#beau: here kitty kitty

[recoveringdreamer]

TIMING: current LOCATION: worm row. PARTIES: @mayihaveyournameplease & @recoveringdreamer SUMMARY: beau makes a new attempt at cat adoption. it goes poorly. CONTENT WARNINGS: animal death (implied), past emotional abuse (mentioned)

The jaguar raged. He wasn’t sure how his host let it go as far as it did. A man with a knife cornering them in an alley, his hands touching them as his mouth made demands. What would Felix have done if their protector hadn’t stepped in? They were so willing to fight when placed into a box, when a crowd was present. Where did that will to survive go when someone was threatening to maim them? 

This, the jaguar thought, was why he was necessary. Without him, he doubted Felix would have made it as far as they had. They certainly wouldn’t have made it out of that alley. Even now, they were retreated so far within themself, so afraid. They ached with what that blade had done, with the strange substance it had pushed into their blood. It had been enough to steal Felix’s consciousness away, but not enough to subdue the jaguar. It had only made the jaguar angry. 

And he was angry still. Stalking through the streets, looking for the woods he knew as home. He had no desire to stay round the town Felix seemed to have taken to, preferring the freedom of the woods where he could move without fear of the hunter finding him again. If Felix were there, capable of complex thought, he’d muse that the hunter must be angry. The jaguar, of course, cared for none of this. The jaguar wanted only to be free.

At least the streets were fairly empty. The jaguar didn’t trust humans, didn’t have any desire to be around them. He had no desire to go back to the only building he knew, the one where he was caged if he ever fully surfaced, where Felix often descended into so many thoughts of self hatred and guilt that it was hard to stomach. No, the woods would be better. He only needed to find them. If he could keep Felix subdued long enough, he could take them home. Surely Felix wouldn’t return them to that awful building with those awful people again once he remembered what home tasted like.

There was a sound nearby, and the jaguar growled, low in his throat. Someone coming. He could smell them. Not the hunter, but still not a wanted presence. 

Beau was on his nightly little jaunt. His little walk that doctors and scientists said was good for people. Every day you needed to walk so many steps so you don't die! Beau didn't want to die. There were too many names he had yet to steal! Too many mouths he hadn't kissed yet and most of all, there was still one very big and very unfulfilled dream. Beau had yet to successfully obtain a pet. 

The memory of that little fae and her murderous kittens had distorted in his mind, becoming a sludgy memory of hate and misconception. It was obvious to him now that those kittens had been planted by the urchin. Hadn’t the little brat said that she didn’t have a home? Obviously she had trained those good for nothing cats to attack a kind and rich man like himself. Because she was jealous of his good fortune. Well, it wasn’t his fault she was a sorry excuse for a fae.

Part of Beau wished that these nightly walks would reveal that girl to him again. So he could yell at her and tell her it wasn’t nice to trick kind men such as himself. That scamming people for money and cat food was wrong. Because he had bought the cat food for her. Well, Kevin Headly had bought the catfood, but Beau was Keven Headly because that was one of his names. Beau was deep in the cycling thoughts of what he would do if he ever saw the fae again when he found himself face to face with another cat.

A big cat.

Beau’s heart raced, not out of fear, but out of desire. There was only one reason a big kitty was here. Obviously it was here to be his companion. His pet. He had been so patient and kind. He was getting his treat from the fae magic that binds all things. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.” Beau cooed and purred the words between his lips. He wanted so desperately for this large cat to like him. “Daddy is here now. Let me take you home and get you some food. We are going to have such a good life together.”  

There was a sense of familiarity about the man. The jaguar didn’t know him, but Felix did. The cat couldn’t entirely grasp the nature of the relationship — he was present when Felix maintained full control, but he hardly wasted time tracking conversations he had no ability to understand. It all seemed so petty, the day to day life that his host lived. He’d never understood why they bothered with it. Didn’t they know they could have anything? That the jaguar would give them anything? If they’d only leave that silly building with those silly fights, if they’d only let the jaguar take the reins and lead them to a better life…

No matter now. The jaguar was in control, and the anger that rose up in his chest at the sight of the man told him that, whatever relationship Felix had with him, it wasn’t a good one. Not to the extent of that hunter in the alley, of course, but certainly enough to make the cat rage. (It did not take much to make the cat rage. This, too, was something the jaguar had no real concept of.)

The man called out, though the jaguar had no real ability to understand human language. He did not know what kitty meant, or who daddy was. He understood food, though perhaps not in the sort of way the man might want. To the jaguar, the man looked like he’d make a decent meal. The big cat didn’t usually make meals out of people, but he’d been wandering the streets for days now with nothing more to eat than the garbage he found in dumpsters and the few small animals unlucky enough to wander into his path. It was not enough to sustain him.

But this man would be.

The jaguar’s tail went back and forth, back and forth as the man grew closer, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Closer, then. Come closer. The jaguar waited.

Beau beamed. Beau preened. Beau pranced. Each step took him closer and closer to the delightfully big cat. Wasn't it fitting that he would have such a fierce companion? Didn't it make sense that he would have the best pet in all the world? Perhaps if Beau was a man capable of looking past his delusions of grandeur, he would be able to remember that animals had always had an adverse reaction to him. As if when they saw him, they could see the bitterness in him. The selfishness that rotted his soul and spurned the people in his life. 

But Beau was nothing if not delusional.

"I can give you so much." Beau purred. "I can give you all the meat our little heart desires. You'll be so happy with me." There was a low grumbling coming from the big cat, was it a tiger? He thought tigers would be more orange. Cheetahs were yellow. Panther? Yeah. This was probably a panther. Panthers probably had loud purrs, just like the low grumbling noise he heard now. "Oh, I know. You're happy to see me! I'm happy to see you! I love you so much already. I'm going to name you mittens." Beau had once held a fantasy of having a black cat with white paws. He'd seen a cat like that on the internet and had become obsessed with the mythical mittens of his dreams. His panther did not have white paws. Beau would get them physical mittens to rectify this mistake. 

Beau was within three feet now. His smile, for once in his life, was genuine. Beau spread his arms wide, he held himself steady and still for panther. "Come to papa!" Beau could have been close enough to notice any detail about the panther. The fact that it was a jaguar. The anger. The hurt. But all Beau saw was his own wants, desires and projections. His little meow meow. “I want you to come to papa right now!”

It was clear that the man did not fear the jaguar. Foolish as he was. It would make the meal easier to obtain, at least, though the jaguar would miss the chase. After all, the chase was the best part, wasn’t it? The thrill of it, the feeling of the ground moving beneath his feet. The chase was what made him feel powerful, made the meal feel like an accomplishment. 

But food was food. A foolish man who made himself easy to kill would fill the jaguar’s stomach just as much as a wise one who tried to run. The man pranced towards the jaguar, and the jaguar waited. He licked his chops, he got into position. And then —-

Something strange. A tugging in his gut, a thought that was not his own. His paws moved of their own accord, carrying him towards the man not in the pounce of a creature jumping on its meal but in the calm padding of an animal coming when called.

The jaguar knew nothing of binds. But Felix did. And while the jaguar’s host might not have realized what they’d done when they’d promised this spirggan ‘anything he wanted’ in exchange for their stolen name, the bind was just as real as the one tying them to the Grit Pit. It caught around the jaguar’s throat just as much as it would have caught around Felix’s. So the spriggan called, and the jaguar came.

But that did not mean he had to come quietly.

Now standing in front of the man, the jaguar yowled. He lifted a massive paw, he prepared to strike. He did not understand the power this man had over him, but he knew he didn’t like it. He knew he didn’t want it. He knew he would find a way to make it stop, and the only way a jaguar knew to stop someone was to bleed them dry.

The panther came, just as Beau called. Wasn't that the world telling him this was meant to be? Was this the reward for being a good spriggan? Always following the rules of fae magic. Never lying, just thought made him a little nauseous. Beau ignored it, because in his heart he knew he must be a good fae. Fae magic had always been his tool for fun, therefore fae magic must love him as much as he loved it. Now it was giving him a panther. Beau's smile twisted into a grotesque caricature of greed. He yearned to own something so big and powerful. So fierce and adorable. Just like him. They were practically soul bound already.

The panther raised its paw, did it want to shake? Dogs shook, right? Were panthers like dogs? Beau didn't know. He honestly hadn't been a big cat fan. There didn't seem to be much of a point to get into them. Now he would have to buy a book on panthers. He was going to spoil his panther. "Mittens." Beau continued to coo, "Mittens you are so beautiful, has anyone told you that bef-" The paw strick. It slashed against his chest, easily ripping through his expensive cashmere sweater, tearing the button up underneath, and slicing through the skin on his chest.

His first thought was silly. My tattoos will be ruined, sliced in half by a fucking cat. But his tattoos had already been ruined by Jedidiah, or Elijah, or whatever name he was going by now. His second thought was anger. This fucking cat was ungrateful bitch. Beau had gone out on a limb for it. Beau had offered to feed it and care for it. And this was the payment Beau got? This was the thanks? The third, and final thought, was oh. I am bleeding. 

A scream, long, winding, and high pitch erupted from Beau's lips. A cry and a sob were quick to follow. "Why would you do that? I didn't want you to do that. I don't want you to do this." Beau was a blubbering and babied mess. He'd never been one for fighting. Beau hated fighting, he loathed violence. There was nothing in this world that should be fought over. Everything should be discussed, but Beau was falling to the ground in a puddle of tears. "I don't want your to hurt me, please, please. I just wanted to love you. Please." 

There was a thrill as the jaguar’s claws dragged against the man’s chest. He thought back to that alley, with the hunter. He would have liked to have caused a more grievous wound to the man who’d attacked Felix, but the hunter’s knives were sharp and the jaguar had been groggy with the drugs he’d pumped into Felix’s system. 

This was not the case now. Now, the jaguar was entirely present, entirely angry. He relished in the blood that spewed from the man’s chest as he dragged his claws down the length of it. The jaguar couldn’t smile, but if it could have, it probably would have been. The sharp kind of smile, the sort of sneer that came from someone who caused pain and who was good at it. Such a look would be out of place on Felix’s face, but the jaguar? The jaguar was different. 

The man screamed, and the jaguar let his own yowl join in like a celebration. He would eat tonight, and eat well. And that would fix the strange tugging in his gut that kept trying to send him back to the building Felix frequented so often and away from the woods where he desperately wanted to go. A full stomach would quell the strange pain and discomfort that had been growing in his chest for days now, since the first fight Felix had missed. 

But something strange happened again. The man spoke, and the jaguar… stopped. Like he was frozen in the spot, like he was incapable of furthering his destruction and finishing his meal. The big cat let out a confused growl. What was this? What was going on? Why did this man’s words affect him? 

Uncertainly, the jaguar took a few steps back. Somewhere deep within, Felix stirred. 

The panther stopped. Its massive muscular body backing off, obediant to Beau's words. But Beau wasn't in the mind to recognize that. Beau felt the warmth of blood leaking down his front. The pain was searing. A sharp light that burned across him. "I'll see you hunted." Beau's purr had turned into a hiss. "I'll see that every single person in this town with a gun is out looking for you. Then I'll pay to have you stuffed. Stuffed. Your eyes gouged out and replaced with those marbles. In the most embarrassing and pathetic pose." Beau was crawling as he spoke. Crawling away, a trail of blood speckles marked the path he left behind. 

One hand scrapped against the pavement, the skin burning with prolonged dragging over the concrete. The other hand held himself together as if his hand could keep his chest from falling apart. "I'll see they torture you before they kill you. They'll pull your tail and prod you with hot irons. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." His go-to words when life didn't deliver the lemonade on a silver platter that he thought he deserved. "I curse you. I curse everything about you. Maybe I'll have them take you to the zoo first. I'll pay for your exhibit to be too small. You'll only have enough room to pace. I'll give children things to throw at you. They'll laugh as they throw things. You'll be nothing but live target practice for children to mock." 

