#it’s sickening and it hurts so bad especially when it happens to you

[cyberfunsupporter]

it’s not that curly is necessarily bad but he’s complicit which is incredibly bad actually. yes he was mad at jimmy but approached it from the standpoint of it being a misunderstanding because he views jimmy as a good person and the idea of “a person’s worst moments don’t make them a bad person” is so clearly reinforced throughout the game. but this is the one thing that can’t be made better. and to be honest, i don’t think anya would stop being curly’s friend if there were a happy end but i think it’d be hard sometimes. to be close. cause you can’t erase the lack of action. yes, curly wanted things to be good between the team since they were mid delivery. but it’s the undermining of what happened to anya, although not purposeful or malicious, it still hurts. and it hurts the victim so badly. and it let jimmy just do whatever. jimmy hurt curly after, tormented anya and never took responsibility. curly can’t erase his part in that. i think anya would be uncomfortable sometimes or feel sick thinking about it. the lack of action

[fourmoony]

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝟐

f!reader x PT!Jamie (modern au) 1.5k words

summary: reader has a bad gym experience and jamie gets protective

cw: working out, mention of potential injury, mentions of sexual harrassment (ass grabbing)

sidenote, that I've seen a lot of this behaviour in the gym before and it makes me sick. writing about it and imagining how jamie would handle it makes me less sick. imagining big strong pt!james making the world better, one set of keys at a time. please, always be aware of your surroundings if you are working out at the gym, especially alone <3

James pulls you out from under the bar of the smith machine by the hips seconds before it clatters to the ground with a sickening thud and clang of metal. You stumble under his harsh hands, land on the ground at his feet and let out a pained whoosh of breath. Luckily, the gym is empty save for the two of you, sparing you the embarrassment of having people watch the commotion.

He's on you in an instant, gentle hands that cradle your neck as he crouches in front of you and pushes your head from side to side with a little pressure from his thumbs. All you can do is blink, try to process what, exactly, just happened. "You're not sore here?" James asks you, brows furrowed and almost touching in the middle, his fingers pressing into the base of your neck.

Your first thought is that James doesn't suit frowning. A silly thought, considering you almost decapitated yourself with a one hundred kilogram squat rack. "No. Just my ass from crash landing." You don't fail to notice the way your voice sounds distant, detached.

James' hands are warm on your neck, a burning touch that you want to lean into. You don't, and it's gone as James collapses down across from you, his elbows resting against his knees. His face turns stern, "What's going on?"

You feel like you're being scolded, and maybe you should be. It's a well known fact that form is everything, that being distracted in the gym can lead to serious injuries. You'd known you wouldn't be able to focus today, you'd known you should've stopped that set and corrected yourself when you could feel the weight more in your back than your legs. But, you hadn't. You're distracted, you're angry. You'd walked into the gym full of frustration and it'd almost ended terribly.

Tears fight their way to your eyes and they burn. You feel a lump forming in your throat that forces you to look away from James. Kind, patient James, who allows you the moment to collect yourself as you pull your legs to your chest. "Shitty week." It comes out mumbled, your voice defeated.

James nods understandingly. "A shitty week doesn't make you lose focus like that, though. There's something more to it."

It's not like James to push. He's friendly and he's kind, he can be a menace when he wants to be, and sometimes you even think he's flirting with you - but he never pushes. You want to open up, you want to step out of that weird area of professionalism you can never seem to get past with him. But unloading your shitty week on him doesn't feel like the way to do that. So you shrug, pulling your knees to your chest until your chin rests atop them, "I'm just stressed. I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I knew my form was wrong but I was too distracted to stop and fix it."

"I don't care that your form was wrong," James shakes his head as though offended you'd think such a thing, "I mean," He pauses, searching for the words, "Obviously, I care that it was wrong because you almost got hurt. But what I mean is that you should've told me you were stressed, that you were feeling a bit distracted."

You find yourself nodding, eyes downcast at your crossed ankles.

"I was waiting for you to correct the form yourself. If I knew you were distracted, I'd have told you to stop. I'm sorry, too." James' voice has turned soft, less stern. He nudges his foot until it's in your line of vision, tapping it against yours until you're looking up.

He's waiting with a smile, his eyes gentle and patient. It feels odd. New, foreign. You can't really describe the feeling. "A guy grabbed my ass in the gym, yesterday." You breathe out, unsure really of what it is that's made you tell him.

It could be that you trust him. It's hard not to build trust with someone in James' position, it's literally his job to stop things like one hundred kilogram bar bells falling on top of you. Or, it could be that not telling anyone, reliving how powerless you'd felt, going over everything you could've done differently, it's eating you alive. Sharing this with James, who sees every day what gyms are like, how people in some gyms behave, you have a feeling that he'll get it. That he'll help you process.

But, he doesn't say anything. Just stares with a look that you can't read. The muscles in his arms shift, his hands clenching around each other tightly, and his jaw clenches. You think he might not say anything, though, you know James is better than that. The silence stretches until the tears in your eyes abate, then James finally croaks, "He what?"

Your veins crackle with the anger in his voice, the darkness that clouds his eyes. You'd never have imagined James in such a light if he wasn't sitting right in front of you, the very picture of livid. You shrug, as though feigning nonchalance might abate the white hot anger you know very well the feeling of. "I was doing those stupid kick back thingies you're always on about. Just messing about as a cool down, trying to correct my own form. He came over and started giving me advice, which I thought was just him being nice."

James shakes his head, remorse like a white sheet of dread across his beautiful face. You swallow, picking at a hangnail on your thumb, "He kind of just," You shift your hands as though grabbing your own hips, "Grabbed me like that and my throat went dry. When he was leaving he grabbed my ass and said 'you're welcome'."

"You didn't report him to the gym staff?"

You shake your head, lip trapped between your teeth. "I wasn't even planning on telling you until I nearly killed myself with the smith machine."

James sighs, one of his hands coming up to rub at his face. He looks nauseous, almost. "I'll get you a set of keys for this gym. You can work out here, from now on. No one will bother you."

It's a nice offer. It makes your heart swell and your cheeks heat. James has always gone above and beyond. He fits you into his schedule despite your crazy work hours and never charges you for the session if you have to cancel day of. But the reason you don't have a membership at his gym is because it's not in your price range. So you smile, kind, if a little tight lipped, "James, you know I can't."

"I'm not saying get a membership. I'm saying I'll get you a set of keys. You can come and go as you please, even after work, whatever time you want." His voice is thick, his eyes earnest and almost pleading.

"I can't ask you to do that."

James scoots closer, fingers flexing as though he might reach out for you, but is stopping himself. He chases your gaze, waits until he has it, until your lips part under the weight of it and your heart hammers against your chest, to speak. "You're not asking. I'm offering. I can't believe that happened to you and it makes me so angry. I'm not going to sit by and do nothing about it."

You sigh, unwilling to argue when James sounds so passionate, so sure of himself. A smile makes its way to your lips, timid, unsure, "Thanks, Jamie."

He nods. "Any time."

"Are you sure the owner won't mind?" You ask.

James grins, some of the mischievous twinkle returning to his eyes, "He's my best mate, it'll be fine."

He offers you a hand as he stands, the storm clouds passing and the weight already lifting from your chest. It feels brighter, in the gym. You take James' hand, let him pull you up. He does his signature move of tugging you until you're stumbling towards him, his laugh echoing off of the concrete walls when you curse him out for it.

"Start from the beginning?" James asks, moving to return the smith machine to where you need it to be.

You take a breath, watch the way his shoulder muscles strain against his top as he bends and lifts. It brings a smile to your lips, the feeling of familiarity you hadn't felt upon entering the gym earlier. "I believe I was at five reps when I dropped the bar."

James tsks, "Dropping it doesn't count as a rep. Call it four."

"Cruel."

James only winks, offers you his award winning smile as you settle yourself under the bar. This time, with the correct form. He nods, and you twist to unlock, eyes on his in the mirror.

"That's one." He grins, crossing his arms over his chest.

You consider dropping the bar on his head, next.

[sadiestarrs]

Cherry Red

Warnings: swearing, mean ellie, mentions of sex

A/N: i got this idea from another fic umm. it is proofread, but criticism is always accepted!! this one lowkey hurt. also i made edits to this fic but tumblr decided to glitch and delete them all so if this is bad, my apologies 🙏😞

Plot: ellie is a guitarist and the most popular in her group, but the attention has become too much, especially for you

Word count: 1115

Standing in between hundreds of screaming girls was not where you imagined yourself five years ago, especially not when you got with Ellie. Back then, she was practising guitar, doing small gigs at cafés and jazz bars late into the night. You attended everyone, that’s how you met her. Your friends had invited you on a night out, and she immediately caught your eye, playing one of your favourite songs.

From that day on, you’d showed up every night you were free and soon started to get noticed. One thing led to another, going on a few dates, sharing mutual friends, watching them create a band, and finally seeing them achieve their goals, a sold-out stadium. But now was when it set in. You were never claustrophobic, but your position made you think otherwise.

Bodies swarmed around yours, the screaming increasing when Ellie started her solo. You weren’t mad at how many people liked her, not at all – even though you were technically her first fan.

Something wasn’t right about this concert, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. You felt it in your core. A strange, sickening feeling.

Your vision tried to steady on Ellie, who was focused on each chord and strum of her guitar. The guitar you bought her. Despite being a broke college student, you still wanted to show Ellie that you cared and believed in her career, so you bought her the same cherry red guitar she held in her hands at that moment.

It was as if she loved the guitar more than you, funnily enough. It hung on the wall above your shared bed. She would dust it regularly, making sure that the strings were tuned, only using it during concerts. When she practised, it would be her older guitar, the same one she used the night you met her.

Now as you watched her kill the solo, like she did every time, you waited for the end, the moment when she would find you in the crowd during the last chord, almost dedicating the song to you. But it didn’t happen. Her eyes scanned for someone else. Her hand reached for another girl.

Up on stage was someone you had seen before, long jet-black hair, dark eyeliner, ripped jeans and a crop top. Her ex. She had brought her ex on stage. The band knew about you, how could they let this happen? How could they–how could she embarrass you like that?

Her ex takes the guitar and begins her own riff, something they had definitely planned behind your back. Questions rampaged through your mind. You were at almost every practice and rehearsal. Were they meeting up separately? You choke up, watching the scene unfold in front of you.

Ellie whispers something in her ear, holding her by the waist as she nods in response. The crowd goes wild, screaming and cheering. It was meant to be you on stage. She was meant to hold you. Her ex takes the neck of the guitar, turning it upside down and smashing it into the floor.

You lose count of the number of times they pass it between them, causing more damage than the last. A strong urge to empty your guts washes over you, pushing through the crowd, not caring who gets elbowed in the face.

The dressing room is filled with buzzing from outside, but it’s 100% better than watching your girlfriend smash a prized possession you bought her. Every answer your mind came up with wasn’t good enough. It didn’t make sense. Why? Why? Why?

Why would she do that to you? Your relationship had been strained for a few days after an argument over rehearsals. You barely spent time together any more, she was always out practising, even missing the dates you had planned.

This started a conversation about whether she cared about her career more than the relationship. You didn’t want to believe it but all your worries seemed to come true. Her added fame and success made things more difficult.

The time when she gave a group of VIP fans a tour backstage and bonded a bit too much with one of them sparked through your brain. It reminded you of what was happening on stage before you left. And now the show was over.

✦

Her bandmates come into the room before her, filling the space with awkwardness when they see you. None of them speak, going through the motions of drinking water, packing away instruments, and checking their phones without so much as an apology.

All of them knew about this but didn’t feel the need to tell you. You blamed them as much as you blamed Ellie. To think that you were the reason they were in that position now. If it wasn’t for you bringing them together, another band would be in their place.

“So no one wanted to tell me what Ellie was planning?”

Your question is met with even more silence, everyone looking awkwardly between themselves.

“We didn’t know—”

The door is pushed, followed by Ellie, now smiling with her ex directly behind her. She senses the tension in the air and motions for the others to leave. The three of you stand in silence for an eternity before Ellie finally says, “I can tell that you’re mad.”

Mad? That was the biggest understatement. Her ex doesn’t make eye contact, still standing behind her, hands folded across her chest.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

Maybe it was harsh, but there was no other way to convey your emotions. “Can I explain myself before we start throwing insults around? It was a prank. That wasn't the actual guitar.”

From a supply closet, she brings out the case and unzips it to reveal the guitar, still in perfect condition. No thought formed properly in your mind. Nothing made sense. It was a sick prank, something that made you physically ill.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Ellie?”

“This conversation won't go anywhere if you keep insulting her.” She had the audacity to speak to you. This was her fault, not just Ellie’s. What sane person would do something like that?

“This conversation is between me and my girlfriend. You know what? You two can have each other.” You push past them, slamming the door in the process.

Why was this happening? Did you piss off God? Were you paying for a mistake you made years ago? Whatever it was, it didn't make sense. What went through Ellie’s head to do that to you?

No one bothers going after you. Fortunately, you're able to grab a cab and go back to the hotel.

Where you were staying with Ellie.

[konigsblog]

I feel like soap/gaz would non-con reader in there sleep, and feel guilty about it afterwards, trys to make up for it. Reader dosent understand why there cunt hurts so bad but at least there good friend is there helping them around the house and making breakfast for them

This is just so he dosent feel guilty, takes readers appreciation for the help as a green light to do it over again

tw/cw; rape. 18+

they'd both choose to do it while under the influence, a drunken and horrible mistake to violate their closest friend while they're vulnerable and unconscious.

of course, they're mortified the next morning when they wake up in the early hours, gazing over at your naked body and the splatters of their milky load smeared along your rear and soft thighs. kyle is the first to be awoken, the birds chirping outside your barracks window, while you and johnny are fast asleep, snoring away peacefully. johnny shouldn't feel so relaxed and at ease, not after committing a horrible crime by raping their best friend mercilessly.

johnny is awoken by kyle who shakes him awake urgently, trying to usher johnny out of the bedroom before you're awoken and horrified by their sickening, disturbing behaviour. johnny feels ashamed and ill, sick to his stomach thinking back to the decision he'd made after a couple beers and some marijuana. you were fast asleep, completely unconscious after johnny and kyle had made a calculated plan to drug your beverage while you weren't looking. they had waited for you to fall asleep, knocked unconscious so they could carry out their immoral plan.

you're so dumbfounded and confused the next morning, your body is aching, especially between your thighs, bruises and marks scattered around your body. they're both generous and eager to help you, with johnny offering to serve you your favourite breakfast, and gaz offering to write up any reports price had asked for.

you don't have a clue what happened, but for some strange reason, you don't want to know. :(

[j-jinxee]

Ooo can you write about about how Alastor would use restraints, he’d defo get turned on by how helpless reader would look when they’ve got a chain wrapped around them, with his need for control.

PRISONER ☆

TYPE - Alastor x Reader

WARNINGS - restraints/being tied up, semi public sorta?, ownership, swearing, oral receiving, humiliation.

authors note - tysm for requesting!! especially for Alastor hehehe, hope u like ittt >:)

----------------------------------------------------

That night came back to you every time you got pulled down by that fuckers chain. The most regrettable night of your life, you were so far gone you really thought he'd help you. Making any deal while you were drunk was a bad idea, but making a deal with the radio demon?? Even worse. He's made you do sickening things for him in the past, all things you never would've done if your soul wasn't on the line; but nothing that made your stomach turn quite like this one.

You made the mistake of confronting him right before he went on the air. That pissed him off enough, and thought you needed a reminder of who you belonged to. Hence why you're tied up in his radio tower, chain around your neck, and screaming his name for all of Hell to hear.

Alastor made you crawl up to his radio tower, him holding the chain, then tied you up with dark sorcery, and clicked "start broadcast".

"Hello my dear viewers! Hope you're having a grand evening. Today will be a little different to my usual style of broadcast, but I trust you'll enjoy it nonetheless" His voice turned scratchy and demonic towards the end, making you nervous for what was to come.

The only luminance in the tower was the faint glow of the red sky, and the shine of Alastor's eyes. You had no idea how many people were listening right now, or what was even going to happen, you just hoped no one could tell it was you.

You swore you could smell his arousal. It was rare, but you could tell he liked seeing you chained up. He never expressed any romantic feelings towards you, only savage, animalistic needs to over-power you. You let him have his way, since there was nothing you could do about it, but this? This was a little past your limit.

Your hands were behind your back, legs bent, and whole body hoisted up. You had no clue what happened to your clothes, they vanished off your body when the ropse appeard around you. Your neck was angled slightly up from the floor, enough to see a little out the window, but not enough to hurt. That's when you felt him.

You gasped abruptly as you felt his hot tongue on your clit, "Ah!" It took you by surprise - to say the least. You obviously wanted to hold back your moans in order to keep some dignity... but, holy fuck he was good.

It was like being chained up increased the pleasure, you swore it'd never felt this good before. His tongue made you squirm, but squirming hurt, especially when you held back. You thought you may aswell give him what he wants instead of agitating him even more.

