#monsters you can't even recognize the shape of but you know had to have been human at some point.. however long ago that was

[nexus-nebulae]

"unless one is willing to accept the Blessings of the Miracle as punishment" im normal about this sentence

[overtaken-stream]

Do you have any writing plans involving Katakuri or the Big mom pirates?

Monster's Voice Is Sweet To Hear

Charlotte Katakuri x F!Wife!Reader

! !NSFW! !

This is from ao3, last year, sorry for any grammar mistakes, as well as my different writing, this is also the first time I wrote filth, aside from the love-making in the Ace fic from Ao3. I want to write something for him but the ideas are just not coming to me. I also didn't specify readers race. Just that it's a female and tall/stronger then a human since we all know Big Mom won't just toss away Katakuri and make him marry a boring human with no specialties. this could work on all shapes and sizes of reader, chubby and skinny.

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: Rarely in the dead of night, a monster such as Katakuri needs love. It's something you can't say no to. After all, how can you deny that unnerving voice of his.

Warnings: Size difference, POST-WANO SPOILERS, multiple rounds.

In the quiet night, where only the humming of your voice is heard.

Light from the cake-inspired lamp bounces off the pink walls the shadow that's in a silhouette of a woman falls onto the giant bed in the center of the room.

On a quiet night, a married girl takes her jewelry off and places it in one of the drawers the magenta bureau contains.

You stand up from the chair, getting closer to the bed. Getting out of your clothes and putting on a modified (F/C) nightgown, you straighten the hot pink details running over your tall figure as you lie down on the heavenly bed.

Only at the sound of a door opening did you quickly get under the blanket. The sound of metal and leather rubbing against itself notifies you of the person who walked in before they can even say anything.

``(Y/N).``

``Katakuri.`` You shyly show your face from the covers to see the sight of your husband of 3 years now, even after all this time you can feel the blush creeping up your face, no matter how long you will never get used to seeing a man that's able to look down at you. That stoic and firey gaze always unleashed the butterflies deep inside your belly.

``I apologize for startling you, I've seemed to... Be distracted lately.`` This was his way of saying I forgot to knock on the door. With much time you start to learn the ways of Katakuri's speech patterns. Start to recognize what words his pride was holding back even from you. Apologetic wasn't one of them. It isn't like he's trying to hide something after all you've seen his biggest weakness in action multiple times, gobbling all kinds of sweets. But never have you thought forgetting was something Katakuri was capable of. It wasn't until after the incident at Pudding's wedding involving the Strawhats that Katakuri's mask, which he had been carrying since marrying you (probably much, much longer than that) truly shattered. Thanks to his younger sister Flampe not keeping her mouth shut about how horrid her big brother is physically and then about his treatment towards her, after what she did. The brat even tried to approach you to run her tongue about Katakuri. Your husband.

Honor is off the table when faced with a person with that kind of mindset. Never mind the respect when facing a worthy opponent.

``Mind if I join you?``

``No, not at all.`` You smile as you watch him carefully get out of his uniform. Never did you imagine you would smile at Katakuri, compared to the sad bride and groom the two of you were. The new life treated you both kindly, it wasn't fast but it wasn't slow-paced either.

The stiff and awkward interactions turned into small conversations about interests and they blossomed into what can only be fondness. The road came with its fare-share of bumps, and both of you dived head first in this with only your families in mind, ready to throw away what little freedom both of you had for your parent's satisfaction.

At the wedding ceremony, walls were built. Walls that cracked the more time you spent with each other.

``Y'know, Luffy was announced as an Emperor today.`` You fill in the silence. Knowing Katakuri's favorite topic you slide in the information.

Katakuri stops mid-changing and raises his head at that. He had told you about Luffy a couple of weeks ago, finally emptying his head to you about the topic he was trying to tell you the moment he returned to your room injured. You didn't push him back then.

The time will come when he'll bring it up. You would tell yourself. It's his calculations of reactions that hold him, little insecurities eating him up and even if the conversation was late, you are happy that he was finally opening up. To you at least.

``Is that so?``

``Yeah, it was in today's newspaper. It said he defeated Kaidou, impressive huh?``

You watch as he nods his head. You debate for a second if you should tell him the next sentence, but he is her son, after all, today he dedicated himself to the library (A time he cherishes since it happens so rarely. A battle with the Straw Hat sure tired him out. You wonder if it's a blessing in disguise sometimes. If it is you wouldn't be surprised.) and judging from his lack of knowledge about the feat Luffy accomplished, you might as well tell him now...

