#also remember when you could format a post as a question

[aethercurrent]

The Incident in the last tags was in relation to leer aka eden rewrite.

check-ins required gdocs. which, like, fine, whatever. bothersome since that thing is laggy as SHIT on my end but i'll live.

i thought

now, you see, i'd been having a wretched time. lowest of the lows i'd had in a while. working on leer had been nothing but the little bit of joy i had at the time. it's nice to work on something experimental and seeing it come together after all! then, The Incident. i paste leer into gdocs thinking it'll be fine.

leer, experimental as it is, is in screenplay format. meaning fully edited and formatted, it looks like this.

leer was nearly finished at that point. it had 60k of its 77k words.

all the formatting was gone. uploading the darned thing didn't make the formatting work either, because the universe fucking HATED me that day. so guess which person going through a hysterical breakdown laugh-sobbing as it progressed, was forced to re-align already aligned text. because the mods said it needed at least the base formatting.

and THAT's why i have a blood feud with gdocs

also read leer please

[feeder86]

Feeder 86: The Top Ten

Can you believe that the Feeder86 ‘Orginal Gainer Stories’ blog will soon be posting the two hundredth story? I thought of many ways to celebrate. But then I stopped and realised that I would probably be best using the time to address one of the questions I get asked about most frequently. Which of the stories do I personally like the most?

This was not an easy list to make as I very rarely go back to re-read my own work after I have finished editing and posting them. This is not because I do not like them, but because I always see bits that I want to change. Nevertheless, this project was the perfect opportunity to revisit a few oldies that I remember being very proud of at the time. 

Hopefully you will see this list for what it is: a glimpse into how I write, my motivations and drive; rather than just a self indulgent pat on the back for myself. Yuck!

So, with that being said, let us begin...

#10 The Feeders’ Formula: This tale certainly had to be placed into the list. After all, it is the one that kicked off ‘Original Gainer Stories’ all those years ago. There are many amazing examples of instant body weight transformation stories out there. I felt that I needed to write this one as my contribution to the genre. It went down well at the time. I swiftly wrote a Part Two, then followed it up with others (The Feeders’ Formation, The Feeders’ Formalities, The Feeders’ Foreclosure, The Feeders’ Forecast, The Feeders’ Former Years), becoming something of an ongoing saga in recent years; focusing on the different Feeders from that very first meeting. As a writer who sometimes struggles to find the ending, these are wonderful to write as they all have the same inevitable conclusion. There is also so much freedom to be had when you’re working with characters who are pretty much pure evil. I know so much more about the Feeders than I’ve ever written down, so it is great to tease out those little details with each new installment. The newest of these tales (The Feeders’ Foreplay) was the darkest yet, but seems to have provoked a very favourable reaction from many. Who knows what the Feeders may get up to next? I do! And you can find out too, once we start a whole new sweeps season of stories this April! Come with me into The Feeders' Fortress!

#9 Only One: Where do I start? Only One has my absolute favourite type of feeder. Ben is big, sexy and very in control. He’s one of those rare types of guys who always stays on top and is a step ahead of absoultely everyone he meets. Who wouldn’t fall for him? I certainly did! In fact, I loved him so much that I wrote an entire prequel for him (and none of you even noticed!) Check out Rewire if you want to see how Ben became the man we know and love.

#8 The Wright Boys: The idea of a weight gain that cannot be stopped or controlled is a tempting one for many. How much easier would it be if you didn’t have to second guess your choices or face the pressure to lose weight? This was the first tale of what I see as ‘The Curses’ saga that eventually bled into many other stories (including another one on this list!) and culminated in Wright vs Beckett. However, this story remains my personal favourite of these. If you’re a fan of looking for crossovers between my stories, these are some of the most explicitly linked. I followed it up with a spin-off tale (The Wright Boys: DNA), but continue to have ideas about how I could go back to these boys in the future. Watch this space.

#7 Making Monsters: The title of this story really does give away how I felt about it at the time. This is quite the saga, spread over into not just two, but three parts! It began as a story that was very similar to Blackmailed; a tale that I had written previously about a guy voyeristically enjoying seeing his friend fatten up her boyfriend. However, this story evolved even further for me, with Tommy’s love of eating and gaining weight being both his greatest love, and his biggest shame. His denial only heightened the tension for me, and, when he does eventually give in, the gains feel all the more satisfying as a result.

#6 The Pig Feed: It’s not easy to write a gainer story where there isn’t another character spurring the events along and encouraging things. In this tale however, that role is given to a very tasty and surprisingly addictive pig feed mixture that Steve gets himself hooked on. It’s a story that I really enjoyed writing and still feel very happy with. I have considered writing more stories around this interesting feed. However, I am yet to do so; deciding (for now at least) that things are perhaps best left as they are. But, feel free to let me know your thoughts on this.

#5 Farm Boy: Whether you grew up in a big city, or a small rural community, like Hayden in this story, we can all relate to having desires and attractions that those around us don’t understand. And, thanks to how well connected we are these days, we now know what it’s like to realise that you’re not actually alone, and the whirlwind of excited emotions that follow. I enjoyed writing this story because I, quite simply, fell completely in love with Hayden. As kinky as he was, he still retained that fresh faced innocence throughout. If any of my characters were destined to be together forever, I imagine that these two would be my top choice.

#4 Keeping a Crush: This is one of those stories that I wrote in a matter of hours, and I was so pleased with it when I was done. Getting the train to go to work is not necessarily something that many Americans have to do, and so the location had to be switched to the UK (quite refreshing, I thought!). For me, it’s one of those really rare instances where placing very solid restrictions on the structure of a story (In this case, having it all take place during the commute to and from work) and finding that it actually elevates the sexual tension and mood. All scenes take place in public settings. All conversations could, in theory, be overheard. These days, so many people meet online and flirt for weeks by messaging back and forth, before they even see each other for the first time. Nowadays, for better or for worse, the actual, real fantasy is finding a connection with someone you just see in the real world; perhaps with a person you literally just met on the way to work...

If you’ve not read this one, I really would highly recommend it.

#3 To the Max: Stories with a magical element to them are either loved or hated. However, I find that this tale walks that line very successfully. Ned gets his hands on a love potion and makes straight guy, Max, fall for him. I’m sure we’ve all been there with that fantasy! However, it is in the consequences of inviting someone into your life, someone that you actually know very little about, that the entire eroticism of this story is based. I won’t spoil it for those who have not read it, but believe me when I say that things soon start getting very interesting indeed…

#2 Tommy’s Two Hundred. Don’t recognise this one? Well, that's because none of you have read it yet. 

Now, I’m not just saying this because I want you all to come back for the two hundreth story, but this is genuinely one of my absolute favourites. For my big milestone stories in the past, I have written something specifically for that event (Wright vs Beckett, The Seven Feeders of Finn). However, this is just a tale that I adored writing and decided to hold back for you all, especially for this occasion. It’s a story of domination and submission within a fairly open, but very kinky, relationship. Strapping Hunter plays the part of a very controlling feeder, making me break many of my own rules and stretching my boundaries to the absolute limits. You’ll either love him, or you’ll hate him. That’s all I’m going to say…

Also, this story is going to be the first Feeder86 story that will be fully illustrated. It’s all thanks to the amazing talents of Spellwell9 who was given an advanced copy and asked to imagine the characters in four different scenes. I cannot wait for you to see this!

Put it in your diary. All will be revealed from Friday 5th April…

#1 F80 Control: This is perhaps a controvercial choice (especially as my #1). I have previously admitted that this story strays a little from its purpose of being a gainer story. In other words, I get very caught up in the background story that is being told. However, I feel that the science fiction genre is surprisingly underused in tales of weight gain. Yet, the combination of Aritificial Intelligence and submission seemed, to me, to be the perfect blend. It really is a beast of a story if you can follow it all the way through to its conclusion. 

With the advent of improved artificial intelligence software in recent years, I felt the time was right to develop the world further, with the addition of F80 Ctrl Alt Del; a spin-off tale set slightly before the main story. Then, unable to help myself, I followed this up again with another companion story, F80: Kidnap and Control. 

The reason I chose this universe as my favourite is because this is where I am happiest writing. With AI, I don’t need to consider the morality or motivations - I know exactly what their aims are and I can see multiple ways in which it will cause conflict with humanity (and their waistlines!) I would also love to write more for this world one day, and I even left a little unused subplot in the last story that I think would provide the perfect starting-off point for another chapter. Will I ever write it? Well, we’ll have to wait and see…

So, there you have it! The the complete list!

This was a much harder exercise than I expected when I first embarked upon it. Stories like: Jiggle the Jock, Meticulous, Rule Number One, Freaks, Leftovers I and II, Ethan: The Secret Feeder and, not fogetting The Consequences I, II and III all crept in and out of the list, unfortunatley missing out on the final cut. There are many, many others, of course. But this list cannot go on forever...

So, why not tell me which ones were your favourites? Feel free to write in the comments and post a link to any other stories that you have enjoyed from myself, or from other authors. Hopefully, if we all work together, this could become a great resource for people in the future, filled with signposts and reccommendations.  

Also, don’t forget the Feeder86 Contents page where you can find links and descriptions of all the 200 stories posted so far (as well as plot outlines for upcoming tales as well). Please continue to enjoy the vast catalogue of stories, and even have a go yourself! I love supporting the many new gainer fiction writers who contact me. So please do get in touch if you need advice, or to talk through your ideas. Let’s all encourage a whole new generation of people to get typing away! I’m sure you will cheer them on just as much as I will.

Thank you to everyone who supports the stories blog here on Tumblr. Keep checking in every Friday througout April for a whole new sweeps season to celebrate this milestone. Stories will include: Tommy's Two Hundred, Train for a Gain, The Feeders' Fortress and The 1% (a companion story to The 5%). For now, I thank you all for taking time out to sit and read the very bizarre tales that sprout from my mind. You are all wonderful.

Happy 200 stories!

Feeder86

[3hks]

How to Avoid "Talking to The Reader"

A lot of people will often tell you to avoid talking to the reader, but why? How? And what does it mean? "Talking to the reader" is a technique used by an author when they want to specifically address the reader directly. Depending on your writing level and style, there could be several drawbacks to using this, such as a sense of informality and sudden awkwardness. However, I'm not saying that you shouldn't talk to the reader, because how you write is ultimately up to you!

But if you're genuinely looking for some tips on how to avoid talking to the reader, then I absolutely got you! As both a frequent reader and writer, I have advice based on experience and knowledge! These simple tips can seriously elevate your writing (especially if you're pretty new), or at the very least, make you aware of certain things and offer new ideas!

Replacing the 'you' with...

A VERY common factor in talking to the reader is using the word 'you' to reach out to your reader (dialogue from characters don't count). Although you should avoid this when you're trying not to talk to the reader, there is something behind it. Majority of the time, we include this word in a story when asking a rhetorical question. This creates a certain effect that reaches out to the reader while making them think, which can't be exactly duplicated.

Okay, so how do we fix this? Well, my advice is to simply replace 'you' with the word 'one'! Let's go a bit into depth, shall we? When dealing with a rhetorical question, the first step is to rephrase and reform the inquiry into a statement that answers what you're asking. Remember that this is a rhetorical question, meaning that there IS technically a right answer that you're looking for! Next, remove the 'you' and slap the 'one' on top of it! The replace-you-with-one method also works when you're not including it in a question, but instead a statement! Let's look into some examples, shall we?

Prompt: A lot of people will often tell you to avoid talking to the reader, but why?

Let's examine this example that I took from the top of this post, shall we? While this sentence is indeed in the format of the question, I am not directly asking you to give me an answer and there isn't really just one right answer. So how do we fix this? Replace 'you' with 'one' and boom! Done!

Fixed: A lot of people will often tell one to avoid talking to the reader, but why?

Alright, how about a much more direct question?

Prompt: The king's way of ruling was incredibly biased and unfair, wouldn't you agree?

For this prompt, we can see that 'you' is in "wouldn't you agree?" so it's pretty clear that we are seeking for an answer from the reader. In this type of context, the answer is almost always "yes," so we will have to take the longer route of rewording the sentence.

Fixed: The king's way of ruling was incredibly biased and unfair, one might argue.

As you can see, the phrase "wouldn't you agree" got altered into "one might argue." Why did I choose this? Well for starters, the sentence is now a statement, not a question, and it does indirectly answer our questions of "wouldn't you agree?" because it distinctly demonstrates that they agree with the opinion that the king's rule was unjust. Now, why did I choose "might argue"? Our previous question may have been rhetorical, but not everyone is going to say "yes, the king was unfair," so adding "might" and "argue" helps include the fact that it is indeed, an opinion!

Now that we have gotten the 'you' part out of our system, let's talk about another thing that can really help you improve on your writing (while avoiding talking to the reader)!

Stop Using...

Stop starting the sentences with "he/she is or has" (including past forms) when describing someone. I can safely say with first-hand experience that repetitive use of the sentence starter can feel a bit unnatural and too straightforward. In other words, you can most definitely do better!

When writing one's attributes, instead of starting with "he is" or "she is," try starting out with a possessive form of the pronoun, such as "his" or "her"! After that, it'll work itself out; let's look at an example to clarify!

Prompt: She had long, luscious, brown hair that fell over her shoulders in waves.

Fixed: Her long, luscious, brown hair fell over her shoulder in waves.

Simple, right? There may seem to be hardly any change, but this can seriously improve your writing when used correctly! Of course, continuous use of "his," "her," or "their" will also sound repetitive, but it's a good place to start! As experience follows, you'll get the hang of creating more varied sentence styles! Let's look at an example!

Prompt: He was new to the school. He didn't know how to interact with those his age because he was homeschooled his whole life. He was nervous even when thinking about his classmates and didn't know how he was going to survive.

Does it sound choppy? Too direct? Let's fix that!

Fixed: He was new to the school. Having been homeschooled his whole life, he struggled to interact with those his age, and even thinking about his classmates made him anxious. He had no idea on how he was going to survive.

Look at the second sentence; that's the most major change. As I combined a few different parts of the other sentences and rearranged them, it should seem much smoother now!

Be creative with how to form your sentences--that's all there really is to it! Experience will be your biggest guide and best friend when it comes to this!

Did this help? Keep in mind that my advice won't work with every sentence because a lot of it mainly depends on context! Happy Easter Sunday!

Happy writing~

3hks :)

[victoriadallonfan]

Let's Talk About the Alien vs Predator Films

Talk about wasted potential, am I right?

I'm struggling to format this in an interesting way, since so much has been covered over the past 20 years since the first film was released. You can read my thoughts on Aliens Franchise and the Predator Franchise as well.

Note that it doesn't include Alien: Romulus, but suffice to say it was a good movie!

I think the best place to start is with covering the themes of Alien and Predator, and the history before these films were created (and the failure of Fox).

My fellow AvP enjoyer @agendergorgon has already posted some thoughts on the topic, giving me a lot to think about, so check out their blog too!

For the purposes of this review, I am not going to include Alien 3, Alien: Resurrection, Prometheus, nor Alien: Covenant.... mostly. The AvP films really don't take much of anything beyond the first two films, though I will touch on Prometheus when it comes to religion.

Ditto for the Predator films, but that's because Predator wouldn't get a third film until 2010, 3 years after the AvP duo.

The themes of Alien Franchise:

I'm sure the first thing to come to mind is that the Alien series is about sexual assault, and you'd be correct. The xenomorph is designed to be extremely phallic, the facehuggers quite literally rape their victims, Burke locks his victims (including a child) in a room to be raped, Ash tries to murder Ripley by thrusting a rolled up porn magazine down her throat etc etc.

Some of you might also remember how Aliens was noted by James Cameron to be a criticism of the Vietnam War, Corporate Greed, and the callous arrogance of the US Military. The xenomorphs represented the innumerable "faceless" soldiers that could overwhelm more advanced enemies with ambush tactics and numbers, Burke thinks only in "goddamn percentages" and how this could benefit himself and the company, and the Colonial Marines are not only woefully mismanaged a newly brought on commander but also completely delusional with their own sense of invulnerability, only to break and panic under pressure once they meet a foe who is determined to fight to the death.

(I will NOT be tackling the fucked-upness of comparing people fighting for their independence vs a fucking Xenomorph, because holy fucking shit, it is literally the opposite AND worse counterpart to having the Predators be colonizers)

But, in the broader scope of the series, Alien - and the xenomorph - represent the uncontrollable, unfathomable, unknown. What are they? Why were they there? What are their motives? How did they end up in that ship? Were they built? How do they 'see'? Why did the xenomorph spare Jonesy the Cat? Are they intelligent life? How on earth do they function with their bizarre biology?

We don't get any real answers to these questions in the original films. The whole point of these movies is that there are things that mankind does not understand, and the horrors of space are vast. And equally terrifying is the arrogance of man (and synth kind) to think they can harness this horror for profit at the expense of human lives.

The themes of the Predator Franchise:

There's been tons of articles on how Predator is either a reconstruction or deconstruction (depending on who you ask) of the 80's action hero flick. A team of muscle laden, big gun toting, sweaty men spouting off one-liners as they mow down their enemies in a secret CIA led operation during the Cold War, interrupted by the presence of an intergalactic hunter than treats these badasses like mere toys. The massive Arnold Schwarzenegger is smacked out like a mouse facing off against a particularly cruel cat, needing to rely on tricks - not his brawns or guns - to stay alive and eventually defeat the Predator.

Others might point to its related take down of machismo. The opening scene is rife with characters testing each other's physical strength against each other such as with Dillon and Dutch, Ventura and Dutch have a small face-off in the helicopter as they try to make a pecking order, Ventura makes a whole speech about being a "sexual tyrannosaurus" and then mocked about sticking a gun up his "sore-ass", Hawkins repeatedly tries to make pussy and sex jokes, and they end up with a single woman in the group who is treated more like an object and baggage than a person for much of the movie. All of these men are emasculated by the Predator, some of them not even lasting a single second to its predations (both in tech and physicality), all of them losing any sense of quips and confidence, and the sole woman of the group survives because she didn't fit the movie's (and Predator's) mold of "tough as nails". When Arnold/Dutch is rescued by helicopter, it's not a cheerful one; he's haunted by what he endured and remains silent as the film pans into his thousand-yard stare.

All of this applies to Predator 2 as well, amping up the violence, dick measuring, and rules of the Predator targeting anyone who thinks they are tough shit for carrying a gun or knife. Even Danny Glover's victory is bittersweet, because he is now left in the middle of dozens of officer deaths, and entire subway car filled with corpses, and an antique flintlock pistol that promises the return of the Predators to Earth.

In a much broader sense, the Predator films are about the oversaturation of violence and lack of care for human life. Predator 1's main plot before he arrives is the CIA using Green Berets and then Dutch's special ops team to clean up their dirty work, giving them false information and not even reporting the Berets being MIA in furtherance of their Cold War goals (slaughtering guerrillas who were working with Soviet Russia). In Predator 2, the police are seen as being ineffective because they trample on each other's jurisdiction, with the Federal task force being willing to kill their own cops to keep the Predator existence a secret and letting it hunt people down for a better chance at capture and experimentation.

The Predator creatures are the epitome of such greed and arrogance. They are the General Zaroffs of The Most Dangerous Game, taken to a new height by showing that human lives literally mean nothing to them beyond a trophy hunt. They care nothing about our social lives, our politics, our loved ones, because for them this is nothing more than the equivalent of posh British Elite going on a Fox Hunt: cruel and sadistic, just to placate their egos. They will violate the corpses of the dead and taunt those in mourning, for the thrill of the game. And in that sense, the Predators are very human antagonists: they are not unfathomable nor are their goals beyond our understanding. The horror of the Predators is that they are creatures we can understand, communicate with, and even see similarities in their culture to ours... and that culture is putting us on a trophy rack alongside other skulls of creatures they felt a thrill to hunt.

So, did the Alien vs Predator films cover even half of these topics?

Well... kinda? Just... not well.

Not well at all.

The Build Up

Alien and Predator have a connected history dating back to the creation of the Predator itself. Stan Winston was on a flight with James Cameron some time after the famous director had finished with Aliens, and the director made a comment about wanting to see a monster with mandibles, which eventually led to the creature we know and love today.

Predator's debut on screen was also often compared to Aliens due to the superficially similar premise of a team of commandos going on a mission and fighting an unknown alien threat.

Despite what some people think, the AvP series wasn't started by the films.