"Mmm- Fuck! Alastor please"

"Please what my dear?"

You didn't even know what you were asking for, you wanted to say please stop, but you knew you couldn't, it felt too good.

"Pl- Ah! Please don't stop!"

Yeah real good fucken choice, beg him to keep going and see where that'll get ya.

The next thing you felt was his tongue diving deep into your core, fuck. You knew he'd be skilled, but this was on a completely different level.

"Ohhh, fuck! I'm- I'm gonna cum, ah!"

Your legs attempted to collide, obviously being held back by the rope. As Alastor felt your thighs start to shake, he only increased his pace, sending you over the edge. The coil in your stomach finally snapped, sending shivers throughout your whole body as you screamed Alastor's name for all of Hell to hear. Even if they weren't listening to the broadcast, they might’ve still heard you.

Your vision was blurry, your face was hot, and currents of pleasure still shot through your core like electricity. Alastor got up and made his way to the control panel, "I hope this is to your liking dear listeners! Because we're just getting started"

...you've gotta be fucking kidding.

----------------------------------------------------

Rlly rlly hoping u like thisss 🤞🏻 I think it's aight, I just love writing for Alastor tbh hehe. Cheers x

[pupyuj]

Would love a rough quickie with them in this outfit 🫠🫠🫠

https://x.com/anyujinsss/status/1763430900111757617?s=46&t=sv54D2RJCM5ahfRVnc7Bjw

-🥵

no bcs i’m gonna need ya’ll to indulge me a bit here BECAUSEEE 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 honestly thought i could do so much more w this idea but i hit a wall 😭 HOPEFULLY YOU GUYS STILL LIKE IT THO ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

so let's say... bodyguard au right? (check out my bff @bitchiswild's yuj bodyguard au btw it's great heheheh) except that yujin doesn't know what the fuck she's doing bcs she's a professional hitwoman not a fucking bodyguard! and to be tasked to go to such lengths to keep a spoiled rich girl like you safe was asking too much! but she does it anyway (she does anything for money) and not only does she actually end up taking her supposed job seriously, she also... well, starts to feel some sort of affection towards you! <33

no it's not what you're thinking—ahn yujin, your beloved stupid bodyguard is obsessed with you 😳😳 see, you aren't actually as bad as yujin initially made you out to be! you were so kind it was sickening, the brightness of your smile managed to rival yujin's own genuine ones, and you were almost like... a real-life disney princess?? at first yujin assumed you were just being pretentious, being a two-faced snake.. but no, it turns out you fr had a heart of gold and that was when yujin started being softer with you... and softer until her affection turned into obsession and ofc she starts looking at you wayyy too differently 🤭

what a fucking pervert she is, honestly! always insists on walking behind you instead of beside you not bcs she's looking out for you but bcs she's checking your ass out.. and she especially loves it when you're wearing short skirts! fantasizes a lot whenever you're out together, mostly when you drag her to an outlet mall and just start shopping to your heart's content! gives yujinnie an excuse to picture you wearing all those pretty lingerie that you buy in her head.. and she's never been more thankful for her job bcs you'd bring her inside a changing room with you and ask for her opinion and... yeah, yujin very much enjoys the show 😚

nothing happens between the two of you until some fancy event however 🤭 yujin was lingering around watching you as usual until you sneak out of a crowd, walking off to a secluded room all frustrated... ofc yujin follows you bcs hello, that's her job and she wanted to berate you for going somewhere without telling her first!! but then it turns out that you were in the worst mood ever so you were just glaring at yujin the entire time she was scolding you.. and then you started whining about her always treating you like a toddler and never letting you do anything on your own and yeah it was a whole fight! things get heated, some hurtful words were thrown around, and you expected yourself to push yujin away and storm off but nooo you just had to grab her by the collar of her shirt with both hands and kiss her 😳 "i... dad needs me f-for a stupid—ah!—speech in a bit..." struggling to speak bcs yujin was touching you everywhere and it felt so good :((

"guess we should hurry then, huh?" so she says but she does everything but hurry! yujin takes her precious time exploring your body,, skilled, calloused hands massaging your thighs, ass, and breasts as her tongue explored your mouth… how she wished she could rip your pretty clothes off and ruin you but :(( she didn’t want you to get into too much trouble! being so annoyed of her teasing that you had to trap her hand in between your legs, pleading her to just fuck you before you were called onto the stage out side 😣 she ignores your first pleas though,, finding it so entertaining that she’s got you wrapped around her finger this time…

“hm.. fuck… do you know how long i’ve been wanting to touch you like this?” she asks while pulling your panties down so slowly ☹️ stares at your wet cunt like it’s her last meal.. even going as far as to lick her lips but she didn’t want to make a mess of her face so she was going to save that for a whole ‘nother day 🥰🥰 ah, and as much as she would love to see the kind of expression you make while she fucks you… she had to see how good you looked being fucked from behind first! 😋 her instructing you to bend over the couch in the room.. one hand gripping your ass and the other—two fingers knuckle-deep inside you :(( and good god was she good!

“d’you wanna be loud, princess? one of your father’s associates seemed very keen on taking you home… want to let him know the only person you’ll allow to touch you like this..?” yujinnie taunts while you’re a moaning mess underneath her.. your nails holding the leather couch in a tigh grip as yujin hits all of your weak spots… “scream my name, whore.” her insults, along with how she slaps your ass and abuses your cunt.. well, nobody could blame you for cumming a bit too quickly than what yujin liked!! but that was okay! really 🤭 she’ll have all the time in the world later when the event was over and you hurry on over to your home, bringing yujin all the way to your bed and letting her do everything she has been wanting to do to you until the sun rises 🫣🫣

[agent-cupcake]

Flashbang

Chapter 1 - Puppet Loosely Strung

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: Running away to join the circus doesn’t go exactly as you hoped it would.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, murder, generally dark content

Word Count: 13.9k

Disclaimer: I don’t read the manga or watch the anime. This is based solely on OPLA Buggy because Jeff Ward.

Some quick notes before we start: This is what I've been working on this since October. Originally it was going to be one really big one-shot posted at the same time, but it's big enough that I can justify posting it as a series. I'll add warnings as I go, but this is not a happy story and there will be explicit content later on. The reader character might not be somebody you see yourself in, I had a very specific image of what character I had in mind while writing. To me, reader fic is more of a sort of play acting rather than "oh that's literally me" but I know that's not everybody's cup of tea. A lot of this is cope fic and it shows. When times get rough the porn gets rougher, right?

I had help writing this from an individual who is very dear to me. Flashbang wouldn't exist without her, especially since she was the one who gave me the clown brain rot. And then there has been the hours of brainstorming and spitballing and watching Jeff Ward shows/movies as she continued to feed my addiction. Thank you, my love, and also damn you because this wasn't what I needed.

New chapter every Sunday. Enjoy~

.

“Let me put myself in your shoes

As a puppet loosely strung

Around you, they were so confused

That a faulty man could have so much fun”

.

All it took was a little doubt. Through logic or confusion or wishful thinking, you could be convinced that the insignificant person who had parasitically driven you around for the past however many years was a stranger, and now they were gone. Everything that had ever happened fell into incomprehensible dust, and every thought you ever had belonged to somebody else. A cycle of a million memories you didn’t recognize spun through this foggy place, none of them real, none of them familiar. 

Logic, confusion, wishful thinking, or unconsciousness. An endless dream of nothing at all. But as soon as you became aware, it was awareness that those thoughts happened in the past tense, crushed inward by the unrelenting force of existence, and you were shoved back into a body. You—not the real you, the stranger you, the one made of heat and fury and pain, the one you couldn’t recognize—were gasping and thrashing in ignorant confusion, coughing out the sickening taste of blood in your throat. 

Everything, all of it, hurt. And that was all that existed. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Your panicked thrashing made you realize that you were upright, your body straining painfully against the various chains keeping you pinned against the wall in an X. The position put nearly all of your weight on your shoulders and left your head to sag heavily to the side, making the terrible, dizzying headache that much worse. Having suffered more than your fair share of them, you knew that this headache was from more than an uncomfortable position or your old injury. A hot throbbing pain radiated out from the back of your head, shooting little sparks down your spine. It hurt bad enough that nausea formed a tight, heavy ball in your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you forced your eye open, fighting the urge to cringe away from the light as it rolled this way and that. Colors and lights were nothing more than a nauseating smear, but at least you could see. 

Little by little, you became aware of yourself. From far away, you had a vague recollection of leaving, of nerves, excitement, and then of danger. But… no, why weren’t you at home? Doom settled in its rightful place as you realized exactly how little you remembered or knew, slotting into the spot of coherence and reason. Despite the pain, you fought against the shackles holding you in the uncomfortable position, irrationally desperate to be free of them. 

“There she is! Finally,” somebody said from your left. His voice hit like a hammer to the back of your aching head. You strained to look at the speaker, he sounded close, but you couldn’t turn your head far enough to make up for your limited vision. 

Luckily, he didn’t stay out of sight for long. The man’s boots were loud and deliberate as he slowly moved out of your literal blind spot. To your ill-adjusting eye, he was not much more than a blur of white and red and blue, his big smile smudged as you rapidly blinked to focus. A little shock of meaningless recognition in your brain saw the makeup and red nose and said ‘clown’, but the sheer ridiculousness of that made you even more sure that this wasn’t real. 

“Not a fun way to wake up, is it?” he asked. “Keep breathing, let it drain back and cough it out. Trust me, it’s over quicker that way.”

The question you tried to form was, “Who are you?” but all you could manage was a heavy groan followed by a fit of painful coughs, wheezing raggedly in between. Each desperate convulsion rattled the chains and caused the wood to creak, but did nothing to free your bound limbs. The man seemed bored by it, annoyed he had to wait for you to get ahold of yourself. 

Since he hadn’t immediately helped you down, you could only assume that he was the one who shackled you in the first place. Strung you up against a wooden board of some kind in a room you didn’t know. Cramped and windowless, it reeked of paint and sweat and sawdust and sweet salty rot—a unique smell that didn’t help your nausea. Clutter stacked up against the walls. Dense, humid air pressed against you like a heavy coat, paradoxically chilling. Probably because of the fever burning beneath your skin, slicking you up with sweat, soaking into your clothes and the bandana you kept wrapped around your head over the left eye.

Breathe. You focused on your breathing. Panic wouldn’t help you. 

“You done?” he asked. Without any other choices, you turned your head to shamefully wipe your face off on your sleeve before nodding. “Great. Well, now that you’re awake… Welcome!” He threw out his arms with the flamboyant manner of a showman with the greeting, but they wilted right after, his big smile dropping a bit. “Or, at least, that’s what I would say if you hadn’t let yourself in and stolen the opportunity from me.” 

That was bad. Very, very bad. You jerked in an awkward, uncoordinated burst, physically reacting to the danger he presented. 

“No, no, don’t leave on my account,” he said, waving his hands and getting closer as if to stop you. “Oh wait, you can’t! Hah! Yeah, ‘cause of the chains.” He smiled affably, like it was a harmless joke, standing close enough for his gloved fingers to skim along the chain wrapped around your neck. “I guess you’re not going anywhere, huh?” 

You didn’t respond, barely daring to breathe when he was so close. Smiles and melodrama aside, his blue eyes were oddly dead, fixed on you without the slightest bit of humor. And then it finally came back to you, the vital thing that you should have known, that you would have known if you weren’t strung up and suffering such a crippling headache. The makeup, the nose, the hat—

“You’re,” you began to say, but your voice was hoarse and weak, you could barely get it out when he was looking at you so closely, so intently. You cleared your throat, wincing at the metallic taste. “You’re the-that pirate captain Buggy, like on the-the poster?” Right! The clown guy, the red-nosed pirate. You were looking for him. So this was… good, wasn’t it? 

He gave you a flat look, clearly not sharing your weak enthusiasm. “Yes. I am that pirate captain. Buggy, the Genius Jester? The most feared pirate captain in all the East Blue?” He turned with a dramatic flick of his coat, messing with something that had to flash silver before you realized it was a knife. “The man destined to find the One Piece and become King of the Pirates. Yes. I am that pirate captain. And,” he paused, checking to make sure you were paying attention, “a very busy, very important man. I’ve got, oh, ten minutes or so for you to decide how this is gonna go. So let’s get straight to it.” He turned back, pointing the knife at you. “Who are you, and what are you after?”

The accusatory tone of his voice took you aback. “Nothing… I’m not anybody,” you stammered out. “And this… this isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

Buggy, to your surprise, relented after a second of considering your appeal, nodding understandingly. 

There was no transition from his look of sympathy to raising the knife and aiming it at you. By the time you realized he meant to throw it, you barely had a chance to yelp. The blade took a loud, thumping bite into the wood beside you. On your left side, of course. Where you couldn’t see it. You could feel it, though. The air displacement ruffled the fine hairs around your ear. If you had flinched in that direction, it probably would be in your skull. With your dizzy head aching and confused, you had no regulation to your fear or discomfort, your breathing dangerously unsteady and tears pricking the corner of your eyes. 

“Let me try a different question,” Buggy said before you could collect yourself, pulling out another knife. “Who else knows about this place?”  

“Nobody! I swear, nobody else. I was just…” You didn’t know what to say. It was all you could do to breathe the thick, heavy air and fight down the tide of nausea.  

“Just what?” Buggy asked, leaning in with raised eyebrows to show that he was listening intently. You opened and closed your mouth, unable to come up with the right words. Thoughts churned through the thick sludge in your head, getting stuck or lost or confused. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said, the stumbling apology coming out more naturally than anything else, an attempt to buy time while you organized your thoughts. “Please doh-don’t…. I’m so ss-sorry.” 

Buggy sighed, standing up straight and raising his hand to aim. 

“Nonono, please d-” You yelped louder this time, flinching away as the knife streaked through the air and stuck not even an inch away from your right cheek. You exhaled a pathetic little sob, whatever you were bound to shaking with your body. 

“Listen, honey buns,” Buggy said. “Drop the act. Stop the whining. I caught you, red handed, sneaking into my lair.” He pulled something out of his pocket. Not another knife, but a piece of paper which he unfolded, holding it up for you to see. His wanted poster, creased into sixths from the way you folded it to keep it close, to keep it hidden. “I found this in your bag. You know who I am, and you know where you are. You have to, so let’s do away with all the theatrics, okay?” 

You swallowed hard, nodding quickly in the hope that it would appease him. 

“Right now, this is a conversation,” Buggy said, gesturing between the two of you. “A light interrogation, really. But if you keep being uncooperative and wasting my time, it’s gonna go from being interrogate-y to being torture-y real quick. You don’t want that, right?” Although he was unmistakably threatening you, Buggy’s tone was more natural than before. There was a bluntness to it, an honesty. Men like him didn’t idly use words like torture. 

You sniffed, trying very hard to calm yourself down. This was a misunderstanding, so you just had to convince him. Simple as that. He would understand. You would make him understand.

“Right,” you agreed. 

“Fantastic. So,” he loudly clapped his hands together, “who else knows about this place?”

“Nobody, I promise… I’m really sorry I broke in,” you told him, speaking slowly so your words didn’t catch. “I just wanted to meet with you.” 

Buggy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, the hair hanging out from the sides of his hat swaying as his head tilted curiously. “You’re a fan?” he clarified. “That explains why you’re so pathetic. Well I hate to break it to you, but there’s a reason I only hold meet and greets after shows.” 

“No, that’s not why! I-I want to join your crew,” you said. “I came to ask you to let me join your crew.” 

He blinked twice, staring at you with obvious disbelief. “Excuse me, what?” 

“I want to be a pirate,” you told him, louder. “Please. Please let me join your crew.”

Buggy’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the rippling shift of incredulity, befuddlement, skepticism, and then amusement in his eyes. That emotion burst outward into a loud laugh, making you flinch. “That’s the best you can do?” he asked. “Ask to join my crew?” He looked at you again, laughing even harder. “I don’t know what’s funnier—that anybody would send you to spy on me, or that you’d think I would consider hiring you.” 

“I mean it!” you argued, humiliation and desperation seeping into the thousand other discomforts of your position. This wasn’t at all how you wanted this to go.

“Sweetheart,” Buggy said condescendingly, “even assuming I believe you, this is a pirate crew, not an afterschool club.”

“I know. I know what pirates do, I know what you do,” you told him. “I’ll do anything, whatever you want. Please, please, just give me a chance.”

He nodded, turning to pace as he thought about it. 

“Okay, let’s say that I buy this… this act of yours,” Buggy said. “Do you have any experience? Maintaining ships, reading maps, loading cannons. You know, basic stuff.”

There was a line you had prepared to answer this question, one that would paint you in the most charitable light. You remembered that, but you couldn’t remember the line. All you could give was the truth. “A little.”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Thought so. What about specialties? Unique skills? Any sort of talent that I can use in my show—anything at all. I mean other than,” he gestured vaguely in your direction, “that. We don’t need another one eyed midget. They’re surprisingly common.” 

“I’m not a midget,” you told him, nerves fading to incredulity. 