``Surgeon of Death and The Eustass kid from the Worst Generation were involved... They defeated Big Mom.`` At that, you can feel how the temperature drops in the room, his movements to put the clothes back in their place slowed down until they came to a stop. It almost felt like time had stopped.

``I've heard about that. All the commotion in the palace this morning was from Perospero's call. They needed a backup to retrieve them.`` He says as the heavyweight is lifted off the room, letting go of the fabric he was holding onto, the time begins to roll once again.

You don't bat an eye at Katakuri's actions and his casualness. You doubt he would mourn his mother.

You quiver as the blanket is thrown off of you, the chill biting your arms and chest before he joins you on the bed. You fix your body position as the natural warmth his body carries sends shivers down your spine. Your back facing his chest as his giant hand creeps up to cradle your waist.

You shy away or try to. But the moment his fingers softly graze your pelvis, a tight knot starts developing, his shy yet soothing and careful touches sending the blood up to your face.

He's mindful of his heaviness, even if you are taller than a human should be, more tolerant and powerful, he treats you the same as he would to his child siblings, with feather-light touches. It's instinct at this point. It makes you nervous. Makes you red and sad, as well as happy that he also wasn't the only one with bad habits.

Habits that differentiate you two are rare. Since most of them are dependent on higher-than-an-average-human height.

``Is this okay?`` his open eyes travel over your face devoid of any skin color except red. You nod.

``...May I?`` The awkwardness in his voice is precious. Sweet as a mochi should be. Not how a monster's should be.

It makes your heart skip a beat and your core to pulse.

The impatience takes over when he's leaving lingering touches closer and closer to where you would like the itchiness to go away. The temptation to grab his hand and drag it to your genitalia is strong. Biting the bottom lip you feel his hand cup your crotch, and it's a feeling you'll never get tired of.

He shoves the gown's bottom piece up to your belly button, getting the cue you grab the (F/C) silky cloth. It's tacky but it was one of the more subtle ones that Brûlée has picked for you.

You shift your left thigh to the side when the tips of his finger flex on top of your clitoris, a thin layer of fabric stopping him from intruding, yet he is still making you pulse and drowning you in the electric shock of pleasure. The fingers slowly run over it, again and again putting no pressure behind the movement.

When his right-hand digs behind your back, your flushed face barely turns around to ask him what he is doing.

``Changing position...`` Katakuri says as he carefully scoops your neck between his forearm and upper arm, his left hand grabs onto your right hip.

His show of strength as he gets you on top of him in a second, leaves your knees shaking. At first, you lay on his chest with your back pressed against him.

Even with your superior height he somehow manages to make you feel as if you were a human, it makes you doubt your reality for a millisecond, his right hand balancing you and the other one going down your body a bit too fast, your suspicions are confirmed by the impatience with which he tosses the blanket off of your bodies. The room temperature now no longer poses a threat to your skin.

This time he isn't as slow with his actions, leaving the undergarments on, he rubs up and down your slit, feeling its warmth escape onto his sweaty hands.

The quiet room was momentarily full of little gasps and beating hearts of both parties. A squeak leaves your mouth as you rise from your position on his chest, leaning on your elbows that are still... On his chest. The coldness that sudden separation brings on your back is forgotten as you look down to where Katakuri is making laps around you. The moisture grows in seconds when he presses his thumb on your clit, slowly rocking it sideways and tightening the knot deep within you.

You try to bite the bottom of your mouth to not let the noises escape but as Katakuri flattens his hand so his index and middle finger are sliding and tickling your entrance, the task to stay quiet becomes very difficult. You feel the way he snakes his second hand up your breasts while the other separates the undergarment from your folds. Little moans sneak past your lips as you look straight down, the bulge that shows from underneath your thighs just makes your heart beat out of your ribcage.

Katakuri lays his forehead on your shoulder as he feels the wetness coating the surroundings of your entrance, he knew the smaller hands were coming before feeling them pull down the owner's panties, momentarily stopping for her to take it off before he continued infiltrating it. His right hand fondling with your breasts squishing them but not rough enough to hurt you.