Yes, there was a particularly memorable scene in Predator 2, where the City Hunter is admiring his trophy room and a xenomorph skull can be seen mounted on the wall (though, fun fact, it's actually an inaccurate depiction as xenomorph skulls look more humanoid facing), but that wasn't the first time the duo met in media.

And I'm not referring to the 1993 Arcade Game either (since that only came out a year after Predator 2).

The Alien vs Predator comic first appeared in 1989. And there were publications continuing ever since.

Think about that going forward. There was 25 years of content to choose from, storylines they could adapt, interesting forays into the cosmology and interactions between Yaujta, Xenomorphs, and Humanity.

The movies used exactly none of it (barring 1 thing: the Predalien).

Alien vs Predator (2004)

The plot of this movie is that Weyland-Yutani corporation detects a heat bloom under the ice in Antartica that reveals an underground pyramid, and in a race against his competitors, Weyland rounds up a team of elite experts led by Lex Woods to investigate the ruins (and find that the Predators have left them a convenient tunnel to enter the deep ice). Only to find out that this was a trap, as the pyramid comes to life activates a Xenomorph Queen, unleashing a brood of facehuggers on the helpless crew, all the while the Predators hunt them down. After a spectacular shitshow and release of the Xenomorph Queen, Lex and the last Predator (Scar) have to reluctantly team up to escape the pyramid and blow up the xenomorphs, ending in a final battle with the Xenomorph Queen. Scar perishes in the fight, but Lex manages to send the Queen into the depth of the artic ocean, and is rewarded by the watching Eldar Predator with a spear for her troubles. A post-credit scene reveals that Scar had a chest-burster inside of him, birthing the Predalien!

Rewatching this movie, I'm surprised at how good it looks. The opening scene of the satellite in space, several shots of the ship (and spaceship), the frozen tundra, the set pieces like the Xenomorph Queen Prison, and the CGI!

The CGI! Of 2004! I was shocked that they looked so good for something that is 20 years old now, but they did really well for themselves.

But it was the practical effects that blew me away the most. The shifting Pyramid is absolutely iconic and the abandoned whaling station is suitably creepy. The face-huggers look amazing and the xenomorphs are just *chefs kiss*. It's so funny seeing these Xenomorph effects compared to that of Alien:Covenant, and seeing how much work bodysuit and puppetry can do to make a monster look so much more terrifying than a CGI creature.

I know a lot of people didn't like the Predator's bulky appearance in this movie, but honestly... I dig it? It makes sense that not all Predators are literally built the same, and that the ones who would choose to go hunting in the artic would be the bigger ones who could hold more body heat. And the movie does a really great fucking job of making these Predators look badass and distinct from each other, with Celtic having the coolest mask of the whole group.

And the way the movie is shot is really fantastic! There are a lot of wide and tracking shots where the movie lets the atmosphere do the work instead of badgering us with words, taking its time to build up tension and soak up the visuals. One of my favorites shots they did was slow roam through the Predator ship as the systems come to life and we get to see holograms come on-line, feeding information directly into their masks. Equally good was when the Xenomorph Queen is awakened to cackling electricity and ominous lighting, showing us how vast this chamber is and how huge this Queen is in comparison to the one Ripley faces.

The same goes for most of the actions scenes, with a decent amount of cool slow-mo shots for things like Face-huggles launching themselves, Predators leaping across chasms, and showing Scar's impressive athleticism when he leaps 10 meters into the air and stabs a spear through the Queens skull.

And I can always rewatch the first time Alien Meets Predator Fight. God, that score! The music is just so damn good!!! You really feel like you are watching two massive horrors from space finally finding themselves sharing a space together.

Honestly, the Predators using the Xenomorphs as some kind of fucked up exotic pet for hunting trials and training fits the lore PERFECTLY. It’s actually a literal fox hunt not just metaphorical (and of course, in typical Alien fashion, it all went to shit).

Aliens vs Predator: Requiem (2007)

"Wait, Ridtom/VictoriaDallonFan, are you about to say something nice about AvP:R?!"

Well, after turning up the brightness and hanging blankets over my windows and then watching the movie underneath more blankets... yes!

For one thing, the Alien and Predator effects are spectacular! Some of the best work I've seen in the franchises! The fight scenes are creative and use really cool set-pieces like the sewer and power plant, where we get to see Wolf (the name of the Predator of this movie) absolutely kick ass and slaughter his way through hordes of Xenomorphs. Not that the xenos are left in the dust, as they get plenty of murders on screen and even outsmart Wolf on occasion.

I actually like the Predalien design and the idea that it’s more intelligent than the average Xeno, including holding personal grudges and understanding Predator behavior.

And the Predator tech is really cool too! We got laser grids, land mines, power fists, converting the plasma caster into a plasma pistol And I love the moment where Wolf kidnaps one of the human protags to use as live bait. Such a dick thing to do but so in-character.

Even the bits we get of Wolf mourning his fellow dead hunters was a neat addition.

And to be honest, I didn’t mind the idea of seeing an actual xenomorph infestation in real time, in a small town. I think that sort of setting would be really fun for a one-shot story.

And… that’s it. That’s all the good stuff.

What Went Wrong?

I compiled a list of sources where I got a lot of information on the AvP production: Source 1, Source 2, Source 3, Source 4

Note that a lot of these are 20 years old so I apologize for the outdated and honestly abhorrent word use that some articles and videos may use. And another apology for using the Xenopedia wiki, it was just a good shorthand for other information.

In short: Fox fucking sucks. They will absolutely self-sabotage themselves in order to make a (perceived) profit. Tom Rothman is the most well known (and he’s gone to Sony as of now), but Fox has had a looong history of being stingy and terrified of any risks for their films.

The sheer amount of drama involving Alien 3 and Alien Resurrection is an insane rollercoaster.

AvP removed pretty much any sense of horror and purposely had the design of the Predators to be more “human” and “heroic” (hence the weird human eyes and bulky physique), with a PG-13 rating for more audience numbers. While the human characters aren’t bad, they are not unique or even memorable (barring the fandom romantic tension between Lexi and the final Predator). Also, it was very weird that the Predators couldn’t kill a single Xenomorph, meanwhile the Colonial Marines couldn’t trip without blasting apart swarms of them. It felt like they really wanted to save money on the film in that regard.

AvP:R was even worse, with it being filmed with such a lack of lighting that people could not actually see any of the movie, and even modern advancements in color grading make it a strain. The human characters are awful, just absolutely boring and unremarkable beyond being veiled callbacks to characters from Alien, and we get a bunch of stupid Dawson’s Creek drama involving teenagers who look like they are 30 years old fighting over a girl who has no personality because she was written to just be “hot girl”.

If the story had focused entirely on the wife coming home from the war and dealing with the fact that her own daughter doesn’t feel close or comfortable with her after years of being gone, there could have been focus and themes and yadda yadda yadda.

Also, while this movie at least has horror aspects, did we REALLY need to see the Xenomorphs eating the fetuses and belly bursting out of still screaming mothers? Like, there is horror and then there is just being gross.

Final Thoughts

I often wonder if AvP took the wind out of the sails of Prometheus. Both play with the idea of humans worshiping aliens as gods, because Ancient Aliens is fucking everywhere, but it’s really hard to take Prometheus seriously when you remember AvP did basically the same setup (with arguably smarter characters).

And these movies have really soiled the idea of the AvP franchise barring the video games and comics. There’s apparently an AvP anime locked up in Disney Vaults and so far, both franchises have kept their respectful distances from each other.

However, with the recent successes of Alien: Romulus and Prey, there’s been a bit of a stir with some comments hinting at a potential AvP future.

Who knows. It’s been 17 years, perhaps 3rd time is the charm.

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 32

Make Your Bets Now!

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 12,614 😳😳

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: A Forest ~ The Cure | Burn Your Village ~ Kiki Rockwell

Summary: The White Stag is chased through the woods. The hunters begin to show their true colors, while the prey just tries to survive. You might not be the only one running away.

Recap: The banquet is underway, and you were dressed as the White Stag. You met your nine suitors, some of whom came as a shock. You gave each hunter an arrow, a symbol of their right to claim you. Uncle Cedrick just gave you a ten minute head start.

Author's Note: Hi!!! Thank you so much for your patience while I've been dealing with all the things! I've still been writing, as you can tell by the word count! 😬 Lol, I did a poll way back when Shanks first arrived asking if y'all would prefer two regular size chapters with no smut in one, or one giant chapter with the smut. So here ya go, lol, you asked for it! 😅🤭

Content Warning: There's not much dark content to warn for this chapter (besides the usual Numbers Game shenanigans & Buggy's POV on the Dr. Vorsan visit), but I wanted to give a heads up that there is a flashback of the 14 year old reader having a crush on an adult. Nothing occurs, but there is some very mild creepiness that could be interpreted as inappropriate. I WILL NEVER write about minors in that way, so please know that this is just a teenage crush! In case you would like to skip that, I'll bracket it with these ~~~⚫~~~

Fic Updates & Questions:

I will be retroactively adding titles to all chapters. I prefer to have titles for every chapter of a fic, but decided not to add them when I thought this was going to be a one shot 🤦🏼‍♀️ (We're getting closer to the end, and outlining will be way easier if I can remember which chapter things happened in, lol.) I'm going with quotes/lines from the chapters for the title theme. Also, I only used "part" instead of "chapter" on tumblr for formatting space, but I always call them chapters so 🤷‍♀️

Since this is a reader insert fic (that I thought would be a one shot 😅), I've tried to keep as many personal details as vague as possible so that we can all hop onto that lovely, green couch. I'm not planning to state the reader's age within the fic, but as we get further into the story, some of you numbers girl's may be able to figure out the math based on the flashbacks and such. I have a whole ass timeline graphed out, so if anyone is interested in knowing the specific ages and dates of related OP canon and Numbers Game canon, I'd be down to make a separate post just for that.

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc. As we get further into Egghead Arc, there will be some spoilers (mainly from manga cover stories or SBS questions for minor characters' motivations, such as what the Vinsmoke's and Charlotte's have been up to since Wano, and why they'd want to marry our lovely heiress.)

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Toxic Family, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Pain Kink, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Blowjobs, Threats, Relationship Drama, Anal, Doctors, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“I told you to run.”

Uncle Cedrick wet his lips after he hissed at you again, smirking while you transformed for him, and for his silent hunters and cheering guests. 

The white stag. The hunted. The prey. 

You’d never felt less human than you did right now, and the sense of danger in the air sent you racing toward the trees. 

It was disorienting to move in this fumbling body. Some foul magic must have stolen your hooves, your graceful limbs, your fur to fend off the cool breeze of the night. 

All you had left were your antlers, but they couldn’t help you flee. You escaped your heels, kicking free from the tight shoes as though they were traps meant to hold you still for the hunters to find. The dress made you panic, the weight of it wearing you down like trash left to suffocate creatures too helpless to free themselves from human garbage. You tried to lift the heavy skirts while you ran, but the train dragged behind you, catching on roots and branches as you fled. 

Logic started to break through the adrenaline in bits and pieces, but the forest had pulled you into a dream.

“This isn’t a dream,” you panted to yourself, slowing down to lean against a tree. 

That wild panic had left you with no idea how long you’d been running, but your heart was trying to escape from your body, and your lungs struggled to catch up as you let yourself stop. 

That should be enough drama for Uncle’s show. Why should I care who catches me first? I have to date all of them anyway. 

And the fear was back. 

Nine men were about to stalk you through the woods at night, and you’d just run deeper into the darkness, like a fucking idiot.

Though you doubted that staying closer to the courtyard would have made you any safer. All of those leeches were here to watch the show. They’d probably already placed bets on which hunter would get his greedy hands on you first.

Don’t cry. 

You almost did. Every time you thought you could accept your fate, Uncle Cedrick found ways to make it more torturous, more humiliating. 

Apathy tried to protect you, a welcome friend that lulled your emotions to sleep until you stared into nothing, your logical mind reciting your thoughts on a loop to distract from what you were putting away.

I already gave the leeches a good show. It doesn’t matter who catches me first. 

Useless rage replaced your apathy in a flash at the memory of the traitor touching your skin. Shanks was the last man you wanted to catch you, but Uncle’s threats felt like hidden traps, like suffocating trash, like this stupid dress that snagged on every branch. 

I won’t give them anything else to hurt me with. 

Crashes and yells entered the forest like a storm, and you were the white stag again.

You ran. 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Shanks had only been gone for a day, but the clown found himself aching for him in a way he hadn’t in years. 

Letting Shanks back in had opened the door to all this shit he’d tried to stuff away, but he didn’t have room for all of these feelings right now. Not when his star was slurring her words, her voice high and distant while she tried to convince this fucking doctor that all their time together had meant nothing.

“It was all pretend. I was bored. I know it was risky behavior, I s-see that nn…”

“I’m glad you’re expressing that awareness, Y/N,” Dr. Vorsan’s voice bore down even through her frantic heartbeat, “but you still haven’t talked about the clown. It’s important that we understand our triggers so that we can prevent future episodes.”

She’s not breathing!

“You don’t want to have any more episodes, do you, Y/N?”

“No,” she agreed, though Buggy barely heard her over her now ragged breath. 

“Good. Part of staying well means cooperating with your treatment,” the slimeball purred. “Why did you go with the clown?”

“He was sweet. And funny... I liked him.”

Buggy looked to the ceiling, unknowable emotions pulling his face into a grimace. 

“You just told me that it was all pretend. That you were bored.”

“I, yes…”

“Clarity, Y/N,” the pompous creep scolded. “We can’t make changes if we don’t acknowledge our patterns. Why did you go with the clown?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Buggy growled.

The next words he heard had to be from her lips, but it sounded wrong, as though she’d been possessed by the concept of emptiness itself. His star was hollow. 

Gone. 

“I used him. I wanted to run. I’m selfish.”

No, baby, don’t say that.

The fucker didn’t say anything for too long. He couldn’t hear any rustling, only his empty star, breathing just enough to keep her alive. 

“Your family was very worried for you. That extreme, self destructive behavior—“

“I know,” Y/N snapped, then Buggy heard the sound of skin against skin, as though she’d slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m s-s-sorry, doctor, I…”

“It’s quite, alright, Y/N,” the man fucking chuckled. “You’ve just experienced an episode that must have caused some additional trauma, but you’re safe now.”

Buggy hadn’t taken notes, and he looked down to find a shredded notepad on his lap, his shaky hands clenching into the paper. 

“Do you want to be safe?”

“Yes, doctor,” Y/N stated, the gravity of a black hole in her voice. 

“Was it safe to run away with pirates?”

What the fuck is he doing to her? 

“No.”

“Good. Now, tell me about the clown.”

Circles and circles of this talk spun through Buggy’s mind, and it seemed like nothing was said, yet he could hear his star break a little more with every word. 

“I’ll rip his tongue out, baby. Make him eat it for you. Don’t listen to him.”

“Excellent work today. Self reflection is difficult, but it’s the only way to heal.”

“Thank… Thank you, doctor.”

“There’s no need to thank me. You have the power to stay well all on your own, as long as you put in the work to take care of yourself. Just try to remember the kind of life you wish to have. You don’t want to lose yourself in another episode, do you, Y/N?”

“No, doctor.”

The clown laid in silence for hours while his broken lover did the same. Somehow Y/N built herself up again, preparing to head to dinner with her sister, and her voice was almost as clear as it had been before the session. 

She keeps all of this inside… I didn’t even—

“Come on, little clown. Don’t eat dinner on the floor again.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

The Emperor of the Sea followed an usher to his seat, feeling high as he twirled the decorative arrow in his fingers. He was lucky to have made it in time, and luckier still that Y/N had looked at him like that. Shanks was sure that it wasn’t really lust in those magnetic eyes of hers. Buggy’s fallen star was difficult to read, but it had to be a message. An opening. 

I’ll get you out of here, Y/N. 

Even Benn’s smirking face couldn’t diminish the flames she’d warmed in him, his first mate pulling his seat out while he approached. The last few tables at the edge of the courtyard seemed filled with guests that were either late or large, the nearest competitor being the two story tall Prince Fukaboshi. 

Before Shanks could greet his rival, Sylvad’s voice carried through the night air, testing the Emperor’s ability to fake a smile. 

“Thank you all for joining our family as we celebrate the hunt for a new member! I am honored to help strengthen the Sylvad legacy by making sure that my enchanting niece finds the most loving, and of course, the most profitable match,” he admitted with a smug laugh. “Just as this marks the beginning of a new era for our family, I’m sure that most of you have sensed the shift in the waters.”

Cedrick paused for effect with Y/N posed like some pretty doll at his side while his guests murmured in agreement.

“For generations, the Sylvad’s have stood in enthusiastic support of the Marines. Although I still pay them an exorbitant amount to show up when I call, their many recent failures, and acts of overreaching, have shown them to be nothing more than expensive, and exceedingly annoying guard dogs.”

The laughter he drew was mixed, both nervous and pleased, and Shanks was sure he wasn’t the only one to catch the threat in those playful words. 

“The world is changing, and I intend to keep my family strong, even if we have to shoo the seagulls away,” he vowed with enough humor to keep the mood light. “But enough about all that, we’re here to enjoy ourselves. Let’s welcome in the New Era together with a good old fashioned hunt!”

Confusion was clouded by the applause Cedrick had demanded with his gestures and tone after he offered Y/N a hand. Watching that man touch her had Shanks’ jaw clenching, holding himself back while she truly looked like prey under his smirking grin.

“I think our white stag is feeling a bit skittish, but that's nothing a little chase can't fix. The first hunter to catch her claims the first date!”

Shanks watched in horror as Cedrick led his niece to the edge of the courtyard, speaking to her too softly to hear before she ran toward the trees, stumbling in that fucking costume he’d stuffed her into. 

Benn nudged his ankle, stopping Shanks from finishing his movement. Gryphon was on the ship anyway, and he wasn’t sure what use his sword would do other than to comfort his helpless soul.

I’m a villain now. Maybe I should just kill everyone here. 

He chugged the glass of wine in front of him, as though swallowing the liquor could help him swallow the layers of guilt that made no sense to him.

The bright light of that wounded star disappeared into the trees, but there was no reprieve. A large, white canvas was rolled out over the side of the manor walls while servants pushed a massive transponder snail on a wheeled cart up the path. The courtyard was silent until the snail’s eyes flickered, its mouth open as sounds of heavy breathing and snapping twigs came through before the live feed was projected. 

Two images appeared on that blank wall, bringing gasps and applause from the guests while Sylvad preened.

“In ten minutes,” he announced, doing a flourish as a timer popped up on the frantic screen, “the hunt for the white stag begins. The man that touches her first wins the hunt, and will earn the first private date tomorrow evening, as well as the pleasure of dining with the lovely doe tonight.”

The lovely doe in question was panting as she kicked off her heels, running barefoot through the woods. On the left was a jostled scene of darkness and trees, but as she looked down to lift her skirts, it was clear that a cam snail must be on her head, maybe hidden in those antlers. The second image continued to flip, showing her running and struggling through the brush from endless angles. 

Does he have a surveillance snail on every fucking tree on this island?

“What a strange courtship custom,” Prince Fukaboshi noted quietly, although his size let the words carry enough for Shanks to let out a sharp laugh, smiling up at the merman to cover his anger before Sylvad continued.

“You may woo my niece however you like, so long as it doesn’t cause her unsalvageable harm, or remove her from this island. I won’t have my vacation home turned into a war zone, so do watch your violence. I know that some of you have had disagreements in the past, but let’s keep the fighting to a minimum unless it’s part of a game, alright lads? We wouldn’t want to spoil the fun for everyone.”

Leeches…

Servants came around to all the tables to take bets from the guests while the courtyard followed the white stag’s every, panicked step. 

Hawk was right, this security is something else.

“This isn’t a dream.”

“Aww, isn’t she a darling,” a diamond-studded, older woman crooned, inspiring more guests to make noises about how precious she looked while she caught her breath, eyes blank as she leaned against a tree. 

“You’re gonna catch that little bunny, aren’t ya, Captain?”

Shanks let out a breath, finally breathing, when he met his first mate’s gaze. Benn was steady, the curve of his lips and shine of his eyes hiding the intensity from those that didn’t know him, but his captain recognized the look. 