Buggy stepped back to size you up before seemingly conceding the point with a shrug. “And the eye?” He covered his left eye to illustrate. “Is that for a bit or something?” 

Your stomach twisted with a familiar lurch. Disgust. Shame. Phantom light in the dark. “It’s not.” 

“How’d you lose it?” 

“I didn’t… lose it.” 

“It’s still in there?” he asked excitedly, stepping forward and reaching to remove the bandana. “I have got to see this.” 

“No, please—please don’t,” you begged, trying to wriggle away from his hand. Pinned to the board with your hands bound above your head, there was nowhere to go. “Please don’t, please-” 

“Come on,” Buggy said, indifferent to your pleas as he pulled the sweat soaked fabric off of your left eye. “How bad could it be—AH!” He yelled in horror, jumping away as if you’d bitten him. 

The bandana hit the floor, leaving your ruined eye and its jagged scar exposed. You couldn’t hide. All you could do was flinch back, turning your head away. “I’m sorry,” you said, ready to continue apologizing before you realized that his shock had immediately dissolved into raucous laughter. “Why are you… why are you laughing?” you asked, pulling desperately against the chains. 

“I got you good,” Buggy said, his laughter subsiding. “The way you reacted, I thought that you’d be completely deformed. A real sideshow. But this…” He grabbed your chin, forcing it to the side so he could get a better look. “I couldn’t charge for this.”

“Please stop,” you begged, shaking off his grip and staring hard at his shoulder. 

“Ohhh. You’re really embarrassed about it.”

You didn’t say anything, focusing mostly on fighting the tears. 

“Okay, alright, yeah,” Buggy said, stepping back. “I think I’m starting to get why you would risk life and limb to beg me for a job. You grew up as a cute girl in a shithole town like this. A big fish in a little pond, as they say. Then, suddenly, BAM, you’re deformed, and, sure, they all say that it was tragic, but the truth is that they can’t stand to look at you. Even the people who loved you, the people you trusted, think you’re a freak. They abandoned you. So, without any other options, you come to me, pleading for me to give you a place amidst your fellow freaks. That about it?”

You didn’t say anything—what could you say to that?— which Buggy seemed to take as confirmation, nodding thoughtfully. 

“Well, go big or go home, right? As far as a starlet’s breakout role, you couldn’t go any bigger. Thing is, I’m not really looking for new acts. Not to mention your abysmal audition.” He sucked in a breath through his teeth, looking you up and down again. 

You could feel your chance slipping away. Just like that. Go big or go home, that’s what he said. 

“Please, Captain Buggy,” you begged, staring him in the eye despite how disquieting it was, despite how your skin crawled from exposing your left eye to somebody. Addressing him properly, at the very least, got his attention. “I promise that you won’t regret it. I’ll learn, I want to learn how to be a pirate, how to perform, all of it, everything. And if I can’t, I’ll do laundry and clean and cook, I have lots of experience with that. I don’t care what you ask me to do, if you let me join your crew, I’ll happily serve you for the rest of my life.”

Buggy didn’t respond right away. You thought—hoped—that it meant he understood how serious you were, but his expression gave you nothing. There wasn’t much light in the room in the first place, but somehow he found enough to shine unnervingly in his pale blue eyes. Somebody with a bright red clown nose shouldn’t have been able to look so intimidating, but the way he studied you burned with an uncomfortable intensity. It had been a while since anybody looked at you so frankly, so openly, without disgust or pity. 

“Why?” he finally asked. 

“Why…?” you repeated, confused.

“I get that you want to leave this place, and I even buy into your whole wanting to be a pirate thing, but, you know, aside from the obvious,” he gestured to himself, “why should I believe that you really want to serve me? You’re young and cute…ish, don’t you want freedom and empowerment and all those other things girls go on and on about?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why would I?” 

A moment of quiet that wasn’t quite silence but twice as heavy passed before a slow smile began to spread over Buggy’s face, and then—of all the bizarre, uncomfortable responses he could have—he laughed. “Oh, you’re broken, aren’t you?” he asked, clearly overjoyed by the revelation. “Well, I’m sold. I’ll have to start you on probation just in case you’re secretly up to no good. But, after that, you can audition for real. I’m sure I can find something you’ll be useful for.” 

His reaction gave you whiplash. The word ‘broken’ was obviously bad, but everything else was good. You had succeeded. Only, you didn’t know why. You were still trying to decide if being called cute-ish was a compliment or not. 

“Hey, just one more thing, okay?” Buggy asked, tapping your cheek. Standing mere inches away, he smiled a rictus grin. It wrinkled his eyes, but they were without life or pity or mercy. “If you’re lying to me about anything, I’ll carve some symmetry into your cute little face. You’ll thank me for it too. You won’t want to see what the guys will do to you after I toss you out there.”

“I’m not lying,” you said softly, shrinking back. “I promise.” 

“Great!” Buggy said, his demeanor immediately cheering up. “Let’s get you down.” He walked behind the board you were strung up on, and you let out a shaky exhale. “Brace yourself,” he called. You had no idea what that meant, or how you were supposed to brace yourself when there was nothing for you to brace yourself on. “Three… two…” 

He undid the lock, and the chains keeping you bound to the board went slack. You dropped hard, your limbs as heavy as lead. Luckily, your head was too light to feel anything when you hit the ground with a dull thump and the loud cacophony of rattling chains, spinning and blank and utterly empty. There was a suspended moment of floating, lighter than air itself. And then you were blinking rapidly and nauseous, pain shooting up your arms and knees. 

Buggy dropped a key in front of you, metal bouncing on the old concrete. 

“Unfortunately we didn’t bring any real props with us, so I had to improvise,” he said. With numb fingers, you grabbed the key and worked it into the locked cuff around your wrist. “You lucked out, if this were the real Wheel of Death, you’d be blowing chunks!” He paused, looking down at you. “Can you hurry this up?”

“Sorry,” you said. Your shaking hands kept missing the keyholes, but you finally got the last lock on your ankle open. The cuffs hadn’t broken skin, but your wrists and ankles were rubbed raw, ugly bruises already developing. You’d had worse.

“Alright, upsy daisy,” Buggy said, crouching down to take the key away and grab the only chain you hadn’t gotten out of—the one around your neck. 

It acted as a noose, giving you no other choice but to lurch upward with an unappealing choking sound, your head spinning all over again, the weightless itch tingling all the way down to the base of your spine. You stumbled forward, unintentionally falling against him. 

“Holy shit,” Buggy exclaimed, helping you stand up straight with a hand on your shoulder. “I didn’t know girls came in fun size. Legally, at least. Are you sure you’re not just like… the maxiest midget?” 

“‘m dizzy,” you muttered, swaying despite his support. 

“That’s not really… Ah, whatever. Hey, at least if you fall, you don’t have that far to go.”

“I’m… I’m okay,” you finally said, which was mostly true. Breathing slow, steady breaths helped, and then you shook your head a little. The bump on the back of it throbbed painfully, and you’d have bruises on your knees the size of apples, but you would survive. You were still trying to get control over your body. It was heavy and unwieldy, although part of that must have been the exhaustion. 

“If you need to vomit, make sure to aim away from me,” he said. That was about all the warning you got before he decided it was time to go, dragging you along behind him like a dog on a leash. 

You realized you were leaving your bandana behind, your left eye uncovered, and reared back, trying to stop him. “Wait, I have to grab my-” 

“No time,” he said, talking over you and tugging again at the chain. 

There was nothing you could do but stumble over your own feet to keep up with him as he led you through the cluttered and dark storage area. You felt a tiny bit of relief that you were still in the familiar decaying buildings northside. The old warehouses were dark, dank, and dingy. Easily defended and difficult to navigate, perfect for criminals to hide out in. You knew them very well, and that helped orient you.  

"As I’m sure you noticed, I’m running a bit of a skeleton crew here. The rest aren’t coming ‘til the grand finale,” Buggy said, leading you into the main warehouse space by the chain around your neck like it was completely normal. The awful smell of rot and decay was only compounded by a sickly sweet, chalky scent you didn’t recognize. Gray sunshine flooded in through the broken windows around the high ceilings, piercingly bright. “And after that, we’re gonna blow this town.”

You didn’t respond, growing even more skittish. The two of you drew the attention of the people scattered around. Some were lounging, others were training. All of them turned to look at you, watching with the dark, focused stare of hungry dogs. Colorfully dressed, very dangerous dogs. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have an introduction to make!” Buggy called in a loud enough voice to fill the large space. “Crew, new girl. New girl, crew. Make sure to give her a nice, warm welcome." None of them spoke or reacted, watching you with varying degrees of hostility. Buggy pulled you forward a few steps so he could whisper to you. “See that guy?” he asked, pointing to a bald man with square features and an especially dark glare. “That’s Ivo. He was the one who caught you. To be completely honest, I think he’s still a little angry that he didn't get to keep you. If I were you, I’d try to stay on his good side.”

“How?” you asked, your uneasy stomach sinking further, but Buggy was already preoccupied with something else. 

“Oh, hey-” he called, flagging down a woman who was leaning against one of the steel supports. You stumbled behind him, holding the chain around your neck to ease the pressure. “Crina, I have got a very important job for you.” 

The woman slowly looked from Buggy to you, giving you a weighty once-over with dark, kohl-lined eyes. Her clothes were different from the rest, draped with beads and loose and layered in shades of purple. Beneath the mystique, however, you felt the same hardness you recognized in all the pirate’s faces. “You want me to look after the little rat,” she said with an accent you didn’t recognize.

"God, it’s like you can read minds or something,” Buggy said, laughing. “Anyway, yes. Make sure she doesn’t get up to anything naughty while I’m gone. In fact, don’t let her out of your sight.” 

“With all due respect,” Crina said, “why not just kill her?” 

“Because I don’t want her dead,” Buggy snapped, suddenly irritated. If Crina was surprised or off put by the abrupt change of his mood, she didn’t show it. 

“Of course, captain.”  

“I thought I saw some cages over there,” Buggy said, gesturing vaguely and forcing the chain into Crina’s hand. “Stick her in one of those. In the back, away from any prying eyes.”  

“A cage?” you asked.

“As fun as it is to see you all chained up,” Buggy said. “I worry that it might send the wrong message. Out of sight, out of mind—I don’t need you distracting my crew. They’re planning a very big surprise party. If you behave, I might be able to find some time for you later. Sound good?” 

You nodded, almost surprised by how good that sounded. He ruffled your hair before turning away, barking orders to some of the men. 

“Let’s go,” Crina said, pulling your attention back to her. “We have our orders.”

The cage Crina put you in, one out of several bolted to the floor in the corner out of the way from the main space, had just enough room for you to sit slouched, or lay curled on your side, meant for big dogs or small humans. There was a market for both, and you knew that this warehouse had likely housed both. 

The old, dilapidated buildings had been out of use for a long time, as long as you could remember. Barley Village had been originally built to be close to the mineral deposits, but as those dried up and industry trended towards the water, southward expansion left all of the old buildings empty and rotting. There was always talk about tearing them down, but it was only ever talk. One time you were told that some people wanted to keep the buildings available to people who wished for some privacy. But when you asked your dad if that was true, he got angry, telling you that was a lie, that he would never let that happen. He said it would just be too expensive to take them down, and that there was really no point in it.

But he also told you to never, ever spend time northside. Of all of the rules he gave you, that was the only one you ever truly disobeyed. You had no idea how many times you had gotten in trouble for playing here, climbing up rusted stairs and crossing the support beams up by the ceiling, using rocks to knock out the jagged edges of broken glass from the windows so you could go onto the rooftops. Your health problems made it difficult, and sometimes impossible, but you were patient. Plus, that had been before the accident, when your coordination was still good.

Back then, you didn’t worry about the many dangers that lurked here, and you certainly didn’t believe you could be hurt. You were too entranced by the world you created for yourself. The only thing you worried about was the beatings you earned when you got caught. Dad used to tell you that if you kept disobeying him by going northside, you’d wind up locked in one of these cages—or worse. It took you a while to think of the word, because it wasn’t funny, but it also was. Ironic. It was ironic.

You couldn’t even imagine what kind of reaction he would have to what you had done now, what punishment you would earn. It would be bad. You knew it would be very bad. 

Better not to think about it. Falling unconscious after being hit on the head was the most you had slept for the previous two days. It was the level of exhaustion that you could be staring down the business end of a sword with indifferent, sleepy eyes. Being locked up was bad, very bad, but you were content to lay listlessly on your side.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep because you weren’t entirely conscious when somebody kicked the front of your cage. “Hey, wake up.” Your physical response was to startle, jolting you awake enough to flinch away from the violence. But it was only Crina who crouched in front of the cage. “I have food for you. And medicine for the headache. I’m going let you out, and I suggest you don’t try to run. If the guys get a hold of you, I won’t stop them.”

“I won’t run,” you told her, your voice hoarse, your eyes fixed on what she had brought. A bowl of something that looked like stew and a bottle. More than food, you wanted water. Crina undid the lock and you shuffled out of the cage. Your head spun just as badly as it had when you dropped onto the floor earlier, your vision crawling with darkness and stomach heaving unhappily. She was right about the headache. It wasn’t a pain you ever got used to, no matter how many days you spent laid out from one. After an uneasy moment, you sat on the floor, grabbing the water and eagerly uncapping it. 

“Hand,” Crina said, holding out a glass bottle. You allowed her to shake two capsules into your palm, tossing them into your mouth before taking in a blessedly wet mouthful of water. It soothed your tongue and throat like a salve, although you knew your stomach wouldn’t be quite so happy to receive anything. The stew’s scent alone made your stomach clench and churn with equal parts hunger and nausea. Slow. You had to take it slow. 

“Thank you,” you told her, picking up the bowl. She’d brought a wrapped sailor’s biscuit to eat it with. Not very appetizing, but you hadn’t eaten much more than you slept. It could have been saw dust and you would have been grateful. 

“I have your bag,” she said to fill the silence as you ate, pushing the limp canvas towards you. “They took anything that looked valuable, but your clothes are all there. They need to be washed. I’ll lend you something to wear in the meantime.”

Since your mouth was full, you nodded your thanks.

“While you eat, I’m going to talk. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Crina said. “You don’t strike me as the talkative type.”

She didn’t say that in an accusatory tone, but it still caused your heart to skip with anxiety. The fear had to be irrational, it wasn’t as if you had lied to Captain Buggy, so what did you have to worry about? Besides, only the guilty feared scrutiny, that was a favored line of your dad’s. 

“There’s a man in town asking if anyone has seen a girl. Petite. Missing an eye. Mentally unwell. He’s concerned that she might have gotten lost somewhere,” Crina told you. “From what I gather, her father is a pillar of the community. They’re all very worried.” 

You averted your gaze, anxiously pulling your hair to cover your left eye. Of course Randall would be looking for you, although you had hoped you would have more time before he noticed your absence. It didn’t matter that you left in such a way to raise as little suspicion as possible, or that you were an adult, or that you didn’t want to be found. Your dad asked him to be your keeper while he was gone, and Randall did as your father said. Everybody did. 

“Finish your food,” Crina prompted. “It’s worse when it’s cold.” 

Right. You started eating again, your movements mechanical. She said nothing, and you had nothing to say. 

“Everybody has their reasons for turning to piracy, and they’re not always pleasant,” Crina suddenly said. “Unless it interferes with my own business, I don’t care about who you were and why you ran away. It was a stupid choice, I think you know that. I won’t try and convince you to leave. Buggy seems to like you, so you wouldn’t be able to go anyway. But you need to understand that there will be consequences. The life you had before, no matter how terrible, did not prepare you for the life you’ve thrown yourself into.”

You stared hard at the bowl, thinking about that. It was true, you had to accept that you had blindly stumbled into a world you knew nothing about. But what choice did you have? The things that led you to this point were arranged like the rusty, creaky rungs of a ladder scaling the side of a building. Climbing up had always been the easy part, it was the inevitable descent that gave you trouble. You had to go slow, one rung at a time, blindly feeling with your toes, holding on with sweaty fingers, not looking up and not looking down because once you were on the ladder, you could only keep going. The first rung was spotting the Buggy Pirates, which you only did because you were sulking around the docks after seeing your father off on his trip. You only recognized the crew because your dad kept track of pirate captains with significant bounties. You only had the courage to sneak away from your house because dad was too far away to stop you. You only had the ability to scope out Buggy’s temporary hideout because of how much time you spent northside when you were younger. Those things all connected and followed so naturally and you didn’t know if fate existed, but you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t have wound up here on your own volition. It wasn’t a choice you made, it was the only way to get down from the roof that you had been stranded on for so long.

“I’ll give you some advice,” Crina continued, her tone lighter, “and I suggest you listen. You’re young and pretty, and you wouldn’t be the first to try and use that to get an advantage. It might work for a while, but men will get bored and your looks will fade. Before long you’ll be spat out into a cheap whorehouse with a couple of children you can’t afford and a hell of a rash.” 

