything to the writer. “You looked like you had it handled.” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Well. I suppose we did.” You rolled your eyes, your mood suddenly deflating. The high of panic and elation had worn on you, leaving you with an ache in the back of your head, your hands still jittery. “Anyway, I’ve just about had all the fun I can handle for one night—”

“Uh-huh,” Zoro scoffed, a jab at your rather unconventional occupation.

You ignored him, pushing them all towards the door. “—I am very grateful for your help in getting our new investor, but we’ve got a busy week ahead, and I would like some rest. So, leave.” 

They all held their hands up in surrender, and while Sanji hadn’t been a part of the group you’d been addressing, he slowly followed when Luffy called out to him. There was talk of throwing a party across the street, at the dingy apartment complex that all the Bohemians lived in, despite it being late already.

The four of them made to leave, waving enthusiastically as they rushed down the stairs, far too worked up to be quiet. Sanji lagged behind them, giving you a kind smile before making his exit, a soft bonne nuit, escaping his lips.

“Sanji…” You called out, just before he closed the door behind him, his hand resting on the frame. Sanji turned, glancing over his shoulder, bright eyes pinning you right where you stood. “I’m sorry. So very sorry for the misunderstanding.” You waved your hand, drawing your fingers across your face to rest on your cheeks, already warm with shame. “I feel horrible.”

He paused, before a a grin split his face, irises burning with soft intensity. “Don’t,” he said, exhaling a laugh. “I enjoyed it, actually.” 

thank u so much for reading and for all the endless support!! i appreciate you all so very much ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )

tagging those who rb'd / commented <3 pls let me know if you'd like to be added !

@cerberels / @keeper-of-my-heart / @chuuminn / @eussstasss / @mncxbe / @tetzoro / @msheds0519 / @awealuc / @akuma-coffee / @stunie / @chositooo / @piichuu

[crookedghosts]

nobody wants to hear me out on this but this is how both the Leo return in ToA AND the Percabeth reunion in MoA should have gone... 🫣🫣

[babsaros]

hey. when cis society is oppressing a trans man, what he is experiencing is. In Fact. misogyny. i'm sorry i know none of us like to be reminded of our agab, and it hurts whenever people perceive you as the wrong gender. but a cis person hate-criming, assaulting, verbally abusing, etc, a trans man is not doing "transandrophobia" because they do not perceive him as a man.

they perceive him as a woman failing at her gender, as a woman who has been seduced and lied to and manipulated because women are so easily led astray, just like it says in the bible. they perceive him as a woman who has been mutilated. they perceive him as a dyke that needs to be fixed. if they are hate-criming him because they *do* perceive him as a man, because he passes well enough they aren't thinking he could be trans, then they're doing so out of homophobia, perceiving him as a gay man, a pervert, a sissy, a danger to children. OR, they are being transphobic but specifically because they think he might be transfeminine instead. when cis society oppresses a trans woman, they are able to do it on multiple levels at once. She's a woman failing at her gender, a dyke that needs to be fixed. Or she's an evil and grotesque crossdressing pervert, a rude caricature, a danger to polite society. she will never be doing enough to escape oppression entirely, no matter if she gets every surgery she can and wears makeup every day and passes perfectly, because she lives under a patriarchy, and she's a woman, so she lives in a panopticon, and HAVING to get surgery and wear make-up to be respected IS oppression, especially if the alternative is being hate-crimed.

trans women (and trans men who pass) are not experiencing "transandrophobia" when a 'queer women and nbs" event turns them away at the door for being too masculine. they are. IN FACT!! experiencing the byproducts of misogyny in a patriarchy!!! where the terfs and coward cis women running those events and occupying those spaces have been taught (sometimes through experience, sometimes by men, sometimes by women) throughout life that men = stronger and more dangerous than women ALWAYS. That they need to protect themselves at all times and always be vigilant. That men and women can't be friends without sexual tension (and so as queer women the mere existence of what they perceive as a "man" is a threat). That women need a separate sports league because they can't possibly compete with someone who has even a little bit "extra" (an unquantifiable amount actually because there isn't a standard range) testosterone. That women should cook and men should fix cars. i promise you, i promise i promise i promise. it's misogyny. like!!! you don't say cis gay men experiences "androphobia", bc that's not a thing!! you sound like fucking mens rights activists guys please! you don't say a black man experiences "misandrynoir"!! because living in a patriarchy fundamentally means men do not experience oppression based on their gender. its not happening. shut the fuck up. stop walking us back to 2014 can we please take a step forward and stop bitching about this. there are genuine issues in the world and i'm frankly sick of people who should be smarter than that needing to be gently hand-held through this fucking explanation for the millionth time and still stomping their feet.