It’s time to get serious.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

Easy silence wrapped around the three men during dinner, interspersed with deep, hushed voices, and the scratching of Buggy’s pen while he doodled. He couldn’t help but feel thankful for the less noteworthy hours that had passed since his star had met with the doctor. 

“Zala checked in,” Crocodile reported between bites. “Guess she wasn’t suited to the restaurant business after all.”

“That’s Miss Doublefinger, yes?”

“Not anymore,” he sighed at Mihawk’s question. “Zala used to work well with Daz Bonez, and she’s investigating Dr. Vorsan. Refused to help without bringing Marianne along though… Ms. Goldenweek.”

“The child,” Mihawk questioned, giving a gentle tilt to his head. His lover seemed to get touchy when his old organization was brought up. 

“She’s eighteen now,” came the curt answer, although the larger man almost smiled at those damn, golden eyes. 

“Uncle ChodeTick’s talking to her, taking a walk,” Buggy reported, guilt cutting them off before they could get too flirty. The clown scribbled his notes, the easy silence less easy now. 

Mihawk’s lifetime of dedication to becoming the strongest did nothing for him now. All he could do was watch every subtle, pained expression on Buggy’s face while he suffered, the bravest of them all. 

“The agents are infiltrating the asylum the doctor runs when he’s not fucking with our girl,” Crocodile shared, his voice hushed. 

“Sending a teenager to infiltrate an insane asylum? You are ruthless, aren’t you,” Mihawk flirted lightly. He was learning this man, and for the first time he wasn’t making excuses about why. His tone paid off, and he smirked at the playful look on that scarred face.

“Marianne‘ll be fine, I’m sure she’s looking forward to art therapy. Plus, Zala will— what’s wrong, Buggy?”

The clown gestured for silence while his face went red with rage, listening to the rules, and the threats that her monster of an uncle was caging his star with. 

“FUCK!!”

The nearly empty plates and glasses went flying as Buggy flipped the table, his body shaking in every direction, unable to sit with himself for another second.

“I’m pathetic! I can’t help her. I can’t fucking do ANYTHING!”

Crocodile and Mihawk caught as many pieces of him as they could, and wrapped themselves around Buggy until he breathed again, holding most of his body between them. 

“Don’t say that, Buggy.”

“Shh, little clown. You’ve done enough.”

“He’s gonna make her…” Buggy barely managed to choke out the sound, glad that the asshole had left her alone already. One more word from his lips would have made the him explode. 

Her words were worse though. 

“She said she’s gonna fuck the ones she…” He cried out between their now stiff bodies. “He threatened her with… She has to…”

“She has to do what, Buggy,” Crocodile asked, amazed at how steady his voice was while he knelt down to meet the clown’s tired eyes. He kept his hand stroking along his side, that body slumping instead of flying apart now. 

He couldn’t say it, exhaustion making the clown sway against Crocodile’s touch before he floated his hand toward the mess he’d made of the table. Mihawk caught the notepad, his eyes going apocalyptic as he read over Cedrick’s “rules” for the games.  

The swordsman wanted to fly into violence and rage, to turn to ice, and make everything in his path disappear. 

But Buggy’s eyes made him pause, the words on the page having too many consequences, too much weight. 

“Buggy, she said this in anger, did she not? I doubt she’ll really—“

“You didn’t hear him,” Buggy snapped, starting to float and pace while Crocodile read the notes. The clown snatched the notepad off the floor after the scarred man dropped it, his hand shaking with rage. 

“He’s twisted,” Buggy continued.

“He’s dead,” came a rough voice, the fury of a sandstorm barely contained in that vow. 

“Yes, he is,” Mihawk promised as he reached for Buggy. He pushed that lovely, blue hair behind the remaining ear, almost smiling at the ear plug he found. “We will get her out of there, but we need you sane. If our little rabbit needs to take care of herself, we’ll find a way to keep you—“

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Buggy floated just out of reach, glaring down at the swordsman as though he’d started speaking some alien language. 

“You shouldn’t have to listen to that, little clown,” Crocodile soothed, resting his own rage when he realized what Mihawk was saying. “If it happens, we’ll make it loud over here so you can’t hear, or you could—“

“You want me to shove my fingers in my ears while her screams echo through the halls,” Buggy hissed. His anger was building up around him, heating the air, strangling any sense of peace from the room as those old words hit their mark. 

The two monsters under his glare froze, shame stunning them into silence. 

“You think I said I’d rather watch you fuck my star into oblivion just for FUN,” he seethed, his eyes going manic while he floated above them. “I’m a sick fuck, and ended up having flashy, old time, but that’s not why I had to watch.”

He was that frightening showman again, and they were drawn into his act. 

“I’m sorry, Bug—“

“I made myself watch while you took her from me,” he recalled in an almost sing-song voice that chilled the other men’s blood. “I watched and watched, because… I have to listen because…”

The crack in his own voice made him waver, dipping in the air a bit while he stared at the pained faces of these terrifying men. 

“What if they hurt her?”

Silence clashed with the cacophony inside their minds until Crocodile reached toward the clown again, gripping into his shoulder, and sending fear flashing through him while their faces grew closer. 

“We’ll kill them.”

“B-but–”

“Come on, brave, little clown,” Crocodile breathed over his trembling lips. “Why don’t you show me all your toys, huh? How many Buggy Balls would it take to blow up that whole fucking island if we need to?”

As they sighed, falling into the relief of distraction together, Mihawk sank against the wall, becoming nothing more than a threatening statue. He could have tried to grab onto the lifeline his lovers had just created, that comforting moment of camaraderie in violence while the clown indulged in and shared one of his favorite topics.

Yet, the swordsman couldn’t let it go. 

His little rabbit, forced to bed her captors again. 

She’s strong. She’s wicked. She’ll enjoy herself. Then we’ll get her back.

The fear that Y/N might enjoy herself enough to not want to return left Mihawk sick. He had to step outside, wandering down to the garden he’d barely thought of since she was no longer there to smell it on him. 

He found himself fisting into the dirt in that walled garden, huffing a laugh when he smelled the faint, sour scent on his fingers before wiping them on his pants. Red flashed in his mind, and the ex-Warlord sat in the dirt, wishing that love and trust were as simple to cultivate as the garden he’d been too preoccupied to plant. 

“I trust you,” Mihawk whispered to his red haired lover across the sea. The thought of how insufferable Shanks would be if he ever uttered those words in front of him brought a soft smile to his lips. “Please, bring her back. I need her by my side.”

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Time was a human construct, and as your ungraceful body ran like the prey he had transformed you into, you couldn’t tell how long it took for the yells and crashes to race toward you. 

Eternity. 

One fucking second.

A clearing appeared before you, but as you stepped into the open space, an impossible man filled up your world. He knelt down, still towering over you, and all the sounds of chaos in the forest faded while his crimson eyes asked for permission.

Katakuri reached for you, his massive hand outstretched, but he didn’t grab you. 

There was no way you could describe the subtle shift in those stunning eyes when you lifted your hand to take his, but they went wide before you made contact, his hand shooting out impossibly fast behind you. The giant of a man wasn’t fast enough, and cold fear poured through you before you had a warm body wrapped around yours from behind.

“I’ve got you, bunny,” Shanks purred, breathing a little hard as he pressed his lips against your ear. His arm was wrapped around you, holding you tight, as though you were a prize the others would try to tear from his grip. 

You wished they would.

“If we were allowed to wear our raid suits we would have–”

“Don’t complain, brother,” a taunting voice floated through the trees while Shanks looked you over, never taking his hand off of you while he guided you through the trees. “We’ll have plenty more chances. Our little bride likes being hunted, remember? You heard what the old man said about the Cross–”

A strange noise left your throat when Shanks bent down to wrap his arm under your thighs, lifting you up over his shoulder before running too fucking fast. Running until you saw the lovely lanterns again, until the courtyard came into view.

Your own bedraggled image was spread across the outer wall of the manor, the huge snail showing two screens that flashed through replays of your pathetic race and capture. It showed a few highlights of the hunters, including Shanks smashing through what looked like a wall of giant crackers, and Iceburg crawling on the ground in the wrong direction. Now they displayed various angles of the winner carrying his prize.

Shanks was surreal. No one cheered for the slab of meat he’d claimed, not when the Emperor of the Sea looked like some dark god of the forest, a hero bringing home a feast to his starving people.

The image had you closing your eyes, playing into the exhaustion so you wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. 

“Red Haired Shanks, everyone,” Uncle announced as he slowed the audience’s applause, and you opened your eyes to find him beside you, leading your captor to the head table. “The emperor has earned the first private date tomorrow evening, as well as the seat of honor tonight. I hope everyone worked up an appetite.”

I’m not here.

Both men had their hands on you while they propped you up between them, and you faced the courtyard to find the ravenous guests practically drooling over the sight of your torn and dirty dress. Thankfully your back was to the screen, so you didn’t have to keep watching yourself stumbling through the dark. 

The stragglers made their way back, and your mind kept spacing, floating while your torturers chatted, until dinner arrived. 

Servants carried a long stretch of table over the stone path, “ooh’s” and “aah’s” making you more nauseated the closer it got, until they laid out the mythical beast before you. 

Your uncle had caught a white stag. 

He had caught it, killed it, and was laughing while its dead eyes stared at you, its useless antlers like some tragic centerpiece. Uncle Cedrick ordered its flesh to be passed to every plate, so that each of his friends might share in his auspicious meal. 

“Here’s to those with the heart of a hunter,” he toasted. “May your arrows always hit their mark.”

Every bite they took tore through your own skin, the slow prey gone still while the pack of wolves enjoyed their meal. An animal again, your mind was incapable of reason or words, but even the soul of the deer could feel this truth pulsing deep within the bones that the monsters hadn’t yet picked clean.

You would not survive this. They were going to devour you whole.

~~~

“Y/N? Sis? Are you okay?”

Some part of you that only existed for your sister reacted to the worry in her voice, blinking up at her while she carefully pulled the antlers off of your head. Another image of the deer’s mutilated body flashed through your mind as you watched her hold them to her chest before turning away, hurrying toward the door. You stared, thoughts thankfully leaving your mind while she threw the cursed antlers down the corridor.

“Are you okay,” she checked in again when she returned her gentle fingers to your hair.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, voice coming out raw. “Where is everyone?”

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” Kat assured. Her sharp eyes were wider than normal, but your urge to comfort her couldn’t break through your exhaustion, your delirium. “I didn’t think you’d want all the servants around.”

Gratitude swelled with the lump in your throat while Kat’s soft fingers transformed you, bringing you back to humanity. 

“I’m sorry he’s still such an asshole to you,” your sister breathed, starting to clean the scrapes that littered your legs and feet. “Running through the forest like… You’re getting married, not hunted. He didn’t need to make it so… I’m sorry.”

“Married,” you gave a tired laugh, closing your eyes before you went down the spiral. A hiss left your lips, your body jolting when she dabbed at a particularly unpleasant scrape.

“I’m going to call Dr. Gilli,” Kat announced, stopping you from digging your nails into your thighs. “No one else, and I’ll stay with you, okay?”

“No pills. No shots,” you ordered, too frantic to care about holding it in. 

“Of course not,” she sighed when your breathing started to calm. “I just don’t want to be responsible for your legs falling off from infection. Is that alright with you, sis?”

“Fine.” The slight teasing Kat had managed to put in her tone made your lips twitch, but that hint of relief took all of your energy. Your sister stayed with you, holding your hand while the family doctor looked you over.

Dr. Gilli had always been sweet to you, but the sight of your blood on her gloves while she gushed about how beautiful you looked, and how lucky you were to have such a romantic engagement, made you want to kick that sweet face in. 

“Thank you, doctor,” Kat frowned, shooing the woman out just in time before you punched her in the throat for asking you about babies. 

Kat helped you into bed, crawling in beside you like you were kids again. 

You used to be the big sister. Four years had always felt like such a big gap, especially with everything you had tried to protect her from. 

Until you couldn’t even protect yourself, and Kat had to become the big sister. 

Gratitude and guilt over that fact could never balance out, and as much as you loved her and needed her right now, you ached for her to leave so you could break down. 

Instead, slow tears stained your pillowcase while her comforting presence held you in a quiet cage. 

“It’s only a month,” she whispered while she stroked your hair. “We’re going to find the best husband for you, and then you’ll take over the company. I know it’s scary, but I believe in you, Y/N, just like dad did… I know you’re ready, and I’ll be right here with you.”

Kat’s misplaced trust froze you for what felt like hours, but somehow you fell asleep. Your name echoed through a storm while you watched the wolves tear into her flesh, helpless to keep your sister from the starving beasts.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

For a split second upon waking on the morning of the banquet, Buggy’s first thought hadn’t been panic for her absence, but a hum of pleasure at the warmth surrounding him. 

Guilt sent him flying into pieces to escape Crocodile and Mihawk’s arms, and they blinked up at him as though they’d forgotten her too. Buggy only relaxed when he saw the reality of the day harden their faces. 

Another day full of hushed voices, and waiting. Scribbled notes, and stifled comfort. Fear, and an unsteady hope that Shanks would be the hero again. 

~~~

“What’s this,” Buggy growled at the wide eyed, young pirate that had set down a bright blue cocktail on Y/N’s desk. He’d found himself sitting there tonight, updating the other men while the suitors were introduced, and he closed his eyes to stay focused on the muffled voices. 

The clown had started to panic earlier when his star was told to leave her locket behind, almost losing her because his gift didn’t fit the “theme.” She must have stuffed it into her dress from the way her heart thumped even louder within him, and he coughed to fight the heat in his throat.

I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.

“You like sweet drinks, don’t you?”

Buggy jolted, pretending that surprised squeak hadn’t just left his throat before he met Crocodile’s eyes across the room. 

“Y-yeah,” Buggy frowned, but he avoided the collection of garnishes and tiny umbrellas to take a sip from the curly straw. He found the taste of pineapple, coconuts, and sooo much sugar, covering up the rum that he most definitely needed. “Thanks.”

The scarred man raised a brow, and Mihawk’s soft chuckle from his own desk added to the shiver going up Buggy's spine.

They’re trying to distract me… 

“Thanks, daddy,” Buggy corrected, almost smiling at that frightening, but pleased face until her voice filled with hope.

‘Mr. Iceburg?’

“Mr. Iceburg,” he repeated while her heart went wild. 

“Iceburg,” Crocodile asked quietly, looking at his own notes. “From Galley La? He wasn’t on the list…”

“She knows him already,” Buggy reported. He tried to let it mean nothing. “She likes him.”

“Of course, Sylvad’s has had ties with Water 7 for generations,” Crocodile nodded, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“She may like him, but she loves you,” Mihawk startled him as he appeared beside her desk. “Don’t forget.”

“I’d never forget that,” Buggy snapped, sighing when wicked fingers teased over his tense shoulders, helping him focus.

He focused on her breath, her heart, while she met all the men vying to touch her, to take her. He focused on trying not to freak out the longer the night went on without hearing that familiar, heroic voice. Their best chance.

“Something’s wrong,” Buggy rasped, hardly hearing Crocodile's chair thump onto the new carpet over the deafening silence of his star forgetting to breathe. It seemed like her heart had stopped beating, until her uncle’s grating voice came through, and then it pounded like a bird smashing itself against a window to try to escape.

“The clothes suit you well, Emperor.”

“I had no idea that fashionable friends could be so generous,” Shanks charmed, his voice a miracle. “Or that I’d have the pleasure of meeting such a gorgeous, little bunny again so soon. Sorry, you're a gorgeous, little doe, aren’t you?”

“It’s Shanks,” Buggy shared, almost jealous of the relief that washed over their faces before he closed his eyes to the world again.

Shanks played the roguish pirate to perfection, and Buggy had no notes for his performance. Even muffled, Sylvad’s voice was clearly satisfied, eating up the Emperor’s words. 

“Red Hair made it? He’s a suitor?”

The soft questions ripped Buggy’s eyes open, and the relief he still saw there made him sick. 

“She hates him.”

“What do you–”

“Who does she–”

“She HATES SHANKS!” 

Buggy didn’t notice when he’d flown into pieces, but he floated erratically before them, trying to understand, trying to explain. 

“How… She didn’t say that out loud, did she,” Mihawk asked after a pause, studying his movements. 

“Why would she hate him,” Crocodile mused. His silver eyes stripped him down as he stepped too close.

“How the fuck would I know,” Buggy yelled, horror filling his veins at the way her heart seemed to fight itself in its cage. “This is how she sounds when she’s with Uncle ShitFuck, or that fucking doctor! She hates Shanks. She HATES HIM! What are we gonna do?”

“Shh, shh, darling,” Mihawk breathed, catching Buggy’s face in both hands while his body still flew through the air. “Y/N thought he was going to steal you from her. If she hasn’t forgiven him, then we’ll just have to find another way.”

“But she–”

Every floating piece of him stuttered in the air when cruel lips kissed his so sweetly. 

“I am long overdue for a hunting trip,” the swordsman teased over his skin, twisting those wicked fingers into his hair. “Having all three of us here is a waste. I’ll go thin out the competition.”

“No.”

The refusal was deep, yet gentle, and that scarred face towered over them both while Crocodile tugged at Mihawk’s chin. 

“We’re not doing that. We can’t go against her wishes, not until we know why she’s doing this.”

Buggy felt pain searing behind his eyes while he tried to listen to two things at once: Cedrick Sylvad’s speech, and the moral dilemma of these ex-Warlords.

“I agree,” Mihawk said evenly, barely sparing a glance while Buggy brought his body back together beside him. “But these men want our little rabbit, and her illustrious name for their own reasons. If it’s possible to convince the worst of them to drop out, then we should try.”

“Are you running away again,” Crocodile sighed, the pressure in the air making Buggy want to sink to the floor.  

“Don’t worry, daddy,” Mihawk purred, expertly slicing through all the tension in the room. “I have a spare earpiece snail, so you can scold me all you like while I’m away.” 

‘Did you hear me,’ Cedrick seemed to hiss at Buggy, swimming in guilt for falling into the distraction of the men before him. 

“Chase?”

“What is it,” Mihawk checked in, scanning his face. 

“No,” the clown paused, more endless horror pouring into him. He had to step away, the sounds of her panic while she raced through the woods sending him into helpless rage. The other men let him feel into it, until he rounded on them again. 

“They’re hunting her like an animal,” Buggy seethed, flinching at the sound of his star falling, panting, pushing herself on. “She’s terrified, she’s– Fuck this!”

A wave of sand hit the door before Crocodile blocked his path, only fueling that need to protect her. 

“Marines on call. Germa Kingdom. Big Mom Pirates. Fishman royalty. And we still don’t know what kind of security forces Sylvad keeps on the island, not to mention whatever the Concealer keeps around him, or the President of Galley La,” the larger man listed, his voice firm, but going soft when he touched Buggy’s cheek. “The second you hear our sweet girl ask for help, or say that she doesn’t wanna be there, I will drain them all to dust… but we still don’t know what he has on her. She told us she wanted to go.”

‘This isn’t a dream…’

In a trance, the clown let the other men lead him to that flashy, green couch, his notepad and fruity drink set up on the new coffee table while he slumped into her spot between them. 

“Shanks got her,” he reported, unable to share in their relief with the sound of her strangled breaths so loud in his head. He could barely hear a thing in her world now, the muffled voices beyond theirs were too difficult to make out, especially when another heartbeat filled his mind. His old friend must have been carrying her, and the sound of both of their hearts pounding so close made his gloves damp when he rubbed at his tired eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” Mihawk tugged at him gently until Buggy curled in against his exposed chest. The swordsman didn’t recoil from the faded paint, or the hot tears that streaked down his skin the longer the clown let himself stay there. “If our little rabbit doesn’t trust our hero, then we’ll just convince the rest of the suitors to give up the hunt.”

“Try not to start any wars, little prince,” Crocodile hummed, setting his massive hand over Mihawk’s where it was resting on Buggy’s thigh. 

“War is tedious. I am looking forward to a peaceful life,” Mihawk vowed, stroking Buggy’s hair while the man let exhaustion relax him deeper into his lap. ���We just need to retrieve our lovers first.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Oh sweetie, you look so–”

“Take a bite.”

Mom’s too shiny smile hardened slightly before she tasted your oatmeal, avoiding the servants that hovered around you in clouds of makeup and hair spray. 

“You’re about to have brunch with your suitors,” she reminded you when you snatched the food from her, practically inhaling it before more pencils or brushes could touch your lips. “Don’t you think it will look strange if you don’t eat with them?”