The pain was electric. It kept him going. Boiling him in hatred. "I want you to beg for my forgiveness. But you can't because you're nothing but a fucking pathetic cat. You're pathetic. You're disgusting. You're useless. I hate you." Beau spat. Beau cried. Beau dragged his hurt and broken body across the street.

The man was angry now. Crawling away in a pathetic display, cursing and screaming. The jaguar wanted nothing more than to close his jaws around the little man’s head, to crush his skull between his teeth, but that unseen force stopped him. He knew, on some level, that it was likely Felix’s fault. His host was foolish sometimes, too trusting. They got the both of them into trouble that the jaguar didn’t know how to get them out of.

Like this. The jaguar didn’t fear the threats, of course. He had no intention of even staying in this town and, if he did, it would be with Felix at the helm. Anyone on the lookout for a jaguar wouldn’t bother a person, and if this man made demands that they did, it was him who would likely be caged. (Humans loved to cage one another almost as much as they loved to cage animals. The jaguar didn’t understand it.) 

The jaguar watched the man crawl away, that strange discomfort filling his chest. Felix continued to stir, their panic at the blood on the jaguar’s claws joining in with the pangs in the animal’s stomach. It all became too much for the beast, too difficult to grasp. The danger had passed, and this feeling in their chest would not allow him to retreat into the woods.

So he retreated elsewhere instead. Crawling backwards, back into the spot in Felix’s mind reserved for him and him alone, the jaguar relinquished control of their shared body. He no longer wanted it, no longer had any use for it. There was nothing more he could do.

Felix’s body shifted, shrinking and growing as fur gave way to skin and ears and tail vanished. It was a short shift, with the jaguar allowing it. No fighting for control, no desperate tug of war. Just a jaguar, and then a person. Naked and shivering and covered in blood. Some of it was their own — their arm hurt where Parker had stabbed them, their legs stung with the slashes he’d put there in his escape — but some of it wasn’t. And Felix felt a little sick at that.

He saw the figure crawling across the ground, felt nauseous at the sight of it. Quickly, ignoring their own discomfort, they jogged over. “Oh my god.” It was the guy from the BMV. The one who’d wanted to be their friend. Had he tried to help them here? “Oh my god. I’m — Um — I was just, I was, I was walking by. I’m glad I was walking by.” As if anyone ever went on moonlit, naked strolls. “You need a hospital. Oh my god. I have to take you to the hospital.” 

The cat morphed. It shifted and folded. It shuddered and shuddered. It left behind a human. Naked and familiar. Beau stared open mind, open mouth, open wound. Silent except for the drip of blood droplets hitting the pavement. Felix spoke. Lies. Felix was a liar. Beau remembered that from their last meeting. Twisting the memory to forget that he had turned Felix into a liar by stealing their name. By stealing their choice to choose between lie and truth. Beau would steal more from them now. No forgiveness for the imbecile who had hurt him. Nothing soothed the anger inside him. Each stab of pain across his chest stoked the anger, burning it brighter and brighter.

"You're a liar." Beau snarled. "You're lying again. You're a balam. A balam and a liar." Beau spat both words as if they were equal sins. Both something to be ashamed of. Beau only knew what balams were because of theft. He'd stolen the knowledge from a desperate host. He'd squirreled all her information about what she was away to save for a rainy day, as he did with all the secrets he stole. Today was a rainy day. "You're a bad liar. You should be ashamed of yourself. Lying. Indecent exposure. And this." He gestured to himself, his ripped-open chest. "What did I do to deserve this? All I've ever done is help you.” 

Tears and snot mixed together on his face, flushed pink from tears and anger. Beau was a prideful man, but pride was hard to maintain when sitting on the road cut open. “You’ll have to work hard if you want forgiveness for this. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate that stupid look on your face. Why do you get to panic? You did this. You did this to me. How would you like it? Huh? How would you like it if I ripped you open and let you bleed all over the street then just stood there, naked and lying? You’re disgusting.” 

He was right — Felix was a liar. And a bad one, too. All their life, they’d been told to hide what they were. There are people who will hurt you, mijo. But Beau hadn’t hurt them; in fact, the opposite was true. Felix was the one who’d hurt Beau. Blood on the pavement, on his chest, on Felix’s hands that were no longer paws. They’d been taught to hide what they were, lest the monsters come and take them away. But they were the monster of this story now. They were the one with blood beneath their nails.

“I’m sorry,” they said again. “I’m sorry! I lied, you’re right, I lied. I was scared, I don’t — I didn’t mean to hurt you. I wasn’t in control.” God, they sounded like a terrible person, didn’t they? Shrugging off responsibility for their actions, blaming it on something outside of their control. Their hands were still covered in blood. Beau was still the one bleeding. How were they supposed to explain that away?

Panic thrummed in their chest as Beau turned it around, asking how Felix would feel in his position. The jaguar in their chest stirred, apparently taking it as a threat, and Felix pushed him down desperately. “I’m sorry. I know. I know I hurt you, and I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry. I was — there was a guy, and he — he hurt me, and I shifted, and I don’t — It’s not an excuse. There isn’t an excuse. I’m sorry. Please let me help you. Please. I can take you to the hospital. I want to help. Please.”

"What are you going to do? Can you even find the hospital from here? Can you do anything?" The words were vitriol, spat from a hissing weasel. Slung about like a sledgehammer trying anything to knock down anything that would hurt. "Are you going to carry me? Naked? In front of everyone?" Blind swings. Wide swings. Anything to make them hurt as much as Beau hurt in this moment. Beau's fingers, stained with his blood reached into his pocket and retrieved his cellphone. He made a call. His eyes never left Felix. He condemned Felix with his eyes. After a few words, he hung up. One of his other promise bound would come pick him up. They would get him medical care. They were trusted enough not to fuck up a simple interaction. 

"Go slink home. Think about how shit you are. Try and come up with something - anything - to prove why you're worth a damn. Beg for my forgiveness." Beau didn't care about the guy. Beau didn't care about the pain in Felix's eyes or the distress on their body. Beau didn't care for them at all. Beau would have to think deeply. Mediate on big ways to ruin Felix's life like Felix had tried to ruin his life this night. "Get out of my sight, and pray that I'm kind enough to let you back into my life after your fuck up." 

Each word out of Beau’s mouth left Felix flinching, as if the syllables were physical blows against them. They wanted to help, to fix what they’d broken, but he was right. They couldn’t. They couldn’t walk naked into a hospital carrying a bleeding man without being bombarded with questions that neither Felix nor Beau would want answered. Someone else would come and help Beau, someone better. All he needed Felix to do now was leave. 

Felix took a step back, and then another. They wanted to offer to stay, to sit with Beau until whoever he’d called arrived, but they knew he didn’t want that. He wanted them gone. And, whether they’d figured it out the weight of it or not, Felix had promised to do whatever Beau wanted.

“I’m sorry,” they said again. “I’m really sorry.” And then they turned and left, heart pounding in their useless chest. They couldn’t even do friendship properly, could they? They couldn’t do anything at all.

[dalkyum]

punchnello before you m/v

[luveline]

Hii!! I’ve been binging your fics all week so I wanted to make a request of my own!! 🫶

I was thinking Hotch (and Jack, obviously) with a reader who’s been his long time girlfriend, the constantly stay over at each others houses type. Reader has a cat, one that sleeps with her every night, and Aaron just dealing with that 😭 and maybe a little bit of Jack with a kitty 🩷 thanks !!

Ty for requesting!! fem

“Are you sure it’s okay?” 

Hotch pulls you in through the front door. He doesn’t roll his eyes, but he could. “As sure as I was the first ten times you asked.” 

“I hear the ire in your voice. Don’t be mean.” 

What better time is there to suffocate you in affection than after a damning accusation such as that? Hotch smiles into a kiss, letting his fingers run down your arm to the handle of the carrier. From inside echoes a soft meow. 

“I think she’s upset,” you say. 

“About being moved?” 

“About her beau she sees in the window sometimes. Brokenhearted.” 

He lifts the carrier and you open the door. You make soft kissy sounds until your cat, lovely miss Goldie, deigns to crawl toward your hands. You scoop her out of the carrier and kiss her shiny fur, hand instinctively running down her back. Goldie is a big girl, full grown, with a cuddly disposition. She doesn’t like to play or fight, but she’s adventurous. Hotch is sure she’ll have fun exploring the apartment again. 

“Where’s Jack?” you ask over Goldie’s head. 

“Somewhere. I think he’s reading.” 

You give Goldie a pet, turning her to see Hotch, who finds himself quite fond of the creature despite previous inclinations. “Hello, Miss Goldie,” he says, thumbing at the place between her eyes carefully, 

She mews. 

“She missed you.” You kiss his cheek, giving him all sorts of thoughts about missing you, your perfume, and your skin. 

You put Goldie down and let her explore. You’ve brought a travel litter tray and a few things for breakfast, setting the tray up in the smaller of the bathrooms while Hotch makes his way to Jack’s room. 

Jack’s sitting in a beanbag playing on his DS, eyebrows furrowed but wearing a smirk his dad so rarely sees. 

“Your best friend is here,” Hotch teases from the doorway. “And she’s brought someone with her.” 

Jack’s jaw drops. “She brought the cat?”

“Yes, and she’s looking for you, I’d wager.”

Jack snaps his game console closed and clambers onto his feet. Hotch catches him before he can race down the stairs, murmuring fatherly chastisement and ruffling his hair as Jack thunders down them anyhow. “You’ll scare the poor cat,” Hotch says, and only then does Jack chill out. 

“Y/N?” Jack says, edging into the living room. 

You’ve made yourself comfortable on the couch, laying half-curled with a predictable Goldie purring on the cushion behind your head. “Hi, bud! You’re not that excited to see me, I know.” 

“Can I pet her?” he asks. 

“Sure. Just do the kissy noises and she’ll come right to you. Hey, did you miss me at all? I missed you.” 

“Of course I missed you, Y/N,” Jack says, kneeling in front of you and patting the cushion next to your legs as he attempts to smack his lips together. “Hiii, Goldie.” 

Her fur is quite rare, in Hotch’s uneducated opinion. She’s a British shorthair if he recalls correctly, somewhere between white and blonde. I found her in the street, you’d said, third date, lipstick on his cheek from a few tipsy kisses, all covered in fleas and tics, who could ever do that? Can you believe it?

Goldie slinks down to bump her face against Jack’s hand. “Lean in and she’ll give you a kiss,” you whisper. 

Jack leans forward. Goldie follows him slowly, sniffing, whiskers twitching, before pressing her nose and jowls to his nose gently. Jack’s laugh is younger than his years, he’s that happy. 

Goldie jumps down off of the couch to walk a circle around Jack, nudging his arms with her nose. She wants to be picked up and held, but Jack doesn’t know that yet. She does it to you constantly when Hotch is over, not jealous, just demanding. And at night when you sleep and Hotch is trying to cuddle you, she either decides that she’s the one that’s going to be in your arms tonight, or that the only place she could ever sleep is on top of Hotch’s head. 

It’s much the same in the evening. Hotch sits next to you on the couch in an attempt to rub the tiredness out of your back, and Goldie, still unheld, moises over to nose at your legs with her little wet nose. 

“Come here, darling,” you croon, while Hotch restrains your arms. 

“You love the cat more than me.” 

“Only most of the time, Aaron,” you say, reaching under his hugging to try and pick her up. 

“Leave her for a minute, Jack’s playing with her.” 

Jack, as lovely as he is, had abandoned everyone to play on his DS again, evidenced by the sounds of kart racing echoing from his room. “She gets lonely,” you whine. 

“So do I.” 