[langdonss]

MEDIA: ❛ AMERICAN HORROR STORY ❜

THEMES: Evil government, abduction, corruption

The moon stares down upon you, bright and eerie, piercing through your window in all its fullness. The slight red tint of it casts a shadow on your tired face that is smooshed into your pillow. You’re off somewhere else, lost in a deep deep sleep whilst your body has sunken into the bedding, completely unaware of what’s about to happen to you… Your foot glides softly across the cool sheets of your bed, the perspiration causing messy hair to stick to your forehead in the humid summer night air.

The floors creak in the dead of night amongst the crickets chirping near your window, their singing coming to an unnatural halt which make the air feel… Eerily still…. The wall goes bump, another floor board creaks and then there’s nothing… Until, your bedroom door slowly sways open, not making a single sound.

Suddenly, two sets of arms lunge toward where you lay asleep in your bed, quickly and securely grabbing your body. You jolt upwards, your eyes snapping open in a panicked haze. Not a word is uttered, but your screams pierce through the entire house like a banshee and not a single grunt is forced from either man dressed in black while they effortlessly take control and hold of you, picking you up from your mattress. Something swiftly swoops down over your head faster than you can comprehend, and their hands work fast to tie your struggling arms into tight ropes before carrying you off from the confines of your room through the halls, their boots stomping.

❝ You're only making this more difficult for yourself. ❞

A mans deep voice speaks out as you yell and struggle, a hand clamps over your shrieking mouth firmly shutting you up. Every kick and flail is counteracted by an iron grip that makes your fighting limbs go limp.

You muffle through the fabric, but no answer is given. Instead, you're thrown against a cushioned surface, and the sound of a large car door slides shut, the sound pounding in your ears whilst the earth shifts from under you quicker than you can stomach, your body sliding against the seating as the vehicle takes off. Your pulse is pumping faster than it ever has in your entire life that you’d swear your heart could explode and give out any second now. A million thoughts race in your mind of what is happening, are you being kidnapped? Trafficked? You don’t want to find out. You scream again, your plea falling on uncaring ears. The silence eats away at you, it’s so fucking quiet in the cloth bag that’s wrapped over your head, each and every bump and creak sounds so far off in the distance, and the air is constricted just enough so you can still at least breathe. The drive to wherever the men are taking you seems to last forever, and eventually you give up, all the squirming and calling out for answers gets you absolutely no where. You lay there on your side, you can’t imagine how pathetic you look all curled up back there, a bag over your head, your arms tied at your front. Tears have stained your face to the point it’s burning your cheeks and the insides of your confinement is annoyingly moist. How much crying can you do before you run all out and dehydrate yourself?

❝ We’re heading near the base, prepare the gates. ❞ One of the mens voice calls out in the dead silence, causing you to snap out of your depressed dissociation and become alert.

The vehicle enters on a gravel path, slowing its speed as it approaches toward a giant gate in the middle of nowhere. A man, Mr. Langdon, awaits your arrival at the other side of the gates as it swings open at a snails pace. The men take the drive further up ahead and the gate closes behind them, before they jump out from their seats to walk around to either side of the car to fetch you.

The doors are forced open, and you hear another persons foot steps approaching in the gravel of the driveway.

❝ I see you’ve gathered her in one piece. Your handiwork is much appreciated. ❞

A new voice speaks out in a smooth and almost elegant tone. You stay still and silent, but your breathing hitches with anxiety at the nonexistent context of what’s going on or where you’ve been taken to. The men grab your body up, dragging you from the back seat and propping you on your feet before you begin to scream and throw your legs out just as you did earlier.