The whiplash from your thoughts to the conclusion she had drawn made your stomach twist with disgust. “No,” you said. Was that what she thought of you? Even if the idea was utterly ridiculous, shame rolled uncomfortable through you. “I would never—I could never ever do that.” 

“Don’t be naive,” Crina said, rolling her eyes. “The boys you’re used to are disgusted by that scar, but the kind of men you’ll meet from now on won’t be. If your low self-esteem dictates who you let between your legs, you’ll find yourself in the gutter. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t sleep with men to get an advantage if that’s an option, only that you must be smart about it.” 

You pulled your hair forward again, shaking your head clear of what she was saying. She didn’t understand. It wasn’t the assumption that men would be repulsed by your scar—which they would be, you knew that—but that you didn’t have it in you to invite or manipulate male attention. In so many ways you were already ruined, but to stoop down to letting other men touch you would be too far, it would destroy you.

“Assuming you live past tomorrow night,” Crina continued, “get a knife and figure out how to use it. The men aren’t going to accept you as a member of the crew until you prove yourself. So if anybody gets too close, you prove yourself with blood.” 

“Do you think they’ll try to hurt me?” 

“I think you look like an easy target,” she said. “And I know you have no concept of self preservation or defense.”

“Yes, I do,” you said, frowning. You had made it this far, after all. That was more than anybody would have thought of you. 

“You don’t,” she said plainly. “The tablets I gave you are for treating pain, but imagine if they weren’t. You didn’t so much as ask me to clarify what they were.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, and closed it, shame squeezing your throat. You hadn’t even thought about that.

“It might not matter anyway,” she said, “depending on Buggy’s reasons for keeping you.”

“What do you mean?” 

Crina gave you a long, pitying look and you could tell there was something she wanted to say, something she was holding back. Eventually she shrugged. “That is between the two of you.”

You wanted to push for more, confused by the cryptic answer, but you didn’t. You could tell by the hard look on her face that she wouldn’t tell you anyway. 

“One more thing. The most important thing,” Crina told you, leaning close so she could whisper. “Never, ever mention the captain’s nose. In fact, never mention noses at all.” 

“His nose?” you repeated softly. “Is it… is it real?” 

“What did I just say?” she asked sharply. “He killed a few of the last new recruits for saying something that sounded like nose while he was in a bad mood.”

“He… killed them?” you asked. 

“Buggy is a very temperamental man,” she said, leaning back. “Try not to get on his bad side.”

“It sounds like you don’t like him.” 

“I do, actually. God knows why. Are you finished?” 

“Yes, thank you.” 

“Come on then,” Crina told you, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. “There’s running water on the other side. I’ll keep watch so you can clean up.”   

Although birds called and the breeze carried all sorts of noises from Barley Village, none of it really reached the northside. A solemn graveyard hush settled heavy between the wreckage of ruined buildings, drafty even in broad daylight. No ghosts hid in the shadows, no historical tragedy marred its name, but there remained the haunted imprint of people who were no longer around. 

Before setting you on your task of the day, Crina had given you a dress of hers to wear while your own clothes dried in the sun. You swam in it, but a sash at the waist made the fit look somewhat intentional and the long sleeves hid the ugly bruises cuffing your wrists. That, combined with having slept the previous night and most of the day, left you feeling oddly refreshed. Sure, all of the sleep had been in a cage and the only ‘bath’ you had was a couple of minutes alone with a spout that spat freezing water and a washcloth, but it was better than yesterday. Better than the day before that too, save for the bruises and big goose egg bump on the back of your head.  

Despite the headache, you were glad to be given something to do. The task wasn’t difficult. Busywork that kept you out of the way. Checking to ensure that everything which would be loaded on the ship was documented, organized, and ready for transport. It wasn’t entirely unlike what you had done in the past and, you imagined, would be doing in the future. It was, however, the opposite way around. The goods were obviously looted, you were creating a list to know exactly what and how much of it had been stolen. 

Vinegar, oil, wax.

You used the end of the pen to scratch beneath your bandana, which Crina had kindly retrieved for you. Sometimes the scar got itchy, like it had when it was healing. 

Twine, needles, thread. 

There was a particular smell to supply crates like these. Something to do with the place they were stored, or where they were made. Even now, years since you had been on a ship, it was overwhelmingly familiar. It made your stomach ache and chest clench, although you weren’t sure which quality of the scent was so unsettling. 

You scratched the scar again.

Vinegar, oil- 

Wait, you had already done that. Annoyed, you crossed out those words and crouched down to get into the next crate. Rope. It was coiled in tight loops like a huge snake, coarse beneath your fingers. Anything that was strong enough to endure the fury of the sea had to be coarse. Good rope was vital on a ship, you knew that even with your limited experience. Touching it reminded you of the time your dad tried to show you how to tie knots, and then subsequently had to treat your rope burn.

What would he think when he returned? Retired Marine or not, he was deeply involved with northside business and law. Missing supplies, missing daughter. Sometimes you felt an acidic sort of pleasure when imagining his reaction to your absence, but usually it was just dread.

Or worse. Prickling paranoia. You could run, for a time. But that was all it was. Running. He used to be a Marine, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find you. When you were younger, the thought gave you comfort. 

But you didn’t want to think about that. Not at all. Not ever again. You stared very hard at the rope, desperate to put those thoughts out of your mind. 

You stared and stared and stared and-

Somebody grabbed you around the bicep, dragging you to your feet and forcing you back to reality. Yelping in fear, you were nearly knocked back down from the bloodrush dizziness of standing up too fast, saved only by the crates. 

“Good god, girl,” the unfamiliar man said, taking a step back, clearly put off by your reaction. “Are you deaf or something? I hollered at you three or four times. Were you sleeping?” 

Putting a hand to your racing heart, you looked from him to the still open crate and the notepad you had abandoned mid-task. You had no idea how long you had been sitting there. Long enough for your foot to go numb, prickling with pins and needles now that you were standing up. 

“I’m sorry,” you told him.

“The captain wants to see you. It’s urgent,” he said. When you didn’t immediately respond, still orienting yourself, he sighed impatiently and grabbed your elbow, physically dragging you away. You stumbled to keep up, trying very hard to avoid falling. “If Buggy asks why you took so long, you better tell him it was your fault.”

“I will,” you said to appease him, attempting to shake off his hand before realizing that it was pointless. “Please slow down.” 

“Not my fault you’ve got stumpy legs,” he said. “Keep up.” 

The unfairness of that stung, but you didn’t have much choice. You had a feeling that he’d keep on pulling you along even if it meant dragging you across the ground. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, embarrassingly out of breath. 

“There,” he said, nodding to one of the waterfront buildings. At least it was close. You never strayed so close to the water, the buildings were too squat to make for fun exploration and too exposed to give cover. 

The pirate released you when you got to the door, leaving you winded and scared. You adjusted your bandana and tried to catch your breath. “Don’t forget to tell him it was your fault it took so long, not mine,” he said, opening the door.

“I won’t,” you promised, the words papery thin on your dry tongue.  

You were in trouble. You had no idea what you might have done, but there had to be something. Why would you be summoned like this otherwise? A very bad feeling pressed against your sternum, but you forced yourself to walk forward. The door shut behind you. Inside, the air was dark and cool and wet, sending a little shiver down your spine. 

Buggy stood in the middle of the room, the only place where the sun found its way between the mangled teeth of glass and steel that used to be windows, his own little spotlight amidst the ruins. There were three other men on the edges of the light, their backs to you. One of them was bound. You did not like this. 

“There she is!” Buggy exclaimed, inviting you forward with his arms spread wide. “Come on, don’t be shy. Especially not after keeping us waiting so long. Your friend over here could hardly handle the suspense. 

Rocks and broken glass crunched beneath your feet as you approached them. Once you got close enough, finally, you could see the faces of the other men. One was the square-featured, angry man Buggy called Ivo. Another, a man you didn’t know. And the third, the one bound with a busted lip and developing black eye—

Randall called your name, trying to escape and rush to your side. Ivo grabbed him, pressing the blade of his knife against his throat.

“See, I told you, they’re working together,” Ivo said, glaring at you. “She tipped him off. No doubt this place will be swarming with the law before long.”

You stood completely still, staring at Randall with the steadily rising tide of panic sloshing in your stomach. After everything you had done to misdirect him, the note you left to beg he didn’t follow, the trouble you had put yourself through to keep from being seen, he was still here. 

“Are you okay?” Randall asked, looking you up and down frantically, concerned in a way he never had looked before. “Did they hurt you?” 

“I told you, she’s fine,” Buggy said with a grin. “I mean, yeah, Ivo over there did give her a little knock on the ole noggin—a love tap, really—but the eye was already like that when we found her.” 

“I wasn’t asking you,” Randall said, glaring at Buggy. 

“Shut up,” Ivo said, pressing the knife close enough to Randall’s throat that it broke skin. 

“No, no, let him go,” Buggy ordered casually, waving his hand. “He’s not gonna do anything stupid.” He threw an arm around your shoulder. “Not when I’ve got her.” 

Ivo reluctantly complied, releasing Randall. He watched you intently, and you knew what he was thinking. How could he save you?  

“Ivo over there thinks that the two of you are working together,” Buggy told you, smiling. His arm was heavy around your shoulders, oppressively so. “He thinks that we should kill you both.” 

“I’m not—I wouldn’t,” you told him. 

“And see, I wanna believe you. I really do. But he’s not talking, and,” Buggy ran his finger over your right cheek, reminding you of his threat from yesterday, “I’m starting to worry you’ve been lying to me.”

“I’m not,” you said, ice cold dread dripping into your veins a drop at a time. You fought your discomfort and forced yourself to meet his eyes, hoping he could see your sincerity. “I promise I’m not.” 

“Then how did he find this place?” 

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“She used to hide here when we were kids,” Randall answered. “I thought she ran away, not that you freaks had kidnapped her. If I had known I’d find pirates here, I would have come armed.”

“Is that true?” Buggy asked you, pulling you even closer. Close enough to be embarrassing, to give the wrong impression, especially when he was stroking your cheek with a sort of affection that didn’t mesh with the danger in his blue eyes.

“I told you it is. Let her go, clown!” Randall shouted. His voice was loud enough to echo, and harsh enough to make you wince. That sort of rage wasn’t one you expected from him, but it was familiar all the same. 

“Oh, wow,” Buggy said with a laugh, looking up at him. “Is that jealousy I hear? She didn’t tell me she was leaving behind a boyfriend.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said softly, your insides twisting at the thought. 

“Really?” Buggy asked. He shrugged, and looked at Randall. “If you’re not doing this because you want to have sex with her, why are you here?” 

“I am a dear friend—both to her and her dad,” Randall answered. “He asked me to look after her because she… She’s not in a sound state of mind. And she’s the only family he has left. Without her, he’ll have nothing.” He grit his teeth. “Take me, kill me if you’re that thirsty for blood, but let her go. Please.”

“You’re a real knight in shining armor. Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but she came here all on her own,” Buggy said, releasing you to approach him instead. “She begged to join my crew, got down on her knees and told me that she would be happy to serve me for the rest of her life. It was the most adorable thing.”

“No,” Randall said, his face twisting with disgust. “You’re lying. She wouldn’t do that.”

“Ask her yourself,” Buggy invited, stepping aside and sweeping out his arm. All eyes landed on you like a spotlight. Blood rushed in your ears, and you felt dizzy with it, ready to pass out on the spot. When you looked at Buggy, he smiled and nodded encouragingly. 

“It’s true,” you said.

“No. That is impossible,” Randall said. “This is insane. You are mad, you cannot make decisions like this for yourself.” You stared at his feet, your hands balled into fists. You were not crazy. You were not. That had to be true. “Whatever hysterics brought you here, give it up. These are pirates.”

“I’m a pirate too,” you declared, your hands forming fists at your sides. You weren’t crazy, or mad. You were thinking very clearly, more than you had in a while. 

“No, you are your father’s daughter,” Randall insisted, loud enough to make you flinch. “Can you imagine the agony he would feel hearing you say that?”

Your breathing was too fast, rapid enough to make your head spin. You kept shaking your head, tears flying off of your cheek, but you couldn’t recall when you had begun to cry. “I don’t care.” 

“Don’t care…? This bastard has already gotten into your head,” Randall said. “He has poisoned your broken mind with his lies and manipulations, please don’t let this go any further.”

You shook your head again, but there was nothing you could think of to say. You didn’t want to talk anymore, you just wanted this to be over. 

“Believe me, as much as I would love to claim otherwise, I had nothing to do with this,” Buggy said, raising his hands innocently. “You’ve got no one to blame but yourself. Think about what would drive a girl like this into the arms of a pirate. A broken heart, maybe? Was that your doing, lover boy? Did you break her heart? Make her feel like she wasn’t good enough?” 

“Keep your big goddamned nose out of our business, clown,” Randall said. 

The other pirates audibly gasped, and you could feel the sudden zap of tension in the air. Buggy’s taunting smile froze in place, his posture icing over like a statue. And then, a second later, he was rushing at Randall, burying his fist in the other man’s stomach. Randall crumpled onto his knees with a heavy grunt and you waited for something else, something worse. Crina said that Buggy had killed over jokes about his nose, and, right then, you believed it.

Nothing happened. You watched, frozen, as Buggy breathed in deeply, his shoulders rising and falling with it, and then he raised a hand.  

“New girl,” he called, snapping to beckon you closer. You obliged, rushing to his side. He didn’t look angry, not like you feared he would. Instead, he smiled. It was a mean smile, a frightening one. But a smile all the same. “Are you ready for your big moment?”   

“What?” 

“Your audition! I thought of the perfect act for you. Kill him.” 

You looked down at Randall, he was clearly still in pain, his eyes watering as he looked up at you. “I can’t,” you whispered, shaking your head again.  

“You can and will. Assuming you want to remain on my crew. Otherwise I’ll kill him and you’ll have to explain to daddy why prince charming was here in the first place.” He held out his hand towards Ivo. “Knife.” When he got it, Buggy flipped the knife handle first, holding it to you with a flourish. “You’re up, babydoll.”

“She won’t do it, clown,” Randall said through grit teeth. 

“Of course she will,” Buggy said. “For me.” 

As if moving through the dusky haze of a dream, you took the knife, wrapping your sweaty hand around the grip. The way Buggy smiled in response made your heart flutter, something to cling to amidst the horror and disgust. It didn’t feel real anymore. How could it be real? 

“I don’t know what to do.” Were those your words? Your voice?

Buggy laughed. “Of course you don’t,” he said, circling behind Randall. “C’mere, I’ll help you.” 

Randall was shouting and pleading, but Buggy had grabbed a fistfull of his hair to keep him from escaping. 

“You’ve gotta hold him still,” Buggy told you. “Like this, see?”  

“-don’t do this, please. You can’t… I love you!” 

You got a fistful of Randall’s hair, making him cry out in pain. There was no pleasure in the sound, only a roiling sense of disgust. It would be better when he was dead, and then he wouldn’t be in pain. 

“God you’re short,” Buggy said as he adjusted you into place, right between him and Randall. “You’ll be better off going for their ankles.” He wrapped his hand around yours, getting a good grip on the knife and holding it still. 

“-when he gets bored of fucking you. That’s all pirates do, rape and murder. You’ll never be one of them, you’ll just-”

“Start on one side and move to the other, easy as that,” Buggy said comfortingly, resting his chin against the side of your head. 

“-he doesn’t kill you, your dad will. Do you really think you’ll ever be able to hide from him?” 

Moving slowly, through a dream, you put the knife on the left side of Randall’s neck. It was no different from what a butcher did, really. 

Breath in. Pull. You instinctively locked up at the sound of Randall’s screams and the resistance of his flesh, but Buggy forced your hand, pulling the blade deep into his neck and then fast to the side. The knife got caught part way through, stuck in something hard. You tried to saw through it and Randall made an inhuman noise of agony. Buggy had to help you unstick it, to follow through until the knife slashed that horrifying scream short and then there was just a sort of gurgling sound and you didn’t know if it was because he was still alive or if it was an automatic process. 

There was so much blood, and it was hot, burning you. For some reason, you hadn’t anticipated the messy scarlet spray. From the deep slice came more blood. More, and more still. Randall’s heavy, limp body dropped onto the floor into a puddle of it, although you weren’t sure when you let go of his hair. Buggy released your hand, but you didn’t drop the knife, holding it in a death grip as blood streamed like red veins down your hand and wrist, down the blade and all the way to its tip before dripping to the dirty floor. The tang of iron filled your lungs. You shook all over, all the way down inside, your bones and organs shivering. It was your heart. It pounded frantically, like butterfly wings. And your breathing. Wheezing, gasping, gurgling like Randall’s had before he fell.

Your mouth opened to exhale, but there was nothing there. No air, no words. Nothing. Your cold gaze turned to look at Buggy, confused as to what you were supposed to do next. He had led you this far, but now you were lost. He smiled, and laughed, and took the knife away from you, tossing it to the side where it clanged and slid away. 