You sigh and cup the back of his head. “You’re as clingy as she is, too.” 

He feels an insistent pressing against his knee, though he ignores it in favour of your face, turning you toward him for a kiss, desperate to lay a proper one on you after an hour without one, but then a little mew comes and you pat his cheek. 

“Come on, honey, my old girl wants in on the hugs.” 

You put Goldie in the crease between your thigh and his. She purrs with delight. He watches you smile at her, knowing that the nuisance of your big heart is a part of why he loves you. Doesn’t make going without your kisses any easier.

[fanaticsnail]

Chapter 6

Masterlist here, Moodboard here

Sapsorrow Masterlist

Word Count: 7,353

The Storyteller - Sapsorrow"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it"Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope.

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Tag List: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @be-good-please @little-bunnybabe @sukilovesyou @buggyenjoyer @thesailus @under-kitty @acehyacinth @andriannag @one17 @canthebest1 @khaleesihavilliard @quirkyrascal @hungrhay @sentieence @lebanese-afg-ya @captaincupio @szired @sexc-snail @alphaash99 Thank you to @i-am-vita for her banner!

Song Accompaniments: Crumbling Dreams - Milo the Otter!, Moon Dance - Danny Elfman

Reopening the large double doors to the large ballroom, Mihawk ushered you through the threshold with his guiding hand placed on the small of your back. He allowed himself the luxury of closing his eyes and taking a moment to compose himself as your perfume danced past him upon entering the room. Stepping behind you and reopening his eyes, his yellow hue was met with the intense purple gaze of the giant, reptilian man darkening your radiancy with his intimidating aura. 

“My lady,” Sir Crocodile addressed you at his side, “If I may be granted the luxury of taking your arm a moment. I have decided to rescind my invitation for your beau to view the creation I have crafted and allow it to be a moment for you to take with your eyes only.” You cocked your head to the side, turning your chin towards the lord of Kuraigana at your side, but continuing to hold firm your gaze onto the large man in front of you.

“I hope you are not suggesting I am to enter a room alone with you, unchaperoned, Sir Crocodile?” you quipped, your left brow arching and lips pursing at the suggestion. Sir Crocodile allowed the rumble of his chest to exhale his sour cigar through huffs of laughter. 

“Of course not, my lady,” he uttered once his laughter stifled. Mihawk bore his golden gaze into the smirking face of the dangerous reptilian man, baring his own intimidation onto his towering body, “There will be three others with me, one of whom I likely deem the most competent out of the bunch. I take it you know the Red-Hair Pirates a little more than you do the blue-haired clown?”

You sighed, nodding your head in confirmation before turning back around to face your intended. He was less than impressed at the notion you were to be spirited away by the three men he tasked with aiding him with his impossible tasks, with the potential notion of viewing you in a variety of states of undress. It was written all over his face: jaw clenched, eyes narrowed and brow angled down to depict his displeasure at the suggestion. As he was about to speak up, another presence with a familiar scent of dried tobacco leaves and gunpowder arrived at his side. 

“Don’t you worry yourself, Hawk-Eyes,” Beckman hushed his rumbled drawl against his shoulder, “If anything goes awry: I’ll shoot first, and apologize later for ruinin’ your marble walls.” Mihawk snapped his gaze over to the silver-haired first-mate of the red-hair pirates, continuing to hold firm his scowl and hissing in a firm breath through his nose as he eyed him.

“I take it you’re the competent member of this coup to pry my bride from my arms and away from our engagement soiree,” Mihawk snarled, his brow deeply furrowing in the center of his forehead. Beckman smirked, his lips ticking up at the corner of his mouth.

“Would you prefer to place the safety of your bride in the rat, the reptile, or the idiot?” Beckman shrugged his shoulders up in question. A crackly, sharp “Hey!” growled from behind the crocodilian man, followed by the chuckle of the red-headed captain you have come to enjoy. Mihawk tilted his neck sharply to the side, a short ‘click’ elicited from his spine as he processed the words. 

Mihawk unwove his arm from your back before claiming your right hand within his left, turning you to face him in an intricate and elaborate twirl. Stepping sidewards, he withdrew you from the towering and unwanted company without excusing himself and halted your movements. Gazing deeply and lovingly into your eyes, he drew your right hand up and placed a kiss atop the back of your knuckles. Your breath hitched in your throat, floating your gaze between focusing on each of his eyes as he broke the deep kiss against your hand. 

A thousand questions flew between the two of you internally. From you, mainly, was how long had he felt this way for you. Surely not for only the month you had stayed at castle Kuraigana, but a lord should not be turning his head to a governess at decorative galas. For Mihawk, he was questioning how deeply he trusted the four to be alone with someone so dear to his heart… Or how much trust you placed in Beckman in your interactions prior. 

Through the unspoken discussion, you fought an unwinnable battle internally. You chose to disregard your formal training and allow a moment of softness to overtake your stoic form. Reaching upwards, you placed your left hand on Mihawk’s cheek and shepherded him into yourself, placing your lips gently against his left cheek as you cradled him against your palm. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and froze his shoulders in place. 

His eyes snapped up, meeting first with the brown hue of Red-Haired Shanks’ eyes, who shot him a playful wink as soon as he witnessed the small gift of affection. 

“I will not be away from your side if you are uncomfortable with this, beloved,” Mihawk uttered in a voice little above a whisper. You smiled against his cheek, withdrawing your lips from him and looking up at him through your eyelashes. He quickly drew his honeyed eyes back to meet with yours, softening as soon as he met your affectionate gaze. 

“These are the gentlemen you trusted enough to complete this task,” you whispered under your breath, a smile dancing at the corners of your mouth, “And I trust Beckman to handle it should it become too much for me.” 

“As do I,” Mihawk confirmed, leaning down towards you. He drew his hand up to your face, hovering it over your hair with a small apprehensive quake to his movements; invisible should one be not looking for it, “I would not see a single hair atop your head harmed.” He brushed your cheek with his fingertips gently as his hand found itself cupping your shoulder.

“There was a time I did not see eye to eye with these men,” he uttered his warning sternly, ensuring you held firm to each word he relayed to you. Allowing a small giggle to fall from your parted lips, eyes upturning in a taunting glee, you allowed your eyes to fall to rest on his mustache-topped lip. 

“My lord,” you uttered darkly, drawing your eyes up to meet slowly with his once more, “You are behaving as if you forget the true reason you invited me here in the first place.” Stepping your body closer to his had him drop his hand and draw themselves to your hips once more, head head angling down to meet with your approaching lips to whisper in his ear. 

“I handle the most undisciplined of pupils,” you sighed against his ear, Mihawk closing his eyes to resist the shudder of joy at your breath dancing against his lobe, “Getting them to behave,” you watched his shoulders finally give into the shudder, prompting your lips to curl up into a sly grin, “Is one of my strengths.”

You withdrew from his proximity, allowing your half-hooded eyes to meet his through your eyelashes. Mihawk was holding his composure to his regular stoic rigidity, but his slightly blown pupils held a different prose. He lightly ticked his lip up to the side, allowing a softness to rise within his eyes as he gazed at you. Although neither of you confessed to harboring deep affection on the balcony moments prior, you could tangibly feel how far Mihawk truly held fondness for you. 

“Perhaps we should draw this evening to a close,” Mihawk suggested, glancing past you and around the room, “It would seem the preferable option, considering it could look to others that you are abandoning me to flee into the night with four men you met moments prior.” Both Mihawk and you allowed a small laugh to fall between you at the notion. He retracted his hands from your waist and elevated his right hand in a gesture to the orchestral arrangement to halt their performance. 

“Honored guests,” Mihawk spoke up, his voice alerting the surrounding participants to halt their conversations and turn to face him, “My bride and I have been delighted at your attendance here this night.” Mihawk turned, interlacing your right arm within his left and presented you both to the crowd gathering.

“I trust you can all find your own way from the halls to take your leave,” Mihawk nodded to the great doors, aligned with rows of candelabras dancing and illuminating the castle’s exit’s. He smirked at the corner of his lips before adding, “Should you desire aid in your exit, I would sooner ask Perona to navigate you than Zoro. He has a knack for getting lost within the walls.” A small grumbled groan was almost audible to the side of the room, no doubt in your mind it was thrust from the lips of your green-haired gentleman in training. 

“We will be looking forward to accepting your responses regarding your future attendance at our upcoming wedding,” You curtseyed to the crowd, bowing your head respectfully; a gesture which was returned with equal enthusiasm by your prior students in attendance with their chaperones, “It has been a delight to make your acquaintance, and to see you all again.” You danced your eyes over your students, them all returning your smile with vigor. 

The guests began to file out of the open doors of castle Kuraigana, the large reptilian man once again extending his elbow in a gesture for you to take it. Paying one more glance to the side at your intended and meeting his eyes a final time, you unlaced your hand from within the crook of his elbow and interwove it within the arm of Sir Crocodile. 

“He doesn’t love you.”

Your brows furrowed, looking straight ahead and not sure where the doubts were coming from. Shaking your head to rid your mind of the thoughts, you engaged Sir Crocodile, Buggy and Shanks in polite conversation as they ushered you throughout the halls; the protective presence of Benn Beckman behind you aiding you in feeling safe with the two strangers alongside the red-haired rat. 

Perona watched your retreat with great interest; her wide eyes narrowed as she witnessed the exit with the four men. Zoro smirked, his brow arched up as he playfully gave his commentary on the situation. 

“What is it?” He smirked down, hovering over her shoulder, “Don’t like the thought of our Governess being without the great lord to protect her from the three burly men and that stupid clown?” Perona’s lips were tight in a firm line, her focus on the back of your head. She began to hover in the air, slowly finding her body drawing itself closer to your own, staring off into the distance.

“I just thought I saw-...” Perona began, cocking her head sharply to the side and holding firm her gaze, “Something watching.” 

—----------------

Beautiful. 

Everything was simply beautiful. The layers of satins, silks, chiffon, ivory, embroidered golds and silvers. The two dresses were everything your greatest fantasies could have ever dreamed up, and then exceeded the expectations tenfold. Each gentleman presented their designs to you; Sir Crocodile’s first. The hue alone was enough to make your eyes gloss over and a sigh pulled from your lungs at its mastery. Buggy the Clown’s presentation had the gloss begin to prick at the corners of your eyes and trail their diamond lines down your cheeks. 

But Shanks. Shanks. Shanks’ contribution had the change of pace from dreaminess to a bashfulness you had not experienced in some time. Excusing yourself from the other two men after bowing respectfully to the hulking Sir Crocodile, and encumbering the clown in and embrace for their efforts, you were chaperoned into a small room with both Beckman and Shanks to accompany you.

“Now, love,” he began, prompting your eyes to fall forward and dance over the mannequin’s bodice, “This is the concept only. I’m still working on the finer details, and I won’t leave the port of Kuraigana before it finally comes to me,” he took your shoulder beneath his palm and ushered you over to the bodice, the curtain draping behind you to shield the three of you from the other two gentlemen. Beckman continued to hold his eyes firmly against the sealed crack in the velvet curtains to ensure no prying eyes view the lingerie Shanks had made for you. 

“See, this is where it goes over your breasts,” he gestured to the torso of the onyx bodice of the mannequin, releasing your shoulder from beneath his palm and tugging at several robes of gold hanging limply, “And these tie everything in place. The symbolism behind it is you, yourself, are the sun. The gold is what encases you beneath it, the rays,” he released the golden rope and adjusted the sheer robe over the shoulders, “The rays are bound by each of the knots tying it together.” 

“How would you ever expect me to remember how to assemble the knots and the strings myself?” you furrowed your brows, attempting to see the vision Shanks had for the outfit. Shanks chuckled, clasping the back of his neck as he winced a little in anticipation of your reaction. 