❝ She’s not going to cooperate. ❞

Mr. Langdon remarks snidely. You can hear the amusement in his voice as he watches the men pick you up and throw you over their shoulder. They begin walking off, and your body is moved back and forth with each step they take as they hold you down with a strength that is unmatched.

You sob, feeling the man carrying you come to a halt while he waits for the other to follow, his hand quickly retrieving into his pocket for a key card, sliding it into the lock of the door before where they stand. A mechanical swoosh and a beep fill the air, followed by a loud sound of something opening before they resume their walk down a dimly lit corridor of a facility.

Their stomping boots echo off the black walls, and his hand tightens on your back side. Quicker than you can understand, something sharp jabs into your upper arm, the surroundings begin to blur all into one.

You’re almost at your destination…

…. Brightness envelops your surroundings in a quick flash, your eyes close shut tightly to block out this new harsh lighting, turning your head to look away as a groan escapes your lips. A deep breath fills your nostrils, you can breathe, you can see. You thought the time would never come. But you fail to recognize where the hell you are, and your half concentration is disrupted by the sound of heavy boots approaching against the cold floor of the dim and chilling room.

Clack.. clack… clack..

A tall, and brooding figure steps from the confines of the corner of what you can only guess is some sort of government facility. His jawline, sharp, protrudes with amusement at the distressed little sight of you where you sit, still tied in place. You squint, looking around. Your wrists burn in the ropes that hold you back.

❝ You put up quite the fuss earlier…. I’m not sure that warrants you insight on the situation at hand. ❞ Mr Langdon teases, his voice deep and mocking. He steps closer, the flourescent lights up above flicker down upon his features; Sneering lips, golden blonde hair that curls perfectly around his ears, icy hues that stare into your soul.

A gloved hand delicately reaches out down toward you, the mahogany leather on his fingers shining in the light. ❝ Poor thing, bound and tied with no idea what’s to come…❞

You interject as best you can, the effects of the injection from earlier still barring its toll on you. Lips move slowly and your words come out in a slur.

❝ What… what is this… place…? What do you want? ❞

The man only stares at you with a widening smirk, taking a moment to carefully articulate his answer in a way you will understand best.

❝ Our exact motivations are none of your concern, for now. The only concern you should have is your future here, with us. What you can give the Cooperative. ❞

You swallow a knot in your throat. Nothing could prepare you for what was coming…

[napping-sapphic]

i love sapphic people so much we’re all so beautiful and deserve so much love i love you i love you i love you

[evermorepeyton]

CHAPTER 25 of SILVER ARROWS TO THE HEART IS UP 🏹🩶🏹🩶🏹🩶🏹🩶

the dan and phil formula 1 fic you should probably read pls🙏🏼🏎️✨🤍

[milkbreadtoast]

Cookie Run Webtoon EN TL

NEED TO SHARE THIS HERE... A few days ago Korean cookie run fandom was buzzing because 3 chs of an official cookie run webtoon had been uploaded... the pages have since been taken down (there's speculation that they might've been released too early by mistake??) BUT someone archived them so they can still be read!! And I did a (rough) english translation of all 3 chapters!!! (it was fun🥺 pls enjoy)

(Link to Ch 1) (Link to Ch 2) (Link to Ch 3)

CH 1:

note: Roguefort cookie's name in Korean(괴도맛 쿠키) is literally Phantom Thief(mysterious thief) flavor Cookie, and this 괴도 is the same thing Kaito Kid from Detective Conan is called (괴도 키드)

--

huhuhu...

(clink/jangle)

🌶:Yep, I really am a genius.

🌶: uhaha! instead of robbing a bank, it's much faster and easier to just rob bank-robbers, ya know~!

🌶:With this, my bounty will go up another level...