And then he folded you into his arms, your head pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was firm and steady, and he was so warm. He smelled of gunpowder and salty sea air and greasepaint and the natural warm scent of his skin. You clung to that, breathing in deep to excise the scent of blood. 

“Congratulations, babydoll,” Buggy told you. “Looks like you just got the part.” 

The first firecracker went off not long after the sun had gone down, kicking off the surprise party with an especially loud zip and then a bang and a bursting sizzle. “It’s a surprise party,” Buggy told you, his face illuminated by the flash of red. “As in, the people who live here are going to be so surprised by the party I’m throwing for my crew. Get it?” 

A chain of firecrackers followed the first, a show that the pirates set off amidst a barrage of explosions, lighting up the sky with brilliant colors and smoke, making the earth tremble beneath your feet. They acted as distraction and lure, drawing people further into the town and inviting the ship that had been lurking nearby to enter the harbor. 

And after that came the chaos. 

Many things happened that you were aware of, if only passively. Leaving the northside and then Barley Village, waiting at the dock, and then boarding the ship as men and women in colorful attire flooded the yard, overtaking the few armed guards. You were told to sit on the deck and wait, so you did. Aware of it all—noxious sulfur and smoke filling the air, thunderous claps of explosives, popping gunshots, screaming voices, roaring fires—but uninvolved. There was a sense of great quiet. Not outside where things were loud and violent and scary, but inside. You were very quiet on the inside. Far away from everything and everyone else. 

Blood flaked off of your skin, caking beneath the nails when you scratched your arm. It would have been nice to wash it off, but you didn’t know where you would go for that, and you didn’t want to get up.

“Yoo-hoo, is anybody in there?” 

A gloved hand waved in front of your face. 

You let out a hoarse scream, nearly tipping backwards from how violently you startled. It didn’t take long for you to realize how overblown the reaction was, Buggy’s laughter made the point quite clearly. 

“What was that?” he asked, almost laughing too hard to get the words out. He stood above you without his coat and hat, although he kept the striped headscarf, and a bottle tucked under his arm. 

“You scared me,” you told him, a hand on your racing heart.

“That noise you just made though,” he said, still laughing. “It sounded like one of those scream-y fireworks.”

“I didn’t know you were there.”

“Your fault, not mine. I was trying to talk to you, but you just sat there. I thought it was your eye that didn’t work, not your ears.”

“I guess I… zoned out a little.” 

“No shit. Ah, that was good,” Buggy said as his laughter subsided. “I had no idea human beings could even make sounds like that.” Letting out a big breath to settle himself, he sat down next to you. Very close, far closer than you would have, almost touching. “Kinda makes me wonder what other kinds of sounds you can make.” 

“I know, it’s annoying,” you said, staring hard at the deck. “I’m sorry.” 

Buggy laughed at that too, shaking his head. “You really have no clue, do you?” he asked. “Is it weird that I’m into it?” 

“Into what?” you asked. “I’m sorry, I… don’t understand.” 

“I know you don’t, and that’s okay,” he said with a mocking sort of indulgence, patting your head. “Anyway, I had a little business in town and snagged this from some rich guy’s house.” He held up a bottle by the neck and swished its contents a little for effect. “We’re going to celebrate.” 

“Wouldn’t you rather be out there?” you asked, the first coherent question that came to your mind as it scrambled to make sense of what he had just said. 

“Between you and me, this,” Buggy said with a confidential hush, gesturing to your burning town, “isn’t my thing. It’s a reward for my freaks, gives ‘em an outlet to express themselves artistically. I prefer a more… performative platform. True art deserves a spotlight and an audience.” He waved that away, smiling. “But this isn’t about me, it’s about you.” 

“Me?”

“You really impressed me earlier. I mean, yeah, your technique needs polish, and you’ve got no stage presence to speak of, but you displayed raw talent. I really think you have a shot at success, sweetheart. Stick with me, and I’ll make something out of you yet.” 

“Thank you,” you said softly, shying away from thinking about earlier. The praise though, that was heady. That made you feel warm. 

Buggy popped the cork off the bottle, taking a drink straight from it and smacking his lips appreciatively. “You like sweet things, right?” 

“I-” 

“You’ll love this then. Here, try it.” 

You eyed the bottle he was proffering to you warily. Alcohol was something you were familiar with, but you could count on your fingers the number of times you had actually tasted it. “I don’t know…” you said, trying to think of ways to reject drinking without seeming ungrateful.   

“You’re a pirate now, so you’ve gotta learn to drink like one,” Buggy told you, pushing it into your hand. “What’s the worst that could happen?” 

You sniffed the open lip, surprised by the sweetness. It didn’t smell as strongly of alcohol as you feared. Not like what your father drank. Maybe it would be okay. Trying to avoid embarrassing yourself, you tipped the bottle back just like he had. That was a mistake. It didn’t smell like alcohol, but you could taste it—feel it, even. Panicked by your body’s natural response to expel it, you swallowed as much as you could, coughing out the rest. Red liquid drooled down your chin, staining the dress that was already ruined with dried blood. Buggy laughed. A little at first, and then a lot. 

Flushing, you wiped your mouth.

“Oh, don’t be like that. That was hilarious,” Buggy told you. You looked away, even more embarrassed. “Your face was priceless. You threw that back with the confidence of a real fire-hazard, saggy skinned, dead eyed alcoholic. You were so serious about it too, and then… Good lord.”

“I didn’t know!” you said, trying and failing not to sound shrill. 

“It’s okay, you’ve got me to help you now. Try it again, but don’t be so greedy. Baby sips.” 

“No, thank you,” you said, holding the bottle back to him. 

“Drink. That’s an order,” he said, pushing it back to you. 

That gave you pause. “Do you mean that?” you asked. 

He nodded, urging you on. 

Your shoulders drooped in defeat. Trepidatiously, you took a small sip. At least you didn’t hack it back up this time. While the taste was sweet, the burn was not. It rose up like smoke into your head, you could feel it.  

“What if I get drunk?” you asked. 

“Oh, you’re going to get drunk, captain’s orders,” Buggy said with a grin. “I can’t stand watching you sit around moping about killing that guy. Besides, you’re a pirate now.”

The little ball of anxiety deep in your gut doubled. This was wrong, you knew it was. Or maybe you were wrong, and Buggy was right. You didn’t know. 

“I don’t want to embarrass myself,” you muttered.

“As long as you don’t jump into the water or shit yourself, you’ll be fine…” You looked at him, horrified. “Joking! C’mon, I’ve taken good care of you so far, haven’t I? You’ll be fine.”

The way he laughed made you want to believe him. He was your captain now. You nodded seriously and, steeling yourself, took another drink. And another. 

“See? It’s good, right?” Buggy asked, holding out his hand for the bottle. 

You licked your lips, cleaning up the lingering sweetness. “It is. Thank you,” you said, unable to keep yourself from admiring the way his throat worked as he swallowed, the view unfortunately obscured by his cravat. 

The perverse thought took you by surprise. Was it the alcohol? Already, your head was spinning, your thoughts a little more disorganized. It wasn’t like the quiet, empty feeling of before. It was warm and distant, it made your shoulders relax, the anxiety and uncertainty of before fading. This was a good idea, you already felt so much better. When he passed the bottle back, you didn’t have to be prompted to imbibe, chasing that feeling.   

“I don’t mean to pry, but when that guy back there mentioned your dad, it really seemed to get to you,” Buggy said. “What, did daddy not love you? Or maybe he loved you a little too much.”

You didn’t want to talk about that. You didn’t want to think about it. You took another big drink. 

On the horizon, the town was utterly ablaze. As the night grew darker, the flames rose higher. Which building was burning so brightly? It belched thick, black smoke into the night sky. Who was in it? Anybody you knew?

“Don’t wanna talk about it, hm? That’s fine,” Buggy said, stealing the bottle back. “With any luck, my freaks’ll kill him tonight, eh? Then you’ll really be free.” 

“He’s gone right now,” you said, your words soft and slurring together. “Out of town.” What would he think of the smoldering ashes? Would he believe you had perished in the flame? Somehow, you doubted that. He would know what you had done. There was no chance of freedom, not for you. 

“That’s even better,” Buggy said.  

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to him, both in confusion and disbelief. “How?” 

“Because, babydoll,” Buggy told you, shaking your shoulder to make sure you were paying attention. “It’s good to have somebody to hate—somebody to prove wrong. He tried to convince you that you’re crazy, he tried to keep you from ever being yourself. That pain and anger made you weak. But you’re not weak anymore. Tonight, I showed you how to be strong. It’s not enough to tell those assholes that they’re wrong, you have to prove it to them. That’s what tonight was about, right? You proved to your dad, to everybody, that you’re stronger than they thought. And, hey, you proved it to me, too. I wasn’t sure about you at first, but I changed my mind.” He threw an arm around you, pulling you close. “I like you, kiddo. A lot.” 

“I like you too,” you said, relaxing into the little side hug, very aware of every place his bare arm met your bare shoulders and neck. The alcohol had stoked a nice blaze in your stomach and chest, making your head spin in a way you didn’t mind that much. Smoothing the colors, softening the air, making you want to lean into his touch, made you crave more of it. 

Buggy pulled away, leaving the bottle in your hands. You felt a little cold without him.  

“You know,” he said, smiling at you. The far off flames glinted mischievously in his eyes. The flaring reds and oranges highlighted his cheekbones too, defined the sharpness of his jaw. You were caught off guard by how viscerally you reacted to the thought that he was handsome, your filterless mind caught in an endless loop of focusing on the fact. “Burning down this shithole is nothing compared to what I will do. The towns I’ll raze to the ground, the treasure I’ll steal, the shows I’ll put on. Now that I’ve got a crew, I’m gonna put on a show like nobody’s ever seen. The biggest, flashiest, greatest show ever. Everybody will be screaming my name, recognize my face. I’ll shine so bright that they’ll have no choice but to love me. ” 

Buggy’s intensity made you smile, you couldn’t help it. Alcohol had created a cloudy burst of affection within you, or maybe it was just the floodgates of tension finally collapsing, letting out something that would have otherwise been smothered. Either way, it was as intoxicating as the drink itself. 

“Are you laughing at me?” Buggy asked, his tone filled with steel. You looked to see his dark expression, his narrowed eyes. 

“I’m not,” you said, confused by his rapid shift in demeanor. “I’m… I’m happy. I’ll do anything to help you.” 

He relaxed. “Well, you’d better start working on your act.” 

That made you laugh, a dizzy, bubbly sound. “I can’t do an act. I wouldn’t know what to do.” 

“There has to be something. Let me think… Can you sing?”

“I used to, a little. But not for a really long time.” 

“Come on, let me hear it.”

You were drunk, you knew that for a fact because in no state of sobriety would you offer to sing in front of another person. But, right then, bubbling with alcohol and protected by the darkness of the smoky night sky, you felt invincible. 

“Oh, what do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning? Slash his…um… something, something, captain’s daughter. Toss him in… to… the dirty water…” Whatever coherence you held onto unraveled into a fit of drunken laughter at the awful rhyme. “I’m sorry, I think… I think I forgot some of the words.”  

“Seems like you forgot the tune too,” Buggy said, wincing dramatically. All that did was make you laugh harder. “Hold on a second, let me wipe the blood out of my ears.” 

You swatted his shoulder, although your attempted indignance probably wasn’t very convincing when you were still smiling. “Don’t be mean!”

“That’s a bold way to treat your captain,” he told you, but he was smiling too. 

“Please don’t be mean to me, Captain Buggy,” you said, speaking slowly to emphasize how serious you were. 

“Beg me again.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

“Nothing,” he said, waving it off in a way that made you think he was making fun of you. “Anyway, I’m being nice right now, especially after that performance. The critics would eat you alive for that one. So, singing is out. Clearly. What else have you got?”

“Oh! I know a, um, a rhyme. A joke.” 

He looked at you skeptically. “Really?” 

“What is that s’posed to mean?” you asked.

“You don’t strike me as somebody with… How should I put this… A sense of humor?” 

You frowned. 

“Alright, alright, quit pouting and tell me,” Buggy said impatiently, waving you to continue. 

You cleared your throat very theatrically, sitting up as straight as you could manage. 

“There was a young lass who thought

Very little but thought it a lot.

Then at long last she knew

What she wanted to do,

But before she could start, she forgot.”

Deflating, you laughed, surprised at how clearly you had delivered the words. Especially considering how long it had been since you heard them. 

Buggy didn’t look nearly as impressed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a clean limerick before,” he said. “And now I know why. I mean, what’s the point of limerick without the ick.”

You blew a raspberry at him. “Fine, you do one.”

“Okay, but you have to prepare yourself,” Buggy said. You nodded encouragingly.

“There was a young plumber named Lee

Who was plumbing his girl by the sea.

She said, ‘Stop your plumbing,

There's somebody coming’

Said the plumber, still plumbing, ‘It's me.’"

Belatedly, you gasped, your hands covering your mouth. That shock dissolved into giggles. “That’s, oh, that’s… that’s dirty.”

“Aw, was it too much for your delicate sensibilities? Now that you’re a pirate, you’re gonna hear a lot worse than that. A looooooooot worse. I hope your unspoiled ears can handle it.”  

“I can!” you insisted, taking a big drink to steel yourself before setting the bottle aside. If you were going to be a pirate, you had to stop getting so flustered. “More. Please.” 

“Okay, okay…” Buggy cleared his throat. “A hooker roaming the East Blue, 

Once filled her vagina with glue, 

She said, with a grin, ‘Well, they paid to get in, 

And they’ll damn sure pay to get out, too.’”

You laughed loudly, as much at the joke as the taboo nature of it. You laughed, and then giggled in a bubbly, drunken way that you knew was too loud and embarrassing. “That is icky,” you told him. “Jeez, that’s…” Your faux seriousness dissolved into a fit of giggles again and you leaned against him for stability. “What would you even do?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know. It sounds like a sticky situation,” he said, nudging you with his elbow. That, of course, sent you into another fit of giggles. 

“I’m sorry, I’m…” you said. “I think I’m drunk.” You looked behind yourself at the town, the glittery haze of joy buzzing in your head fading at the sight. It was horrific, wasn’t it? And here you were, laughing like a fool. You couldn’t really comprehend the magnitude of it all, even if you could acknowledge that it was terrible. “Is it okay?” you asked, looking back at him imploringly. “Everything that happened tonight… I thought I would feel very different after, but I don’t. It almost feels like it’s not even real. You ever get that? When things happen but they feel so impossible that you get confused?”

“If you can think that clearly,” Buggy said, “then you’re not drunk enough. Bottoms up, babydoll.” You smiled at his use of the pet name and the fluttery feeling it gave you. What else could you do but oblige, tipping the bottle back like before. Only, unlike before, you kept it all down. There wasn’t any real burn, just more sweetness, more warmth. 

And then there was nothing left. 

“Woah,” you said, lowering the empty bottle and wiping your mouth. “‘s all gone.”

“And how do you feel?” he asked. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a dizzy sort of laugh. “I dunno…” you said, closing your eye, trying to collect your thoughts. “I’m…” Already things were getting even more fuzzy and foggy. Fabric stuck to your flushed skin, the salty air drying across your chest and cheeks. “I feel… very…”

Making an upset noise in the back of your throat, you pushed your hair back, catching the bandana and pulling it off so you could feel the breeze on your whole face. That helped. Drawing in a deep breath, you looked at him, trying to focus. Only, the second you saw him, all you could do was smile. His eyes were greedy about the light, sparkling with it. Even with the nose, Buggy was handsome. That was not something you could tell him though, not at all ever. Unfortunately you had forgotten what you were saying in the first place. 

“Very… what?” Buggy asked. “‘Cause if you keep trying to be a buzzkill, I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

Were you a buzzkill? You couldn’t remember what you had said or done to earn that title. It was hard enough to comprehend what was happening in the moment. “Like what?” you asked.

“Like… this!” Buggy said, using the sash around your waist to pull you closer so he could tickle your sides. You jumped and squealed, the bottle rolling out of your hands as you tried to fight him off. 

“No no no, don’t,” you cried, trying to escape. You were being too loud, moving too much, acting like an idiot, but you didn’t have enough control to stop. 

“Why not?” he asked. “You’re laughing, aren’t you?” 

It was true, you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, letting it out in panicked little bursts. Time had a bizarre elasticity to it, everything hitting you at once and fading just as fast. Laughing, sobbing, begging him to stop. It was easy to catch and hold onto one of his hands, but that left the other one free. And if you tried to catch that one instead, you had to release the first. There must have been a better way to do it, but you felt as if, bit by bit, particle by particle, the world was separating, the hot and humid air splitting, your limbs becoming loose, your capacity for rational thought dissipating like mist. 

Lacking any sort of control and with a completely undeserved sense of invulnerability, you tackled him. Buggy let it happen, still laughing. At least he had stopped. 

“God, it’s like being attacked by a drunk, one-eyed toddler,” he said. “What are you gonna do, whine me into submission?” 

“Don’t be mean,” you said seriously, your words ruined by something wavering between a laugh and a sob, or maybe it was just the drunken slur. 