“Well, Exterminator,” he laughed at you, prompting you to arch your brow and seek him out in the corner of your eye, “Some assembly is required by another person. I’d never do anything you, yourself, are not comfortable with, but,” He drew himself in front of you, “If you’d prefer it just me, I can use my right hand and my teeth to bind you within it.” Your eyes widened at the suggestion.

“I do not desire your sharpened rat-teeth near me, Shanks,” you reprimanded him, your brow decreasing and resting in a straight and serious line. Shanks winced a little at your elevated words, but nodded to your boundary. 

“Would you prefer it if Beckman did the knot tying?” The usually stoic man had his ears pricked up at his name, still holding his eyes firmly against the line of the curtain but listening more intently to the conversation behind him, “What say you, Becks? You keen on doing some knot tying for our most precious and beloved exterminator on her big day?” Beckman sighs, shaking his head and takes a few moments to answer that very pointed and heavy question. 

The first moment you met him, he found you effortlessly managing the crew of Red-Haired pirates from their lustful advances on a menagerie of young ladies in silks and satins. This piqued his interests, him desiring to learn more about the protective exterminator and her role in shepherding the youthful gentlemen and women in society. 

After many years of running into you from port to port, he treated you with the utmost respect and found himself hanging onto your every command as a loyal knight taking instructions from his queen. From then on, you were the friend he confided in and trusted to handle the troop easily when ushering you throughout the seas on the red-force. Of all aboard, you trusted Beckman the most to treat you well. 

“If you would prefer me to complete this task for you, teeth free,” he smirked, placing a cigarette between his lips and igniting the tip with a lighter, “Wouldn’t wanna do nothin’ you’re uncomfortable with, my lady. This would be a rather intimate experience, and I wouldn’t dream of putin’ ya in a position you’d not deem appropriate.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat, truly now realizing what task you placed on your intended when you initially requested the former warlord to complete.

“I require a dress that meets the intensity of the sun with its rays of gold and copper. An accumulation of material so outrageously forbidden, it be intended for your eyes alone with its intended purpose. A dress so scantily designed, that you will find none to ever match its equal in both color and provocative appearance.”

Your heart panged with guilt, eyes wide but frown depending as you relayed your own words within your mind. Before your words had enough time to gather more thoughts behind their intentions, you found yourself murmuring below your breath; Beckman responding in a similar tone to your question. 

“Could you do it blindfolded?”

“I will do my best, my lady.”

“You better get to planning your wedding, love,” Shanks called up from behind you, prompting you to turn back around to face him, “I think I’ll have it for you sooner than you might think.” 

—----------------------

Tucked beneath the duvet after ridding yourself of your gown and scrubbing the night off your skin, you reminisced the words Shanks spoke over you. You shook your head, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation you had found for yourself. A small shriek allowed itself to exit from your lips as you hid your face beneath the covers; yourself devolving to a teenager encumbered by their own stupidity circulating within their minds. 

“It won’t be enough. It will never be enough.” 

Your ears pricked up at the voice, prompting you to throw the covers of your bed from your face and seek out its source. Slowly scanning the room, you found no such presence within the corners of your wing. The bothersome thoughts circulating within your mind seemed to have a physical presence; a presence that continued to watch over you as an executor would watch a prisoner place their head within the circle of a guillotine. 

Laying back down against your plush mattress, you began to be eclipsed by invasive and tiresome thoughts so tangible that your body felt more tired upon reawakening than it did attempting its slumber. Once again, no birds serenaded the morn due to its distance between breaking the daylight against the purple hue of cool nightfall. 

Sucking in a breath from your nose, you flung the covers back with your exhale and began to aggressively tug trousers and a blouse onto your body, alongside your socks and boots. Perhaps pushing yourself further to exhaustion may coerce your body to allow slumber to claim you. 

Attempting to furiously walk in silence was no easy feat. The desire to allow the remaining members of the household to enjoy their restfulness overcame your own need to behave erratically and childish in the moment, but you were looking forward to enjoying stomping to your heart's content to satisfy your inner angry teenager once walking among the grounds. 

After opening the cold, wooden door to the castle; you silently crossed the threshold and clicked the latch behind you as softly as you could muster with the iron-barred door’s affinity for squeaks and clanks. You turned and hastily embarked on your descent down the stairs and onto the footpath leading towards the vast grapevines throughout the castle grounds. The pebbles kicked up with dust beneath your heels, scuffing your shoes as you picked up your brief sprint to the winding and heavily fruited vines. 

Upon reaching the first row, your steps halted their motion as your mind began to process exactly what was happening before your eyes. Your fingertips began to shake at your hips, your jaw slackened and eyes wide. 

Dracule Mihawk, lord of castle Kuraigana and lands surrounding, former warlord of the seas, current world’s greatest swordsman, your betrothed and intended husband, was gardening. Hands holding firm to the base of a mattock and humming under his breath, he slammed down the iron tip to pry the earth of its rest. His brown trousers were stained with the waxy coat of the ground, cementing itself against his calves and leather boots. 

His shirt was hanging on a post beside a small, dirty triangle of cloth and a round, large brimmed straw hat, leaving his entire chest and back exposed to the sunlight as it began to share the radiance of the dawn. Beside the hat lay an intricately designed bouquet tied with twine and lace and laying carefully within the circle of the upturned hat. 

A grunt fell from his lips per impact of the earth, halting his hum as his body continued upheaving the ground to a point he deemed far enough to stop digging. His forearms and biceps shook upon impact, his pectorals and abdomen compressing upon retracting the object from its place embedded in the earth. As he turned away from the hole he dug, he rubbed his forearm against his brow to rid it of the sweat and grime. 

He sighed as he began retrieving a small vine with bare roots and placed it within the hole, kicking the dirt beneath his boot heel to place the earth securely around it, and stomping to resolidify the ground. Straw hat, ruffled pale shirt, covered in mud, gardening, flowers in a bouquet. 

It all began to swirl within your mind, watching as he sighed once more before placing the pale shirt over his head. He secured the face shield over the lower half of his face and began spraying the hole he had just covered with rain water. The earth began to splash up under the pressure of the nozzle of the hose, dampening his pale shirt and caking the top half of his body with sticks, mud and hay from the compost. More water began to splash up into his face, him shaking his head and grumbling below his breath, verbally reprimanding himself.

“Never messy in combat, never messy in gardening,” Mihawk yelled at himself in a hushed tone, “But you slip below the vines one time and now you’re this-this-...” He sighed again, raking his fingers through his exposed locks a final time before shaking his head, “This Farm-Hand. The creature from the earth created to serve as friend and confidant to your beloved. Why must she make me so-... so-...” He growled, intentionally now splashing his body with water, raindrops falling like glass from each curl attached to his radiant head. 

Hastily, you stepped as quietly as you could away from the scene in front of you, hearing the vocal chastations echo with each angry grumble exiting from his mouth. You placed your back against a nearby oak tree and took a moment to process internally what you had seen and heard. Clapping both hands over your mouth, you began to teeter into a giggle. 

The lord of Kuraigana, your betrothed and beloved, had intentionally been attempting to woo you all this time with flowers each day for a month. The first time you had caught him was when you were wandering the halls in your nightdress, apparently the first time he had ever fallen amongst the sludge while gardening: covering his body from head to toe in an amassment of the earthly elements. 

You risked a peek at him, witnessing as he shook his head further; now completely under the disguise as your friend: the Farm-Hand. Fur, feather, straw, clay, mud, sticks and stone cover all apart from his honeyed eyes and his straw hat. He has assembled his beastly persona, a caricature of the man you had come to adore through your time spent with him. 

A portion of you wanted to continue this torturous facade for him, not one to enjoy trickery or deceit and wishing to punish him in some way for his lies. Although immediately after that single thought, you smiled for your sweet Farm-Hand, adoring the extent he was willing to go to enjoy speaking with you with no filter apart from the muck and slop he adorned on his body. After toying with the notion within your mind, you decided on behaving in the former: not wishing to allow him the upper hand in this next interaction. 

“Farm-Hand?” You called to him, weaving your body from behind the tree and exposing yourself under the first light of the dawn, “Farm-Hand, is that you here so early?” You watched as he began to scramble, at first attempting to askew the floral arrangement behind his back from view before holding it at heart-level. 

“Lost-Lady,” his voice called to you, disguising what you thought to be a small stumble in his footing as he began to clamber towards you from his prior position gardening. His boots met with the sludge, sliding the earth from beneath his footstep and successfully dropping him down to his knees. You sucked your lips into your mouth, witnessing a man full of dignity and grace be brought down to his knees while cradling flowers against his chest. 

“Sir, are you alright?” you asked, beginning your hasty descent towards him and almost losing footing yourself. 

“I would not be so hasty-!” Mihawk called at a moment too slow, watching as you lost your own footing beneath the sludge of his own making and being dropped to a low crouch; managing to collect yourself at the last moment. “My lady, are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

“I am uninjured, my darling,” you reassured him with a small chuckle, bringing your eyes up to meet with his shielded face, “It is you I am more concerned. Do you tumble often? Must be very poor on the knees.” You silently hoped he both would and wouldn’t catch onto your vocal slip up, darting your eyes between his to check over his reaction to the name. 

“I try not to lose my footing often, my lady,” he confessed, reaching out his unoccupied left hand to you to ensure you were steady enough in your crouched position, by offering you additional aid should you need it, “Contrary to what you might think, I am actually rather competent at gardening.” You smiled, rising to your feet and collecting his left hand within your right to support him in his rise. 

“I believe the world of your abilities, sir. Now, allow me to aid in your rise to your feet once more,” you smiled down at him, his eyes meeting your own with an almost overwhelming amount of adoration. You hoisted him up to his feet, uncaring at the passing of grime onto your clothes from his. 

You began to walk in silence, the destination of the castle steps once more in sight for Farm-Hand. You noticed his shoulders slouching and the weight of a mental burden begin overencomber him beneath the waves of thought. You furrowed your brows at his posture, unsure as to how to address such an issue. 

“Is there something the matter, Farm-Hand?” you asked him, slowing your step beside him to check him over. 

“All is well, Lost-Lady,” he uttered in a half-hearted manner. You purse your lips, a frown finding its home against the center of your brow as you looked him over once more. You decided against continuing this little facade further, and halted your steps all together as you both stood at the entrance of the doorway. Sighing out a huff of agitation, you shook your head before hardening your resolve in addressing the proverbial elephant in the room: although you were truly unsure as to how. 

You rotated your neck, a small crack produced from its circular motion in response. Drawing your eyes up to meet with his and stepping into his aura, you looked down at the floral arrangement in his hands. The hues were as vibrant and beautiful as each day prior, although this bunch seemed to hold an almost desperate apprehension and appreciation. There were so many intricate elements, it looked as if he absolutely scanned each leaf, petal, and stem within the greenhouse and beyond to draw each piece into it. 

“Will you be joining me for breakfast this morning?” you coyly asked him, trying to tease out whether he would give himself up willingly or continue with this little facade no matter how much it pained him to do so. He looked at you, puzzled and perplexed, and began to attempt to assemble a response to your question.

“I will be where I always am for breakfast, my lady,” he responded, his eyes looking very pleased with his retort. You hummed in response, nodding your head externally while internally agitated at his successful avoidance of the question. Your betrothed seemed to not desire giving himself up willingly; which spurred you on to push harder.

“Even now he hides his face from you. He intends to deceive you until the bitter end.” 

You shook your head of the thoughts whispering into your consciousness, casting them aside by closing your eyes and assessing your internal monologue. Reopening your eyes, you gazed back into his honeyed hues and smiled once more at him.

“Then I shall bid you farewell, sir,” you nodded politely and began to take your leave of him to only be halted by his firm grip holding firm to your right bicep beneath his left hand. You halted in your steps, turning back to look at him with your eyes filled with something Mihawk was not expecting to see from you. 