For a split second, you felt the pain of the stretch, arching your back and tossing your head over his shoulder as Katakuri's other hand played with the silk-covered nipple, he pushed his forehead down on your cleavage, it wasn't in his intentions but the size difference was really making your mind mushy.

You could feel him shaking from below you as you rest on top of him, closed eyes and clean mind absorbing your movements.

For a couple of seconds, you lay like that, panting breathes and already sweat covered. He won't move. He won't hurt you. He'll give you time to adjust.

Your hand lands on his crimson hair, fingers run through the short pink layers devoid of grey. It startles him, eyes snapping open he looks to his left shoulder where you are resting your head and meets his beloved's smiling face staring back at him.

Pink dusted his cheeks and as his heart jumped, his mouth opened and closed, this nervous feeling is shameful to him. The big brother Katakuri was still getting used to his new-not-so-new feelings towards new-not-so-new his wife, and expressing them to her face turned out to be the most complicated and difficult part. (Aside from Brûlée, she has seen him at his worst. It's a new feeling, a new type of embarrassment he hasn't experienced with anyone, not even Brûlée. The thought of this ever getting out almost frightens him. It frightens him.)

At last, he chooses to look away as you chuckle.

``C-can you move now?`` He nearly forgot.

``Are you... Sure?``

``Yeah, now c'mon... I was so close...``

He continues his motions with soft pink shades over his face, and slowly the two fingers slide deeper into your gummy walls. The clenching makes him wish it was some other part of his inside of you instead of his fingers. He listens as hisses leave your lips from the painfully nice stretch, the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes being wiped away by Katakuri's other hand that took a break from playing with your breasts, he feels his boxer get tighter when your legs shake around his massive thighs, for a second he feels glad that you aren't super tiny, it makes this feel like the first time both of you did it. It holds a special place in his heart, the lovely touches have never been that satisfying. And every time you take your time to show affection to him during it- he falls further and further in love with you. Even if he doesn't show it, or return them, he appreciates the gestures.

He knows it's time to start the actions of love and that you would certainly never reject it. It's the childish fear keeping his head and eyes locked away during them. Is he shy? Maybe. Does he wan't to return the gesture? Some would think that he doesn't.

The whimpering noises fill his head as he finally went in knuckle deep, he lifts his head from your cleavage and brings your face closer for a kiss, eating the deep moan that leaves your mouth when he pulls out his finger and pushes it back into the warmth. Watching with open eyes how your eyebrows point up in pleasure twisting into a lustful picture he'll love for the rest of his life. The fact that he is the only one who's allowed to see it makes his head dizzy with what other expressions he could steal from you.

He slowly fastens his pace, making and leaving your walls a mess before he gets back in and fixes it with his fingers, finding that spongey spot was easy, having it memorized Katakuri curves his fingers upwards and pistons into it, barely taking his fingers out.

One after another lustful noises (now louder than ever) escape before you can bite your tongue. At some point, drool started coming out of your mouth. Eyes closed you can feel how Katakuri milked your sweet spot brutally, making your cunt weep and sting oh so impossibly delightfully.

His hand and your thights are all wet now.

``Just aah little m-more...!``

You were so close. So incredibly close.

The moment Katakuri forced his hand to dig deeper in your cunt, to get past the line of his knuckles, and pushed upwards into your belly, forcing you to arch for him harder was the moment you were seeing stars.

Your closed eyes were going into your head and your wide mouth was slack as he held your hip with one hand and rubbed your clit faster than ever with the other one. Throwing you off the edge and finally loosening the knot that was tied at the start, slick now not-so-unclear dribs down your slit, he doesn't let you have a break, hand still accompanying you even after your orgasm.

You don't complain.

He slowly pushes your pelvis down with his forearm to meet his hips, not slowing his fast-paced rubbing. Your moans are now as free as they can be, but you limit yourself, wanting to hear little grunts and deep slow moans from Katakuri. You honestly think you could cum from his voice alone.

He's beautiful you think.

His eyes are closed, the furrowing thin eyebrows holding onto the sweat drops that are covering his face in a thin layer of gloss. His eyes are closed yet he seems so concentrated to make you cum again. The vein in his forehead is on full display for you. His naturally long eyelashes adorned his hooded eyes.

``You're Beau...tiful... Kata...``

The way he hides his mouth in your cleavage and not in your shoulder because of his big size, the way he is avoiding eye contact the moment you whispered those two words. The way your heart shattered, is like no other pain you've felt. Because this boy is so... So incredibly sad. You want to kiss the pain away, the worries to be crushed under your tall figure. You want to shield him because he deserved so much more than this family.