(chattering)

🌶: what, what's going on? (suddenly)

Reporter: As for Roguefort cookie's previously announced target, a 60 carat Yellow Diamond:

This jewel has been passed down from the Golden Cheese Kingdom for generations, and is said to be a symbol of good fortune, bringing(lit: wishing for) prosperity and longevity to the nation.

🌶: (Hmm, that's a puny gem.)

The jewel's owner adds that they will compensate the cookie who captures Roguefort Cookie, a payment of 1,000,000 coins as a reward to whoever captures this phantom thief...

(jolt)🌶: (A million coins?!)

🌶: (Then Roguefort cookie's bounty is higher than mine, isn't it!!) (1000000 vs 700000)

🌶: (THAT'S UNACCEPTABLE!!)

🌶: (I'll have the pride of a thief and steal it first!!)

(Title:) Who is the best thief?

Ep 1: Who is the best thief?

-That night

(footsteps)

🌶: WAIT, YOU THERE! (suddenly)

🌶: I heard the yellow diamond was at this mansion. Know where it is?

butler: (EEP) ch, chili pepper cookie?!

butler: This is a very tightly guarded place, How in the world did you get in?

🌶: Psh, this is mere child's play to me. (lit: chewing gum)

butler: I'm calling the guards/security.

🌶: ......

🌶: What are you doing? Roguefort Cookie. (pause)

Roguefort🧀: A sloppy disguise, I suppose.

Roguefort🧀: ...How did you know?

🌶: A thief's intuition?

🧀: Haha... how interesting.

To think you'd see through my disguise. (riiip)

🧀: Then I guess you're also aware that I have the jewel with me.

🌶: WHAT?!

🌶: HAND IT OVER RIGHT NOW!

GHH! (whish) (whish)

🧀: I wonder if you can catch me?

I am the best phantom thief who has never been caught to this day, after all~ ^^

🌶: Don't make me laugh, I'M the best!!

🧀: (heh) If so...

🧀: How about we admit that the cookie who steals this jewel is the best thief? (sparkle)

🌶: Heh, think I won't be able to snatch it from ya?

🌶: You'll end up regretting this.

🧀: We shall see.

WAIT!

!!! (pause)

(🌶) You?! Cheesecake Cookie?!

🌶: This place is your mansion too?;; (Just how many mansions do you have?!)

🧀: How did you know we were here?

Cheesecake🧀🍰: With all this terrible noise you've been making, wouldn't it be weirder to not know~?

Cheesecake🧀🍰: Apparently, it seems like you want to distinguish who is the best thief between you, but...

🧀🍰: Haven't you two already stolen all the decent treasures anyway?

Try stealing something a bit more difficult~

🌶&🧀: more difficult?

(grin) 🧀🍰That's right. If you're a real thief...

🧀🍰: How about trying to steal someone's heart?

🌶&🧀: !!!

(end of ch1)

-----

LINK TO CH 2:

CH2:

cheesecake🧀🍰: How about trying to steal someone's heart?

🌶: someone's... whuh?

RF🧀: Heart. someone's heart.

🌶: What's so great about stealing someone's heart?

🧀🍰: Stealing something tangible is too easy~

Why, don't think you can do it?

(frantically/fiercely) 🌶: WHADDYA MEAN!!

🧀🍰: And you, Roguefort?^^

RF🧀: (Heh) ...Seems like it'll be interesting. Though stealing someone's heart is also too easy for me...

🧀🍰: huhu~ Good, good!

🧀🍰: Then make sure both of you come back here at the same time again tomorrow!

I'll explain the details then~

(slide)

🌶: ...an invitation to a ball?

(creak/screech/squeal)

(footsteps)

🌶: (Where's Cheesecake?)

🧀🍰: Oh my~ Welcome, Chili!

🌶: What about Roguefort?

🧀🍰: Roguefort already arrived first and got started~ (hoho~)

🌶: WHAT?!

🌶: They beat me to it?! I gotta start quickly too, who's my target!?

🧀🍰: Wait, before that- (snap)

🧀🍰: Let's get you changed first!

🌶: GUH? (grab)

🧀🍰: Take her to the dressing room~ (what is that state you're in?)