Sorrow. Doubt. A deep and upturned sadness eclipsed over your face and caused him to stumble over his next words to you. 

“I thought we were past all of those titles, Lost-Lady,” he attempted to reassure you with his words, only for you to pull away from his grasp. You apprehensively drew your right hand up to his face, hovering in front of his hat and mimicking the same movement over his features as he did the night prior. You sighed as your thumb brushed against his shielded chin before finding yourself cupping his shoulder beneath your palm. 

“Would you prefer me to call you ‘Farm-Hand’,” you sighed, a smile pricking at the corner of your mouth as you continued to watch his eyes stagger beneath your pointed look, “Or shall I return the title you bestowed onto me?” 

Mihawk was perplexed. Had you been spying on him? Did your ears hear the internal monologue he decided to relay verbally, actively mocking himself for his idiocy? Surely not. Hopefully not. He yearned for this deceit to flee from his form. No longer desiring to adorn this shield and to be the man beneath this amassment of muck for you; he wanted so desperately to cast aside titles and just truly be yours. 

“And what title may that be?” Mihawk whispered beneath his breath caught within his throat. His gaze followed your fingertips as they circled around the flowers within his hands, prompting him to release them into your grip. You slipped your hand from his shoulder and turned to begin your withdrawal into the manor with one final quip over your shoulder.

“Thank you for the flowers. I will cherish them as I do all of the others you have presented me each day.” Beginning your ascension to your wing, you couldn’t help but wonder why he decided to continue adorning the mask you had already seen slipping and cracking at the corners. 

“Perhaps it was truly because he does not truly love you.”

After retreating back into your designated wing, you shook the thoughts away from your mind and replaced the flowers atop your table with the fresh assortment he had crafted for you. You sighed out a small breath and began changing from your soiled clothes into your regular gown for tutelage of your two wards for the day. 

Breakfast was far from silent that morning. Perona had begun chittering away about which lord and lady had begun courtship. She provided her commentary on the dresses and suits adorning each member of the attendees, focussing on the amassment of silks and satins clinging to the infamous clown-captain of the east blue. 

“Did you see his frilly collar? Wasn’t it stunning?” her voice did little to hide her excitement regarding the frills and feathers, “And how beautiful his hair is! How does he keep his locks so silken on the seas, Mihawk? In fact, how do you keep them so-.”

“-Why must you continue to listen to the whining of the insufferable child? Flee from this land and find a suitor attuned to your interests and class-.”

“-And the amount of weaponry on the red-haired pirates! Did you see Yassop’s pistol, Zoro?” Perona continued with glee. Zoro grunted, reaching for a small rice-ball and placing it onto his plate before pouring himself a small, ceramic dish of tea from his ocha teapot. 

“And the green-haired boy? Do you think he truly need of your services? He is a swordsman, no mere gentleman in need of a few curt lashes upon his behind. You can do nothing to train him further in the ways you know best. Leave.” 

“I did see,” he grunted, rising the small mug to his lips and taking a sip, “I aim to tell my sharpshooting crewman about it when I get back to ‘em. Usopp would be keen to-.”

“Even now your intended ignores you. He has no interest in fostering the flames of your affection.” 

You inhaled a deep breath, a shaken hand reaching forward to grasp your teaspoon within it and stirring a spoon of honey within the mug. You placed the spoon beside the mug and began to raise it to your lips and take a small sip of the liquid within. 

Mihawk was not accustomed to this amount of silence from you. You often engaged with the wards in conversation over breakfast and went over the agenda for the day. Routine, structure and discipline were the three aspects alongside true professionalism he had come to enjoy with your mornings. Whatever plagued your thoughts held you completely in silence and unable to speak those words to life. 

“Beloved-?” Mihawk began, attempting to regain your attention, only to witness your eyes continue to stare at the teapot placed in front of you. 

“The moon, the starlit sky; they are beautiful dresses. But the golden assortment? Do you truly think that be enough-?”

“-My love, are you quite alright?” Mihawk attempted to gain your attention once more, only to become more concerned at the state of your daze. Perona halted her conversation with Zoro, looking over to Mihawk before drawing her eyes over your hunched form. 

“Why don’t you set them in a glorious blaze, hm? What would be the harm in setting fire to those beautiful gowns? It should save you both the trouble of going through this sham of a marriage-.”

“-Hey!” Perona’s booming and otherworldly voice held dominion over the room, prompting your eyes to immediately draw themselves up to your pink-haired ward in confusion. Her rounded, dark pupils were holding firm to a space beside your left ear, the internal monologue halting itself as you glanced up. Perona began to levitate above the breakfast table, her hands reaching forward with her palms presented outwards.

“Step away from my governess, Hag!” Her voice held several tones within the single vocal strand, the air sucked from its delight of the morning rays. Zoro immediately was drawn to his feet, unsheathing his sword from beside him and brandishing it with flourish. Mihawk also rose to his feet, nodding to Zoro briefly, before he closed and reopened his amber eyes; now a ruby iris surrounding its glow. Zoro did the same, his iris crackling under the new color within his orbs. 

You felt a weight being shifted off you as Perona’s hands sunk into the air beside you and cast it upwards. Feeling the rush of wind beside you, you inhaled a shaken breath and closed your eyes in a tight squeeze and held your lips in a tight and firm line. Feeling alone of the inner monologue, your hands were taken within the cool hands of your betrothed; prompting your eyes to flitter open. 

“She is gone, beloved” he crouched at your left hand side, looking up into your eyes with concern interwoven within the once more amber hue of his irises. “Have her words bring you no hindrance nor whisper of worry. She can do no harm on this plane.” He reached up his hand and claimed your cheek beneath his palm, soothing you with his thumb rubbing circles within your smooth skin. “Her words are poisonous. The only harm she can truly do on this plane is with her words alone. I promise you, you are safe.” 

“How long has she been here, Mihawk?” Perona asked at your other side, her eyes fixed on a pinned point in the roof and remaining unblinking, “She seemed so sad.” Mihawk continued to hold you within his sights, as he desired to ensure your emotional wellbeing after an encounter with the spectre of the witch that plagued him. 

“She has been here with me since the ring was placed atop our governess’ unity finger. I had heard her voice only once before such a time,” Mihawk informed the three of you within the room, “And it was when I commissioned the ring to be set within the woven band itself.” 

Drawing your eyes over to his, you danced your sorrowful eyes between his and allowed yourself a moment of weakness to lean into his palm with your cheek. He sighed at the small gesture, leaning his crouched body further into your and searching your eyes for any thoughts you desired to relay onto him. 

“She fled from me two days ago when I had began concluding the task placed on me,” Mihawk continued to confess, removing his hand from your cheek and collecting both of your hands within his own, “I thought we were rid of her, considering-,” he halted his words, continuing to leave them unspoken within the air, but written all over his face.

Considering I love you.

Your soft smile in return had Mihawk’s heart swell within his chest. He drew your hands up to his face, the knuckles on your hands brushing his mustache as his lips caressed each joint above your fingers gently and deliberately. Perona smiled an impish smile as her eyes met with the display of affection between her lord and her governess, prompting her to swiftly gather the arm of the swordsman and direct him away from the room with an echo of protestations: “Hey, but I didn’t get to finish my breakfast-!”

Mihawk used his right leg to hook beneath a chair at your side and draw it close to him. His cocky smirk continued to hold against his lips as he continued gazing into your eyes, prompting you to roll them and chastise him with a click of your tongue. He drew it close to yours, sitting directly beside you and released one of your hands to collect your teacup and present it to you. 

“My, my lord,” you smirked, taking the teacup from his hand and raising it to your lips, “offering to serve a lowly governess at breakfast?” It was his turn to chastise you with the click of his tongue, tutting you at your personal degradation. 

“I thought I told you,” Mihawk began, choosing his next words by searching within his mind, “What was it you told the clown? We are more than the titles that make us?” You giggled, watching the corners of his eyes gather as his lips drew up into a small smile, “And we are far beyond simplistic roles, do you not agree?”

“Like the roles we chose for ourselves?” you offered the first extension of the relationship between your alter-egos to unmask between the two of you. He sighed, closing his eyes and bowing his head down in deep thought. 

“I never thought of you as a lady who was ever lost,” he whispered, his tone low and deliberate, “I had always thought of you as a woman who commanded every space she found herself within. Even as a man far more advanced in his years,” he continued, reopening his eyes to look lovingly into your face, “I had always seen you as a woman who could have the mighty fall to their knees- much as you had me do this morning.” 

Sighing your laugh, feeling the physical weight fall from your shoulders as your smile elevated your lips with its relief, you drew yourself closer to your beau and placed your forehead against his own with your eyes shut tightly. 

“Does this mean I will no longer be receiving flowers from my beloved Farm-Hand, adorning an assortment of mud and grime?” you quipped at him, taking your bottom lip beneath your teeth. He huffed out a laugh of his own, withdrawing his forehead from yours and replacing it atop your brow with his lips. 

“If you so desire for your Farm-Hand to bring his Lost-Lady your daily gift of flowers, I will gladly become him once more for you. However,” Mihawk drew his eyes back to yours, an almost playfulness dancing behind his honeyed gaze, “I expect my Lost-Lady to be in naught but her nightdress in return.” 

—-----------------------

“I-I think I’ve done it,” the redhead captain exclaimed, his shaken right hand gathering the material beneath his hand and looking over it one last time, “I’ve done it! Becks! Becks!” 

Shank’s cries of glee echoed throughout the red-force, his crew alerted to his excitement and began gathering themselves at their posts. Beckman rose to his feet, beginning to direct the crew in their duties to prepare to board the pier of Kuraigana once again. 

“All hands! All hands on deck!” Shank’s voice called, his right hand waving a piece of parchment paper in absolute delight, “Hoist the colors, sound the alarms! We got to get the word to Hawk-Eyes! He marries on the morrow! Beckman, Becks-,” Shanks halted his feet, thrusting the parchment into the awaiting and overworked hands of his first-mate, “You reckon you could do that blindfolded, mate?” 

Benn Beckman straightened the parchment with an assortment of intricately composed directions with diagrams and mathematical equations correlating with the design. He frowned, eyeing the minute details and beginning to commit their paths to memory.

“As I said, Cap’n,” Beckman confirmed, meeting the hazel gaze of Shanks’ awaiting and hopeful face, “I will do my best for the lady.” Shanks clapped his hand over his shoulder and began making his way to address his crew as Beckman began visually putting together the guide and its make within his mind, practicing several intricate knots with the strands of the rope beside him. 

“The Vile Exterminator is getting married to the Hawk of Kuraigana! What a match!” Shanks cried in glee, the red-haired pirates cheering as they readied themselves to exit the ship and leave it behind to once more celebrate with the former rival of the captain.

“I will find your ring, Red-Haired Shanks,” Shanks’ smile dropped from his face as he snapped his head to seek out the voice, “I will find your ring and I will claim your soul as penance for your aid in keeping Mihawk’s from me.”

Shanks’ rubied eyes met with the cursed and haunting spectre of the ghoulish witch haunting his former rival and his former sailing companion. 

“Do your worst, witch,” he addressed the spectre, “I would sooner lay down my life than see those two part from one another. You should be happy! You’ve got what you wanted. They will be unified and your curse shall be lifted. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To see others have what was taken from you? To see them happy and thriving with each other?”

The spectral woman, her hair thrashing and wild, snarled at him before her form dissipated from its place in front of him. Shanks mockingly snarled in return at the position the ghostly woman was prior, opting to pay her warning no mind as he began prematurely celebrating with his crew by opening a fresh keg of ale. Gathering his den-den-mushi to inform the bride and groom of his success in completing the task, he dialed after placing the receiver against his shoulder and waited for the other end to pick up.

“It’s done, Hawks. Congratulations, you marry on the morrow!”