``Sooo pretty... C-can you look...at me?`` Exhausted, you reach out.

You don't pay attention to the second orgasm, too busy complimenting him about his beauty. You miss how he is rutting his clothed hips right on your naked ass. You don't miss how he turns his face to the opposite side from you, you don't miss the red-colored ears as you hug his neck. Biting his ears as you are getting closer yet again. You notice how he's gone quiet the moment you praised him. How he is listening to your moans right in his ear.

Suddenly he crashes his hips into you, stinging sensations of him losing grip on his strength lays mockingly on the prints he has branded on both sides of your hips. Even if you were drowning in an indescribable pleasure you didn't miss the way he threw his head back, he almost roars a held-back-moan as wetness spreads on your ass. You don't have to look down to know that both of you guys's cum is wetting the sheets below.

Did he cum by pleasuring you?

Shit... That's so... Hot.

You've known there were ten million ways to love somebody and this. This was one of them.

Katakuri relaxes on the pillow behind him, coming down from the high he tossed both of you in, your arms still around his neck. He opens his eyes looking down at your face, It's a mess really, with sweat and hair sticking on your forehead, swollen lips from the previous kiss (he spends extra seconds looking and feeling the breasts resting against his own skin) but it doesn't matter to him, all he sees are the fruits of his labor. He finally removes his hands from your hips, his gaze falling on a now-covered-by-your-nightgown spot.

Did he leave a mark?

A giggle escapes from your lips before you can stop it, earning a playful glare from his direction. What's so funny?

``Aha-I'm sorry, it's just. You're so red!`` He looks through you, unfocusing his eyes before turning his (now red from embarrassment) face away from you.

You rub your cheek against him, feeling the stitch scars that lead to his mouth hole.

``Awh! C'mon don't hide from me!``

``...You're getting brave (Y/N)...``

``I don't have to be brave to call my husband beautiful and handsome! Plus you're so cute right now!``

``I'm not cute...``

``Sure you're not.`` You're pushing it. You are sure as hell not sure where this confidence came from but you aren't complaining.

Putting your hand under his chin and turning his face toward you.

His eyes settle on your lips before you pull yourself up to make your (S/C) lips land on his monstrous mouth. Like a beast, he doesn't close his eyes, unlike you.

Yet again choosing to make up for the time he closed his eyes during the sex. Staring into your wet eyelashes.

His left arm drags you so impossibly closer to his chest, in a hug while his other hand puts a strand of (H/C) hair back over your ear. When you try to pull away he follows your lips down. Cherishing the strawberry residue that the lipstick left.

A couple of moments last of you two in a romantic kiss before it turns into playful pecks across each other faces. Katakuri was careful with his fangs, still getting used to having someone get as close as he was to the white knives. He calls them and judging from the sharpness you can't exactly call him wrong.

It lasts like that for more than necessary. The sweet touches turned harsh from him is a normal feeling for you, pain tolerance is one of your specialties. It's in your blood. There is nothing he could do from the outside that could hurt you. From the inside, it's a different story.

It's the reason why Charlotte Linlin chose you to be the bride for her second son.

``He's a monster in humans skin,`` She said.

``Better have that scarf around you at all times Katakuri, don't frighten the soon-to-be bride.``  She said at one of the tea parties she had invited your family over.

It was humiliating for him to hear those words, let alone in front of a different kingdom's royal family. Those words were enough for you to have an opinion set on Big Mom.

And Katakuri too. It was respect, you respected him for putting up with people like his mother daily. Another thing to add in the similarities chart besides the height.

``Don't you think your genetic powers would make lovely children for my boy here darling? Wouldn't that be wonderful?``

You pity the children you have to give birth to. Because you know it will happen.

Her piercing gaze and a change in tone was the only reason you nodded your head. It was how the entire party went actually, with you acting like one of Big Mom's homies. Bobbing your head to every compliment she would say about you and your powers.

Maybe that's what left a sour taste in Katakuri's mouth. Why he avoided you for a couple of months after the wedding, he probably saw you as a fragile bimbo who was swayed by fear.

You would hate to say it but the truth is always hard to swallow.