🌶: WHAT THE, LET ME GO-!!

(thump, crash)

UWAAAGH!!!

(title: Who is the best thief?)

🌶:Ugh...!

🌶: What the hell is this!

🌶: guaah!! This dress is too stuffy/suffocating!! (creak creak)

🧀🍰: Oh my, is that so?

🧀🍰: Hold on-- Now where would my new Chocolaté Collection be... (toss toss)

🌶: ...By the way

What are you two doing here?

🥛: A part time job!

🥛: I have to buy Dark Choco-nim's goods, you see~ (hehe!)

💪: They released new protein, so I need money! (flex)

🌶: Ah...

🧀🍰: Chili! Try this on~

🌶: Phew, I think I can live now~!

🧀🍰: It suits you well~

🧀🍰: Here, take this.

🌶: What's this? ??

🌶: A mask?

🧀🍰: Tonight is a masquerade ball, you see.

🧀🍰: Your target is wearing a cat mask.

Between the two of you, the cookie who wins their favor first will win.

🌶: How would we prove that we won their favor?

🧀🍰: You just have to receive and bring back one of their things as proof/indication of winning. (You musn't steal it!)

🧀🍰: I already told Roguefort the same thing, so you should probably get going right away?

🌶: (WHAT?!) YOU SHOULD'VE SAID THAT EARLIER!

🌶: (A cat mask she said... where in the world are you?)

🍮iii: Can't I hold that for a sec?

🧙: No.

🍮iii: just once~!

🧙: No-!!!

🌶: Excuse me...

🌶: By any chance, have you seen a cookie wearing a cat mask around here?

🍓: ! (gasp)

🍓: Huh? Uh...

I, I... (th, that...)

🍓: I-I saw someone that way... (blush~) (note: speaking formally)

🌶: (whish) Ah, thanks!

🍓: 😳.....

🍮iii: trade with meee~!

🧙: I said no!!

🌶: ! (Over there!!!)

(loud footsteps)

RF🧀: ...So as I was saying...

🌶: Hi! Nice to meet you! (whack!) (shove)

🌶: For you to play dirty and go first...

(bzzzt)

(LET'S SEE WHO EMERGES THE WINNER!!!)

🐱:?

(/ch 2 end)

------

LINK TO CH 3:

CH3:

🌶: ghh...

🌶: (I butted in all confidently but...)

(awkward) 🌶: (what the heck should I say?)

🧀: The moon is flying unusually high tonight... It must be because she is jealous of your beauty.

🐱: Oh my! 🌶(dripping down)

🌶: (Are they crazy?) (I can't say something cringey like that!!)

🍮: 'scuse me!

🌶: Huh?

🍮: She said she's got something to say to you!

🍓: U-um, well...

🍓: I-if it's okay with you... May I have this dance? (lit: will you dance 1 song with me?) (note: speaking very formally)

🌶: No, I...

🐱: My, you musn't refuse an invitation to dance, you know.

Please go on ahead! (lit: go and come back)

(zoned out)

🌶: (Dammit, I can't just leave Roguefort alone like this though-!!)

🌶: At this rate, I'm gonna lose..!

🍓: U-um, excuse me, by any chance...

🍓: Could it be that you didn't want to dance, but reluctantly agreed and forced yourself to for my sake...? (lit: ...pointlessly because of me, reluctantly came out)

🌶: Ah, it's not like that

🌶: To be honest, I don't really know how to dance. Today is my first ball, ya see.

🍓: I-is that so?!

🍓: Wh-what should we do, It's my first too tho...

🍓: I'm so sorry for making things troublesome for you...! (dashing off)

🌶: W-WAIT!

🌶: Are balls such a big deal? We just have to move to the beat, right?

🍓: B-but...

🌶: Look! Those guys are all enjoying themselves dancing, aren't they!

(🍮: You really can't dance!! (stomp stomp) )

🍓: Ah...

🌶: Let's just enjoy ourselves as well!

🍓: ...Okay!

(Wheee~) (/giggle)

🐱: ......