[wisteriaiswriting]

Hey how's it going? You could do Brim, Harbor, Chamber, Iso , Yoru and Phoenix with male cat radiant (can be with gn) And I saw the first one you made and I loved it.

Agents With Male Cat Radiant

Words: 720

Old man and the cat he didn’t want (Absolutely loves and want’s you.)

Kinda over-buys toys, scratching posts and beds. (There are so many things in every room of the base.)

Speaking of, he’ll sit at his desk for hours using a laser pointer for you.

Keeps all the bells and louder toys away from his office and bedroom, letting you annoy the other agents with those.

His pet names aren’t that bad really; Handsome, Tiger (Or any big cat) and hairball. (When he’s annoyed with you.)

Keeps you away from his paperwork and anything else important in the office.

Has a folder full of you doing practically everything, which are filmed how you expect them to be. (Ranging from you just existing to you messing around with some toys.)

Isn’t the best at petting you, it’s rough but also gentle in a way. (He does get better though, don’t worry.)

This guy holds you in every way imaginable. (Holding you under your arms, in his arms etc.)

Another one to buy too many things, he’ll try to clean them up but ultimately you’ll just do it again.

Doesn’t have too many pet names, but has some; बिल्ली का बच्चा (Kitten), Ball of energy.

He just melts whenever he hears you purr.

You better hope you can handle baths, otherwise he’ll make it easy on the both of you and drops a ton of water on you. (Feels bad after and will coddle you.)

Also doesn’t care if you take up all the space on his bed, but if he’s that tired he’ll move you onto his chest.

While he loves you, please just stay away from his clothes. (Has a specific pair that he’s willing to get covered in your hair/fur.)

Chaton, boule de poils, beau gosse.

He still enjoys teasing you about anything; “You’ve made quite a mess, Chaton.” While actively using a lazer pointer to make you cause more chaos.

Only pays for the best items for you, and will not settle for anything less. (Is willing to get custom made ones.)

Tries to keep you away from the smaller parts of hiss guns, doesn’t want you to get hurt or lose something.

Commissions a collar for you? (Jk jk, unless?)

He’s not joking, buys the highest quality (But comfortable) one he can get.

Won't buy any toys / entertainment, but will lend you the money if you want anything.

亲爱的 (dear), 成套设备 (kit)

Can sit there for hours squishing your hand / paw beans, even messing with your claws.

If you have hair / fur, he’ll sit there and mess with it. Ruffle it, smooth it out, trys to braid some part of it.

Sometimes you’re not sure who’s the actual cat here, sure you are actually one, but he sure acts like it.

If you’re asleep on his bed / in his room, he’ll work around you, especially if you returned from a mission.

Makes sure you’re rarely hungry, leaves your favourite food in the pantry, and takes you out whenever.

Secret cat lover (Rather cats over dogs any day.)

Can sit for hours either watching or teasing you with anything he can get his hands on. (With his abilities there's a lot he can get.)

ベイブ (babe), ベイビー (baby), overgrown hairball

Is always down to play fight with you, scowling at the scratches you leave. (Isn’t that made though.)

Such an asshole as he uses his abilities to (lightly) tug on your tail, ears or hair then disappear.

Will wake you up if you’re in his way on his bed, isn’t afraid too.

Quietly jokes about getting you matching accessories, and he doesn’t mean gloves. (For you at least.)

He is so in love!!

Will spend all his money on anything and everything for you.

He’ll unironically take you to some cat cafes too, and I quote, ‘Go visit your fam!’

While he absolutely loves you, please stay away from his jackets, he doesn’t want any scratches on them.

Same goes for his shoes, but he’s def willing to buy more. (Gets matching pairs while he’s at it.)

God, some of his pet names are so cringy, but he’ll never stop; Kitten/kitty, baby, beautiful.

Tries to be nice about it but will kinda push you off if your claws dig into him, doesn’t enjoy the pain.

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Two

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy/Ben.

Warnings: Language.

W/C:1,579

Dean Winchester. In your kitchen. Looking equally baffled and confused just as you did. He placed the container down on your kitchen counter. A selection of pie slices sat on paper plates inside a tray box. Your stomach dropped. The pie fest.

“Thought you were the cat.”

You grimaced, instantly regretting your words. Idiot. Your hands tightened on the broom, and you felt your cheeks and neck heat up from your dumb words.

His brow raised, and he stepped closer. His mouth opened, but before he could say anything, another crash came from upstairs, and a loud curse emitted.

You spun around to see your black cat sprinting down the stairs and into the living room. Another crash, another gruff curse. From behind, Dean moved forward, taking out his gun and stepping towards the stairs.

From upstairs, you heard, “What the fuck!”. Something about it sounded so familiar. You’re not sure why, but you rushed ahead of Dean, hand reaching for the bannister.

“No! Wait!” Dean called out as you swung your body around to rush up the stairs. You took three steps up, gasping when a figure stood at the top. The shield glinted, and the bulb above his head created a halo effect, shining down on his head.

Soldier Boy.

What the Hell was happening?!

A hand gripped your shoulder, and you jumped out of your freaking skin.

“I said wait—what in the Freaky Friday…”

Soldier Boy stepped down each step, head cocking, curiosity in his eyes.

Pressure built in your chest. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on edge as these two characters met for the first time. You could feel the heat from Dean behind you. He shifted to step beside you. Soldier Boy peered down at Dean with his signature look of disgust. A constant stank up his nose.

Your heart thudded in your chest as the two stared at each other.

Then his icy stare turned to you. Your brain scrambled to find something to say. Your breath caught in your throat.

Those darkened green eyes glared at you, hair flopping over his forehead. Up close, you could see the dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose and under his eyes, you could feel the warmth in his breath and hear the raw grunt in his throat. He always seemed perpetually pissed.

“The fuck is this? I’m heading to Vought Tower one moment, and the next, I’m here. You got some ‘splainin’ to do, woman.”

Your stomach quivered as unease settled. His intense stare made you feel like you were about to be reamed out by the school teacher. He wanted an answer. Right now. But you had no explanation for this. Whatever the Hell this was.

“Hey, kitty.”

Your head snapped in the direction of the living room. No way. And you were running down and skidding into the living room to find Beau Arlen crouching, fingers in your cat’s fur. You could hear the purrs as he rubbed up against Beau’s leg. For as long as you’ve known him, your cat has never liked any man in your space.

“Eric!!”

The feline ignored your voice and flopped on the ground, showing Beau his belly. Beau looked up at you.

“Sorry, darlin’, he just slinked up to me.”

Never in your life had someone addressed you as darlin’ so casually. Warmth flooded your system, and you fought back a smile.

Beau stood up to his full height and surveyed his surroundings—your living room.

“Not entirely sure how I got here. One moment, I was in my office; the next, here I am. Where am I?”

“Harmony, Vermont.”

Beau’s brow furrows, and he tenses, hand reaching to the back of his pants. Upon his reaction, you turned to see Dean and Soldier Boy entering your living space.

To find Dean and Soldier Boy inspecting each other was weird enough, but for them to discover another ‘doppelganger’ and observe each other was just surreal. You watched as they all pulled their guns on each other, reminding you of that Spiderman meme. All their movements, their micro-expressions, were so indicative of Jensen. They were all so different yet so similar.

“Why the fuck do we all look so alike?”

“Am I in bizarro world again?”

They all turned to you, and three tall men staring intensely was more than enough to make you crap your pants. You glanced off to one side, hands fiddling with the zipper of your warm sweater. Up. Down. Your stomach fluttered, and your mouth went dry. What the Hell were you supposed to say? That somehow they were, what?…summoned? No, that wasn’t quite right. They weren’t summoned. You had no damn intention of them turning up. It was supposed to be just for your admiration. Something pretty to look at.

You glanced at them again, and Dean raised an eyebrow, waiting. His attention turned to the frame on your sideboard. He looked at you before moving to check out the frame.

“Where’d you get that?”

You were distracted by Soldier Boy—Ben. He was looking down at his feet, lip curling. Eric was at it again, slinking around legs. Fuck. You would have to have a stern conversation with him about that. What the Hell happened to the cat who would raise his hackles and hiss at any man who would come within your vicinity? He wasn’t exactly protecting you right now. Bad guard cat.

Ben shifted his foot, pushing the cat away from him. But, it was like he was magnetised because Eric wouldn’t leave Ben alone.

“Your pussy likes me.”

Ben smirked and plonked his shield down against your couch. He tucked away his gun and knelt down.

Fingers tugged at your sleeve, and you turned your attention to Dean and Beau. Beau had the frame in his hands, turning it around.

“Where’d you get this?” Dean inquired again.

You looked at the hunter, and butterflies fluttered in your stomach. Shit. You last experienced those when you first saw your husband – now ex. It was stupid, school girly feelings. Feelings you could happily ignore. Until they got in the way.

Your eyes turned to the frame. Beau was unlocking the back of the frame. You reached out to stop him, but Dean grabbed your arm, intent on letting Beau do his job.

“At an antiques store.”

“Anything unusual about this antique store?”

You shook your head. “No. It did come with a box, though.”

Dean scrubbed his hand down his face.

“What’s this box look like? Any intricate markings? Foreign text?”

You glanced away again, hesitating. Your palms were getting clammy. You scratched the back of your neck, glancing back at them.

“Darlin’, you ain’t in any trouble. We just need to gather some information.”

Damn, there’s that warming sensation again. That Texas accent definitely did things to you.

“Lemme see this box.” Dean’s voice held an authoritative tone. He was all business. Hunting mode.

Nodding, you excused yourself and took one more look at Ben playing with Eric. Eric turned his cute little head to you. He purred loudly, not looking one bit sorry at all. In fact, the little bugger closed his eyes. You shook your head, walking off.

The box was in your room, stuffed right at the back of your closet. It was a real pain in the ass to get it up there too. You trudged up the stairs and headed to your room.

Your ex had wanted to sell the house, as he was sure you would both get a fifty-fifty divide from the sale. Still, you made a case to your lawyer, stating that it was an inheritance from your father. Your ex was out ruled on the house, but everything else was split. This house meant everything. This house held so many memories. Good and some bad. Your mother had been pissed during the reading of the will. Finding out she wasn’t getting the house cemented that tumultuous relationship.

Your bedroom was how it was left this morning. You didn’t have the energy to check the other rooms and hoped the damage wasn’t extensive,

You opened the closet door and then dragged the armchair from the corner. Behind you, a floorboard creaked. You whipped your head around. Ben stood. For someone heavy-footed, you sure didn’t hear him as he came up the stairs.

“Your cat sure is friendly.”

Okay. He was making conversation. You smiled faintly.

“Actually, he usually hates men. Typically, he’ll hiss at them. It’s weird he’s so…docile around you and the other two.” You said as you stepped up on the chair, turning your back to him.

Why, oh, why did you have to put it up this high? Out of sight. Out of mind had been the thought. Well, right now, it was backfiring.

“Fuck you lookin’ for?”

“A box.”

Ben snorted. “I only came up to tell you I’m heading back to New York.”

You almost fell off the damn chair, your fingers had the box in their grasp, but his words had you rushing down, almost crashing down, actually.

“You can’t!”

His pissed expression was back.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because Vought doesn’t exist! You, you shouldn’t exist. Fuck, you’re a character on a TV show.”

You fumbled through, flustered, trying to find the right words. Words that would sink in his head and make him understand.

“Fuck you, I’m real. And I’m going to New York.”

Tags: @deans-spinster-witch

[anne-is-ominous]

Phoenix Reignited 1.21: Fragile but Fierce

Hey, everybody! Happy Saturday! Work continues on Book XIII, slow but steady. Hoping to have something for you soon. In the meantime, happy trans visibility week - (I AM SO BAD at knowing when these things are on the calendar!) We love you, we see you, and we wrap our arms around each and every one of you, especially right now.