It was what you were before the wedding and after. No doubt about that. The fear of upsetting a bomb that was Big Mom terrified you to your core. You could take Katakuri ignoring and avoiding you but you could never say no to them, the strings she had on your family were too tightly tied around their necks to risk it. Not to mention the thousands of people's lives each of your family member represented.

``The more you fuck around the more you're gonna find out`` As your diplomat father would say in all kinds of situations. It's just that in this instance it wasn't comedic.

It was a psychological thriller. And fucking around you couldn't.

It was a sad start to your relationship with him, an unwanted marriage both of you were against at first, maybe in another lifetime one of you would have had a voice to protest it. But for now, you enjoy the soft embrace of his arms around your shoulders. A loud banging of his heart against your ear.

The chill of the aftermath leaving your body and replacing it with a sticky feeling between your crotch and the smell of sex that wasn't visible at the time.

``Well then, don't you want to clean yourself up?``

``No, I don't.``

``W-why not?`` Usually, Katakuri loves his cleanliness, organization, and tidiness. He showers after coming home, often he's the one running to the bathroom with towels in his hands before you can even process that you've arrived home.

``...I just don't want this to end.``

``... You...`` And you thought Katakuri had run out of his surprise factor. It makes you want to toss your feet in the air with tiny kicks, giggles and everything, it makes you blush.

Seriously? Why are you acting like a schoolgirl with a crush on her upperclassmen?! Have you lost all your marbles in you, woman?! Where is the royal blood?!

You can practically feel the inner, secondary or tiny voice in your head yelling at you.

``Y... You do...?`` Unbelievable.

A nod from him is all you need.

``Y'know, we don't... Have to end it...``

``What?`` God his obliviousness makes you want to strangle him.

``We can... Continue it instead...I-i mean... If you... Want..?`` You run your index finger over his chest, tracing the tattoo with half-lidded eyes and lips in a kissing position. If this isn't lustfull, you don't know what is.

``...``

``...``

``... We can?`` His shocked eyes leave you once again, speechless.

``Of... Of course, we can! If you have any energy left that is... What made you think that we couldn't..?``

Sex is something that rarely happens between you and him since both of you most of the time are sent out for missions separately, however, If your memories aren't lying to you there are a total of four times (not counting this one) that you guys have slept together. How many times did he want to cuddle after sex? 2 times? 3 times?

Such a bad wife you've been to him.

WHAT DON'T THINK LIKE THAT!

Your questions go unanswered. Instead, he gently turns you onto your back, his hands balancing himself like a pole, they shut off your field of vision 'till you can't look anywhere instead up.

And up you look.

You think it's a sight any fair lady would go feral over. So what if you've seen this many times before, it never fails to make you nervous, the confidence dripping off of him, even if shaky eyesight proves just how unconfident he is.

Swoon over him you do.

The feeling you got at the start of the night coming back ten times stronger and filling up your heart until it's back to the pace it was before, this time maybe even shaking sideways for dramatic or. romantic effect.

Your breathing quickens as his head follows his body that was leaning on his thighs which were usually heavy with accessories of any kind, mostly following his gothic style with minor changes. Now he stands on top of your legs with his free-of-any-weight ones, caging yours with his knees. He has a charm in the way he travels his hand down on your skin, giant fingers ghosting over the most sensitive of places. The size difference isn't much but staring at your squished thighs and comparing it to the thickness of his knees makes your breath hitch, gulping you look up towards his face.

Katakuri's sharp crimson eyes glimmer down at you.

He had never once failed to make you feel so unbelievably small under his gaze, you find this exact moment perfect to take off your sticky nightgown that's wet with substances from both of your bodies. It turns out to be a good hiding device for your face, too bad it only lasts a couple of seconds before Katakuri gets suspicious.

Once over your head, you toss the (F/C) fabric somewhere on the floor. Presenting your fully naked body to him.

You don't know when or how he got the boxer off, but he now stands in all of his glory. One would think he was flexing his muscles, and he was. With how heavily Katakuri was breathing, you would have run your fingers up his tattoo if he didn't grab your legs first, taking them out of his leg jail, it was an awkward struggle to pull them over his thighs but he managed to not stretch it out for too long.

It felt so right, you against him fitting like puzzle pieces, your warm legs clinging onto his hips that are the perfect fit for your long legs.

It's your fantasy coming to life and so is his.