🧀: Pardon me,

🧀: The lobby is rather chaotic, so it seems like dancing might be difficult... shall we move to a quieter place?

🐱: Yes, sounds good. (footsteps)

🍓: Whew~

🍓: I had fun, thank you so much!

🌶: Me too! (hahaha)

🌶: (Gasp) (This isn't the time for that!)

🌶: I totally forgot I was in the middle of a bet. I have to quickly go back to stealing hearts... (whish whish) Where the heck did they go?

🌶: Hey, have you guys seen Roguefort Cookie?

🥂: Roguefort Cookie..?

🥛: Ah, I have!

🥛: I saw them go out to the garden a little while ago.

🌶: The garden?

(dashing footsteps)

🥂: Roguefort Cookie came to tonight's ball? They're not trying to steal something, by any chance...? (That was Chili Pepper Cookie just now, right?)

🥛: Ah, I heard they're doing a bet with Chili Pepper Cookie.

🥛: I encountered them while I was changing clothes... they really did disguise themself perfectly!

🥂: Aha~

🌶: What garden is this wide? (Seriously.)

🌶: Ah, there they are.

!!!!!

(/ch 3 end)

[ryllen]

Please read this by putting it through google translate image translation feature on phone and cry with me,

or i can summarize it to you

"Why does human help the weak?" [ You just do it automatically, don't u think? ] - Kalim [ I was taught to do so. ] - Deuce [ Helping others is a beautiful thing. ] - Rook [ It's a natural for the strong to help the weak. ] - Riddle

[ It's just human's instinct of wanting to survive together, is it not? ] - Trey Jade finds it weird, because in the sea, no thought will be given to the weak. The strongest will survive. Call it an ego on land if you want, but that is how it has always been in that big pool of deep never ending water.

Jade is a mermaid type who is rather sensitive when turned into human. Walking with legs feel like walking on knives for him. To counter that problem, he always had his transforming potion mixed with a lot amount of pain killers.

One time he started to feel pain on his feet, he refused to be helped as he is fixated of being a strong creature & not wanting to be positioned as something weak. When he finally let trey helped him, he kept asking if there's any compensation he had to pay for having Trey helped him. "It is just pure kindness for underclassman", Trey said. Having it not sitting right on him, Jade told Trey his secret about his human legs' sensitivity problem as a form of payment. "That's too much information for that price." "Such critical thing! I never tell anyone that information as it would endanger my life!" "So.., are you telling me because you trust me?"

"No. I am telling you because I want (to keep receiving) that pure goodwill from you, my senior."

"That's an unnatural & greedy remark from a benevolent Octavinelle's student. Such a bad boy, Jade." Trey touched Jade's face in soft scolding manner & it made the mermaid quietly flustered with feeling he never knew he could felt before. Finding Trey's affection dear to him, at some other time later, he pretended that his feet hurts. And he lied about not bringing any pain killers with him. Trey who was wary about lying Jade, used his magic to overwrite the pain on Jade's feet, so he could walk by himself. But Jade sulked. Because, rly, he just wants to be carried by Trey again. Sensing this, Trey gave in, and carried Jade on his back, pleasing him.

Previously seeing Trey danced with Cater & Rook at other events, Jade invited Trey to go to an abandoned castle. He asked him to dance with him.

"I want to look good in front of you. But I'm not good at dancing," Trey said.

"Good." Jade replied with a smile, happy with his awkwardness. "I am not familiar with human's dance either."

They started to dance. And flirted a little. "Your eye is like olive." (Typical TREY) And when they were about to kiss, 3 overblot ghosts broke in.

"'ll take responsibility" Jade said, instantly feeling responsible as he was the one who brought them there. He managed to defeat one of the ghost. But in the middle of battle, the usual pain started to seep in to Jade's feet. For real, this time. His legs gave out.

With 2 overblot ghosts left still, Trey put himself into the middle of the fight. "I don't have enough magic to both overwrite your pain & defeat these overblot ghosts at the same time. So, run away while I try to hold them back."