The blue-haired girl smirked, turning her wagging finger to Ranko. “Well, you two be good. And if you can’t be good? Name the baby after me.” She looked down at her plastic pink Hello Kitty watch before turning her eyes back up to her sister. “You about ready to do this thing, sis?”

Ranko took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, nodding to Mei. “Let them in.”

Mei unlocked the door and a stream of excited customers began to enter, many filtering either to one of the tables in the center of the bar room, or to the counter to queue for drinks from Ranko’s sister Yui. As she was largely hidden around the corner behind the service bar, Ranko was able to observe in relative obscurity, and she noticed that several of them were carrying flowers and other gifts. Some of the offering-bearing patrons walked to the back corner to place their tributes. Finding the makeshift shrine that had been erected over the previous three days missing, several craned their necks and scanned the bar for an alternate place to leave them. 

A tall blond man in a red-and-black plaid shirt and blue jeans, bearing a dozen red roses, was the first to spy the young songstress and her stuffed pink beau at her two-top table. He whooped loudly, waving to the crowd in his excitement. “You guys! She’s here!”

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[salarta]

For those of you not aware, X-Men 97 pulled an asshole move of completely excluding Lorna from what happened on Genosha.

This matters because in the comics, she worked with Magneto (before she knew he was her father) to build up Genosha and is one of the survivors of the genocide. Her story was one of failing to save everyone but having to relive the nightmare endlessly by replaying its final moments with her powers until the X-Men got her out of the ruins. Her history was also respected here in the Wolverine and the X-Men cartoon, which gave her great episodes and depictions - the only good ones she's had in cartoons to date.

There seems to be a common thread behind this genocide erasure in Lorna's history: nostalgia for Havolaris and how Lorna was treated in the 90s.

Jordan White was clearly trying to force each of these things while senior editor. At the same time, he had the X-Men books acting like Lorna had no connection at all to Genosha. This went so far that even an event where Kitty Pryde (Jordan White's favorite character, I've been told) did a big thing with Genosha had Lorna's appearance relegated purely to helping Kitty's plan and complaining about a lack of coffee. No acknowledgment she was a survivor of the genocide.

Then we have Beau DeMayo and X-Men 97. To date, the only references we've seen of Lorna were exclusively images of her with Havok and 90s X-Factor. One in opening credits, one in a photo in Forge's place. She's nowhere to be found whatsoever around Genosha in X-Men 97. The show even had X-Factor characters like Multiple Man show up to check things out, but no mention or presence at all for Lorna.

Here's where we stand right now. For a long ass time, I've said that I think there's a path to a relationship with Lorna and Havok eventually being a good thing. I've said it would take work and time where Lorna as her own character is restored and treated properly. I've never said getting the pair back together and it being a good thing was impossible.

This pattern of blatant, deliberate disrespect toward Polaris and her connection to Genosha is seriously making me reconsider that stance. If Lorna surviving a goddamn GENOCIDE can't be respected all because of some nostalgic assholishness, then how in the hell can Lorna make ANY progress or have ANYTHING good so long as the cause of this problem has any play around her? How can Lorna be treated as more than some stupid weakling supporting character girlfriend only there to kiss Havok's ass and jill off over his costume if something as essential as SURVIVING A GENOCIDE going to be ignored in service to sticking her in a toxic relationship with what is increasingly looking like a character that is just irredeemably toxic for Lorna to be around at all?

Up until today, I've said very up front that I seem a path of redemption for this pairing. X-Men 97 is changing my mind on that. I'm very seriously starting to think now that there is no redeeming this pairing and turning it into a good thing. Not when people like Beau DeMayo will erase a genocide from Polaris' character history for the sake of his personal fantasies.

I've said this elsewhere. But in closing, I'm going to be making a very deliberate effort to avoid everything having to do with Beau DeMayo because of his actions here. It's too late for me with the two Strange New Worlds episodes he did. But I already took Witcher and The Originals off my watchlists. And if he steps his toes into anything else I care about in the future, I'll be making it very clear why he shouldn't be involved in those things.

[aromanticannibal]

Hi fellow writers. French words for you.

I just saw one too many posts showing off cute French petnames that are incredibly cringe to me in French, so here's a list that also tells you the connotations of different terms and their exact translation. If anyones worried about my validity (which would be fair don't trust people on the Internet), I'm a born French speaker, bilingual in English and currently in my first year of an English literature formation in university.

I also put a guide to swearing at the end because I think it's always fun to know how to swear in as many languages as possible.

Also, there's nothing about pronunciations because god knows I'm bad at that, so sorry. (Edit as of November 2023 : I'm going to try to add some tips on that front, but see how to pronounce things on WordReference if you need to).

Warning, it's a bit long. ⬇️

Je t'aime = I love you

Very vague guide to pronunciation : é = ey, -e at the end of the sentence is rarely pronounceable and generally indicates that the letter before it should be pronounced, ^ <- this is completely useless and doesn't do anything, è <- how you pronounce the letter A

Romantic petnames (and other expressions)

Je t'aime bien = I like you, I kinda like you - casual, can be used in a "I kinda like you, actually" kind of moment

Je t'adore = I adore you - Unlike in english, Je t'adore has the implication of excitement and big happiness in the moment, rather than worship or adoration (for example, you'll also say j'adore ça = I love this! about a thing you really like. For instance : J'adore My Hero Academia!) Can be used for friends.

Mon amour = my love - gender neutral (like few things in french), is generally very romantic but can be used by a mom or an aunt to her young children sometimes. You can also just say amour, though I hear it less in the part of France I'm in (Paris banlieues) I think it's popular in some places.

Mon chéri, ma chérie = comes from cher/chère = dear, so my dear, my darling. former is masculine, latter is feminine. Can be used by parents for their children, or condescendingly. You can just say chéri or chérie withoit the possessive in front of it.

Bébé = baby, gender neutral. It's like baby or babe in english (I dislike it personally but many people use it, generally young adults or teenagers). You can eventually say mon bébé (still gn), "mon" being a possessive pronoun, but it's less casual. Both can also be used by a mom/aunt, like mon amour.

(I'll say it here, but we don't actually say "mon cher/ma chère" much anymore, unless it's in a jokey or sarcastic way. It's just too fancy)

Ma belle/Mon beau = my beautiful, my pretty. The former is feminine and way more common than the latter, masculine, but you can still say it. Some fathers will call their daughters ma belle, it's not necessarily creepy but it can be.

Mon cœur = my heart, gender neutral. Pretty popular in couples, can be used in a family context too. Even with the possessive pronoun it's pretty casual, if not cheesy.

(Mon) trésor = (my) treasure. A pretty known one as far as I'm aware. It's pretty cute, just saying trésor is more casual. Gender neutral.

Mon amoureux/mon amoureuse = my lover (former masc, latter fem), VERY cheesy and kind of childish. "amoureux/se" literally means in-lover or something, someone who's in love (comes from être amoureux/se, to be in love). Elementary schoolkids ask who's your amoureux/se and you say I have an amoureux/se as a kid to say I have boy/girlfriend.

Mon adoré(e) = my beloved, the (e) is for the feminine form. feminine = adorée, masculine = adoré. This one is pretty fancy, unless your couple is very obnoxiously cheesy or actually gods/royalty/nobles, I wouldn't recommend using it too much.

Mon chat (my cat) + mon chaton (my kitty) = gender neutral, self explanatory. very cutesy, often used by older family members for younger family members. My godmother calls me mon chat and my aunt calls her youngest mon chat or just chat. I'd advise you to not use the feminine of chat (chatte) if you fear stupid jokes because it also means pussy.

In the same breath, Minou is a cutesy term for cat. It's not really used but if your french character has a catboy/girl partner, it's very well placed. Minette is a more feminine version of this word but it has kinda predatory connotations. A weird old dude talking about a young pretty waitress might call her a Minette. It can also be aggressive, a way to call someone - generally a girl - weak or pathetic. You can probably use it in a cute way though, but don't use it in a teasing way unless you want the implications that come with it.

And to follow through the predatory connoted petnames :

poupée = doll, feminine. It can be used in a cute way but is more often that not used in a I just whistled at you in the street and am now catcalling you way. Same thing as previous word, use it carefully. You can add ma in front of it as a possessive pronoun if you want I guess. (Here it will always be ma and poupée even if the character uses masculine pronouns, because the word poupée is feminine.)

There are a shit ton of random petnames we can make up, like ma tarte à la pomme (my apple pie), ma gaufre en sucre (my sugar waffle), mon ours en peluche (my teddy bear), mon sucre d'orge (my candy cane) but like. If I list all of them I won't ever be done with this post.

If you really want a cutesy nickname that's very personal to your otp, like I don't know if your fandom is called The Cyborg Of the Sea and your OTP is a pirate cyborg and a french dude, and you want your french dude to call your pirate cyborg something cheesy and very specific like my gold searching cyborg (mon cyborg chercheur(m)/chercheuse(f) d'or), just figure out an English version of your petname and translate it into a translator or something. Ideally not Google Translate.

The best would be to actually ask a french person, because there's subtlety to every language that most online translators are too dumb to give you, but not all of you have a handy french guy close to you. (If you want some good translators, use Linguee or WordReference or even Reverso but like please not GT).

Misc. words (insults)

I have to teach you people swears, I just have to.

Interjections (what you say when you stubbed your toe)

Putain = fuck. Literally, a putain is a sex worker, it's a derogatory term we use more as sort of fuck nowadays.

Merde = shit.

Bordel = also fuck, kind of. It can also mean something that's really messy. Something is in bordel when it's messy as shit. Bordel originally means a place where there's sex workers basically. (e.g.: C'est le bordel dans ta chambre! = It's a mess in your room! <- my mother everyday)

Fun fact, you can fuse these insults to make a more powerful insult. Notably,

Putain de merde,

Bordel de merde,

Putain de bordel de merde.

You can also say C'est quoi ce bordel (what is this shit, what the fuck). Or, C'est quoi ce putain de bordel. Of course.

Dégueulasse = disgusting, can both be used independently or as a descriptive term. Rude version of Dégoûtant.

Insults, for people

Pute = now this is the insult for sex worker. Don't use to actually refer to a sex worker unless you want it to be in a derogatory way. Can be used to call someone a slut I guess. Often used between girls as just an insult without the sex worker connotation. Also used to insult people's mom. "Ta mère la pute" means "your mom the prostitute" basically. Rarely meant specifically to say someone's mom's a prostitute, just to insult their mom. And of course, "Fils de pute" shortened to FDP, the Call of Duty voice chat insult, literally Son of a bitch.

Salope = slut/whore

Salopard = salope but man. technically not the same insult because it doesn't have the same connotation, it doesn't have the slut vibes. so salope and salopard can be used for both genders technically, but salope is feminizing and really just means slut while salopard kinda is used in the same way as asshole, especially if it's to insult a coward or someone who betrayed you.

Saloperie = shitty little thing, basically. When a weird bug just landed on my leg I get up in a panic and go what the fuck is this saloperie.

Connard, Conasse = former is masc, latter is fem. Just a general insult. I call my father a connard a lot. Can be used affectionately between close friends if they're that kind of friends.

Bâtard = bastard. Technically masculine (the feminine would be bâtarde) but no one cares, just say bâtard. It's genuinely the same word as in English, one of the words where the ^ is tranformed into a s (hôpital->hospital, hôtel->hostel...)

Enculé = generally masculine, literally sodomized. Not used literally, generally just another way to call someone a dick, but enculer is still a verb, that's used either as getting fucked over or as sodomized.

Trou du cul = hole of the ass~ asshole. We're fancy like that. shortened can be trouduc'. Really not one of the fancy one.