“You don’t seem to care how strange it looks to sell off your own daughter,” you laughed, noticing a servant’s eyes widen just a fraction when they took your empty bowl. “I’m cooperating, but I will not be leaving my food or drinks unattended until I feel safer. You want your child to feel safe, don’t you, mother?”

“I found some,” Kat beamed when she barged through the door, waving a deck of playing cards above her head. She tossed it to you, and you gasped, surprised that you caught it from the air before it could hit one of the staff. Thankfully, the full skirted dress you’d been stuffed into this morning had pockets, so you tucked your little game away, forcing your mom to taste the rest of your breakfast before the brunch dates began.

But Kat was making that face. Little sister face. 

“What’s that,” you gestured toward the item she had tried to conceal when she sat across from you, tucking it behind her body.

“Just some trash I found in the hall. Do you want some more coffee?”

“Give it,” you ordered, giving her big sister face.

“It’s nothing we didn’t already know, okay? So just…”

“At least I’m not the only one being used,” a sharp laugh left your throat. “How much berry do you think he’s making off of this game?”

Mom ordered the staff to leave before leaning toward Kat, and didn’t whisper quietly enough on her way out.

“Brunch is about to start. Make sure she looks presentable.”

“Can’t sell me off if I'm not pretty, can you?”

“Y/N,” she started, looking convincingly hurt, but Kat got her out of the room before either of you could make it worse. 

You stared at the “trash” in your lap, the crisp scent of expensive ink and paper filling your lungs while you examined the brochure. 

‘Which Hunter Will Claim Her?’

That tantalizing question was scrawled across every page, while the nine suitors each had their own section, their profile, their face, and a stupid little quote about winning you. This barbaric game was disguised behind a snooty font spread over images of dappled sunlight through Sylvad trees, and decorated with arrows and leaves.

Cedar leaves.

You wanted to tear it to shreds, but you were pulled in, studying every detail.

~~~~~~

~~~~~~

Giberson

Age: Couldn’t Recall

Height: Misplaced Measurements

Birthday: August 14th

Title: “Warehouseman”

Favorite Food: Rye Whiskey

How he plans to win: “I’m sure the lovely lady and I will have a delightful time. You don’t get to be my age without learning a few tricks.”

~

Ichiji

Age: 21

Height: 186 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Strawberries and Whiskey

How he plans to win: "I’m a Vinsmoke."

~

Niji

Age: 21

Height: 185 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2nd

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Blueberries and Scotch

How he plans to win: “She’s coming with us. If I don’t win, there’s two more Vinsmoke’s.”

~

Yonji

Age: 21

Height: 194 cm (6'4")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Green Peas

How he plans to win: “I wouldn’t mind ending up with a woman like her, so I’m gonna turn her into a princess.”

~

Iceburg

Age: 40

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: January 3

Title: President of the Galley-La Company, and Mayor of Water 7

Favorite Food: Curry Made by an Old Friend. A Drunk, Old Friend.

How he plans to win: “Mm, well... I suppose I’ll win because I know her best.”

~

Fukaboshi

Age: 24

Height: 604 cm (19’10”)

Birthday: February 4th

Title: Prince of the Ryugu Kingdom

Favorite Food: Abalone Steak

How he plans to win: “I hope that she carries peace in her heart. If she does, I will stop at nothing to earn her love.”

~

Cracker

Age: 45

Height: 307 cm (10'1")

Birthday: February 28th

Title: Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates, and the Minister of Biscuit

Favorite Food: Biscuits. Dislikes Kimchi and Carbonated Drinks.

How he plans to win: “Easy. I’ll outdo them all.”

~

Katakuri

Age: 48

Height: 509 cm (16'8½")

Birthday: November 25th

Title: Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates, and the Minister of Flour

Favorite Food: Doughnuts. Dislikes hot ramen.

How he plans to win: “I will win because I must.”

~

Shanks

Age: 39

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: March 9

Title: Emperor of the Sea

Favorite Food: Kimchi Fried Rice and Lobster. Dislikes Blueberries.

How he plans to win: “Just gonna show the cutie a good time.”

~~~~~~

‘Make Your Bets Now!’

Kat was right. You knew that the audience was enjoying the game, gambling while you just tried to survive, trying to secure the least abhorrent future that you could. 

“Venison…”

“Heeyyy,” Kat fumbled through positivity as she pulled the brochure from your white-knuckled grip. “At least we know how tall they are now!”

“I love you,” you thanked her, amazed that you could still laugh.

~~~

“Such pretty, little fingers… I hope I pass your test.”

“It’s not a test,” you lied, shuffling cards instead of tearing the old man’s eyes out. “Just a game.”

“It has to be the Queen of Hearts,” Giberson winked over his Bloody Mary.

“It’s the Four of Diamonds.”

“So you are choosing the next winner,” he scolded lightly when your prediction was revealed.

“How could I possibly choose when I have so many charming options,” you reminded him as you pushed the deck across the table so he could shuffle for himself. You weren’t ready to pick and choose between these hunters. There’d been no time to feel them out. 

So they had to guess.

The lighthearted brunch felt anything but with so many eyes on your skin, especially with Uncle’s giant projector snail that blew up your image across the building again. All the smaller snails circled around you, their slow, unreal eyes reminding you how trapped you were.

Always trapped.

“That’s alright, dear. Making decisions is tough, isn’t it? I’ve been hearing about what a smart girl you are though! So, what’s the card?”

The old man’s condescension was so typical, you were contemplating rooting for him, just so you could end up with a predictable partner.

“Jack of Hearts,” you smiled after counting down twenty two cards out loud, yet again.

“Whew, that sure is something,” Giberson waved the Jack of Hearts he’d revealed, making sure the rest of the guests could see while he bragged about you, as though your skills were somehow reflective of his own talents. 

As though he already owned you.

“You shuffled,” you teased, guiding him to set up the trick one more time. “Can you guess the card?”

“Queen of Hearts,” he winked again.

Gross. At least he might die soon, that’s a plus.

~~~

“You look beautiful this morning, Y/N,” the firstborn Vinsmoke brother purred when he took Giberson’s seat. 

Every moment was on full display for the other suitors, and for the guests that had stayed on the island for the entertainment. It seemed that the courtyard was to be your new realm, with plenty of space for your much taller dates to join you at your little breakfast table that was set up on a slightly elevated platform. 

A stage. 

“Thank you, Prince Ichigi. You’re looking quite well yourself.”  

Fuck.

It wasn’t a lie, and your pulse sped at the smug smile he gave when he tilted his head down to examine you over his dark, red glasses. 

There was something dangerous in that smile, and the fact that he didn’t even try to hide it made you pause, not sure how best to deal with this entitled prince.

“What does our lovely bride enjoy when she’s not being chased,” Ichiji purred, already claiming you with his words. His sunglasses did little to hide his eyes as they raked over your skin. 

“I enjoy numbers. Mathematics,” you almost squeaked. Heat rose up to your cheeks while you started to shuffle the cards, noticing the number “1” embroidered on his maroon cloak while you explained the goal of the card trick. 

“Seven of Clubs.”

“I’m sorry, Prince Ichiji, you’re wrong again.”

You had to risk a small sip from your untested water glass to fight the dryness on your tongue.

“That’s alright,” Ichiji teased, nodding at the sound of bells marking his time. “That’s why my family always brings numbers.”

“My turn, brother,” the blue haired prince announced as he clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Be nice to our little princess, Niji,” he ordered, pressing your knuckles to his lips before heading back toward the rest of his family. 

“Of course,” your new date smirked, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped behind that blue head of hair. 

The large spikes and swoops of his hairstyle covered one of his eyes under his gold sunglasses, hiding one of the eyebrows that you kept trying not to glance at. The three brothers shared an odd curl to the ends of their brows, You couldn’t tell if it was a cosmetic choice, but didn’t want to risk insulting such powerful men in case they were sensitive about it.

“Don’t tell me my brother already wore you out,” he clicked his tongue, snapping you out of your memories. 

“I’m so sorry, Prince Niji, I must still be tired from the banquet. What were you saying?”

“Fetch our little bride some coffee,” he snapped at the nearest servant, banging lightly on the table until the dishes rattled.

His harsh tone was almost enough to make you forget your precautions, but you had enough to worry about without the uncertainty of who prepared your drink.

That curly brow raised with satisfied surprise when you rested your hand over his, his lips parting while he ate up your act.

“Would you mind sharing your coffee, Prince Niji? I’d hate to waste any more of our time waiting to wake up.”

“What’s mine is yours, princess,” Niji purred. He caught your hand as you pulled away, and you let him hold it while you drank from his mug. His coffee was unbelievably sweet.

Stop. Don’t think about…

“Thank you,” you hummed, swallowing the heat in your throat while you tried to not to look at his blue hair with that practically syrupy coffee still on your tongue. “Will you help me with a little trick?”

~~~

“It’s up to you, little brother,” Niji reported when his time ran out. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve been watching these pretty hands,” Yonji assured him, kissing your fingers before he sat down. His dark eyes seemed fierce without colored glasses to hide them, and his green hair was slicked back instead of swooping up and out like his older brothers. He wasn’t hiding his interesting features.

“So you think you know the trick,” you challenged, giving him a chance. 

“I think I’ll win your heart,” he swooned, and the sappy look on his face made your hands fumble while you shuffled the deck. 

He focused intently now as you laid them out, and revealed certain cards, counting down to the guess. 

“What card is—“

“Three of Spades,” he blurted out. “What’s your guess?”

“Three of Clubs.”

“Again.”

The youngest prince refused your small talk, avoiding your gaze until his final guess.

“King of Hearts,” Yonji beamed, puppy dog eyes finally on your face again. “What’s your guess, princess?”

Would it be weird to marry Kat’s favorite?

You didn’t glance at your sister, but knew she’d be watching while the green haired prince scored the first point, hearts practically floating around his head when you revealed the card. 

“I told you, princess,” Yonji vowed as he stole a quick peck to your cheek. “I’ll be the one to win your heart.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~⚫~~~

The man that had won your heart beamed when he saw you gazing up at him. His blue hair seemed to glow in the sun, but nothing could gleam like those strong arms, slick with sweat while he climbed down the ropes to meet you on the deck of the ship.

“Oh my, look at you,” Iceburg hummed, tying a bandana over his hair to catch that salty water before it dripped down his face. You stared at those gorgeous, purple tattoos that crawled down his shoulders and arms before he patted the top of your head. “Where’s your dad hiding?”

“He had to take a call, but I helped him write this proposal, so he said I could bring it to you,” you squirmed, handing him the file.

“He’s got you working at thirteen,” he whistled, taking the document while he shook his head. 

“I’m fourteen now,” you declared. 

You couldn’t keep yourself from rolling onto your toes a bit, lifting your chin in hopeful challenge. 

“You’re gonna be running things soon, huh,” he smirked.

Mind going absolutely blank under his attention, you just gaped at him like a fucking creep.

“This ship’s almost finished.” Iceburg leaned close, knocking on the railing behind you. “Would you like a tour? It is your family’s wood that makes it so strong, after all.”

“I– Are you sure? I’ll be fine waiting if you need to get back to work. You don’t need to watch me.”

The desire to follow him around like a puppy was overpowered by the distaste at him feeling the need to babysit you, but the look on his face made you laugh, forgetting it all.

“I don’t wanna go back to work,” the handsome shipwright complained, scrunching up his face in a pout that rivaled your sister’s. “I’d rather show you around, and grab some lunch when your dad gets here. Can we?”

“Okay!”

~~~

This gorgeous, lovely man knew more about Sylvad wood than most of dad’s executives. Listening to him talk about it always made you happy, knowing that your family was part of something so important, so loved. 

Iceburg led you through the ship, telling you how he had worked each piece of lumber, how it all moved with the wind and the waves, even guiding you to slide your hand along the trees your family had grown, smooth and silky to the touch after he’d treated them. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it,” he praised softly, watching your hand against the wood before pulling a pen from his toolbelt. “Well, let’s go get some food, girlie. You can tell your dad what a great job you did presenting your proposal.”

“But you didn’t even read it,” you blurted out, shocked when he pressed the document against a wall to sign his name.

“You and Arbo are good people, plus you’ve got the best lumber in the world,” he laughed while he led you up the stairs toward the sound of footsteps. “I trust you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Iceburg… but you just agreed to build a small fleet to expand our shipping operations in the East Blue. Are you sure you’ll have time for that while you help Tom finish the sea train? Hi, daddy!”

“There’s my girl,” your dad grinned, kissing your temple when you joined him on the deck. “Make any deals without me?”

Iceburg handed the document over, waving his own copy in your direction. Your skin flushed with heat again when he snuck you a wink while your dad glanced at his signature. 

“She’s very convincing. You’ll be able to retire in no time if she keeps this up.”

He was the perfect man. Strong, kind, silly, sweet, and so painfully hot, it drove you mad. You’d had a few crushes on your classmates over the last couple of years, but nothing compared to the way you felt when Iceburg looked at you like that. 

“I don’t doubt it,” your dad praised. He wrapped his arm around the shipwright’s shoulders, nodding his head toward the docks. “Is Kokoro still making that delightful curry?”

“I’ll never let her stop,” Iceburg laughed while he led the way. “Tom should be over there too, let’s go grab some lunch and catch up.”

“Sounds perfect. Do you want to come, sweetheart?”

~~~⚫~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

He’s not who I thought he was. He’s a creep. Another leech trying to latch on and drain as much berry from me as he can. Don’t forget. 

You were pathetic, getting flustered while he watched your hands, his calm voice taking away all your caution. 

“I have to apologize,” Iceburg hummed while you shuffled.

“Why is that?”

“Mm, well,” he looked down at his striped jacket while he patted his pocket. “I left Tyrannosaurus with my secretary. I didn’t think bringing a pet would be… I should be more focused on you.”

“What do you— oh!”

The cards scattered across the table when you jumped, laughter sneaking out of you. 

“This is Velociraptor,” Iceburg announced as a field mouse crawled out of his breast pocket. “I found him during the chase, I hope it’s alright to have pets during our stay. Are you okay, Y/N?”

“I’m fine, sorry,” you recovered from losing yourself in that laughter before gathering the cards again. Your eyes were still watering when you watched the cute creature dive back into his pocket after a few soft pets from his strong fingers. “Can you guess the card?”

“Oh my,” his brows furrowed, watching your waiting hands. “I really need to pay attention, don’t I? I’d love to spend some more time with you.”

He leaned forward, his height making him tower over you at the little table, and you found yourself blinking up at him.

Forgetting.

“I…”

“Is it the Seven of Clubs?”

“No, Mr… No, Iceburg.”

~~~

Prince Fukaboshi was led through the courtyard by a few attendants, both fishmen and mermen featured amongst the group. He looked down at you, mouth opening to speak before Uncle’s voice carried over.

“Why don’t we give our hunter a closer look?”

Grabbing onto the edge of the table took all of your focus, and you knew that your fake smile fell when you started moving through the air. The ground flew away, the wooden platform beneath you rising up toward the prince, gentle surprise on his face.

The snails on the table didn’t seem phased by the change in elevation, and it was hard to pretend they didn’t exist while they slowly shifted positions to better capture you and your date for the audience below. 

You decided not to look down to determine what kind of contraption had lifted you so high, instead looking at the prince before you. Fukaboshi took up your entire field of vision, and it was easy to see the concern on his expansive face.

“Are you alright, Miss Sylvad?”

His teeth look so sharp…

“Please, Prince Fukaboshi,” you trembled, focusing on the cards as much as you could, “call me Y/N. Can you guess the— oh, I’m sorry, are you familiar with these sorts of playing cards?”

You were barely hanging on. He spoke, he guessed, and you could feel the rumble of his voice even though your mind wasn’t quite letting it in. Your body performed without you, your lips reciting words that carried no meaning. 

“This courtship custom is unlike any I have seen before,” the prince frowned while you set up the cards for the last guess. “Since it is all strange to me, I couldn’t be certain, but…”

The pause was long enough for you to meet his eyes, so large, and filled with what looked like compassion. 

No. 

“Miss Y/N, I am seeking your hand so that my people can gain protection and resources so that they never suffer the cruelty and humiliation of slavery again,” Fukaboshi declared. The snails on the table lowered their eyes, but his voice boomed too loud to hide. 

Bells. 

“That is—“

“I never want to see anyone treated the way my sister was by those monsters at the Reverie.”

“Monsters?”

The dangerous question barely made it past your lips before the platform jolted, slowly bringing you down, away from his determined face while the bells kept ringing. 

“Are you being held against your will? I cannot abide another moment of this if you are being used like a pet for their amusement.”

“N-no,” you panicked, craning your neck to see him while you shook your head, hands pleading, voice dripping with lies. “You are so kind, thank you, Prince Fukaboshi! I’m sorry, I must seem scared, but I’m just nervous. This is all a bit overwhelming, but I promise I am glad to be here!”

“Your turn’s over, Prince. You heard the girl.”

Cracker’s manic smile appeared as the table sank to the ground. It felt like your frantic heart had been left in the sky, floating up there with those huge, concerned eyes. 

“Thank you, Prince Fukaboshi,” you beamed, feeling forever selfish at the temptation. 

I can’t risk a stranger, a whole kingdom. I’m not worth it. 

Neither of us would make it out alive anyway. 

“It has been my honor,” he said evenly, though his eyes were scanning the crowd now, a new tension held within his enormous, warrior’s body. 

The snails woke up, those slow moving eyes reminding you that the show must go on.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry?” 

Cracker sat down, and the platform probably should have lifted a bit as the shirtless man was closer to your reality, but he was still even taller than… 

You had to stop comparing these men to your daydreams. 

“Eight of Diamonds… Damn,” he brushed off his loss before looming over you. His dark, brown glove was softer than you expected it to be when he cupped your cheek, almost the whole side of your face. 

“You understand family duties, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod under the wild look he gave you.

He’s fucking unstable.

“That’s good. Family is everything.”

Is he flirting? 

A dangerous giggle almost escaped, but you kept it in, smiling sweetly while he failed every guess.

The bells finally rang out, but they couldn’t save you from his last words, his promise.

“Our family needs you, Y/N. I don’t care if you’re my wife or my sister, I’ll protect you with my life.”

~~~

This time you were grateful for the moving platform, a reason to look away from Cracker’s confident face. The true reason for the movement came into view, his brother waiting patiently for you to settle just below his eye level. 

Those eyes… 

Charlotte Katakuri was too fucking tall. Too fucking scary. Crimson eyes assessed you, his arched brows and sharp nose not nearly harsh enough to distract from those thick, dark lashes of his.

He’s too fucking pretty.

Now that you were this close, you could see scars on both of his cheeks. They led down toward his mouth, still concealed by that massive scarf. Prince Fukaboshi’s sharp teeth came to mind when you wondered what he could be hiding, so you shuffled and shuffled, trying to think about anything else.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” his polite voice made you shiver, seeming to vibrate the elevated stage you were perched on. 

“Same to you, Katakuri,” your voice shook. You couldn’t afford to show this much fear. Predators always looked for weak prey. “Would you mind helping me with a little trick?”

“If that’s what you wish,” he agreed. There was no way to tell if the hint of a smile you heard in his voice was truly hidden beneath his scarf, but it set you on edge, nonetheless. 

“Can you guess the card?”

“It’s the Ten of Hearts.”

He stated it as if it were true, as if he were simply remarking on the weather around him.

And it was true. You’d known it before you revealed it, this simple math trick like the comforting rhythm of a familiar heartbeat. 

“You’re right,” you breathed when you turned it over. “Care to go again?”

Katakuri nodded slowly, but his eyes never left your face, ignoring the cards on the table until you asked for his next guess.

“The Queen of Hearts.”

“Yes. Have you seen this trick before?”

“In a way,” came his cryptic response. “Shall we go again?”

He definitely wasn’t paying attention to the cards. Those stunning eyes were so fucking intense as they bore into your skin that you almost forgot to do the math before you asked for his next guess.

Then you wished you had forgotten.

“What’s the–”

“Shuffle again.”

“But you haven’t–”

You stopped breathing when one of his giant hands shot toward you, his fingers sooo fucking big when he laid them over yours. 

Delicate. This giant was gentle when he covered your hands, covered the cards, practically covered half the little table.