“You attacked me. If anything, I'm the victim here.” 

“No! You started it!” 

“Hold on, are you… crying?” Buggy asked incredulously. “Aw, you poor thing. I mean, you were laughing so much, how could I have known you didn’t like it?” 

“I don’t!” you insisted. 

“To be clear,” he said. “You don’t like this?” He attacked your sides, not tickling so much as just teasing, but to the same effect. You yelped and sat up squirm away, swatting at his hands. 

Rather than laugh like before, Buggy groaned, his hips bucking up against you. A loud, harsh gasp left your mouth, your entire body going rigid from the liquid heat of friction, your thighs squeezing around him. At some point, your skirt had ridden up, your panties being the only barrier left. You didn’t think you had ever been as acutely aware of how achingly empty, electrically tingly, as you were right then. 

Bad. Very bad.

“Oh, there’s another fun noise,” Buggy said, laughing as he propped himself upright with his arms. “I can’t believe that got you.” 

“No,” you said quickly, dizzy from the intensity of your reaction and how close the two of you were. You could smell him, the sweat, the musk, the salt, the greasepaint, the gunpowder. You could see the glitter in his makeup, the fire catching in his eyes. “It jus’... surprised me.” 

“Is that why you’re shaking?” Buggy asked, rubbing your exposed thigh, the fabric of his glove catching the sensitive skin. 

“I’m… um…” Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to organize the drunken slush of your brain. Being so close to him, feeling his body against yours, sent deviously tantalizing tingling sparks through you. And guilt. It was wrong, he wasn’t doing anything to invite those feelings, you were just being weird and drunk and embarrassing and you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. You’d have to tilt your head a lot, although the stubble would be more hazardous than his nose. The last time you kissed someone, you were both young enough that you didn’t have to navigate facial hair. And then there was the matter of the makeup. You tried to imagine what you might look like after, the slash of red and imprint of white. Maybe they’d mix into pink. You tried to force yourself to focus on something else, but you couldn’t meet his eyes either. Nervous and confused and filled with a million different feelings you had no name for, you squirmed again, thoughtlessly adding to the anxious feedback loop of heat and need and intoxicated emptiness. 

“You know, sweetheart, this reminds me,” Buggy said, “there’s still the matter of your physical. It’s standard procedure for new crew. We could get that over and done with while you’re… lubricated.”

“What’re you… talking about?”  

“I’ve gotta make sure you’re fit, healthy… Clean of anything you could pass on to the forty or so people you’re gonna be stuck with in an enclosed space for weeks at a time.”

“How d’you do that?” 

“You’ve been to a doctor, right? It’s kinda like that. I know it can feel a little invasive, so it might be better to do it while you’re drunk.”

“What…” you started to ask, but then Buggy shifted, his hips pushing up against you. The fresh wash of warmth it sent into your core scattered your mind, and you lost the already tenuous thread of thought. Your eyelashes fluttered, although you weren’t sure when you had closed your eye. “Umm…”

“Well, first,” he said, answering the question you hadn’t asked, “you’d have to take off your clothes. Then relax while I have a little look-see. It’s important that you stay as still as possible. I’ll have a hard time finishing if you can’t stop squirming around the whole time.” 

“Do you really have to?” you asked, your brow furrowing. It sounded embarrassing. But maybe if it was him, you didn’t mind? Your dad did all of your past medical check-ups so it wasn’t inherently wrong. But the thought of Buggy seeing you without clothes wasn’t exactly nice, you could only imagine his disgust. That was bad. 

“Depends on if you’re serious about being a pirate or not,” Buggy said.   

“I am serious!” you exclaimed. Your hands went to the sash around your waist to pull the bow free. If you did it quickly, you wouldn’t be as embarrassed. 

“Woah, wait. Holy shit,” Buggy said, “are you seriously—” He cracked up laughing, making you freeze. “I didn’t think you’d actually fall for that.”

“You’re… laughing,” you said, your fingers falling with the slow sink of humiliation. 

“You really were going to strip for me, out in the open and everything.” Buggy laughed harder, rocking forward. “I didn’t expect you to be so eager. Hey, if you really wanna get naked, I’m not going to stop you.” 

“I don’t, I just… I thought…” you said, pulling away from him and trying to get onto your feet to get away, embarrassment lighting the worst sort of fire within you.  

“Woah, calm down, it was just a joke,” Buggy said, his laughter fading. “You’re absolutely plastered, if you stand up, you’re gonna fall right back down.” You didn’t stop, resolute to get onto your feet and put some distance between you and him. “I won’t catch you.” 

“’m fine,” you told him. 

You finally got your footing and braced against your knee to lurch upright. For a second, you were standing up and weightless. And then you were nothing.

[amourtoken]

inhuman Vessel below the cut lol this was spontaneous so forgive any error

Also tw for dubcon/nc at first but it's monsterfucking so that's why

ALSO it's long so pls forgive that as well I got carried away.

thinking abt inhuman Vessel who's been lurking around your house for decades, he didn't really take interest until you moved in.

It's a beautiful home but the massive expanse of forest behind your house is what really sold you. Unfortunately, you didn't know about the history of the town you'd moved into and especially weren't aware of the stories surrounding your house. Oh well.

You swear you keep seeing things out of the corner of your eye whenever you're outdoors. It's worse at night. It keeps getting closer. You must be seeing things, hearing things. There's nothing out there, right?

You start noticing little things closer and closer to your house as well. Your backyard fence gate was broken. Your doors had some scratches around the handles. The kitchen window was cracked? It's pretty high off the ground...how did that happen? You couldn't help but feel nervous. Maybe it was just a coincidence, maybe this was all there before and you didn't notice. You hope so.

Surely the creaking couldn't be footsteps, you live in an old house and it makes noise, just go back to sleep. God, please be asleep by the time it gets to you.

You could rationalize everything until your bedroom door opens, the room is freezing, maybe this is just a terrible dream though. Not that you'd dare to open your eyes anyway. Your heart genuinely ached from pounding against your ribs so hard. Is this really how you were gonna go out?

Vessel knew you were awake, he could hear your pulse racing and it was upsetting. He knows he's scary but he's genuinely just curious. It's been well over a hundred years since he's made contact with a person, the last people who lived here weren't his taste so he stayed back in the woods like usual. When he saw you for the first time, he couldn't help himself, he had to get to know you. He looked almost human, maybe you'd grow to enjoy him?

Vessel had to lean over a bit to avoid the ceiling in your bedroom, he was about 8 ft tall. His limbs were a little too long and his joints were a bit loose. Every movement made an unfortunately sickening crackling sound if he wasn't careful about it. His mask only covered half his face but if you looked close enough, you'd see that his mouth could open a little too wide to be human. 6 eyes all focused directly on you in bed, it was becoming harder to pretend you were asleep.

Vessel really wanted this to go differently, but was there really a chance you'd open your eyes and not be terrified? No. So ultimately, he has to just dive in.

You were already petrified, so when a massive hand drug you by your ankle to the end of the bed that's all it took for the tears to really start flowing. He felt bad, again, but couldn't hold himself back. He'll make it up to you if you just let him in, he really doesn't want to hurt you, he just needs a taste. He hasn't felt a person before, not like this. Not without violence. Here's his chance.

you felt so soft against him, he was trying to make himself seem smaller but that was difficult, when he spreads out he knocks things off your nightstand and walls. He'd help you clean up if you'll let him. That's a thought for later though. His breath felt cold against your skin, two giant hands holding your thighs open after dragging your shorts off. Is this really happening? This has to be a dream, there's no way.

You were so pretty to him, he wanted to know what made you feel good but he supposed he'd learn as he went. He was worried he was gonna hurt you in the process since he's so much bigger and stronger than you are, humans have a tendency to be easy to pull apart. He was handling you like you were the most fragile creature alive and even that felt rough. You were shaking like a leaf and yelped when you felt a giant tentacle like tongue slicking across your thighs and brushing against your pussy in a very uncoordinated fashion. (Forgive him he isn't familiar with human anatomy)

you were so fucking sweet, he wondered if all people tasted like this. His hands held your legs open further, he figured he'd found where he wanted to be. All 6 eyes were still focusing on your face, you looked miserable but please just try to enjoy yourself? Realize he's not gonna hurt you. He wishes he could tell you but unfortunately he's not really built for speech. His tongue was several feet long, getting thinner towards the tip and thicker closer to his mouth which if your eyes were open you'd notice was unhinged similar to a snake. He had multiple rows of teeth but had the fortunate ability to hide those unless he needed to use them.

You felt so fucking full, his tongue coiled around itself inside of you, no part of you untouched. He was writhing his tongue like he was trying to map you from the inside out (which he can't lie he was), the base of his tongue pressing against your clit when he moved closer. You couldn't help but whine a little, your voice breaking. It's terrifying but still feels good. God the sounds you make had him dizzy, he needed more. He lifted your hips off the bed a bit to get a better angle, a deep groaning sound reverberating from his chest when you clenched around his tongue.

He really didn't know how pleasure worked for you, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself. Your heart was still racing and your body felt hot, the longer he fucked his tongue into you the tighter you felt around it. His nails sank into your thighs when you finally came, back arching while you whimpered and covered your face with your hands. He withdrew his tongue and sat back on his heels. He had to make you do that again, he had to see it. Pretty much all resolve he had left dissipated after you came, you smelled so fucking good he really couldn't stop himself if he tried.

Vessel held you by your hips, nails pressing dangerously hard into the soft skin. He was still trying not to hurt you but his head was swimming with thoughts of you coming undone around him. He leaned over you, your legs really had to stretch to fit around his hips but you managed. You could feel him breathing hard against your neck long tongue laving against your skin while his length pressed at your slit. It felt like there was no way in hell he'd ever manage to fit inside you yet he did in a single thrust.

He pulled back pretty quickly at the pained sound you made, he didn't mean to hurt you what did he do wrong? He started to draw his hips back but the way you gripped him he really couldn't stop. He wished he could apologize for any pain but hopefully you understood. He braced himself with his hands on either side of your head, hips rocking back into yours and he quickly realized he in fact didn't fit entirely inside of you. There was still a good 4-5 inches that he just couldn't work into you. At this point he didn't mind, how you felt around the rest of him when he pressed against your cervix was good enough.

he set a pretty violent rhythm, chasing pleasure and those pretty sounds you were making. Your entire body bounced with every thrust, you reached up and held one of his arms to steady yourself. He felt that swarming butterfly sensation in his chest, you touched him on your own free will, maybe you wouldn't hate him after all of this? You still didn't open your eyes, but maybe you'd get there eventually.

Vessel was panting at this point, you felt so fucking good around him, you were sure you'd be bruised from the inside out tomorrow. He couldn't help but notice the large bulge in your lower stomach every time he fucked himself into you. He was so lost in this moment he didn't notice you were so close, his breath caught in his throat when you came around him, pretty sobs and moans leaving your lips while you pulsed around him. His legs nearly gave out entirely, fuck.

Your end made him pick his pace up, one hand holding your hip to steady you while he abused your poor pussy. You were dripping around him and making a huge mess of the sheets below you but at this point your brain was so clouded you didn't mind. You'd had your eyes closed this entire time until he sank into you painfully deep and growled harshly as he came inside you. He was twitching profusely above you, and the bulge in your belly only got worse when he filled you up. The insane amount of excess dripped onto the sheets to add to the mess that had already formed below you and Vessel pulled out, making more gush from inside you.

Your eyes met 6 of his finally while he was perched on the floor at the end of your bed, panting to catch his breath. He was intimidating but not as scary as you thought he'd be. Plus he did just fuck you better than anyone in your entire life so how bad can he be??

Unfortunately you didn't get a chance to share any words (not that he could speak anyway) before he slipped out of your room and disappeared. You still wondered if this was a dream, everything happening so suddenly. Lucky for you, he'd planned to return already. He couldn't leave his sweet little human alone for long now that he's had a taste.

(also kinda pulled from these pics I found on Pinterest as the vibe but interpret it however you'd like. These are just like the *image* but they're not exact by any means ofc just the energy I'm going for. He's kinda an amorphous forest creature who can change shape to a degree.)

[lexithwrites]

lexith writes | @jegulus-microfic | 2nd feb - cheat 579 words

Regulus was numb. He didn’t think he could ever feel this bad, but he did. He felt everything. His stomach had dropped in the cafe when he told him, and he felt the need to vomit from that moment until now. He hadn’t, thankfully, but that sickening pool in his stomach hadn’t gone away. The thing was, Regulus was technically ‘the other man’ in the scenario and that somehow made it ten times worse.

He had been used to hurt someone else. He helped him cheat.

Regulus truly had no idea his boyfriend of almost a year had been using him in that way, he had seemed so perfect. Right from the start, bringing him flowers, taking him out to lavish restaurants, late night drives and staying over each other’s apartments. It had all been perfect. Guess nothing is perfect, though.

Regulus sniffled and wiped his eyes as he curled further under the blanket on his sofa, ice cream slowly melting on the floor next to him. He felt so disgusting. The poor woman…did she hate him too? Probably. At least he’d never see her. Hopefully.

Tate had been an American exchange student at their university and everyone had been enthralled with him the moment he showed up to class. Regulus especially. Tall, tanned, handsome, bright green eyes, funny, intelligent. He was just everything he had been looking for in a guy. And he had seemed so special to be picked by him.

But no, he had a fiance back home who he’d been with for nine years. Not only that, but she was pregnant. Fucking asshole.

Regulus swallowed at the memory of Tate telling him a month ago he was going home early to deal with ‘a family emergency’ and Regulus thought he had been distraught then. Nowhere near how he felt now. In reality, he had to go home for his wedding. His fucking wedding. Regulus had never felt so stupid in his life.

He jumped when he suddenly heard the front door and he hid himself under the blanket as James wandered down the hall. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, even if James was the nicest person he knew.

“Hey! I was thinking we could order—…Reggie?” James sounded so concerned. If only he knew.

“Not now, James.” He mumbled, but James didn’t seem to hear him because he came to crouch by the sofa and touch his shoulder. Regulus relaxed a little at that. He was always relaxed around James.

“What happened?”

“Tate…he, he left.” Regulus slowly poked his head out and came face to face with his roommate.

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” James genuinely did look very sorry for him. God.

“He was using me.” Regulus sniffled again. “He…back in America. He has a fiance. A fiance, James. Fucking imagine—” Regulus hiccuped out a sob and James’ mouth opened in shock. “I’m sorry.”

“No, god, don��t be sorry. Can I hug you?” It only made Regulus cry harder as he felt James curl around him, holding him so delicately. Regulus cried into James’ chest for almost an hour. He just let it all out, let everything he had been holding inside since that morning into the air. He hated Tate, he hated the situation, he hated himself for being tricked.

“You don’t have to talk about it now.” James whispered into Regulus’ hair. “But I’m here for you, Reggie. Always.” He held him a little tighter.

James was too good to him.

[tremendouszinelovermug]

When it comes to some people headcanon about severus as a child or regarding children it becomes concerning...

Someone in the comments say: "severus Snape is obsessive creep, a racist incel who stalk her and hurt her sister"

Um...You do realize that you're speaking about a nine years old, right? You're accusing a nine years old, poor, abused child of those things, right?

Do you expect children to act "right" when someone belittle them or mock them? Of course they'll snap.

Petunia doesn't deserve to be belittled for who She's, and severus doesn't deserves to be mocked for his poverty, and what happens next is a reaction to the insult was nothing but an accidental magic.

Someone else would say: "if Harry was a girl, then severus would be obsessed with her"

For this idea to come into your mind and you treated it as a fact is in fact... sickening.

I used to see this headcanon treated as a fact in literally every YouTube video relating to HP and that made me avoid any video relating to severus, you know my favorite character...

I swear, people would write an amazing metas and make videos and once they get into severus, suddenly they loss their braincells.

I don’t say don’t headcanon these characters doing reprehensible things or consumed with bad thoughts, art is a way of healing.

I don't own your mind and you don't own mine, but learn to differeniate between what's in your head and what's outside of it.

You can hate a character as much as you want, but don't judge its fans over loving said character just because you have a sickening headcanon.

Someone else would say: "Snape was the worst fear of Neville"

And so was McGonagall to Hermione, you'll say that different: She's afraid of failure and she hold McGonagall in a high regard.

So the same doesn't go to severus? He's doesn't deserve respect? Or for Neville to treat him seriously?

I'll be honest, I'm so tired from hearing this, as if Neville supposed to be afraid of Bellatrix who, mind you, never met her before, even lupin explained the meaning of the boggart, it's what we think as our worst fear because it's recent.

Neville became a strong, brave man, who carve his way through the books, found the courage within himself, and killed the snake that killed his supposedly "worst fear" -heh, ironic-.

Severus Snape got nothing on Neville longbottom, especially if you'll use his fear as an excuse on hating severus instead of his treatment, because new flash, people aren't responsible about how we feel about them.