Katakuri pulls your hips near his pelvis to get you in a comfortable position. His fingers play with your now relaxed entrance. His other hand strokes his sex in front of you.

Shyness is thrown out of the window.

``I'll... Be slow.`` He always says that. But he can not help the roughness come into play the moment you get used to having him inside you.

You shiver as his head presses against your folds, hiss as it's slowly getting past the cold surface and into the warmth your insides bring. You hear him let out a grunt of his own. The shakiness of his hands on your hips calms the arch your back has been put into.

Katakuri pushes in with slow motions.

He tries to distract you will little strokes up and down your arched back.

You try to not tense up, you really do, but his fingers weren't enough for you to have been ready for his cock. It has that extra length and thickness his fingers weren't capable of having.

The sting leaves you panting and watery-eyed.

Katakuri looks down at you, completely stopping his actions when the walls around his girth close his pathway to bliss.

He lets you relax and adjust to his length. Looking at your face when you wipe your not-yet-spilled tears. Feeling the walls grip and loosen around him makes him close his eyes, ignoring the sparks of pleasure that are signaling him to just rut into you. He turns his face back to you, opening his eyes.

Katakuri doesn't ask you to relax, he knows you're already doing that and he knows you'll signal him to move onward, there is no need to remind you of what's obvious. So he stays quiet, humming and touching you elsewhere across your body, a gentleness he didn't know was capable of, coming forward and dripping honey over your pain, sugarcoating it with his lips that are kissing up your neck.

You put your hands over his shoulders, feeling the pain go away only for it to be replaced by numbness. calming down you nod your head against his scarred cheek.

``You can go on... Now.`` And he does. Slowly and surely with the help of the previous round. He bottoms out.

Your walls surround him, while his grunts surround your head. Both of you stay still for a moment, him going back to kissing your shoulder while you hug his neck, lost in ecstasy.

The world is summed down to only him and you, even if you are running your eyes on the walls of the room, you're still breathing in his leftover cotton cologne, lingering on his skin for just a bit longer.

He starts moving, god he starts moving.

Rocking into you slower than ever, stickiness in your crotch area goes unnoticed. The feeling of him moving and dragging the pleasure away only for him to slide back in, adding the rubbing against your clit with his shortened pubes is soul-shattering in a pleasing way, making your brain mush and your mouth full of unholy sounds.

Sweat dribbles down the side of his face still buried in your shoulder. He is not a man who leaves hickeys. Even though It's impossible since he can't exactly hurt you, although he enjoys leaving marks with anything else, they don't last long, only a couple of minutes before it's back to the way your skin was. But he likes having your signatures on his back especially since that's the only place covered by his jacket in the public.

Even now you leave tiny trails with your nails on his back, not strong enough to break the skin but just enough for them to look like a part of his tattoo gone wild. it just sums up more blood on the southern side of his body, getting him harder than he was before.

It's too much for you when he starts setting a fast pace, his hips meeting yours midway through your grinding, it's too much you tell yourself.

The way he is holding his wide torso with his elbows right beside your shoulders since you didn't let go of his neck since you grabbed it. You feel silly, sticking yourself onto him this way but he doesn't have any complaints. Even if it's too much how you cum yet again with shaky legs and slick dripping down your crack and onto your arched back. Too much of him rocking into you. The mattress below you squicking and rocking with his thrusts. Not only the mattress, but his thrusts also drag your entire body with him, meeting him halfway through his pulling. Too much moaning coming from your side, it's too good.

Too good to tell him to stop.

You can't tell when you came again, the shakiness is blending in with his hips crashing into yours, and you can't tell what is your natural body's doing and what is Katakuri making your body do.

Him finding the sweet spot was the last thing you wanted him to do. You wanted him to find it.

But judging from the electricity hitting you full force again and again and again, making you cry out in all kinds of movements to push him away, you can't be sure.

Katakuri takes advantage of your vulnerability and pulls you away from him so you could relax on the light pink pillow almost swallowing you whole. Allowing him to thrust at a slightly different angle, an angle that also relieves tension from your back.

He straightens himself, now standing on his knees as he looks down at where your bodies are connected, he lands his hands on your hips setting an almost inhuman pace you aren't able to keep up with.

Not with your body and not with your mind.

He pays no attention to your face, you've had enough of that before. Instead, he watches as his hands slam your hips to him, and your poor clit swollen and sad, lies helplessly. Taking him with no problems.