“This card makes you sad,” he whispered, though there was no point with all the surveillance, and with his booming voice at the center of attention. But still, he whispered. “Why don’t you shuffle again?”

Fuck. fuckfuckfuck. Stop. 

There you go. Just smile. 

A small miracle let you slip out of your body, out of your mind, while you shuffled the unrevealed Six of Spades back into the deck. 

Katakuri was still quiet, still watching. So polite while he guessed the right card, letting you pull yourself back together.

Hiding all the struggle behind your Sylvad smile.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he touched your hand again when the platform started to lower. “I’m looking forward to our next meeting.”

You hadn’t noticed the bells.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

“When are you leaving?”

“There’s no point in waiting,” Mihawk avoided the larger man’s eyes. “The sooner I convince the competition to back out, the sooner Y/N will be free of them.”

“Yeah, but how,” Buggy sighed from his lap, the swordsman’s skilled fingers nearly dragging him down to sleep already. “How the fuck are you gonna convince these assholes that they don’t wanna marry her? She’s perfect! Plus, they get in on that stupid company, and get whatever other bullshit DickHole is selling. What can you do besides poke ‘em with your fancy stick?”

“That’s what I plan to find out,” Mihawk smiled, though the finality in his tone was enough.

“Come on, Buggy,” Crocodile nudged his legs aside, offering the clown his hand while he stared at their determined lover. “Let’s remind our little bird why he should fly back home when he’s done pecking people’s eyes out.”

Buggy let out an exhausted giggle while Mihawk shivered, his eyes rolling back just a bit. Just enough.

“You thought you could run away that easily, huh,” Crocodile threatened with his words, and with the tip of his hook below that sculpted chin.

More guilt almost tore the clown away while he watched them, but Buggy chugged his sugary drink, grateful for the quiet of faraway sleep. He started to pull the swordsman up by the collar of his frighteningly fancy jacket, and that arched brow was an instinctual warning.

The clown heeded the warning, loosening his grip on the jacket, only to yank the man off the couch by his hair. Crocodile joined in on his smug laughter, roughly pulling Mihawk against him before he’d stopped moaning from the unexpected pain.

“You’re not leaving tonight.”

Heavy. 

Whatever they held between them felt heavier than either had expected.

“I’ll go get the bed ready,” Buggy sighed as he half floated toward the door, “but I’ll need another drink if you guys take too long.”

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🐊🗡️🐊~~~

“Are you alright?”

Mihawk laughed at the question, and Crocodile wanted to shake him. He was sick of seeing his lovers fall apart right in front of him, with nothing he could do, or even understand.

He ached to understand this man. They had faced each other in battle just a few years ago, but that Summit War felt like a fever dream now.

Not that this new life didn't feel like a dream.

This man…

Crocodile kept getting him. Meeting him in ways that both surprised, and soothed him. 

Mihawk laughed again at the thought of new vocabulary, but Crocodile pulled him close.

“I’m not ready to lose my business partner,” Crocodile confessed, the words too heavy for the smirk he tried to give. 

The words were enough.

Mihawk laid his deadly fingers along that silk vest, silently asking for a kiss while he stared up at the taller man. 

The swordsman felt like a fraud. 

How could someone like him that had carried nothing for so long be filled with so much? He didn’t want to lie anymore than he already had. 

Crocodile gave him what he wanted. A heavy kiss.