Jade started to think how unacceptable it is that he is protected by someone who is supposed to be weaker than him. He should have been the one protecting Trey as mermaid is a stronger being, however he is nothing but a hindrance right now. Trey would even win the fight if it was not because of him.

So Jade found a way. He made noise to get the overblot attention's. He directed them to him so he could take them out by letting the chandelier fall over all of them together, including him. He was so ready to be crushed & took all those responsibility with him.

But, of course, Trey can't have that! Trey saved Jade at the last minute. He pushed Jade away, so the chandelier missed him. But in consequence, Trey had his legs broken as they were the ones that got crushed by the chandelier, instead -- together with the remaining overblot ghosts.

Jade who still didn't realize the situation, said "... Oh. That's too unreasonable to suddenly jump in, under the chandelier and come..." "I can't help it."

Jade slowly turned his head.

"It's too easy to want to help the person you love." "...So let me help you out." The horror of the current situation finally creeped to Jade's face.

"T-TREY-SAN! TREY-SAN!!!!!!!"

[ What do i do now?? What do i do??? ]

"Go, return by yourself even without me..."

Jade started to think of all his options. Phone? out of range. Magic? Out of the question, he just realized that his magic gem is now broken. The only mirror to come back to the school was at the foot of the mountain, while the castle they were in was at the very top of it.

[ Carry this person on your back. ] The voice in his head said...

"Carry this person on my back--?" he turned his head, and suddenly imagined the path of 'knives' he had to step on to go back. Not alone even.., but together with this person. ...The additional weight surely would pressed his feet harder to the ground, causing even more pain.

Trembling from the thought of the pain, Jade thought... "This is bad..., I only have one more painkiller...."

He took out that single pain killer in his pocket, and put into his mouth, seemingly ready and prepared to walk; at least a few steps back without pain. But no, he refused to do so. Trey is wounded. He must experience pain too right now. Lips-to-lips, he gave the wounded Trey the painkiller & let him swallow it.

"I'll help you now..." Jade said, repaying on Trey's deed & now walking back without painkiller, with his dear senior on his back.

His feet hurts. So badly that he started to bit his lips & let them bleed. The sudden thought of wild animals attacking them in this situation, made him shuddered.

Near them, he spotted a good running river.

...

[ I can just abandoned this person... and jump into the river. ...With that I can easily reach the foot of the mountain. ... With that, I can become a strong creature again, not the helpless one like what I am right now. ]

...

For a second Jade lost in thought of abandoning the weak like what the sea always taught him to do. But then, reminiscing how Trey carried him at that crucial time when he needed him to, he said to himself...

"No. That doesn't matter... "

"Because right now ..., I am helping him out of pure love."

And so, he kept enduring, until Idia who wandered at night to get his late night snack from the school's vending machine, found them who successfully came back, fainted at the hallway.

--

Time passed.

--

...

"Jade refuses to walk for awhile now." Floyd said, guiding Trey further inside to the longue. It might be because that event; so traumatic & painful, that Jade just wanted to forget entirely about walking all together. Or maybe it was out of guilt, for him being the reason that Trey had to be confined in the hospital room to recover & not being able to go anywhere. That's why, Jade isolated himself in the glass wall as a way to punish himself & share the same feeling with Trey.

"Sorry for the trouble." Trey replied, pushing his wheelchair with his hands.

"It's okay. It's Jade's own fault." Floyd replied, nonchalantly. Just like he always been. Oddly comforting, at the current situation. "Jade, sea turtle is here~~"

There he is. Jade, swimming in his mermaid form. Their eyes met. Seeing Trey sitting on a wheel chair, his eyes, glistened.

--

"So will your legs heal?" Jade was still in his mermaid form. He perched on surface of the longue's glass wall he was in, to talk to Trey.

"Yes."

"It's not just the bone fractures, right? It's also the ability to walk, right?"

"Of course."

...

Jade was relief. But he was still burdened with other feelings from the incident.

" --- IF I NEVER MET you, after graduating, I would have returned to the sea and keep being a strong creature forever....." "I am so scared and feeling so pathetic......."

...