[romaevelizz]

Loathe˖ ࣪⊹

TANAKA. R x Blk!femreader

sum: jealousy is one mean feeling, a feeling people hate especially when experiencing it towards one’s best friend.

warnings: cursing, angst, jealousy(I use you/your pronouns), self hate, hurt comfort, I make Kiyoko the bad guy srry chat), not proofread.

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅♡ ⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

She was your best friend, Kiyoko Shimizu. A person you’ve had by your side since a young age. A girl that had stuck by your side. It hurt, why was it so hard to watch her with him? She didn’t even want him, that what made it worse.

Watching him fawn over her and her beauty, her skin like soft porcelain no blemishes lingering on her face, her hair dark and soft not a single split end. How she would talk to people, her confidence and selfless admirable. She was the sweetest thing to exist in his eyes, it felt as if you had to keep up with her. The sickening feeling of wanting to be her.

You couldn’t be her, your skin dark and glowy, your hair thick, and lips full. To her you were gorgeous having features many wished to have, but to you it felt as if you were just looks past. By every guy to com into your life looking her way, not to bat an eye towards you again.

Thinking that maybe it was different this time. That maybe his eyes would stay on you. While they did, he still looked at her. Even while she pushed him away and rejected his advances, Tanaka still looked at her. Never did you think you’d be choked up about a stupid boy. That you start to envy your best friend, but you can only take so much. You could only take being looked past for so long, to be compared to her to be told that you’d fit in more if maybe just maybe you were born different. You yearned to be her, to be just as flawless as her.

But oh when he did look at you, maybe you didn’t give him enough credit. He just a boy, and that boys eyes would linger on you, him quietly admiring you. But you didn’t see that, blinded by your own jealousy. The differences in he eyes as he looked between you and her, his eyes almost studied you. To him you were so much more. More than you credited yourself for.

But once you started to feel a comfort of hope the hope that the way he looks at you differently meant something. That the way his eyes would never leave you as you talked to him, or even help him study him listening so politely. That when he called out your name, just yours when you walked through the gym doors. His smile wide as he told you something that happened during the day. How he’d always help you if you were doing something, asking to hold things for you. More and more he’d finally look at you, talk to you. His actions giving you hope. Then you saw the way she looked at you. Her eyes face not showing a single thing but her eyes. The spoke so many words, it’s not fair. She doesn’t get to look at you like that. Your heart dropped as she looked away from you pettily.

It’s not fair. How could she look at you like that. After living in her shadow for years. After having to keep up with her for 6 fucking years. Never once have you gotten in the way of her accomplishments. Her success, her wants. You watched as the guys you wanted leaned towards her, Turing their backs to you. She’s shown plenty of interest in guys but never followed through, guys you were interested in also. It felt as if she was out to get you, petting That if they couldn’t have her they finally look at you because you were right next to her. A constant second choice, that if they couldn’t have her they settled on you. Never did you ask her to step away from a stupid boy for yourself, because you cared for her. For years you lingered around her like the nauseating smell of her perfume. Standing so quietly in her shadow as the world worshipped her.

But now that Tanakas looking towards you, not forcing himself to know you. He never asked about her when with you. He didn’t use you to be with her. He just wanted you. And she hated it. She hated that she was now in your shadow. She didn’t even want him. Why did she care? It’s not fair, she got everything.

Now she stood in front of you, say that she maybe, just maybe had feelings for him. For Tanaka, after two fucking years of him begging for her attention for her to look at him but then he finally noticed you looking at him. A jeering look in her pretty dark eyes, as she told you. She knew, but she knew you cared more. That with those simple words you’d watch from afar as she played with him. Like some toy to leave behind once she was bored.

So you stood back, like a bystander. You watched her talk to him more, and you could feel his hesitation. His eyes filled of uncertainty, that when he’d respond dryly, his eyes would meet yours. Him making your stomach knot up, him simply push past her politely.

“I like your ribbon!” He smiled pointing at the pink bow that held up your silk pressed hair almost every day.

Hes always complimented the pink ribbon in your hair, it was an accessory you always had, told you it suited you.

She still tried, tried to get his attention yet. For once you had finally outshined her, she became more harsh towards you her complements becoming, equivocal. Every time Tanaka would complain her she would repeat it in a backhanded way going unnoticed by the people around you. Her eyes speaking louder than her words ever could.

“Why is he latching on to you?” she scoffed, the two of you eating lunch together.

What.. what did she just say.. “what do you mean..” you asked hesitantly.

She shrugged humming “Well considering how he was obsessed with me and I pushed back because I wasn’t sure of myself, and now he’s sticking to you.. shame.” Her fingers pulling on your bow.

Shame. She spoke her words hitting you in the way she wanted, labeling you as the second choice. Because that’s what you were.

You met her yes a blank stare on your face, “what?” She asked holding the untied ribbon in her hands, your hand grabbing it from her.

“I loathe you Kiy. How can you be so selfish.” You said, standing up from the stairs you sat on walking away.

It hurt, why should she do that. Say those things, ‘I Fucking Can’t with her’ you thought letting out and angered groan pulling in the ribbon in your hands. A harsh sob sitting at the vac of your throat waiting to be released. You nails digging into your fist as you covers your face, your body leaning against the wall behind you.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that she got what she wanted every time, the one thing you wanted and she had him wrapped around her pretty finger. Just to what? Drop him when she’s over it. How selfish do you have to be to do that to someone, to do that to your best friend. You’ve done nothing but speak so highly of her, covering her bad because you worshiped her just like everyone else. Yet she looked down on you, what a shame, a shame to have you as a friend right.

You didn’t notice a body standing in front of you. Soft sobs coming from your lips as you felt two hands hold your shoulders gently, looking up your eyes met his. His brows frowned as he looked at you.

“L/n.. what’s wrong? Who- who hurt you! I’ll go beat them up! Whoever-“

“Ryu..” you cried, your body falling into his his arms not hesitating to hold you, quickly shutting up. His embrace warm as he held you his head leaning against yours as you harshly sobbed.

“Who hurt you who’s making you hurt like this..” he spoke pulling back his hands cradling your tear stained face.

“It doesn’t matter..” you hiccuped, shaking your face. Him still asking you, he wanted to know who hurt you. Who made you cried like this, years of bottled up feelings finally spilling out. “Please I wanna help you, let me help you.” He begged, his face soft as he talked to you. Him bring you back close to him his hand holding you head gently against him.

“It’s not fair,” you cried, your body shaking in his embrace. “ she gets everything, and the one thing that I want she gets to..”

“Who? Y/n who is she?”

“Kiyoko.” You spoke another sob leaving your lips.

She made you feel this way. His face frowned “let’s get it back then.” He spoke.

He felt your head shake “it’s not that simple, I can’t just get him back.” You spoke looking up at him.

Him?

He took a deep breath “tell him tell him how you feel. Every single feeling.” He spoke his eyes not leaving yours.

“please tell me your not in love with her Ryu..”

His face turning into confusion, in love with her? With Kiyoko.. “please…” your lip trembling.

You wanted him. You thought he wanted her, you.. no. It broke his heart hearing your voice stutter your heart hurting at the thought that he was in love with Kiyoko. How stupid was he, no.. that not what he wanted you to think, he had always been looking at you. But you didn’t see it. Yes he was vocal with Kiyoko but with you it was different he spoke of you with such respect and desires, but he never knew how to talk to you, because you didn’t really talk to him. Finally getting closer to you he’s never be so “I love you.”

He whispered, “I love you, not her.” He spoke, tears welding up in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” He cried his hands holding the sides of your arms as he bowed in front of you.

“I love you. Not her. Please forgive me for making you think that, that was never my intention.” He spoke his body still leaned over.

Him soon falling to his knees “I’m sorry I made you hurt.” A choked sob came from you as he said that.

You wrapped your arms around his neck your body falling to your knees as you hugged him. Him pulling you close “it was never my intention to hurt you, I love you.”

“I love you to..”

“I love you Ryu.”

He pulled away his hands grabbing your face his thumbs whipping away the stray tears on your pretty face “never doubt my love for you, don’t doubt yourself because your worth so much. You deserve love, and I want to give you all my love and take your pain.”

“Know, that I’ve always been looking at you.”

[c-t-r-l14]

This Audio Is SICKENING.

Ya’ll—I don’t even know where to begin.

When I tell you that I physically FLINCHED upon seeing Alex’s face in the thumbnail, the way my heart started beating, the way I started SHAKING while putting my AirPods in—you guys would’ve thought that I’ve gotten some terrible news or something. And—I don’t even know what’s CRUELER—the fact that Saku posted this audio on April Fools day, making us go back and forth between “is this cannon?” or “nah, this is definitely a joke!” Or him making it all lovey dovey at first, giving us a false sense of security—waiting for us to finally let our guard down so he could get ready to strike. But I do know that it broke me, and made me feel for listener even more.

I think one of the biggest reasons why it broke me so much was because we can see how much listener blames themselves. How much they think the breakup is all their fault.

And you can see how much its impacted them.

You see the thing with Alex is that he is really, really bad with communication. He’s rather quiet about how he feels, and doesn’t voice it out loud. A person like this—who doesn’t talk about their own feelings, who’d rather stay silent—usually are alone with their own thoughts. And that’s when things get rocky, especially in a relationship. One of the things that I noted in the break up audio (besides all the gaslighting, manipulation, and reality distortion), was the fact that Alex has had that argument on his mind ever since it happened, and not ONCE has he said something about it until the day they broke up. He was alone with his thoughts the entire time up to that point—mulling over the argument, his feelings, his future—and I feel like him doing this, instead of actually talking to listener to see how things can work out deadass lead him to believing that they couldn’t be together, which lead him to not tell them about the job offer until the very last minute. I wholeheartedly believe that if he sat down with them, and told them—“hey, I know you said sorry, but I still feel like shit because you made me feel this way,” if the thoughts got to be too much, then maybe things would’ve been better. But he didn’t—and just like listener, he assumed the worst, and on top of that— gave up without even trying to fight for the person he claimed to love so much. Instead, all he did was make excuses, act hypocritically, gaslight them, and blame them for everything—all the while not realizing that there was a whole bunch of things HE could’ve done better too.

And we can see how much it took a toll on listener—considering the fact that they were ridden with so much guilt that can’t even sleep well at night.

I can feel how much they hate themselves through Alex’s words as he tore into them, and this is honestly partly Alex’s fault, because he reduced them to a mistake they made. Dream Alex (who will now be referred to as DA from now on) was taunting listener—and throwing the words Alex said to them during the break up back to them. He kept on reminding them of their mistakes, and that THEY are the reason why he left. He kept on reminding them of the worst parts of themselves—and that’s high key what Alex did during the break up too. I feel like we all need to acknowledge that what DA said to listener in this audio is most definitely not a reflection of the way the real Alex would talk and act—simply because DA is a figment of listener’s imagination. And since listener is filled with so much hurt and heartbreak right now, of course their own guilt and self hatred is going to distort how things operate in their mind. So, let’s not take the things he has said at face value.

Listener has a lot to work on. Their trust issues left a wound that ran deeper than they initially thought. In a way, they are too much in their own head as well—and do end up going to the worst case scenario, and this behavior stems from the trauma they sustained from their former partner. This leads them to do irrational things, like invading Alex’s privacy and accusing him of stuff that only happened in their head.

Both of them have a lot of shit they need to work on. Alex needs to learn how to actually talk about how he feels, learn how to take accountability for the things he’s done wrong, and maybe grow a damn backbone, and listener needs to go get some damn therapy, get their trust issues sorted out, and learn all the facts before they come at people with any assumption they might have about them. I feel like this dream was kind of the point where listener realizes that they simply just can’t let their relationship end like this, because through this dream sequence, they realize that there was still a lot of stuff that was left unsaid, and are now seeking for some closure. I think now it’s the best time to go for it, considering that Alex apparently didn’t go to NYC and stayed in London instead (this is still very much unclear). And I am hoping and praying that his ass has the same nightmare listener had as well. Listener can’t be the only one who has a wake-up call (pun intended).

Their downfall was caused because these two idiots don’t know how to convey their emotions to each other properly. They could’ve had it all if one just actually opened their damn mouth to speak, and the other would just simply think before they open theirs.

This confrontation can go two ways: they cut each other loose and go about their own lives, or they find a way to make it work, (granted that they are BOTH willing to work on themselves).

Do I think their relationship is a lost cause? I don’t know. Something tells me that this probably isn’t the end, and a part of me (as much as I talk shit about how much I want listener to be an absolute bad bitch and leave him to drown in his regret), doesn’t want it to be the end.

With this being said, I still don’t like Alex. It’s gonna take much more than a damn walk down memory lane with a bizarre, brutal, dream version of him to get me to like him again.

Oh and by the way, Saku if you’re reading this—sleep with one eye open tonight.

Masterlist

[nnnyxie]

Feeling a lil down about myself, what would you think about Izu x chubby reader? Reader isn’t necessarily insecure but does have bad days, maybe some of Izu‘s fans were being extremely horrible to reader or something because of their weight (I live for protective!Izu) and reader just shuts themselves off and is rotting away in a pile of blankets in their apartment while Izu dosen’t get what’s going on at all- he adores reader and isn’t all like „oh but your boobs and ass and thighs“ he just adored READER you know??? Often when I read x chubby!reader they only mention their curves and thighs and what not but I don’t think reducing plus size people to curvy plus size people is very inclusive so idk if that makes sense but yeah kwnfksld

#𖢥 izuku anon

baby i am loving these requests and i’m happy to give you chubby rep!!

i sorta based it on how i get when i’m insecure about myself so i’m sorry if it isn’t what you were hoping for :(

some days it’s just hard yk?? people get mean and it can really fuck with your brain. it makes it hard to look at yourself sometimes.

especially when you’re with a pro hero. people think that you ‘don’t belong together’ just cause you two have different body types. and it’s sickening how people think that way.

it makes you feel awful— all of the hateful comments you get under your posts gets overwhelming and sometimes you have to archive them all together. sometimes you even have to deactivate your account because they get so overwhelming.

izuku always wonders why you do that— you never give him a real reason. just a ‘i don’t feel like being on social media right now’. he knows it’s not the truth but, he doesn’t want to pry. he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable by hounding you for answers.

but tonight— tonight was awful. the first thing you saw while opening instagram was a picture of you and your lovely boyfriend, something a fan posted. the fan was nice!! their post was a cute edit and it was an appreciation post!! but the comments— the comments were sickening. they were filled with so much hate, it made you physically ill. and today you weren’t ‘feeling’ yourself so the comments didn’t exactly help.

you deactivated your account again. now you were thinking about just deleting it all together. it won’t stop the hate but it’ll stop you from seeing it. either way— you decided to try and push those awful comments away and read, maybe it could lighten your mood.

it didn’t. the thoughts kept coming back— you couldn’t even read a full paragraph. it felt awful. you felt awful. maybe a shower would help?

as soon as you stepped foot in the bathroom, you stepped right back out. it hurt to look at yourself. it made you cry. you weren’t particularly insecure but these comments were ruthless and they just really got to you this time.

when izuku got back home from patrol, he found you in your shared bed, you were curled up in a pile of blankets with nearly all the pillows surrounding you. he heard your crying— and was immediately concerned. why wouldn’t he be?

“love, what’s the matter? did you watch the neverending story again?” he sat beside you and pulled the blankets down so he could full see your face. this wasn’t your ‘sad movie’ cry. this was entirely different.

“hey, what’s going on?” “it’s nothing— i uhm just read something sad is all.” you were a very poor liar.

“be honest with me, please? is something going on?” he was now laying beside you, holding you from behind. “i just— do you really want to be with me? i’m not—” you choked, crying more at the thought of him leaving for someone ‘better’ (there is no one better). “of course i do. i love you. why wouldn’t i want to be with you?” “how aren’t you… how aren’t you disgusted by me?” “why would you ever think i’d feel that way towards you? i love all of you. and everyday i find more to love about you.”

then— it clicked. he remembered.

“is this about that post? bakugo sent it to me… he told me to look at the comments— baby if i knew this was happening sooner i would’ve done something about it. why didn’t you tell me?” he rubbed your arm in comfort, he knew all about being insecure— of course he couldn’t relate to where yours stemmed from but, he knew how awful it felt to feel like you aren’t enough for people. “i didn’t want you to be mad at them. they’re your supporters.” “they aren’t my supporters if they’re treating you this way.” he took a breath, he was upset. not by you— never. but, by the hateful people. “i love you, and every part of you. i’ll never be disgusted by you and i’ll never want anyone else. i only want you.” god you loved him.

“can you turn so i can see that pretty face?” you turned to face him. izuku had a smile but, his eyes welled when he saw the tear streaks that ran down your cheeks. he cupped your face, swiping his thumps to wipe away the stray tears that still fell. “you’re the most beautiful person i have ever met.” you cried again, not because you were upset— but, because, he was just so wonderful to you. izuku held you, letting you cry into him.

“i’ll address it.” “you don’t need to.” “i’m going to.”

don’t mind the neverending story part…. i just rewatched it today and cried abt the horse scene… artax :(

[miraculouscriticismshub]

Why Gabriel doesn’t deserve a redemption - the Hypocrisy of the Writers - Miraculous Season 5 Finale spoilers Ahead.