“Let’s not keep our clown waiting,” Crocodile rasped, tracing his thumb along Mihawk’s sharp features. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

~~~🗡️🐊🗡️🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

They’re holding hands… 

Crocodile and Mihawk had called through the door, all of their hands occupied until Mihawk handed the slack-jawed clown another cocktail. 

“Nice room service,” Buggy tried to recover. 

“Come here, little clown.”

The scarred man let go of one lover to reach for another. Cupping his hand along Buggy’s jaw, with those large fingers combing into the hair at the back of his neck, Crocodile breathed down on him until he was nodding, red lips still parted.

“I haven’t been giving you enough attention,” Crocodile purred, squeezing his face lightly when Buggy tried to argue. “But it looks like we’re gonna have plenty of alone time soon. Plenty of time for me to spoil you.”

“Y-yup! Lots of…”

“Is that what you want?”

“Sure, whatever you say, bos— Yes, daddy.”

“Good boy.”

Buggy disconnected at the ankles to float up into Crocodile’s deep kiss. He nearly spilled his drink before the larger man lowered him down again, eyes dark and satisfied while he watched his clown. 

“You deserve more attention, but you handled him so well. Help me remind—“

“Let’s fuck him up, daddy!”

Buggy downed his drink with one hand while the other snuck past Crocodile’s body to wrap around Mihawk’s throat. 

“You do know that I’m still Dracule Mihawk, don’t you?”

Wicked fingers dug into the floating hand, dragging it down his own chest while he resisted. 

“Whatcha gonna do, Hawkeyes? Stab me? Slice me,” Buggy laughed, setting down his glass before sending his other hand. 

Crocodile started to undress, chuckling softly at his boys. 

The air shifted as danger, delicious danger, poured from the swordsman while he leaned into Buggy’s touch, forcing his floating hands closer to his own body with every taunting step.

“I’m going to play.”

Mihawk’s golden eyes seemed to flicker with his threat, and Buggy felt a flash of fear, a glimpse of a beast. In that moment, he almost gave in, almost let the beast win.

Wherever his burst of confidence came from, Buggy went with it.

“Why don’t you play with daddy’s balls then, huh, crybaby?”

One of the clown’s hands broke free from that hold, and Mihawk couldn’t fight the moan that tore through him when gloved fingers ripped into his hair again, forcing him to look at Crocodile. The larger man was so very large, stroking himself while he sat on the edge of the bed. 

Gods, that fucking cock.

Buggy took advantage of Mihawk’s wonderment by kicking the backs of his knees until he hit the floor, and wrapped himself around the swordsman’s back to leave lipstick-stained bites along his neck. 

“Don’t lie. You wanna get fucking wrecked, don’t you?”

“I don’t like liars,” Crocodile teased, circling his thumb over his tip, taking in a quick breath of satisfaction at the desperate look on Mihawk’s face at the sight. “Do you want us to wreck you, little prince?”

Mihawk melted as that lovely hook pressed into his throat. Buggy rubbed himself against his back, and the swordsman laughed, feeling entirely fucking spoiled. 

“Please, daddy.”

What a fucking sight… 

The scarred man still couldn’t understand how these lovely men were somehow his, not after everything he’d done, everything he’d felt before. Watching Mihawk beg so sweetly while Buggy stripped him made Crocodile’s cock so hard it almost hurt, his rough fingers easing up against that sensitive flesh, until wicked fingers, wicked lips, replaced his own grip. 

“Fuck. Such an evil little mouth you’ve got– Shit…”

Buggy realized his own mouth was hanging open as he undressed, but he couldn’t care to close it while he watched Mihawk swallow more than looked humanly possible.

“Help me out, Buggy,” Crocodile groaned while he gripped Mihawk’s hair, his hand bobbing up and down with that pretty face. “Stretch out our filthy prince for me. No way he’s leaving here before I ruin that perfect, little ass.”

Sloppy, muffled whines escaped him, and Mihawk’s eyes rolled at the daunting threat. Buggy was there, lubed, and ungloved fingers fucking into him until he shook with need, with pleasure. 

“Get over here,” Crocodile growled, stepping back to yank Mihawk toward the bed by the hook around his neck. Buggy helped him along, floating hands lifting that moaning form into place. 

Mihawk’s place was on his hands and knees in the center of the bed, and he lost himself there in the tender and vicious touches his lovers showered him with. In their praise and teasing, pleasure and pain. In the taste of Buggy’s skin as he shoved his cock down his throat. 

He absolutely fucking lost himself when Crocodile lined himself up. He was the world’s greatest swordsman, and he enjoyed pain a great deal. Yet his former enemy was about to pierce him so thoroughly that Mihawk whimpered around Buggy's length, almost afraid. 

Then he felt nothing but that heavy cock, stretching, and claiming, and filling him until tears streamed from his golden eyes.

“So good, so fucking good for me,” Crocodile grunted. He dragged his hook down Mihawk’s side, still not believing what he was seeing. 

Dracule fucking Mihawk, moaning around a clown’s cock while his pretty, little hole sucked him in again and again. 

“Let’s give our twisted prince what he wants, eh, Buggy? Make sure he remembers where he belongs.”

Buggy stuttered in agreement, nearly gone before he obeyed. He tore at Mihawk’s hair while his other hand scraped brutally down his back. The twitching that his rough hands caused forced his cock even deeper until he spilled his pleasure down that desperate throat.

Crocodile sliced his hook around the swordsman’s body, pouring red from that perfect chest while he stuffed his little prince full. The overwhelming sensations had Mihawk coming harder than he’d thought possible, and the sounds he made were unreal. Pathetic. 

Music to the ears of his sated lovers. 

The clown didn’t need to be ordered or asked, Buggy just helped Mihawk stay steady while they pulled out of him. So many praises showered them both while the swordsman just breathed, assessing his every, vicious ache. 

Crocodile hated to leave for even a moment, but he didn’t need to worry. Buggy’s hands had already flown to the bathroom to wash themselves, spilling a bit of soap on the counter before grabbing what he needed. When Crocodile returned from the shower, Buggy was still wiping the other man clean, humming while he trailed gently over that perfect skin. 

Mihawk’s skin was littered with scars of battle and lust, of trust, and he had just enough energy for a weak smile as Buggy’s fingers danced over them all. He moaned, twitching in those gentle arms while his lovers washed him in the shower, no way to recover this soon. 

“Don’t whine, crybaby,” Buggy mumbled, too focused on cleaning and bandaging his wounds while Mihawk melted into the burn. “We’ll slice you up some more when you get back.”

“He’s right,” Crocodile hummed. Seeing these lovely boys taking care of each other gripped something deep within his chest. Whatever it was sparked fear in him, so much so that he had to pause while they laid Mihawk on the fresh sheets between them. 

I can’t lose them. Can’t lose any of them. 

“We’ll be waiting, little bird,” he pressed a kiss to Mihawk’s temple. Contented, sleepy sounds filled the air, and he tried to trust that this lovely new world wasn’t about to end. “Fly back home, alright?”

He couldn’t shape words, but Mihawk hummed his promise before he drifted away.

Home…

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Morning, Y/N— well, afternoon by now, isn’t it?”

You shuffled just to have something to focus on while you simpered for him. 

The traitor. 

“Good afternoon, Shanks. I’m looking forward to our date this evening. Since you already won, I’m afraid you’re out of the running for the next date. We have to give everyone a chance, of course.”

“Of course.” 

You couldn’t fucking believe the charm that oozed off of him when he beamed at you. 

“I’d still like to try your little game though, if that’s alright, gorgeous?”

Shanks stayed quiet while you laid out the cards, some face up, some face down, before you counted down twenty two from the remaining deck. 

A comforting rhythm, the answer already dancing in your mind. 

“It’s the Eight of Clubs,” Shanks purred, touching the back of your hand. Lingering against your skin.

He looked so fucking smug. 

A sick stillness went through you before you revealed his answer. 

Of course, he knows this trick. He probably learned it before the first time he betrayed—

“Let’s go again,” Shanks ordered, the heat in his voice sending shivers across your shoulders, crawling up your neck. 

The eyes of his competition were on you, but the Emperor looked at you like you were already his. Like you were spread out before him, venison for the skilled hunter to devour. 

“Shuffle,” Shanks threatened, catching your chin in his dangerous fingers. 

Just smile. Just pretend.

“I’m not done playing with you yet, little bunny.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note:

Oh my goodness. Thank you so much for waiting, and for reading that giant chapter!! 🥰🙏🏼 I hope you enjoyed it, I've been going bonkers waiting to hear all your thoughts on this big ol' mess!

Let me know in the poll if you'd be interested in a separate post of my OP canon + Numbers Game canon timeline. It would give away reader's specific age, so I don't want to share it if people don't want to know!

Note on the Brochure: All of the character details included in the brochure are from Oda, except for the quotes and the missing details for Giberson. I found them on the One Piece Fandom Wiki if you’d like to go check out more about the characters' history. I live on that site, and have to give those fans the credit for compiling all those details! I already spend hours searching for specific parts in the anime for things like lines for speech patterns and such, I’d be lost without the wiki!

Note on the Card Trick: I must confess, I am not as skilled with numbers as our Numbers Girl. This is the same trick I had Buggy use during the flashback of their first night together, and I have no idea if this 15 year old youtube video is full of shit or not, but if you'd like to try it out, here's the tutorial!

Note on this line from the beginning of the chapter: "The White Stag. The hunted. The prey." Kiki Rockwell's voice has been living in my brain, and I realized this line is similar to hers in Burn Your Village "You do not dance everyday with the fear Of living in headlights, the hunted, the deer"

That song is so good, and fits so well! 🦌😭

Anyhoo, I'm off to try to catch up on all of your wonderful comments! Y'all mean the world to me, thank you so much!!! 🙏🏼💜

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18 | @bontensbabygirl | @bbnbhm | @0-sparkling-lace-0 | @ihearthazuki | @mikisspeak | @djloveyou3000 | @mercymccann | @horse-and-writer97

Part 33

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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[doctorbunny]

MILGRAM x Karatez Interrogation Questions

Disclaimer: Weather-cluddy (and Maristelina) already translated these, I am not so filled with hubris that I think my work is better than theirs This is just me doing a favour for a friend who was bothered by the formatting/image quality of the original post That said, repackaging other people's work wholesale is a bit weird so these are my translations (yes I am procrastinating the hallucenation stuff but I promise I've started working on it)

Do you have any memories of karaoke?

Haruka: I feel like I went when I was really little I remember hearing my parents singing I want to try going with everyone

Yuno: I use them a bunch! I do things like going singing with my friends, as well as for some other stuff* Could you set it up for us in the prison? [Karaoke rooms are cheap, private and soundproof meaning a lot of people use them for 'hook ups', I'm pretty sure you're not meant to use them for that though, I wonder if the sponsor was aware Yuno was one of those people]

Fuuta: I only went around the time I started uni and was doing new student stuff But I stopped going not long after

Muu: I've been a couple times But most of the time I just end up chatting with my friends

Shidou: My family used to go Although I'd usually just be there listening to them

Mahiru: I feel like it'd be a good first date, wouldn't it? Then I could learn what my partner's favourite songs are... What kind of music do you listen to?

Kazui: I'd go there for stuff like drinking afterparties, y'know Drunk old men* really like singing, don't they? Recently the food's also really good, hasn't it? [*Kazui's favourite word ojisan lol]

Amane: I don't You can't have memories of something if you never went

Mikoto: Back in uni it was a godsend, I'd go almost every week I'm pretty confident in my ability to liven up karaoke Because I mastered the songs that everyone enjoys [Mikoto uses 'boku']

Kotoko: I've used them a lot before They're the most affordable kind of private room So they're really convenient when you don't want your conversations overheard

Images/Transcript below the cut

カラオケの思い出はあるか？

ハルカ：ちいさいときに行ったきがします おやがうたっているの聞いてたとおもいます みんなと行ってみたいです [Image source: moibakadesu]

ユノ：よく使うよ 友達と歌いに行くのもあるし���他にも色々 監獄の中にも作ってくれるの？ [Image source: K-Books]

フウタ：大学入ったばっかりときは新歓とかで行ったけど そのうち行かなくなったな [Image source: K-Books]

ムウ：たまに行く�� ムウ場合はほとんど友達とおしゃべりしてる [Image source: K-Books]

シドウ：家族で行きましたよ 俺は大抵聴いているだけですけど [Image source: K-Books]

マヒル：付きあいたてのデートって感じがしていいよね 相手のお好みの曲覚えたりして… あなたはどんな曲聴くの? [Image source*: Weather-Cluddy, but this image also appears on an earlier DCinside post with a different crop, so I think it's taken from a now deleted source and I couldn't find any other images]

カズイ：飲みの二次会とかで行くねぇ 酔っ払ったおじさんは歌いたがるもんなのさ 最近はご飯もちゃんと旨いからいいよね [Image source: melsie]

アマネ：ありませんね 行ったこともので思い出などあるはずもありません [Image source*: Similar situation to Mahiru where the earliest source is Weather-Cluddy/the DCinside post but I can't find any other images/their sources]

ミコト：そりゃもう大学時代なんてほぼ毎週お世話になってたよ カラオケの盛り上げ方なら相当自信あるよ、僕 老若男女の喜ぶ曲マスターしてるからね [Image source: K-Books]

コトコ：よく使ってたよ 一番手頃な個室だから 聞かれたくない話をするには重宝する [Image source: K-Books]

*if anyone could provide better quality/sourced images I would appreciate it

[rallamajoop]

Queer lit of the 1800s: Two gay Victorian vampire stories you've probably never heard of

So, I have this post in the works tackling that all-important question: just why are there so many gay vampire stories? But in writing it, what was supposed to be a brief tangent about a couple of little-known m/m vampire stories from all the way back in the late 1800s era… started expanding into something not-so-brief, as such tangents are prone to do.

But what the hell, the internet tells me it's queer history month: clearly the only solution is to give those stories their own post, where my tangent can spin out as far as it likes!

Now, if you know anything about Victorian vampire literature or the lesbian vampire genre, you’ve probably already heard about Carmilla, by Sheridan le Fanu (1872), the world’s very first (known) lesbian vampire story. To this day, it's easily the second best-known and widely adapted tale in all the Victorian vampire canon (after Dracula, obviously) – and it probably deserves to be too.

But this is not a post about Carmilla, because Carmilla is not the only gay-vampire-story written way back in the Victorian era. It's not even the least subtle gay-vampire-tale.

There are (at least) two others, both featuring male/male vampire/human pairings. And whether or not they ‘deserve’ to be remembered in the same breath as Carmilla, they’re both fascinating works in their own rights: Manor, by Karl Heinrich Ulrichs (1884) – one of the world’s first gay activists – and A True Story of a Vampire, by Count Eric Stenbock (1894).

You can read both online. A True Story of a Vampire is long out of copyright and can be found on Gutenberg (Carmilla is too, if you're interested), and many other places. Manor has been translated into English only much more recently, but you can still get hold of it in pdf form, or buy it in ebook format. But if what you really want are some summaries, and/or whole lot of extra context and analysis to go with the stories themselves, I've got you covered below.

Manor (1884), Sailor Stories, and Karl Heinrich Ulrichs

We’ll start with Manor, since it was published ten years before our other example, and because I’m not quite cruel enough to leave you going "wait, did you really just tell me there was a legit gay activist writing vampire slashfic in his free time way back in the 1880s?" while I ramble on about the other story first. We'll start with the author himself, because his own story is at least as interesting as any fiction he ever published.

Born in Germany in 1825, Karl Heinrich Ulrichs knew from a young age that he was attracted to men. He trained in law, but wisely resigned before he could be fired in 1854 when his proclivities came to the attention of his superiors. Most in his position would've redoubled their efforts to hide; Ulrichs spent the next several years joining societies dedicated to science and literature and developing his own theories about non-hetero orientations, before officially coming out to his family in 1862.

He was just getting started. By 1867, he was ready to come out to the whole world.

Ulrichs is far from the first gay man to recognise his attraction without shame and find society in like-minded individuals ‒ but he may well be the very first to come out voluntarily and publicly, and advocate for the decriminalisation of homosexuality. And when I say "publicly" what I mean of course is, "in a formal address to the Congress of German Jurists." He was shouted down, but it was still a staggering act of bravery for a man of his time. It would still be a staggering act of bravery in many parts of the world today.

Undaunted by his reception, Ulrichs would also publish a dozen booklets advocating for rights for his community between 1864 and 1879, framing their sexuality as natural, inborn and wholly benign. In 1880, after multiple arrests for his political advocacy, he left Germany for self-imposed exile in Italy, where he would remain until his death in 1895. But it's during this period that he published some poetry, as well as Sailor Stories, a collection of four short stories inspired primarily by Norse mythology, including Manor (which we’ll get to, don’t worry).

Though Ulrichs saw little legal success in his lifetime, through modern eyes, his greatest failure might be only that he was so far ahead of his time. When he began writing and advocating, the word 'homosexuality' didn't even exist yet ‒ he himself used the term 'Urnings' for gay men, eventually coining terms for variations like 'Mannling' and 'Weibling' (gay male equivalent of 'butch' and 'femme') as well. He also came to recognise bisexuality, lesbian attraction, and even intersex conditions, theorising that all resulted from some combination of male and female characteristics developing in the same individual, as the available knowledge on embryonic development suggested might be possible. For a guy with only Victorian era science to work from, that's still remarkably close to the modern consensus today.

Nor did Ulrichs' work die with him. His writings would go on to inspire and be republished by gay rights movements that followed him ‒ including the work and advocacy of Magnus Hirschfeld, who created what may be the world's first trans-affirming clinic. Even in his own time, responses from his own readers show much his work meant to them, reassured at last that they weren't alone.

So how does a German activist from the 1880s find himself publishing gay vampire fiction based on Norse mythology while living in exile in Italy? I only wish I knew. My sources suggest his main goal with Sailor Stories was to publish something that would sell. Unsurprisingly, given the subject matter it seems to have sold very little. Manor is the third of four short tales, and by far the gayest of them all. It's also (IMHO) by far the best, and the most interesting.

Set in a Norwegian fishing village, Manor tells the story of the romance between a 15-year-old boy called Har, and the titular Manor, a sailor 4 years his senior, who rescues Har from the wreck which killed his father. In the days that follow, the pair become close, and Manor takes to swimming across the bay on summer evenings to visit Har at his home. And so they meet whenever they can, until tragedy strikes again, and Manor is killed in a shipwreck near the coast, leaving Har inconsolable with grief.

But this being a vampire story, in the nights after Manor’s death, something is seen swimming across the bay to Har’s home, just as Manor used to do. Har is visited night after night by the spectre of his beloved, who lies beside him in bed, strokes his cheek with cold hands, and kisses him with icy lips, draining his blood from his heart, "like an infant at its mother’s breast." Har himself awaits each night with mixed joy and fear, longing to see Manor again, even in such a form.

As Har weakens, the villagers attempt to trap Manor in his grave by hammering a stake through his body, but he continues to visit Har nonetheless, now sporting a gaping wound in his chest. The villagers return with a new stake, widened at the base like a giant nail, and finally, Manor is restrained in his grave. But it’s too late for Har: weakened and heartsick, he dies, begging only that he should be buried beside his beloved at last. Neither rise again. 

Though I can’t speak to how it reads in the original German, in translation, Manor is relayed in largely workmanlike prose. Its tale is short, simple, and sad – but so much about it fascinates me all the same.

(Draugen, Theodor Kittelsen, 1891)

There’s the incorporation of elements you might better recognise from Norse draugr folklore – revenants more typically associated with deaths at sea, or charged with guarding their own graves ‒ but still far more closely related to the vampires of Slavic mythology than most people probably realise. Manor is also one of painfully few stories which clearly recognises what is surely the original purpose of hammering a stake through a vampire’s body: not to kill it, but to hold the creature down and prevent it from leaving its grave. As a hopeless vampire-nerd (I've presented panels at conventions about this stuff, it's dangerous to get me started), I can’t tell you how much I love those aspects of this story.

But above all, Ulrichs’ tale captures what might be one of the oldest and most traditional versions of the folkloric vampire: the spectre of a lost loved one, and the potent mixture of fear and twisted longing thus inspired, that the weight of their loss might drag you down into death to join them. Many ‘real’ tales of vampirism have been inspired by outbreaks of wasting diseases like consumption, working their way through a family, one member at a time. But in Har’s case, it is clearly grief as much as Manor’s physical visits that claims him. He loves Manor so much that he welcomes his lover back, even as a revenant. In his own way, Har too is cursed by Manor’s death to wander the world like the walking dead, until finally reunited with his lover once more.

Nowadays, tragic love stories like this tend to get an eye roll from a lot of the queer community. The old ‘bury your gays’ trope has been done to death, and we’re largely sick of being told that noble suffering is the best we can hope for. But it’s notable nonetheless that Manor’s sexuality has no bearing on his death, and little about the story would change were Har female. It's far from clear if the rest of the village even recognises Har and Manor's love for what it is, let alone whether they'd disapprove ‒ after all, vampires will often go after friends and acquaintances when lovers and family members are exhausted. As such, it’s hard to read the village’s attempts to keep Manor in his grave as a simple matter of prejudice. They're also genuinely trying to save Har's life.

And yet, the way Har keeps the undead Manor’s visits a secret, even begging for the stake to be removed so they can resume, echoes the real experiences of so many gay and lesbian couples far too clearly to be accidental. And however disturbing to a contemporary audience, Har’s willingness to follow his lover to the grave leaves little doubt of the depths of his feelings. To an audience in the 1800s, even the most cliched example of bury-your-gays would be revolutionary.

Did I mention that this story fascinates me? There are layers to this thing.

For completeness, I’ve also read the rest of Sailor Stories (and you can too at the same link). Only one of the other three tales contains any queer romance: the first, Sulitelma, where a boy called Erich falls for a handsome sailor called Harald he meets aboard a spectral storm ship. But there's no happy ending: his sister falls for the same handsome sailor, and shoves Erich overboard to his death to eliminate her competition.

Atlantis, the second story in the collection, is a direct sequel to Sulitelma, but it's even more bizarre. Erich is barely mentioned, and instead we find ourselves reading a tale which I can only summarise as like something I might have found on fanfiction.net back in the early aughts, written by some 14yo trying to straightwash the original material. Here, Harald and some of his fellows go on shore leave to the land of the phoenix, populated by Greek nymphs and Cupid, and mildly comedic hijinx ensue. It is fascinatingly bizarre, but not exactly satisfying as a read (or a sequel).

The final story, The Monk of Sumboe, tells of how two close friends destroy their relationship and themselves with their fixation on the tale of an alluring siren. There's a solid concept in there somewhere, but it's far too short and abrupt to do much with it, and all the characters remain strictly heterosexual. But if there's one thematic detail that ties it to the rest of the collection (beside the many Norse elements), it's that hopeless longing for something others would warn you away from ‒ whether that be a phantom ship, a visit from a vampire lover, or an elusive siren. None of these tales end well for their protagonists, but we're drawn to sympathise with them nonetheless.

I cannot guess what reception Karl Ulrichs expected in publishing this book. Sailor Stories is neither a work that could expect good reception from mainstream audiences or a defiantly-radical queer masterpiece. What did people make of it in its own time? Was it read and cherished by at least a few boys or men like Har and Manor? I’d hope so, but I’ll probably never know.

If you'd like to read more about Karl Ulrichs, I can recommend (among my sources) this New York Times article for a quick overview of his work, or the various work of Michael Lombardi-Nash and Hubert Kennedy (link 2). You can also read the first chapter of his published correspondence online for free.

A True Story of a Vampire (1894), and Count Eric Stenbock

Our second Victorian vampire tale was first published in English, though it was written by a Swedish Count. Like Carmilla in its own day (and quite unlike Karl Ulrichs), both story and author seem to have flown largely under the radar until many years after publication, the queer subtext little noted or commented upon (if at all).

If nothing else though, A True Story of a Vampire aptly demonstrates that at least someone of that era spotted what Carmilla was really about – because he wrote his own version, only about men. Stenbock’s tale is effectively a much shorter, gender-swapped version of Carmilla – but with a larger age gap between vampire and victim lending the story uncomfortable pederastic overtones.

"Vampire stories are generally located in Styria; mine is also," it begins – though I couldn’t name you any vampire story from the era besides Carmilla set there. The narrator, the surviving sister of the vampire’s victim, is called ‘Carmela’, if you needed further proof.

Much like in Carmilla herself, the vampire, Count Vardalek (a Slavic term for vampire) arrives at their house after being forced to seek local hospitality when some convenient ‘accident’ interrupts his travels. There, he bewitches and slowly drains the life from her brother, Gabriel – a boy described in terms variously angelic and fey, a wild thing who befriends wild animals and would rather climb a tree to a window than take the stairs to his own room, but who cleans up beautifully for church – a sublime, cinnamon roll of a creature, far too good for this sinful earth, too pure. Gabriel is a true male equivalent of the likes of Dracula’s Lucy, feminised further still by his youth and innocence. Had a vampire not got him, one can only imagine he’d have eventually have been spirited away by the fairies.

Gabriel and the mysterious Count are drawn to one another immediately. Even as Gabriel wastes slowly away, he greets Vardalek eagerly each time he returns by throwing his arms around his neck and kissing him on the lips. Count Vardalek himself seems to be a vampire of the psychic variety, gaining in health and vitality while Gabriel wilts, merely after spending time in one another’s presence. Vardalek himself seems to genuinely regret Gabriel’s inevitable death, but unlike in Carmilla, there’s no rescue at our conclusion. Gabriel dies, and we’re given no reason to assume he’ll rise again.

To the modern reader, the true horror of this tale lies not with the vampires or even the homoeroticism, but with those uncomfortably pederastic implications. Gabriel can’t be more than twelve years old, his youth and innocence emphasised in his every description. Pains are taken to suggest that Gabriel’s own attraction to Vardalek is as much responsible for his fate as the vampire himself. Gabriel’s father is similarly bewitched by this charming stranger, and never recognises the danger, or the reason for his son’s tragic death. Even the narrator, his loving sister, cannot truly hate Vardalek for taking her brother from her – even when her father dies of grief soon after. Gabriel’s fate seems sealed from the moment the Count enters their home.

But knowing how often real child molesters get away with it, their actions excused or downplayed by their family, their victims accused of ‘seducing’ their abusers and made complicit in their own misery… I can only say that, for my money, A True Story of a Vampire is a very effective horror story in ways the author probably never intended, once you start to question the reliability of its narrator.

It won’t surprise you to learn that the author, Count Eric Stanislaus Stenbock, was a (very) gay man, deeply involved with the gothic and decadent artistic movements of his day. Born to a Swedish Count and an English heiress, Stenbock seems to be remembered less for his writing than for his character. In The Oxford Book of Modern Verse, 1892-1935, W.B. Yeats describes him as a "scholar, connoisseur, drunkard, poet, pervert, most charming of men" ‒ naming Stenbock as an exemplar of the poetic zeitgeist of the age. Notably however, none of Stenbock’s actual poetry is featured in the volume.