Trey reminiscing the moment Jade carried him on his back, while enduring the tremendous pain on his feet, said, "You are...? At that time though, you looked like the strongest person in the world to me..." He patted Jade's head, consoling him.

Jade was relieved once again. " ... Trey-san ... " But it seems that this mermaid still has something in his mind...

"...When you risked your life, and let yourself be crushed under the chandelier..., was it all just because of the natural instinct inhabits in your body, OR-"

He didn't finish his question, and yet Trey answered. "It's because, I like you."

...

Jade proceeded to come out of the water, having his tail transformed to legs, once again after a long while. He approached Trey who sat there still with his immobilized legs.

"...I never thought I would ever need my legs again... He gazed Trey in the eyes. "But it is necessary...." "...There are a lot of things I want to do with you, with these legs..."

"...Many..."

And they both shared a kiss, which became the start of everything else.

[deus-ex-mona]

real talk: lxl should continue to explore romance fantasy concepts in their songs. it’s clearly working for them~

[hoshiina]

ISAO. 01

He had felt lost, to say the least, ever since Hikari had disappeared from this world. It was like there was a significant part of himself just gone, and nothing could fill in the gap. Not the mountain of work he took on or the harsh words he spoke to Kikoru from the fear that she'd go through the same one day.

And so he didn't even notice when Shinomiya Hikari had disappeared from his life as well. Only when you had shown up did the fog finally clear. He watched the way you'd treat Kikoru with so much love and the nostalgic way she smiled warmly back at you, and the view in front of him cleared for the first time in so many years.

How hadn't he seen it before? How long had he been in this state of mind? Why had you stuck around and waited for someone like him?

Yet, it wasn't some rocket science answer, there wasn't even a deep sensible reason— it was horribly simple. You just loved him, so genuinely. You loved someone like him.

But now he sees you, he's looking right at you, so please wait just a little longer. He'll be yours and yours alone in no time.

[maxinemartinsdrill]

anyone else unable to stop thinking about that jupernatural fic where Sam is somewhat frum and won't get a tattoo but also realises he needs one so dean like roofies him and tattoos him and leaves him with the Talmud tractate saying its not wrong if it was non-consensual... and they're both satisfied with the outcome of this...

[oceanwithouthermoon]

i think its weird that i have to make this disclaimer but the internet is crazy so wtvr,, anyway,,

if i say i dont like something, that doesnt mean "that thing is bad and nobody should post it.."

i swear literally every time i even mention that i dislike something, people will go "wow does that mean u fucking hate me cuz i post that thing? ur a fucking stupid bitch and all ur opinions r wrong" LIKE ?? er.. no. just because i say i dont like certain characterizations of certain characters (the saiki k fandom is CRAZY about this cuz i can state an opinion on literally any character and a group of people will still go 'well only we're allowed to post our opinions about them because we're always right!1!1!'), or certain ship tropes (mentioned my hatred of toxic yaoi maybe once or twice on here months ago and people STILL get mad at me as if i said toxic yaoi lovers r evil or something), or certain ships, or WHATEVER, does not mean that i HATE the people who are posting them or that i think they shouldnt post them at all, NO, im just posting about my personal tastes on my personal blog and it would be extremely weird and hypocritical if i decided that i was the ONLY person that was allowed to do that,,

i think the only reason people assume that is because there are a lot of other people on here who ARE like that, and a lot of people toe the line between posting that they dont like something and posting that they think everyone who likes that thing is stupid, annoying, and wrong,, so i guess all i can say is, sorry for whatever made you make these assumptions but they arent true about me so plz leave me alone ʘ‿ʘ ur doing the same thing to me that ur accusing me of but i didnt do it in the first place so ur just actively being a dick for no reason

[smoosnoom]

corollary

“Okay,” Mike echoes. “So, I was – thinking. We should sleep together." Will, for some reason, still looks lost, but he looks cute – sweet, like that, pink cheeks and eyes wide and glossy and the slight furrow of his eyebrows like Mike has given him something outlandish. “I,” he starts, “don’t understand.”

Mike proposes a sleepover.

Unsurprisingly, no sleeping is done.