If you have seen the finale then you already know what happens to Gabriel . He dies but gets remembered as a hero and his reputation was unscratched. The writers have the audacity to say a teenage girl will never become a better person because her actions are unforgivable but they go ahead and redeem Gabriel Agreste - a literal terrorist and abuser - who has done a lot worse. This post will explain why Gabriel doesn’t deserve a redemption arc and how his character feels ruined. 

Part 1 - Gabriels crimes and why the writers think they are justifiable. Triggers of Child abuse and terrorism

This man has committed atrocious crimes of which the most obvious was child abuse. Mainly towards Adrien. The writers think due to Gabe losing his wife - it is justified why he neglects Adrien - it is a sign of grief. That he spends every day terrorizing Paris because he wants Emelie back to complete Adrien's family. They say he does all he does because he cares about his son. While this was the case during seasons 1-4 , his character changes in season 5. He no longer does it for Emily and Adrien but for power. He abuses Adrien even more this season by trapping him in a room and separating him from Marinette.

However his Character is ruined in the season 5 finale. He wishes Emily and Natalie to live and pleads with Marinette to make sure Adrien remembers him as a good father. That's not her burden to carry or her responsibility . Gabriel had the audacity to ask the girl he traumatised to keep every crime he has committed a secret from his own son ! Despite everything Gabriel has done to Marinette - she finds out he was Hawkmoth - she still forgives him and helps build a statue of Gabe in his honor. The writers think Gabriel deserves redemption because he did show remorse for what he did to Adrien and cried when he watched Emilie's tapes.  But Adrien wasn’t his only victim and child abuse wasn’t his only crime. Gabriel never showed remorse for what he put Marinette through (he knows she's a ladybug .) He never apologized for separating her from Adrien or for the trauma he inflicted on her as Ladybug. Even when Ladybug gave her a chance , he blew it by paralyzing her. 

He is also an international terrorist who primarily targets children. He threatened to kill Alya’s family and murdered many Parisians in Strike Back but still gets remembered as a hero. Even in the final fight , he says he doesn’t care about the innocent victims he hurted. He never felt bad about what he did. It gives kids a bad message. While I think Gabe dying in Emily's place isn’t a bad idea , the fact that Gabriel gets away with his crimes and is celebrated as a savior is disgusting. At the very least , he shouldn’t be presented as a good man and should be remembered as the villain and a terrorist. It’s a slap in the face for all his victims. The fact that all of Gabriel's other crimes are forgiven just because he felt remorse for one is sickening.

Especially in Season 5 , where the writer makes Gabe to be sympathetic by having his relationship with Emelie mirrors Adrienette’s relationship because he and Marinette both came from humble backgrounds. That's why the writers think Gabe is redeemable ,  because he and Marinette are similar and both care for Adrien. The fact he basically got what he wanted and is being remembered as a savior is so unfair to Marinette and Adrien. Sure he died , but Emelie came back or he reunited with her (depending if you think it was Amelie or Emelie). Therefore , Gabe doesn’t deserve redemption because he never proved himself or felt remorse for most of his crimes. He manipulated Marinette till the very end into thinking he was a good person when in reality , he doesn't care about anyone except for himself , Adrien , Natalie and Emelie.

Part 2 - Obvious hypocrisy

It is no secret that Thomas dislikes Chloe. However in Season 5 he has taken his hate for her way too far that he sacrificed good writing to bash her character and hurt her fans.  He repeatedly says on his twitter Chloe will never become a better person because she is a bully and has done too many unforgivable acts. Surprisingly , in season 5 episode 26 , they go ahead and redeem Gabriel - a terrorist , child abuser , groomer and manipulator - who has arguably done so much worse. I don’t mind if the writers don’t give Chloe a redemption arc , not all characters need a redemption but it feels hypocritical saying a teenage bully is irredeemable but an adult terrorist is sympathetic. Especially of how rushed and badly written Gabriel's redemption arc is.

So when Chloe does something evil , the writers say she in irredeemable and deserves every bit of Karma but when Gabriel does something worse , the writers justify what he has done because of his sympathetic motive and give him a redemption story. This disgusts me because it is shown time and time again that Gabriel likes to use Chloe in his heinous plans. Three episodes ago Gabriel was manipulating and grooming Chloe into joining his side. Gabriel is partly to blame for Chloe's worst crimes , he enabled her and put the ideas in her head. But the writers act like Chloe is more in the wrong than Gabriel when he is clearly more guilty than she is !! They act like it is OK for Gabriel to manipulate and akumatize Chloe because it's for the sake of getting his wife back. Chloe is not a good person , but it is unfair how she is the only character to face consequences when Characters worse than her are getting rewarded and receive happy endings !! Chloe is disowned by her father and sent to live with her abuser while Gabriel reunites with Emelie (depending on which sister you think it was at the pool party) and is celebrated as a saviour. Gabriel being more moral in the eyes of the writers than a misguided teenager - who also is one of his main victims - is sickening.  Therefore Gabriel redemption isn’t deserved because it shows the double standards the writers have for Chloe. 

To conclude - Gabriel's character in the Season 5 finale is basically ruined. Gabriel receiving a redemption is an example of bad writing and feels rushed. He only felt remorse for what he did to Adrien but never felt bad for terrorizing Paris or using Chloe. He never apologized to Marinette for separating her from Adrien or for other crimes he did. His redemption feels Hypocritical compared to the character of Chloe - who was one of Gabriel's main targets. Hopefully in season 6 , Adrien finds out about what happened and Paris receives the justice they deserve. However if you like what they did with his character , that is perfectly fine . I’m not saying you are not allowed to dislike Gabriel. This is just my opinion . Feel free to disagree :) . Please stay respectful.

[hellrices]

Menendez Brothers Case

Ok I just want to touch on the topic of the MONSTERS show once again to just say fuck Ryan Murphy, I mean holy shit. Not only does he portray an actual real-life case incredibly inaccurately, but this is what he had to say when the ACTUAL Erik Menendez called him out on it

How much of a shithead do you have to be to first of all, take an actual case where the people involving it are still alive and well, and turn into some incestual, aggressive drama fantasy of your own and when the people that the case concerns TELL you that it's full of lies, you come out saying they're just "playing the victim" and should be sending you flowers??? Disgusting. And the fact that the show (especially the actor who plays Lyle - Nicholas Chavez) is encouraging people to dress up as Erik and Lyle for Halloween is sickening. These are actual people and this was an actual case regarding the murder of two incredibly wealthy individuals and the abuse that they inflicted on their children. It is not to be treated like the latest Halloween trend.

Now concerning the actual case, I realised the more I researched about it, the angrier it made me so I just need to rant about it right now (My last post was mostly regarding the trial sessions but I really can't stop thinking about the actual abuse they'd suffered throughout their home life.) I have to say though, it's absolutely disgusting and appalling that an ACTUAL statement that was made by the prosecution (Pam Bozanich) was that "Men cannot be raped as they lack the necessary equipment to be raped." Along with an outrageous insistence that any type of sex that occurred between Jose and his children was not forced which is absolutely untrue - Lyle mentioned that Erik had it so bad that he considered his brother to be a suicide risk and Erik himself admitted to having suicidal desires and terrible coping methods. He would wait till he was home alone to scream till he was trembling and stick pins, needles and tacks into his thighs just to feel the pain and often dissociate as he was being assaulted. Erik also said that he, at a very young age, created a persona for himself. "The Hurt Man", to try and separate himself from the situation when his father would take advantage of him. He would use this nickname for himself in his mind all the time and the only purpose of this 'hurt man' was to get hurt. He felt that he was protecting his mother and family by getting hurt in place of them. (Which honestly, breaks my heart. To imagine he was under 10 years old when all of this was happening makes me sick to my stomach.)  Erik also often questioned his sexuality because of the continuous assault that took place and his father who was the one to rape him, went around calling him slurs and spewing homophobia towards him. (Which I mean, holy shit- how can you ASSAULT your own child to the point where he drowns his food in lemon during every meal in hopes of distorting his sense of taste so it would be less painful during the rape and turn around and make fun of him for "being gay" (Erik was not gay by the way but is increasingly supportive of the LGBT community)) Even to find out that both the brothers thought they were protecting their mother by enduring all this abuse at the hands of their father instead of her - only to find out that she had known the whole time??? I can't imagine the despair at finding out that your own mother didn't give a shit about your father having raped you for 12+ years. Both brothers said that in that moment, they saw both their parents as the same person and couldn't differentiate them in their minds. It's heartbreaking knowing both boys absolutely loved doting on their mother just because she was less abusive than their father. But the fact of the matter is that she was a horrible mother. She would drink all day, starting about every afternoon and had mental breaks very often where she would scream, flail her arms about, throw things at anyone near her and completely ignored everything Jose was subjecting the boys to. Lyle also testified that she would sexually assault him as a child (As far as I'm aware, she didn't do the same with Erik). Both parents would beat their kids and left no room for privacy, often snooping through Erik's journals and being intensely intrusive and controlling.

Here are SOME incidents of abuse (not sexual in nature) which really show how their parents would go OUT of their way to make sure all their kids lives were a living hell  (Keep in mind, this is not including all the times they brothers would be beaten up by their parents) : - Whenever he spotted a ditch or cliff on the side of the road, Jose would drive towards it and put his knees on the steering wheel and put his hands up, seeing how long it would take for Erik to grab the steering wheel and turn it away from the ditch/cliff as a way to measure Erik's bravery (The longer Erik would sit with the car going towards the ditch/cliff, the braver Jose considered him to be) -Erik confided in his mother about his fear of the dark and monsters hiding in his room. In response his mother locked him in the basement while his father tormented him from inside it and left witch masks in his closet to scare him further at night - Lyle's girlfriend told him that she was pregnant but later told him that she lied and she had never been pregnant at all (they broke up afterwards) After a confrontation with his father, Lyle found out that his father paid off his girlfriend to get an abortion and lie to him about it. - Both boys (aged 4 and around 6 at the time) were often abandoned in malls and airports. -Jose's mother was a famous swimmer who was showcased in Cuba's sports hall of fame. In order to force his children to follow in those footsteps in terms of sports, he would force and hold Erik's head underwater to "expand his lungs". Essentially fucking drowning him. -Lyle once brought a bunny home as part of a school program in the second grade and named it "Flower". His mother told him to get rid of the bunny but he couldn't return it since summer break had just started. Later, Lyle found the bunny beaten to death, covered in flies in the trash can outside their house. (Jose had beaten the bunny with his bare hands and thrown it away) - Kitty once left an incredibly sick 9 year old Erik home alone while she went shopping for 5 hours. -During an argument 5 days before the murder, Kitty ripped off Lyle's hairpiece (He had started experiencing immense hair loss at age 14 and needed a toupee to cover it up). This was, as Lyle testifies, incredibly embarrassing (Erik was not aware his brother had this) and painful (the hair piece was only supposed to be removed using some sort of solvent). Lyle said his head immediately become extremely red and swollen and he felt completely humiliated, running off to reattach it after getting it back from his mother - A year before the murder, Kitty brought Erik along with her to buy a gun. Upon asking why she needed to buy that, Kitty told her son that she was "going to kill someone." Erik was incredibly unsettled put-off by the conversation and didn't ask any more questions. (Mind you, Kitty was heavily medicated at this time, taking around 13-15 pills a day) The new evidence : This is a recently discovered piece of evidence which may lead to the brothers' early release/ shorter sentence. Andy Cano (a cousin) had been brought in to give a testimony during the trial and he supported the claims that Erik and Lyle had been sexually abused, stating that Erik once told him about it, asking if it was normal for fathers to do that. Andy, who had no present father in his life, was unable to answer him (Mind you, both the boys were extremely young at the time so Andy wasn't aware that an adult should've been informed). His testimony was thought to be just a lie and was thrown aside - years later Andy died of overdose, his mother Marta said he never recovered from the guilt of not being able to help the brothers. This is part of the letter that was written by Erik to Andy that supports the claims that they were sexually abused :

[Erik is referring to his mother] "At times, I wish I could talk to her about things , you know? Some day... Especially dad and I but the way she worships him and tells him everything. I [am] so afraid she'll tell him whatever I say. I just can't risk it. Lyle got in a huge fight with her about why we couldn't spend Christmas with the rest of the family and mom freaked out and said if he wanted to go he could go alone. I just don't know why she wants to hurt him like that. Lyle wanted to stay but dad wouldn't let him. So now I'm stuck here alone. I've been trying to avoid dad. It's still happening Andy but it's worse for me now. I can't explain it. He [is] so overweight that I can't stand to see him. I never know when it's going to happen and it's driving me crazy. Every night, I stay up thinking he might come in. I need to put it out of my mind. I know what you said before but I'm afraid. You don't know dad like I do. He's crazy! He's warned me a hundred times about telling anyone. Especially Lyle. Am I serious whimpus? I don't know I'll make it through this. I can handle it, Andy. I need to stop thinking about it."

[evangelineshifts]

I need to tell someone this at least.

So this new pjo show is a complete joke, especially to some of the oj book fans(like me) who are so disappointed by how it turned out. The acting was stale(actors weren’t given anything to work with so fair), the visuals weren’t anything to speak of, the plot was nonexistent, everything was going too fast or too slow at all the wrong times, there was so much telling and almost no showing it felt like a voiceover or something, not only did they completely change what happened in half of the original book but they also added new and completely unnecessary scenes, to top it off the episodes were 30-40 minutes long with each episode having a budget of FIFTEEN MILLION DOLLARS. From the start of this they already messed it up, they promised a book accurate series but they’d be better off calling it loosely based (Percy is supposed to have black hair but his actor has blond hair and they expect me to like it??) they changed everything that didn’t need to be changed and the quality was so bad it makes me sick, and everyone is defending it and they’re all saying how good it is and yet there’s almost nothing good about it at all. And everyone’s defending the actors ‘oh they’re just kids’ they’re also getting paid to do this why aren’t they showing any emotion??? So it completely ruined any chances of this show being good and now I’m getting it practically shoved down my throat by every app and site I visit so it’s just sickening me even more and I’m trying to leave it alone but nobody is letting me because they’re saying how ‘good’ and ‘accurate’ it is. And rick(the book author) said he chose the cast because they were the best for the characters but none of the cast was actually good in this series(they were more in character out of it and that’s a whole nother slap in the face), the best thing I have to say about them is that their best performance was when they weren’t in the scene over explaining(which was almost never) the show never gave us any time to figure things out or be interested because it’s just so badly written it drags down everyone else involved. So now not only at i waiting for the ‘real’ pjo fans to realize that this show sucks but I’m also waiting for this show to get cancelled because it know it will. It sucks, and after waiting almost a decade this feels like a slap to the face. Why? Why would they completely change almost everything that made the books good? And I feel like what’s worse is that whenever anyone puts out any valid criticism on how little they stick to the book(making Percy blond, making clarisse skinny and not masculine) they get harassed into silence as if that’s a good argument? Is it so hard to put on a wig or some eye contacts or smth? You’re telling me these bland script writers are all they could find with a 15 million dollar budget? And where are the new faces? Everyone in that show is some kind of nepo baby or well known celebrity so that doesn’t work either. And it hurts so bad how they butchered the books to make this knockoff barely well thought out show. I hope this show never gets a season two because I’m actually sick thinking about how they’re gonna butcher that book.

I agree with some of the stuff said here except for the things to do with the actors. I think with the material given they did an excellent job with what they had. Their emotions were more in micro expressions which is really all they could do cause the setting was so serious and not in an action type way (which is when actors usually get to use big facials) through out the majority of the show. As a viewer I can understand why you think they’re acting was stale or emotionless but as an actress myself I can see it was anything but. They did really well considering the circumstances. And as for looks I really don’t see the point of making a big fuss cause that’s one thing I do agree with Rick about (one of the only things) as long as they embody the characters they can play them. And you can tell that from the way they act at the very least outside of the show that they do embody their characters amazingly. There’s no doubt in my mind about why they were casted. I do think that RR was a bit in over his head when trying to be so involved with the making of the show. I feel like overseeing the writing process just to make sure that they’re getting it right would’ve been enough but I think he got a bit too excited to try and make this something memorable and to his liking that he sort of overshot it. I wish there was a way that they could like redo season 1 or make some sort of redemption in season 2 but I’m a bit skeptical. These kids deserve a shot though, I’ve been following them all since the casting announcement and they’ve been working their ASSES off. They all read and reread the source material, they made an effort to interact with the fans and give as much insight as possible to the filming process, the kids themselves made an effort to become good friends with one another which really they just had to be friends at the least but they have frequent sleepovers and hangouts all the time from what I can see. They really care about this project and I think that in and of itself means that it’s worth fighting for. If not for Rick, for them and for the fans who DO like the show. They deserve their chance.

I do appreciate you feeling comfortable enough to share your thoughts with me!! Your opinion is completely valid and understandable!!