Stories about Stenbock are so bizarre that it’s hard to know how much should be believed. Eric Stenbock supposedly travelled with a multitude of exotic pets and a life-sized doll he referred to as his 'son', dabbled in religions ranging from Roman Catholicism to Buddhism, and decorated his dwelling with peacock feathers, oriental shawls, a bronze statue of Eros and a hanging pentagram. One acquaintance once compared him to a 'magnified child': "very fair hair beautifully curled, and a blond, round, blue-eyed face," who paused at the door and "took a little phial out of his pocket, from which he anointed his fingers, before passing them through his locks." But by his thirties, he was already dying of liver disease after years of alcoholism. He passed away at only 35.

Stenbock’s surviving artistic legacy consists of three volumes of poetry and one of prose, with some of those poems including explicit references to Ganymede or male lovers. So how did he escape the same controversy that dogged similar works by other queer creatives of his day, like Oscar Wilde or Walt Whitman – let alone Karl Ulrichs? Well, simple: his work never attracted enough attention to generate real controversy. Stenbock may have been just as much a character as figures like Wilde, but he hadn't nearly the same talent or success.

One last minor biographic detail that may be worthy of note (discovered courtesy of some very poor-quality scans of his one proper biography) is that the youthful Gabriel of A True Story of a Vampire may owe his name to a real Gabriele ‒ a female cousin ten years Stenbock’s junior, whom he would've spent time with in his teens, and seems to have been especially fond of. Whatever the true significance of that name, he'd use it more than once in his fiction: another short story, The Other Side: A Breton Legend, also stars an angelic little boy called Gabriel, with a similar dangerous attraction to the strange. It features some lovely mood and imagery as it sets the scene, but (perhaps as a result of the lack of a suitable model story like Carmilla) it is, in my opinion, a much weaker story overall.

But again, the most disturbing aspect of Stenbock's biography are the hints about his own relationships with much younger men. His second book of poetry, Myrtle, Rue and Cypress, is dedicated to three people: Simeon Solomon (a gay painter of the pre-Raphaelite movement, whom he met at Oxford), Arvid Stenbock, Eric's cousin, and to "the memory of Charles Fowler" ‒ the son of a Clergyman, who died of consumption at only 16.

This enigmatic dedication is all we know about Stenbock's relationship with Fowler. We don't even know how the they met (Fowler seems to have had a relative at Oxford at the same time as Stenbock, but even this is speculation). But that dedication, in a book which will go on to feature poems about the beauty of Ganymede, or explicitly addressed 'To A Boy' (Tis ever a delight, dear, To gaze upon thy face, To love the life within thee, Fair fashioned, full of grace) makes it hard to read Stenbock's feelings as remotely platonic.

It doesn’t help that the same volume includes a poem about an actual vampire, published ten years before A True Story of a Vampire would ever be penned, but with very comparable subject matter:

With slow soft sensual sips Draw the life from the tender spray, And brush from thy soft lithe lips The bloom of thy boyhood away

It's worth keeping in mind that Stenbock himself would've been only 21 at the time of Fowler's death, and that we don't know whether he ever acted on his attraction (whatever form it may have taken). He may well, as I've seen suggested, have kept his admiration private, idealising the image of the beautiful, dying boy in his final days, in that classic Victorian-gothic way. But it doesn't help that Stenbock's cousin Arvid, from that other dedication in the same book, was 8 years his junior, and that their family apparently disapproved of their relationship as "unnaturally close." Or that another famous Stenbock-associate was Norman O'Neil, a composer whom he met on a London omnibus in 1891, when O'Neil too was only 16. Stenbock was apparently taken by his intelligence and beauty, and would go on to leave him a considerable sum of money in his will. By 1891, Stenbock would've been 31, but his fixations hadn't aged with him.

So how are we to take all this? This was an age where a marriage between a 16-year-old girl and a suitor of Stenbock's age would scarcely have raised eyebrows. Uncomfortable as it may sound today, for many queer youths of the era, a romance with someone older and experienced enough to play mentor may genuinely have represented the safest real option available. There are layers of complicated subtext, meanwhile, in the idea of any gay man of the Victorian era casting himself as a vampiric monster, doomed to ruin the object of their attraction with their very touch. There may be layers more in Stenbock framing his tale as "A true story" before telling us of the misery a foreign Count brought to an innocent family, with his helpless fixation on their youngest child.

It's worth noting also that even in Manor, by Legit Gay Activist Karl Ulrichs, our love story is between a boy of 15 and a man of 19 ‒ an age gap of only 4 years, but large enough at 15 to raise some serious eyebrows. His first story too, Sulitelma, involves attraction between a man and a boy (exact ages unknown). Though Ulrichs explicitly viewed relationships with prepubescent children as reprehensible, he seems to have had no problem with relationships between young teens and much older adults ‒ even printing a story sent in by a reader (details in this article), joyfully recounting how he (the reader) was initiated into the world of male/male love as a 14-year-old by his brother's riding master. Ulrichs saw no reason to disapprove.

To confuse things for anyone looking this up today, google Ulrichs, and you'll find a number of online articles claiming that his own first experience involved being sexually assaulted by a riding instructor when he was only 14. This is wrong on multiple fronts: not only is the story related by Ulrichs as a positive experience, it wasn't even Ulrichs it happened to. No, shit like this would not be okay if it happened today (and frequently wasn't then), but we don't help ourselves by distorting the stories told by our queer forebears to fit modern expectations.

But none of that surrounding context makes the youth of the day any less vulnerable to predation, or Stenbock's fixation on youthful beauty less creepy. Today, no evidence remains to help us guess whether idealising the beauty and innocence of youth was the greatest of Stenbock's actual crimes, or the least of them. Anything is possible.

In brief: welcome to the joy of trying to reconcile the complicated place of pederasty in queer history! I'm afraid you can look forward to seeing a lot of it from here on back.

A True Story of a Vampire is not a bad work of fiction by any means. There are some lovely descriptions and entertaining turns of phrase, and the horror is certainly effective. It may even be considerably more readable than Carmilla to many, simply for being so much shorter. But how you feel about it is really going to be up to you.

One last digression about Carmilla and Christabel

There’s one additional work that I’ve once or twice seen listed as an even earlier queer vampire tale: Samuel Coleridge’s unfinished poem Christabel (1800) – the only problem being there’s no vampire in the story (and how queer it is may be questionable too).

Like Carmilla, Christabel tells of a Baron’s daughter (the titular Christabel) who comes upon a mysterious stranger in apparent distress (Geraldine) and invites her into her home. We never learn what kind of being Geraldine truly is (three further parts were planned in addition to the two that were completed), but when she undresses, Christabel spies something that horrifies her, remembering it later with the words "Again she saw that bosom old / Again she felt that bosom cold." But under Geraldine’s spell, Christabel’s recollection of this incident comes and goes, and Geraldine has soon bewitched her father too.

All ‘evidence’ that Geraldine was intended to be a vampire rests on such details as Geraldine having to be carried past an iron gate into the house, much as vampires have to be invited in – but that particular vampire trope wasn’t actually codified until a solid century later (like most vampire-tropes, we have Stoker's Dracula to blame). The idea that Geraldine has the cold, shrivelled body of the undead and revives herself on Christabel’s blood is a perfectly valid reading, but the more obvious interpretation would be that she’s some manner of shapeshifting fairy creature, weakened by the iron of the gateway, not the entrance to Christabel’s home. The aristocratic literary vampire had existed for over 40 years and appeared in numerous works of fiction by Carmilla's day; but Christabel predates the origins of the genre a solid two decades. For Coleridge to have come up with the idea independently seems vanishingly unlikely.

I mention Christabel here partly for completeness, but mostly to bring us back around to the greater family of Carmilla, which is still legitimately the first known queer vampire story. Though far better known than any other story discussed here today, how it came about is perhaps the most mysterious.

Sheridan le Fanu was a prolific writer, but I don’t know of any other story he’s penned with subtext like Carmilla's (and I’m not quite invested enough to read all of the rest to check, though someone totally should so I don't have to). Le Fanu was married, and had children, and that's all I can discover about his personal life. Was he some shade of queer himself? Did he have connections to anyone who was? Did he even realise what he was writing with Carmilla? Nothing I’ve read about him provides any answers. Nor can I tell you how many readers spotted the subtext it the story was first published. In its own time, it caused no great scandal, nor even seems to have garnered much attention (by contrast, Byron & Polidori's The Vampyre caused an uproar when it was published in 1819, mostly thanks to Byron's established fame and debates over its true authorship). It took until well into the 20th Century for it to obtain the reputation it has today.

But I’m sure it’s no coincidence that it was Carmilla that spoke to Stenbock enough that he chose to retell it. And while A True Story of a Vampire is still the only other vampire story of the era set in Styria, there was almost another one: Dracula, at least Stoker’s early plans for the novel. Styria also remains part of the unused prequel chapter later published as Dracula’s Guest. The setting isn’t the only detail Stoker nearly-borrowed from Carmilla either, my favourite example being the weird schedule by which both she and Dracula seem to have to be in bed in their coffins at dawn each day, both apparently helpless and immobile in sleep, though both are also repeatedly seen up and about later in the day. Neither tale offers any real explanation.

Have I mentioned lately that Stoker, too, was almost certainly some shade of gay?

Now, the fact that two different queer writers both found Carmilla so very inspiring – and would even both publish their own works of vampire literature within five years of one another – isn’t much to go on, in trying to establish what a story like Carmilla might’ve meant to England’s queer population some twenty years after it was written. Maybe Carmilla was being eagerly passed around London’s own Uranian gothic societies at the time. Or maybe two different men happened upon it by chance in wholly different circumstances, and took very different things from reading it. Maybe Stoker didn’t even notice the queer subtext himself. But I can’t help but wonder if just maybe, there's something more than coincidence at work here.

Carmilla the vampire is an explicitly villainous character, her victim confused and unwilling. But she remains one of the most complex and sympathetic vampires of her era. And perhaps, to a community who had never seen Ulrichs’ writing published in their own language, and might never see themselves represented in fiction except as monsters buried in layers of protective subtext, that still meant something to readers like Stenbock, and Stocker, and who knows how many others.

In short, maybe old, gay vampire stories like these really are worth remembering. I'll leave that one up to you.

[writingquestionsanswered]

So, I often find myself writing and it simply turns out… bland. I do try to remember to show my readers rather than tell, but I feel like I cannot consistently do that, and it feels forced. I try to focus on environment, internal feelings and such, but I wonder if I have an incorrect ratio of sorts… essentially, my question is for the average paragraph (let’s say not including any dialogue), how much should be descriptive of the environment and how much should be the characters thoughts and actions?

Writing Feels Forced or Bland

There isn't a formula or average for how much of the exposition in an average paragraph should be character thought and action vs description of the environment.

Your story overall should have a relative balance of exposition (explaining things--including character thought, backstory, and environment), action (characters doing things), and dialogue (characters talking.) It's not going to be an exact balance (hence the term "relative balance"), but you wouldn't want 5% dialogue, 30% action, and 65% exposition, for example, because that's not a relative balance. But, you could have 25% dialogue, 35% exposition, and 40% action if that's what works for your story.

This "balance" can't be applied to a single sentence, paragraph, scene, or chapter, because it's always going to be different. You'll have some sentences, paragraphs, scenes, or chapters that have a bigger balance of one or the others depending on the needs of the story. For example, the climax will probably be heavier on action and exposition than dialogue. Unless your climax is a huge verbal fight, in which case it will probably be heavier on dialogue and exposition than action.

When your writing feels bland or forced despite trying to include a relative balance of exposition, dialogue, and action... trying not to rely on telling rather than showing, and using description to flesh out the environment, the problem isn't with any of that, probably, but either with your expectations or with the story itself.

This is why it's so, so important for writers to also be readers... and yes, that does include listening to audiobooks and reading fan-fiction and short stories. Consuming story in any format is also important... because it's through reading and consuming stories that you can begin to understand how they work. You can read writing advice that says "show, don't tell" or "use description to flesh out the environment," but you can't really know what that means until you see it in action in a variety of different stories. Your expectations will be off because you haven't seen how it actually works.

And if you're an avid reader and know how stories work, and understand the overall relative balance between exposition, action, and dialogue needed to tell a story, and you still feel like it feels bland or forced, it could be an issue with the story itself. Relative balance between exposition, action, and dialogue isn't going to help if you don't have a plot that is compelling and cohesive... and if you don't have well fleshed out characters with a logical motivation, goal, and internal conflict to help drive the story forward.

You might take a spin through my Plot & Story Structure master list of posts, as well as my Character Development master list of posts for more help with individual issues on those points.

I hope this helps!!! ♥

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[imbecominggayer]

Writing Exposition And Info Into The Story

This specific post is for @loverboyxbutch who has asked for multiple things with multiple caveats so we have to absolutely get this perfectly answered!

Question One: Exposition And Letters

The quote: I was wondering if you had any advice about telling part of a narrative through things like letters or diary entries?

There are two different ways to incorperate diary entries and letters. It all depends on your formatting

You could have the person's letter be an actual quoted segment of the letter so the reader could physically read it or you could have the basic information be relayed to the reader by the characters.

Neither way isn't better than the other but they do have different pros and cons.

The benefits of quotes is the fact that it allows the reader to see the original writer's personality to come through in their writing. The con is the fact that this quoting can quickly get out of hand and the information is kinda under the emotion.

The benefits of characters relaying the information is the fact that this cuts down on flowing emotion. All the information is laid out there! The negative is the fact that this information lacks emotion and personality.

Objectively speaking, expositio is best gathered through story since it's more natural without having to do an infodump!

Question Two: Balancing Emotion With Info

Quote: "I’m not too sure how to balance the realism and emotion with the information that needs to be displayed."

Remember, realism in stories is less "factually accurate" and more "consistent within itself".

In this case, realism in information is "would this character say this" and "how would this character say this"?

Audiences hate "infodumps" because it feels like the character's personality has turned off and now a college professor is speaking.

So it's definitely important you maintain a character's unique voice and personality when reporting on information. However this can lead to some unreliable narrating.

Ultimately, a character's emotion trumps all else. If a character doesn't have a personality that would reveal all this information in an objective way then they will hide stuff or tell the information in a way that validates their own perspective.

However, in the case a character is willing to reveal information without trying to impress their ideology and beliefs onto your character you need to keep in mind what a character could reasonably know and care about.

Two characters could know the same information but prioritize others. For example, D might focus on the damn bread prices rising again while C is focused on the official's death.

Question 3: What Context The Reader Needs

Quote: "I struggle to imagine how much context the reader would want or need."

This is definitely the hardest thing to answer since this is a highly case by case basis but I will try.

The best universal measurement for what a reader needs to know is how much a character needs to know.

Your characters have information that the readers don't have and the readers have information that the characters don't have but readers don't want to know everything.

Readers need a little confusion and curiousity so they will keep reading and investigating.

The key is to get enough information out there that readers will be emotionally incentived to chase after the rest.

For Worldbuilding, unless this information directly impacts the characters then unfortunately readers just wont care about all the little details.

For future events, forshadowing and outlines are your best friend. You can also use an unconventional story formatting by having "flashbacks" be imbedded into the story as their own individual chapters.

For characters, you can use the "show, don't tell" method. Characters who aren't actively trying to deceive others will lay their personality on their clothing, their face, their room, their friends, and the way they speak.

I hope this was informative @loverboyxbutch . I genuinely appreciate your constant support and I wanted this to be an amazing post for such an amazing mutual :)

[we-were-beautiful]

Marry me

Xaden x Sorrengail!oc

WC: 816

Warnings: None just Fluff

A/N: Well I decided to take part in a small writing Challenge. I had fun writing this little blurb and while it has the potential to turn into its own series; I am going to show self restraint by not doing that. The prompt was "I can never say 'no to you" From Jana over at @creativepromptsforwriting

Also fair warning; I didn't send this to any of my betas. So we die like men at this point

Thank you to @skyfallscotland and @justallihere for putting together the Fourth Wing Birthday Bash

Last but not least tumbr is being dumb and won’t let me post from my laptop so apologies about the formatting

“We should get married” I comment wrapping my arms around my beloved’s shoulders, fingers gently tracing along the scars at the top of his shoulders. I look up into his gold flecked onyx eyes and smile widely at him. Was the flight field after lessons the best place to have this conversation, probably not, but I couldn’t help myself. It had been an interesting lesson with a storm about to roll in; the thunder off in the distance rolling. But now with the rest of the third years and Professor Kaori heading back to the citadel, I figured given Xaden a small heart attack would be fun.

Where I would expect to see shock and hesitance on his face I only see a fond smile as he wraps his arms around my waist to pull me into his chest.

“When do you want to get married and how do you want to tell your mother and sisters?” I hadn’t thought of that.

It would be pretty easy to tell Violet. If I could get her away from her squad it would be as simple as that. Mira I could just write a letter too. Shed be pissed at first; she had specifically told me to stay away from Xaden. That didn’t work out since we ended up in the same squad with mated dragons; but Mira could get over it. She’d be happy for me eventually.

My mother; however, I completely forgot about. General Sorrengail hadn’t been a fan of the relationship and she had made it known to me once the word had made it to her office. That had been the only time I had formally gotten called to her office to make her displeasure known; but its been three years. Xaden and I work well together and we have been in love with each other for awhile now. Not to mention we are kinda stuck with each other until one of us dies so at one point or another she’s just going to have to learn to live with it.

I feel Tairn’s amusement in the back of my mind. The old curmudgeon had been riding my ass this last week about acting like a love sick puppy around Xaden. Like his grumpy ass isn’t the exact same way around Sgaeyl.

‘I heard that’ the rumbling voice flows through my head.

‘You were supposed to.’ I felt Tairn’s snout push at my back sending me further into Xaden’ s grasp ‘Tairn!!!’ I can hear Sgaeyl chuckle in my head.

‘I think I shall go get some sheep’ I’m not sure if it is the mighty beat of our dragons wings or thunder, but as the two dragons fly off the heavens open up above us and cold rain begins to pour down. Xaden lets out a hearty laugh squeezing me tightly.

“When do you want to get married love.” He leans down to whisper in my ear repeating his earlier question.

“Want to grab Garrick, Bodhi, Liam and Vi and sneak down to Chantara.” I would do it; grab our family and secretly get married today if he agreed.

“How about we wait until graduation. We can get our family together, before we fly to our post, and have a small ceremony.” He pushes a soaked strand of hair away from my face. “Then it gives you time to let Mira know, so she can try and get leave” leave it to this perfect man to remember that I wanted Mira there when I got married. While Brennen had Mom and Violet had Dad it had been Mira and I against the world. I still had all of the letters we had wrote to each other while she was in the quadrant and then when I started second year. She had to be there on our special day; she would kill me if I ran off today and got married.

“Ok Graduation it is then.” He looks even more breathtaking in the rain as water droplets roll down his skin.

“Alright then lets go Mrs.Riorson.” He lets go of me and moves towards the hidden tunnel entrance.

“Wait.” I call grabbing his hand to stop him. “Kiss me?” Is it cheesy and straight out of the romance books that I brought into the quadrant, yes. But I had always wanted to be kissed in the rain.

“Have I ever been able to say ‘no’ to you.” He gently cradles my face in his hands tilting my face upwards; his lips crash into mine is a passionate kiss. It starts out innocent enough but my hands quickly find their way to his hair and one of his finds its way to my ass. When we break apart we are gasping for breath; Xaden rest his forehead against mine and hazel eyes meet onyx “Marry me?”

“Yes.” I laugh and pull him into another kiss.

[barrencelenny]

I feel like fic recs tend to be things that are complete, so I thought I'd rec some things that haven't been updated in a while (>a year) or abandoned, but I still like to go back and reread

with links and comments under the cut <3

Poured Over Ice in an Old-Fashioned Glass by prepandemicwriting (bealeciphers) [2016-02-04, 28k]

-classic bartender!barry fic. they're both kinda disasters all around? hilarious

Run Away With Me by asexual-fandom-queen (2016-05-23, 14k]

-the only time asking someone to run away with you has ever worked lmao.

Painting the Roses Red by Solarcat [2016-07-01, 20k]

-Family of Rogues but there's a third snart sibling that Len's got to protect. Lucy Snart that only exists in this fic and my brain ily <3

I bet these memories follow you around by MissSugarPlum [2017-06-07,5k]

-Lisa and Barry in high school at the same time, Barry being tiny and full of rage, Lisa being reluctantly charmed, mwah. chef's kiss.

Bolt from the Blue by town_without_heart [2017-06-16, 170k]

-pre-canon meeting is always delicious to me. eobard being aware of it is the cherry on top (what a creeper)

The Good in You (the Bad in Me) by blue_wonderer [2017-08-02, 26k]

-I have a soft spot for fics where Barry and Lisa are friends what can I say. set pre-canon, and barry is a goddamn delight

Get Me Through The Night by Mentalrebel [2017-08-07, 11k]

-super interesting formatting. it's a lifeline au? I have no idea what that it, but it's fun

Ties and Barricades by yersifanel [2017-09-01, 10k]

-pre-canon meet-ugly where len kidnaps his soulmate as part of his getaway.

Realignment (time & company) by writerdragonfly [2018-02-13, 12k]

-me? rec a time travel fic? of course. time traveller's wife au. gives some really interesting backstory to Len's mother/family

Unexpected Development by nirejseki [2018-04-05, 20k]

-it's so funny it's practically a crack fic. calling the reverse flash Mr. Banana is an inspired choice

since I can remember I've been runnin' from you by youmakemesoangry [2019-01-26, 14k]

-barry getting haunted by post oculus len yes oh yes

Sticky Fingers by MoriartyMastermind [2019-03-05, 18k]

-barry stealing wallets as the flash is like objectively funny okay

Resonance by Moriavis [2019-06-16, 40k]

-looove a soulmate fic and this one is so unique. Barry and Len meet when Barry's still a child, and it ends before they meet as adults, so really it's mainly a Leonard snart character study

Ice and Lightning by vomitingwords [2020-03-26, 2k]

-potentially the only figure skating au for this ship?

Zero to Sixty by scrubmarine [2020-06-26, 25k]

-barry meeting len out of costume because he's running away from Iris is a hilarious set up, and he kind of deserves it

Just Friends by Thundersnow [2021-08-11, 168k]

-a classic fake dating au, trying to figure out how a blueberry coffee could taste good has been a question that has followed me for years.

Shiva by crestfaller [2021-11-07, 17k]

-I always need more fics dealing with the loss of Henry tbh, and this is a really good exploration of grief.

What It Might Cost by Kateera [2022-05-17, 20k]

-a classic deaging fic, len is heartbreakingly cute

Stand Still by Taste_of_Bitterness [2022-09-15, 25k]

-len doesn't go on the waverider after running to stand still. Barry's kind of a mess here, tbh?

I Think I Love You by youmakemesoangry [2023-05-03, 67k]

-it's post Len and mick's legends trip, and they're helping out team flash. there's a truth spell involved. It's a classic trope. (also there's this bit where mick's reading Frankenstein and he calls creature victor's kid, and that's such a mood, my gothic fiction class spent like an hour talking about his daddy issues once)

[brokenwinebox]

Mikey Told Claire About The Bear? Part 2

This won’t be an overall long post, but this is technically another segment to my meta on the question about Claire and her strange and seemingly out of place connection to knowing the name of The Bear.

Everything has gotten only weirder because of the confirmation that Claire and Donna were somewhat connected since the first episode of meeting them with the scripts and interview articles.

I personally never found the connection to Donna/Claire straight away until the Fishes episode. Although, in the aftermath of my dissertation, the scripts, and the interviews, I’ve been looking at certain things with a different perspective.

We know that Donna called him Michael after being asked to go to the dinner table by Carmy. I speculated that this Logan persona could actually just be Mikey’s personality because of Carmy’s grief.

What’s generally dark about Claire’s character gets even worse when you think on the theory of Mikey telling Claire about The Bear. I believe I’ve talked about this to some degree but the scale or magnitude of its meaning almost went completely over my head.

Donna literally called Carmy after her eldest son when asked to go to the dinner table. Carmy can’t even be his own person without being compared to Mikey. If it was Mikey’s personality he was emulating for the Logan persona, this means that Carmy felt like he couldn’t be himself at the party and Claire didn’t realize it. She was, instead, entertained by it.

(Not to mention, Neil Fak called Mikey his best friend in the very first episode of the show. Who is Neil Fak’s best friend now?)

If Claire shares attributes with Donna, who has a history (no matter how brief) of not acknowledging Carmy’s care for her as his own, then how much has Claire been projecting Mikey onto Carmy like Donna?

Anyway, here’s a video compilation of Carmy/Mikey being Neil Fak’s best friend and the weird coincidences on my theory about the Logan/Mikey personality that I already talked about in a separate post but decided to do it here in video format:

Credit to @spywhitney for catching Cicero calling Mikey an animal!

Massive Update: I made this post on August 16th. Now, I have to update the things that just clicked for me. @fresaton made a reblog about Natalie, Claire, and Carmy on @whenmemorydies’s original post about the claw, the scrunchie and the prayer card. We’re going to talk about this here since I was going to post this anyway. This feels super speculative on my part but work with me here lol. I’m going to try to connect all the dots to literally all my previous metas about Claire.

The Dinner Table

In the episode where we constantly jump in time, did they potentially skip a scene between Claire and Carmy? He looks at his scar, which is something we know is connected to Mikey, before leaving to go to The Bear. Claire and Carmy also share a scene together about that particular scar before Claire talks about the injured girl.