Beurrette = technically not a swear, but it's another derogatory term for sex worker, more specifically used as a way to imply someone's a prostitute. In a bad way obviously. I learnt this word from a weird tomboy I had a crush on in elementary.

Nique ta mère = fuck your mom. Not used literally, godbless, it's mostly to say go fuck yourself. And by the way,

Va te faire foutre = get fucked. the safe for work version is va te faire mettre, which means get done? get put, something like that.

Va te faire enculer = get sodomized specifically. I like this one.

Je m'en bas les couilles = I don't care, I don't give a fuck, literally I'm beating my balls about it. Very extra.

Je m'en branle = same as last one, except branler is a familiar word for to masturbate, so... I'm masturbating about it. Literally. Expression not actually used in a sexual context.

Bite = dick. (pronounced like the word beat) Not used as an insult, but :

Tête de bite = dickhead, actually used as an insult. A bit silly.

French people are susceptible to just put together random insults together to create an interjection if we stubbed our toe very hard.

Merde can be used to insult someone by saying petite merde (little shit, same connotation) grosse merde (fat shit, someone who's REALLY a dick) sale merde (dirty shit, bit more aggressive than the others) in general adding sale (imagine the A in black) in front of an insult can make it worse.

also, démission = resignation. Go yell macron démission with the others if you're in Paris right now it's fun I swear /j. macron explosion is fun too.

I hope you enjoyed whatever this is, if you ever have questions about French do ask I love answering questions about my stupid language.

[triviareads]

ARC Review of The Worst Duke In London by Amalie Howard

Rating: 4.5/5 Heat Level: 3.75/5 Publication Date: September 24th

Premise:

A historical romcom based on 10 Things I Hate About You; Scottish duke Gage agrees to court socially awkward Effie in exchange for erasing his debts. To his surprise, Effie asks if Gage would like to be her lover.

My review:

This was a delightfully lusty, hilarious take on the 10 Things I Hate About You, and Amalie Howard made it BETTER by adding in a no-strings affair that our heroine instigates.

Y'all know the premise of 10 Things; Here, younger sister Viola isn't allowed to have a suitor until her socially outcast older sister and heroine Effie lands one, so Viola's douchey beau offers to forgive the hero Gage's debt if he pretends to be Effie's suitor for six weeks. Except a few things become apparent right off the bat: Effie is a tall, wacky animal lover and suffragette who has no filter and makes jokes about cats being dickmatized (sorry, "prick-merized")... and Gage is SUPER into all of that. And the feeling is mutual, leading to a deviation from the original plot: Effie asks Gage to be her lover so she can explore her sexuality because she has no plans to marry (I do think her rationale for this became flimsier as time went on and Gage proved himself to be a good person, despite his initial motives).

I LOVE a romance where both the hero and heroine are unabashed about their desire for one another, especially when the heroine is just as vocal as the hero, and this book does not disappoint. Gage is BIIIIIG and SCOTTISH and a BOXER— and a genuinely nice guy without being a Nice Guy— and Effie isn't shy about letting him know she wants to climb him like a tree (or alternatively, like her cat who does so within seconds of meeting the man). We also get classic romcom girl-gang shenanigans with Effie's friends, the Hellfire Kitties, who aren't shy about egging Effie and Gage on either.

The sex:

This book genuinely has the most well-done mutual virginity-loss scene I've ever read. Effie and Gage are perfect combination of naturally carnal and a little insecure as they sort of roll with the punches (and by punches I mean That Thing a virgin hero is perhaps more liable to do than an experienced one.....). Also, I really appreciate the inclusion of condoms and lube— The latter especially is something we don't see enough in romances, in my opinion, and based on Effie limping around TWO DAYS after being devirginized, the lube feels quite necessary here lol.

And not only are sex toys involved (something else I rarely see in historicals even they absolutely existed then) in a very hot mutual masturbation moment, but there's also a carriage scene!

Overall:

Amalie Howard once again knocked it out of the park with this book: not only does it have that classic romcom feel that had me giggling and kicking my feet, it also brings the heat in a way that's humorous and sex-positive. I'd recommend this to anyone looking for a light-hearted historical romp, and I'm looking forward to the inevitable enemies-to-lovers excellence that will be Briar and Lushing's book.

Thank you to Forever and NetGalley for an advanced copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

[midnightauklet]

Art Fight Week 1 Summary

WOOOOO go team Seafoam, we may not be winning but we will soon (hopefully)

OC credits: (going in order of images)

1. Smear - MissOcelot2735

2. Beau - Buckyyy (designed by beidou on TH)

3. Socko - eefie_weefie

4. Wishingwell - mothiz (designed by Bloodsoup on TH)

5. Meadow - Kitty-Kat- (designed by VampireMika on TH)

6. Bea - Kumaniu

7. Forest - Forestwhisker (they’re here on tumblr too)

8. Mass attack - star_duck, Diarahan, SadiePeach, froopydoodle, luxious (designed by Rando), poptarts, Teyvawni, Minnowstream

[xxcalicofemmexx]

hiiiiiii yeah so this is beau, 24, agenderfucked pan lesbian catboy 💖💖

i got nuked on September 22nd, and Tumblr STILL hasn't gotten back to me! so i've made this backup. i'm not happy about it, but i fucking miss it here

edit: i'm afraid of tumblr going down For Real this time, so i'm looking at alternatives! you can come find me here:

[coreene-simblr]

[previous] Part 2 of Brokes

The townie came and kissed Brandi after saying hi

One kiss and she's ready to have a baby, lol. let go of Benji girl, even i cant make that bully like you again xD

Okay sure, interesting choice for a hang out

Oh hello there

Malcolm? Waht are you doing here

So yes, she wanted to date and he was here so we went for it

They are getting along

Oh yes theyre getting along

Meanwhile Dustin is in charge of the kids

Woah I remembered another birthday!

I rolled for his lifetime want and he got knowledge. I think he already has a token for it?

Well I guess we know who Malcolm really wants dont we? Still hung up on Nina i see

Doesn't mean they cant bone though

I want this kitty!

Beau is already having a good time with the ladies

Skip brought the witch girl from Strangetown xD

Malcolm called her the next day, he's a classy dude

Sure, she wants to date

Again with Nina, Malcolm?

[theartofruling]

Who: Isabeau + Kat @ocean-eyeslnrp

Where: Secret Garden in Northland Falls

Beau had completed the inventory list after working diligently and not allowing herself to get distracted at all. She saved the bar's inventory for last considering that they were still open and wanted to disturb the least amount of people as possible. After they were done with the usual duties for the night, she sat on the corner of the bar farthest from the patrons of their establishment. Kat was sitting in front of her. "We made quick work of everything tonight! That has to be a first." She put the checklist up so she could enjoy some of the free time they had. "It's rare that we have time to just enjoy being here. Plus, I've missed you, Kitty Kat." Beau caressed her cheek and leaned in to kiss her. "How have you been?" This week their schedules had been very separate. Though they communicated daily, it was different to seeing her just as often.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Here to dazzle everyone for the fifth 🐉Wings of Fire aus' names lists are...

The 🌴RainWings🦜!

The X-Men Members:

• Charles Xavier/Professor Xavier: Charming

• Ororo Munroe/Storm: Orange

• Logan Howlett/Wolverine: Longan

• Scott Summers/Cyclops: Sloth

• Jean Grey/Marvel Girl/Phoenix: Ginger

• Hank McCoy/Beast: Handsome

• Anne-Marie/Rogue: Marigold

• Remy LeBeau/Gambit: Beau

• Kitty Pryde/Shadowcat: Kinkajou

• Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler: Kumbu

• Jubilation Lee/Jubilee: Lychee

• Evan Daniels/Spyke: Echidna

• Bobby Drake/Iceman: Bonobo

• Piotr Rasputin/Colossus: Python

• Illyana Rasputin/Magik: Liana

• Rahne Sinclair/Wolfsbane: Radiant

• Samuel "Sam" Guthrie/Cannonball: Starfruit

• Roberto da Costa/Sunspot: Rambai

• Danielle "Dani" Moonstar/Mirage: Dazzling

• Laura Kinney/Wolverine 2.0: Lorikeet

• Tabitha "Tabby" Smith/Boom-Boom: Tangelo

The Brotherhood:

• Erik Lehnsherr/Magnus/Magneto: Elegant

• Raven Darkholme/Mystique: Regal

• Victor Creed/Sabretooth: Vervet

• Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver: Peach

• Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch: Wisteria

• Mortymer Tonybee/Todd Tolansky/Toad: Toucan

• Fred "Freddy" Dukes/Blob: Fern

• Lance Alvers/Avalanche: Lemur

• St. John Allerdyce/Pyro: Jambu

(Woo! I have many ideas for this facet of the 🐉Wings of Fire aus! And all the colors😍 And here, before I forget, are some possible names for the...)

• Reader/Bby: Kiwi, Plum, Apricot, Papaya, Guava, Lime, Lemon, Pomelo, Banana, Cherry, Tangerine, Mangosteen, Pomegranate, Parakeet, Macaw, Boa, Ocelot, Capuchin, Marmoset, Majestic, Opulent, Brilliant, Alluring, Beautiful, Glamorous, Graceful, Lovely, Alocasia, Hibiscus, Begonia, Caladium, Amaryllis, Jasmine, Lotus...

[waltwhitmansbeard]

fuck it, mighty nein battlebots au bc i have the Brain Rot™️

(before i continue pls know that at the time of writing i’ve just started the 2022 season so if you spoil me for anything i will block you and also burn your house down)

i’m not smart enough to think up nine robots all on my own so i’m gonna use existing bots and explain how i think m9 would make them their own, starting with

fjord — kraken

i mean…c’mon. look at it. kraken was made for fjord. not always the most effective but fuck is it fun to watch. obv fjord would call it uk’otoa

caleb — madcatter

kitty themed with a giant paw?? the only thing caleb would change is the color palette (going orange, ofc) and adding the obligatory flamethrower for family-murdering purposes. oh, and ofc he’d call it frumpkin.

jester — hijinx

i’m not gonna lie: this bot is not good. but LOOK AT IT! it’s BEAUTIFUL!! jester would put so much time and thought and attention into her bots aesthetics if it doesn’t do a lot of damage, well, at least it was pretty. also, hijinx??? a perfect jester name

yasha — tombstone

it's simple. it's to the point. it is here to kill you. sometimes it gets off-balance and absolutely destroys itself. just change the name to orphanmaker and you're good to go.

beau — uppercut

POP POP BITCH!! this one's blade is literally fist and it is consistently one of the HARDEST hitters in the entire fucking game. it has exploded other bots' gas tanks on MULTIPLE occasions. it's a team of absolute nerds from mit. paint this thing cobalt soul blue and it's all beau all day.

caduceus — duck!

this is duck! IT'S A DUCK. DO YOU SEE. THAT IT IS A DUCK. THERE IS AN ITERATION OF THIS BOT THAT QUACKS. duck! used to be very good and unfortunately is not so good anymore but i love duck! with all my heart because it's a DUCK!

nott — tantrum

so that small circular hunk of metal there in the middle not only spins, but it also punches. it was not so great it's first two years but then it had a bit of a metamorphosis and went on to kick absolute ass. idk this just looks like some insane shit that nott/veth would put together. maybe with a yellow color scheme?

molly — jackpot

the glitter! the cards! the dual weapons! the ability to pack an absolute wallop! this robot is gay and so is molly. i just think he'd go w a tarot theme instead of poker.

essek — shatter!

ugh this one is hard for me bc i fucking hate this bot but it does give essek vibes. first, the color scheme, ofc, but then this thing has omniwheels, which essentially make it look like it's floating across the floor. it needs to be incredibly precise when it hits (which is one reason why it sucks) and the colored bits are ablative armor made to protect shatter off (another reason why it sucks), and that seems like something essek would think up.