I have two metas on that scene. The first being about the strange topic of glass between Donna and Claire and the second was about Claire and her weird connection to mold from the scripts which also happened to have a Donna/Claire parallel.

If he did have dinner with Claire, then the reveal of Mikey telling her about The Bear could’ve happened then.

Thinking on the second episode of season three, he mentioned how he wanted them to see what they’re capable of. Sydney immediately asked who those people are.

Sydney: “Why?” Carmy: “So they can see what we’re capable of.” Sydney: “Who’s ‘they’?”

In the first part of this meta that’s linked with the title above, I noticed Carmy did the same thing when Carmy and Claire were talking by the grocery store fridges. My previous thoughts will be in italics except the dialogue as always.

Carmy: “No, I don’t think we even…We didn’t even tell anybody what the name was.” Claire: “You one hundred perfect told me the name.” Carmy: “How could you remember the name?”

The question that Carmy should have asked is how she even knew it in the first place?

Notice he said he doesn’t think THEY (Carmy and Mikey) told anyone?

Carmy literally said in the s1 finale, he realized he didn’t even know anything about him. Why would Carmy be that confident in a person he admitted to not knowing? Was it disbelief?

Is it possible the “they” that Carmy is referring to could be Chef David, Claire, and Mikey? Especially when you think on what Carmy was thinking of in the season three finale.

What gets even stranger is what I said about the “Let it Rip” reference. I mentioned that Mikey could’ve been referenced in the second episode of season three because of the weird similarities to the season 1 finale panic attack scene before the thoughts of food calmed Carmy down and Sydney getting lost in the food before Tina intercepted it.

I kind of talk about Tina specifically and how she could be the physical mother figure to Marcus and Sydney to prevent them from getting possessed on @moodyeucalyptus’s post as well.

Another question is did Claire reference to something that Carmy knew wasn’t about him in the dinner scene the same way Donna called him Michael before going to the dinner table? I had also mentioned before that it was strange that Claire would just leave Carmy in the fridge without really caring about his health as a doctor. Does this mean she came back like Sydney did? There always seem to be mirroring going on.

(We also have Ted Fak saying that everyone else is good with Claire except Carmy in the Next episode.)

The timeline is very confusing to me. If Claire came back briefly, then they could’ve set up the dinner date potentially. I went to check on Claire’s text messages because it would make sense to see what messages were previously exchanged between them.

@fresaton, you mentioned that the dinner happened on 05-30-23, I personally couldn’t see a date to the texts but I read the messages as much I could and their last exchange (from what we know) is about friends and family. There’s also the fact that I have no clue when this scene exactly happened. This would have to be after the “dinner” scene right?

We see Carmy on the train and walking (fairly similar to how season three ended) while Claire takes off her makeup and cuddles with Kelly. Between that is Sydney apologizing to Marcus on the phone about his mother and Mikey asking about the restaurant idea Carmy has.

All of this to say, if there was a dinner between them then Claire and Carmy probably would’ve had to see each other physically before meeting for dinner.

The Hauntings Of The Berzatto Siblings

Before preparing themselves for the Christmas dinner and Donna, the Berzatto siblings are out sharing a cigarette before going into the chaos.

In previous metas, I’ve discussed how Claire and Carmy’s relationship always goes back to Fishes.

Now after @whenmemorydies and @fresaton’s metas, We’re going to look at the weird connections between them with cigarettes.

In the first installment of this meta, I noticed that Mikey goes outside and Richie notices it. I thought it had alluded to Claire finding out about The Bear because Carmy sees her outside on Christmas night.

I already talked about how Richie is a fox and a caterpillar who potentially slipped the prayer card into Carmy’s pocket like Natalie did with the money. Not to mention, Richie also witnessed the Berzatto siblings smoking outside of the house before going back inside.

Richie: “Yo! Is this some family shit I should know about?” (2x06)

Carmy apologized to Richie and said he loved him before squashing a cigarette. The only time we've seen Carmy actually smoke for season three was on Christmas night where the moment between Carmy and Claire took place and when they share a cigarette together.

In my dissertation about Claire, I also found some interesting dialogue between Richie and Mikey about their morning after story. This was after Mikey came back from being outside.

Mikey: “Things are really starting to spiral out of fucking control.” Richie: “Oh, we are past the point of no return.” Mikey: “It’s not good. And now it’s the next morning right? We’re like fucking rocked.” Richie: “Rocked!” Mikey: “Like, I look over at him, I’m like, well Jesus fucking Christ, man.” Richie: “I’m looking at you and I don’t even recognize you at that point.” Mikey: “It’s like a monster.” Richie: “Yeah, cause you look like a fucking monster. Couldn’t even tell it was you.”

I had said this could be connected to s3 Carmy before the season aired. Carmy wasn’t very recognizable this season some would argue.

What if Mikey's haunting was The Beef and The Bear? He actively cut Carmy off when Carmy wanted to be apart of the family establishment. It gets even worse when you think on the jealously and resentment for Carmy being able to dream when Mikey couldn’t. Did Mikey tell Claire about The Bear in rebellion like Carmy did with the meal?

Did Carmy find out and that’s why he’s avoiding Mikey’s presence?

He, instead, wants to show what The Bear is capable of by subtracting and pushing. Is Mikey haunting the people around Carmy to get through to him? Mikey is sort of known for subtracting Carmy out of his life but pushes him when he thinks something is good for him.

Claire is also known for her pushing type of personality that caused her to become a very controversial character on the show.

For Natalie’s hauntings, it’s very interesting because we don’t actually see her smoke the cigarette before it jump cuts to Mikey smoking the cigarette. I’d assume Donna and Mikey are a major role in hers.

There was a connection I made to Natalie, Claire, Donna, and Carmy earlier.

Although, I also found parallels between Sydney and Natalie. Donna talks about a dream she had about a fish tank and when she woke up, her water broke (Natalie was born.)

I immediately had the idea that Natalie is a fish like Sydney. It feels speculative but something could be there. One thing I do know for sure though is that we don’t see Natalie or Sydney smoking the cigarette in their hands. It automatically cuts before we witness them smoking at all.

I’ve also talked about the parallel between Sydney, Luca, Claire, and Carmy. They both have best friend dialogue and a cigarette moment it seems.

For Carmy’s hauntings, it could be a whole combination of people and things, honestly. The Beef, The Bear, Chef David, Mikey, Claire, Sydney, Marcus, etc.

I’ve mentioned before that Carmy is the magician and Claire is the illusion but for the sake of my sanity, I’m not talking about that here. This is already getting far longer than I intended.

I had a brief theory about how the cigarettes could be representative of reality and avoidance for season three.

I talked about this with @thoughtfulchaos773 but I just haven’t gotten further into this yet. Although, I now might have a different theory on that. The Faks are involved in this too but I’m focused on The Berzattos at the moment. Maybe I’ll get into them later.

I have like two metas that I’ve been working on that’s a bit similar to this one as well. I just got consumed with this one very quickly.

On the topic of The Faks, @currymanganese has a meta on The Faks being Claire’s henchmen!

I’m also linking @whenmemorydies’s recent meta on Carmy, Natalie, and the Berzattos. I haven’t read it in its entirety but it could be similar to mine!

As always thank you so much for reading!! As I said before, this felt very speculative on my part. Maybe I'll make another meta to elaborate on everything. I hope this all made sense! Notice how I said in the beginning that this won’t be an overall long post? You could definitely tell I wasn’t planning all of this lmao. Oh well!

[cypherscript]

In Bad Taste Part 2

"Four feet?!" The entirety of the league at the meeting is up on their feet. "Why so fast?"

"Do you have any pictures of the orb or the bodies? Were they dead," Batman asks as he pulls up the location of the League's hideout via a satellite trying to gain visual of what she was talking about.

"All but one. Why did you send Hood? I thought he was on your no go list."

"Hood's been getting better, he was the most logical one to infiltrate the League; he was already in good graces with them when Talia used the pits to bring him back. Being on my no go list made it seem like he was no longer associated with me. I have visual, why did they have the orb out in the middle of the courtyard?"

"I have some footage of the scene, they appeared to have been trying to cast some kind of spell to link the orb with other locations or maybe to expand its radius of effect. It's not completed," Zatanna places a device into a port on the table and pictures of a large magic circle surrounds the larger orb. The next few pictures were of the corpses lined up, some of the faces looking familiar to Bruce.

"So Ras is gone then, that's the man right there."

"So it appears," Zatanna agrees, switching the screen to one of the orb, with it being so big now details not seen are clear.

Superman looks at the picture closely, "Is it just me or does that look like a a bunch of stars?"

Batman says nothing as he runs the image through multiple star charting programs, "You're correct, Superman. I'm getting multiple confirmations; Perseus-Pisces, Pisces-Cetus, Ursa Major, the Centaurus Cluster, The Milky Way, Sto-Oa, Rao. It keeps going, it shows to be every star in our sky as well."

"Rao," Superman asks, looking for the familiar star by its formation. "How old is this thing?"

"We should contact Hal and the lanterns to let them know. This could be one of theirs or maybe the Guardians know what it is?"

"I'm sending the message now," Batman types away at the keypad, "While we wait for them I'm going to check on Hood."

"We'll come with you," Diana says as Bruce moves the files to his personal device.

"Do as you wish. Zatanna bring in Constantine, we may need his help."

***

The Justice League have arrived at the compound just thirty minutes later and it is swarming with more assassins and goons. Talia's there giving orders, "Remember! Squad D, do not go near the artifact! Everyone else is fine to approach, I want this circle destroyed post haste!"

Batman had snuck his way into their camp and put Talia in a hold, "Why are you here, Talia?"

"Br-" Batman tightens his hold painfully, "Batman, I suppose you're here for Jason?"

"Where is he?!"

"He's safe, you don't want to see him right now. He's back to the way he was when I first found him. It's not a pretty sight."

"Fine, what's with the orb then? You didn't answer my question, I know your father is dead, why are you here?"

"Same reason you are I suppose, I'm putting a stop to father's plans for this artifact. He planned on linking it with every Lazarus Pit on the planet, he believed this to be the heart of the god who made the pits and wished to bring it back. To bad for him he didn't know what I now know; it's not just the Lazarus waters it's absorbing, it's also draining the energy from those who have died and come back via other means. It hasn't killed anyone yet, just makes them unable to move until they're removed from its radius."

Batman releases her and taps his comms, "Batman reporting in, stay away from the compound."

Superman's comms respond, "I heard, I was able to pull myself back before I couldn't move. Felt like the life of me was being drained. Zatanna and Constantine seem to be fine, Wonder Woman says it feels like hades is staring into her soul from here."

"It feels like it's looking at me," Shazam pipes in.

"Noted, fill them in on what's going on. We need some league members who haven't been resurrected before. Let Talia's men destroy the circle then we can figure out a way to get it off the planet and away from the pits."

"Well aren't you the lucky lot," Hal's voice comes in over their comms, "Calvary's here. I can get it off planet for you."

______________________________________________

And there we go, part 2 like I promised. Also you were close @victoria-has-no-secret but it's ALL of the people who've been resurrected not just the pits. mwahahaha Now to get the tag list out of the way. hope I'm doing this right... As I was typing this up, it seemed like I made the Orb sound like an SCP... hmm, thoughts for future works.

@mnemovoid @may-rbi @cugzarui @ekatkit @farmercale @blackroserelina @justwannabecat @dragonborne-writer @aikoiya @chrysanthemum9484

[everlasting-elegy]

What’s in a Name? | Scaramouche/Wanderer x Reader

The Wanderer has accumulated so many titles over the years, you wonder if you can give him one of your own.

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, You’re not the Traveler, Slightly OOC? (Idk man just let me write my fluff 😭) Word Count: 1.2k Warning: This was loosely inspired by a potential leak for the 3.3 Archon Quest so please don’t read if you don’t want spoilers. Also not proofread WHOOPS A/N: I usually post on my laptop but I’ve only got my phone right now so the formatting’s a little off. I’ll fix it up once I get access to my laptop again 👍

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“That staring. It’s disturbing.”

In truth you didn’t realise you were staring. You couldn’t help it when there was nothing else to do. The two of you had found a freshwater lake to recuperate at. Both of you situated on your respective rocks by the water, your gaze naturally drifted to him when he took up your mind.

Despite travelling together for months, the stubborn little man was somewhat of an enigma to you. But the mystery wasn’t his past - you were fortunate to have him finally open up to you - but what you two were. Months of wandering through Teyvat with no choice but to trust each other with your lives and you still had nothing to personally call him by.

You cleared your throat as you angled yourself towards him.

“So, uh, Scaramouche-“

“It’s Wanderer now.”

“Right, sorry. Force of habit. Can I ask-“

“No, you can not.”

“… Rude. Anyway, is Wanderer a new name? Or a title like ‘Balladeer’?”

“It’s a title.”

“Can I ask what your name is now?”

“… Wanderer is a title and name.”

He always thought he was slick, skirting around answers but he always conveyed more information than he realised. How his cold gaze went from hostile to distant but lonely all the same. He simply had no name, not anymore.

A title can only go so far. You remembered a time you met the fabled Traveler, and instead of calling them such, called them by their actual name the instant they entrusted it to you. You’d never forget the special glint in their eyes when they heard it.

How far could the blue themed man beside you last walking aimlessly across Teyvat with nothing to hold onto except for the very clothes on his back and hat on his head?

“Do you want a name?”

“What’s with all these questions?”

“I’m just curious. If you haven’t realised, your situation is pretty unique.”

“I told you the name is ‘Wanderer’.”

“That’s pretty lame.”

“You-“ His head snapped to you, face lit up in anger until he saw the teasing smile creeping up your face. He didn’t bother stifling his groan as he rolled his eyes and angled his head back to the ground.

“I’m figuring out a new one,” he replied.

“I could give you a name if you want.”

“No.”

“What, are you worried I’m going to give you a stupid name?”

“I know you’re going to give me a stupid name.”

“I’ll have you know my pet seelie loves the name I gave them.”

“That isn’t reassuring.”

Pouting, you turned your full body to him.

“If not a name, can I give you another title then?”

He fell silent, facing forwards to the water as he averted your gaze. His face was unreadable but it was better than his perpetual scowl so that was a good sign, at least.

The Wanderer, hoping you have given up your antics, spared a glance at you only to snap it back to the water when your eyes met. He blames the scorching sun for his cheeks heating up, even though his hat shrouds his entire figure in shade.

“You don’t have to take the title up yourself,” you bargained. “Just a little thing I can call you myself.”

Scaramouche shot you a look that said if anything, that’s worse. But then after some contemplation and mutterings of ‘how the hell do I put up with you’ he shifts a little closer to you. As always, when it came to you he found himself relenting.

“Fine.”

“Thank you, my love,” you beamed.

One second.

Two.

Three.

The Wanderer almost fell into the water.

“You-“ He’s nearly choking on air, dryly coughing into the back of his fist as he sat on the ground having fallen off his makeshift chair. “I- huh- what?!”

“Shhh, you’re going to wake up the entire forest at this rate,” you snickered before you leaned over him, offering a hand to him. He stared at it like it was a foreign appendage before batting your hand away and scrambling up on his own. Situating himself back on his rock, he angled himself away from both you and the water. You didn’t even bother to hide your crestfallen expression.

“Your attempts at humour are pathetic.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

You faced him still, fighting how every fibre in your body was telling you to look away with how he scrutinised you over his shoulder. He needed to know you meant it, you prayed silently to the archons he knew from your face how genuine you were. But at the sound of his scowl you instantly moved away and faced out to the water.

It had been a long time since the Wanderer was given a title beyond one he set for himself. Of course, “Balladeer” was appointed by the Tsaritsa, but since when was such a title so affectionate? A title so personal, so full of warmth. His first title was the title of “friend”, given to him by someone he would call “friend” back.

And look where that got them. Look how such a title caused him to be left behind.

And now somewhat wants to call him “my love”? Especially you, of all people? The very one who has been transforming his perspective on the world even though he wanted to be stuck in his old ways? The sunlight wasn’t warm enough as a shiver went down his spine.

“No one has used such a title for me before,” he stated as he reoriented himself to face you again, heart cracking just a little at your dejected figure. You jumped at his voice, but you didn’t look at him, eyes focused on your hand that created ripples in the water that sparkled under the daylight. He wanted to continue and say that such titles are weak but his mouth only hung open. No more words came out, but why?

In his silence, you eventually came to face him. You tried to play off your smile as cheeky but he knew better. It was timid, masking over your true vulnerability and uncertainty.

“Well then, I can be the first…?”

His eyes were distant as he looked straight ahead at nothing in particular. On his face, a small but rare smile as he clicked his tongue in mock contemplation.

“Hm… I guess you can.”

Blinking, you shook your head in disbelief. Did you just hear that right? The Wanderer accepting the title you offered him? When you refocused on him, his head was down, hat tipped over his burning face as he looked away.

“We’ve rested long enough. We should keep moving...”

You nod dumbly, hurriedly moving past him to pack your items. As you brushed shoulders with him, your momentum sent a breeze against your ears, the gentle wind carrying a whisper.

“… my love.”

You whipped around to the source of the voice to see the Wanderer looking very amused. Wearing the widest smirk, you’d believe he was mocking you save for the rouge dusting his cheeks, how his icy irises were only thin rings against his dilated pupils.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

You shook your head, not trusting your voice so you sent him a bright smile as response. A smile that he couldn’t help but mirror as he tipped his hat back down over his face.

Genshin Impact Masterlist

[mama-qwerty]

Okay, I'm gonna get political here.

I've been seeing some alarming posts going around, in which people seem to think that Biden is somehow as bad as, or worse than, Trump. And a lot of the reasoning seems to come down to how he's dealing with Israel. He's not doing enough to stop Israel and is actively supporting them. Which, he has to, because the US is Israel's ally.

Is it ideal? Is it great? NO. It absolutely sucks, and we really should not be involved, and be doing more to stop them.

But that seems to be the single issue most people mention when talking about not voting for him. And my question to them is, do you seriously think Trump will handle it any better??

And let's put Palestine aside right now. I know it's terrible, I know it's my privilege to look away for a moment, but I implore you, I fucking BEG you to remember that the US president affects laws and policies here, which affects each and every American who lives here.

This post lists, in a convenient little checkbox format, what each candidate is for and against. As you can see, Trump will support Israel, too. Moreso than Biden. But he will also remove rights and destroy protections for countless other groups.

Both candidates are absolutely NOT THE SAME. Biden, while not perfect, has done a lot of good for the country, it's just not reported because negative things get more views than positive. He had A LOT of cleanup to do after Trump finally dragged his ass out of the White House. And he's done what he could.

I get that Biden isn't ideal. He's not who I would want, either. But he's the Democratic candidate, and we absolutely cannot afford to "send Washington a lesson" by abstaining or voting third party. We are a two party system, and with Trump on the ballot, we cannot, CAN FUCKING NOT afford to split our forces.

Every Republican will be out in droves, casting their vote for Trump. One vote for a third party candidate, is a vote for Trump. If you do not vote for Biden, you are essentially handing Trump the victory.

This country will not survive another Trump presidency.

I sincerely believe that. The damage he did the first time around was bad enough, when he didn't know what he was doing. But now? Now he's had 4 years to scheme and plot and work behind the scenes with his cronies so that when/if he gets back into office, he can go all in on gutting the government, stacking the Supreme Court, enacting whatever laws he likes, and simply declaring himself dictator and never leaving office again.

And the Republicans will help him.

Every one of those spineless bootlickers will be trailing behind him, nodding like a fucking bobblehead, agreeing with whatever asinine idea tumbles out of his third grade brain.

"For the good of the country," they'll cry, as they gut support for the poor.

"For the helpless little babies," they'll weep, eliminating health care services for women and removing any help for families.

"Make America Great Again," they'll chant as they send the military to drag children away from parents and lock them in cages because they dared come to the US--a country that was founded on the backs of immigrants--for a better life.

Republicans only care about keeping themselves rich and in power. They don't care about the poor. They don't care about women or minorities or LGBTQ+ rights. They don't care about YOU. They only care about themselves. They've proven it time and time again, yet they always try to convince their base that it's really the Democrats and radical Left who are the bad guys. Because they constantly want to *checks notes* make sure people are safe, healthy, and cared for.

And that's not the America the Republicans want.

I am begging all US voters to look past Palestine, for just a moment, and realize that choosing the wrong man in November will have very, very, VERY long lasting repercussions for this country. We can't afford to "send a message". We can't afford to simply not vote. We can't afford to throw out the old "they're all the same" line.

THEY'RE NOT.

Please, please, please. Think about the people who will be hurt under another Trump administration. Think of those who will lose their support, lose their aid, lose their protections. Think of those who can't protect themselves.

The only message we need to send to Washington this November is NOT TRUMP. NEVER TRUMP.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Hi there! Hope you’re having a lovely Sunday :)

I love the theory you just posted in response to the Abby/BT breakup anon!! The only thing that worries me is Oliver specifically saying he could see Buck in queer spaces only IF Buck and Tommy are on a break… He also said something like “whether or not Tommy is Buck’s forever partner…” in that same interview. Isn’t this basically him implying that BT are still together at least as of 8x08 (since that’s what they are filming right now)? On the other hand this could also just be Oliver saying all of this to avoid any potential spoilers!

Side note: I also just think it’s very strange that lfjr liked a tweet with a meme of him drinking “buddie tears” while he is still on the show. Just unprofessional behavior imo. Especially since you would think he would want more buddie fans to like Tommy so it could keep him on the show. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Hey Nonnie.

So I’ve pulled up the quotes for reference, and we do need to remember he can’t directly give anything away about things relating to the finality of bucks relationship with tommy, he has to answer the questions as if they are still together regardless of what he has filmed and why he knows - because he knows where the audience are in the story at the time of publication of the interview. Actors usually get a briefing sheet for each interview or set of interviews they’re giving (if they’re doing multiple interviews one day) - which will include the intended publication date for said interview - so Oliver would’ve known these two interviews were going out in time for 805, and that will give him an idea of what he can and can’t say. There may be information on the briefing relating to this as well.

The show needs to create intrigue without giving the game away and as far as the ga especially, bt are together and in a fairly good place at this point in time.

Oliver’s response was to a question relating to a throwback from bucks past. Now the question itself doesn’t directly refer to love interests, but it is implied, and that is fairly important.

He didn’t need to answer the above question with the below answer - why did he need to bring up the idea of them being on a break? He could’ve gone with ‘oh it would be really fun to have buck and tommy bump into one of bucks old girlfriends. I’m trying to think of which one would be best for this.’

But instead he went with on a break.

Then he proceeds to talk about Buck putting himself into queer spaces and being shepherded by Lucy (I am massively paraphrasing but the actual quote is below) in those spaces.

There is literally no reason to take this route on this question unless you’re hinting at something without being direct about it. It’s a very subterfuge-y answer - very much of the type we’ve seen Oliver give before and very much in keeping with some of the things he was saying about Lucy in the s5b interviews he was giving in terms of answering in a slightly odd way that when read after the episodes have played out suddenly make a lot more sense (I don’t have the time to find the quotes I mean but I’m sure if you Google you can find them!)

So we have an answer that gave a lot of random detail that the question didn’t really warrant. And then the second quote you mention;

That quote doesn’t really feel to me that it implies bt are still together in 808 - the language is generally past tense - ‘have been’ not will always be his first and ‘always be,’ I think, huge importance… again past tense - again in an answer where he could’ve used present tense - in fact the first ‘have been his’ instead of just saying ‘be his’ is more indicative of the relationship, if not being fully over, more or less over (if we’re getting them on that break Oliver spoke of!)

Oliver isn’t going to say anything to spoil things for the audience at this point - the big hurdles he and Tim have spoken of haven’t actually appeared yet and we don’t know what format they’re going to take (I have my theories, but we don’t actually know!) and how make it break for the relationship they are going to be.

We also don’t have a timeframe for how things are going to fully play out. I’m of the opinion that 812 is the episode when we’ll see buddie go canon, but that’s just my feeling (because it will be episode 118 and Tim likes to play with numbers!), it could just as easily be buddie going canon in 817 or 818 or any episode number in between, it really is dependent on how things get paced for both Buck and Eddie’s arcs, as well as the stories they want to tell for the other characters - because this is an ensemble show and there will be episodes focused on madney and henren and bathena.

I don’t for the life of me believe that Tim would have Tommy be Bucks endgame when he’s developing his character in this way. It would be incredibly easy to make Tommy likeable and a good partner for Buck with very little additional screen time needed - the scenes we’ve already had, reworked would achieve this. But no they’ve gone the direction they have and that in and of itself is pretty telling.

And even if buddie isn’t the end goal here, I don’t think they’d have buck figure out he’s bi and jump into a first relationship with a man and have it be endgame - and do it at the rushed pace they did, that’s just not how this type of tv works!

As for the lfj tweet liking thing he’s been on - well all I have to say is that it’s remarkably similar behaviour to Megan west and edy gangem and we all know what happened to their characters shortly after their little spate of crazy on Twitter main! The man has already behaved very unprofessionally with his cameos etc and was clearly reined in by the network in some way (I don’t pretend to know the details of what happened, all I know is that it’s highly suspicious that he went complete and utter radio silence for the entire hiatus and until after his return had been revealed and that the show sm pages did exactly the same). Regardless of if he is still on the show or not, he’s not doing himself any favours and his character remains an undeveloped lite version of both Buck and Eddie