``A-ah little more..`` he moans out. You want to cry at how much he wants to drag this out.

You can tell by the way his hips stutter before calming down completely, going back to the slow pace he did at the beginning.

It's too much.

``Katah-kuri, please!-`` Your voice cuts off by a scream that left your mouth when he slammed his hips back into you unexpectedly.

You can hear him chuckle lightly at your trembling figure lying under him.

It's like he is teasing you and himself.

Tears drip down your face as he repeats it a few times more, before grinding his pelvis when fully entering you cleanly. Your abused cunt beats against the few pubes it has stuck in the wetness surrounding it.

He doesn't let your wobbly legs slide down his thighs, holding them harshly and not letting your bottom parts get away from him.

You can feel it before it comes. The way a vein in his dick starts pulsing and throbbing. Filling your insides to the brim.

You don't look down, instead, you pay attention to Katakuri's Addams apple bobbing up and down in his thick throat accompanied by sweat drops, the way his heavy jaw comes up and down, and the way his eyes are closed and tensed as are his eyebrows. How the other shoulder free of any tattoo (one which you were previously gnawing on) is red colored. It's shiny with spit, tears, and sweat.

It's as far as you get before your heart finally calms down, forcing your eyes to close and your body to pass out, exhaustion finally catching up to you. The last thing you see is a blurry figure of Katakuri looking down at you.

His worried voice calls out to you.

And here you thought you could endure a monster's sweet voice.

[lemony-snickers]

@kingkonoha - ficti-gram for you!

to: @kingkonoha from: @akamikazae message: She was amongst one of my first moots- her blog is such a warm and welcoming space--she is a so kind, supportive and a wonderful writer. So happy lemony ficti-gram <33 characters: neji hyuga/fem!reader prompt: sweet & sour / homemade

Neji stares, quite obviously unsure what to make of the scene. His eyes slide away from yours, tracking a glob of something slimy-looking and orange as it drips sluggishly from the edge of the counter.

"Welcome... home?" You shouldn't be asking a question, but somehow you are.

There was a time when the embarrassment you feel burning its way through your body would have been the worst feeling you could imagine.

But you are not a child anymore. You have seen war and death. Have watched tragedy unfurl in your hands like the petals of a spring blossom.

So, you think, this should be nothing. An inconsequential blip across the map of your existence. Because all that you have survived was so much worse. You are stronger for it, you tell yourself

And yet, now, you wonder if perhaps this blip will be your undoing.

"I can explain," you say. But you can't. Who could?

It looks as if a sticky orange monster has exploded in your kitchen, its insides globbed onto every surface, every part of you. You wonder how you will ever get the stuff out of your hair without shearing it down to your scalp.

The thought makes you wince.

"What happened?" Neji's voice is smooth and calm, a still pond to all your frazzled, manic whitewater.

"I was baking," you say, wincing again when you add, "but I guess I did something wrong."

Neji hums in agreement, pale eyes scanning the scene, scutinizing each detail. You bite your lip, feel the prickle of tears behind your eyes.

You know you will never be the sort of wife the Hyuga clan accepts, even for a member of the branch family (though they claim all that heirarchical garbage has long since been put to rest, you see the way the elders still look down at your husband and you internally curse them for it).

You don't come from a prominent clan, you had no dowry to offer when the two of you wed. All outdated ideals and customs, you know that, but it still stings a little when members of the clan make cutting remarks under their breath or disguise their distaste with half-compliments.

So you know you will never be an ideal Hyuga bride.

But you had thought you could do this, at least. Thought you could manage to make Neji a proper meal. A hearty curry. Sweet rice cakes for dessert.

But somewhere along the way, something went utterly, totally, horrifically awry.

Neji takes a careful step into the kitchen, avoiding a patch of rice flour on the floor, and peers into the pan before you. He sniffs and you notice the way his mouth turns down minutely at the corners, his distaste evident even as he tries to hide it.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and you hate that the sound is so small, so obviously teetering on the edge of a sob.

Neji looks at you evenly, but you dart your eyes to the side, avoiding his intense gaze. You love his eyes--love everything about him--but you can't look at him now, the shame of your failure too fresh.

Your husband inhales slowly through his nose and back out again, and you wait for him to scold you gently, as he has before when you push yourself too hard in your training or take to heart some snide remark from one of his clanspeople.

You are staring at the wall when you hear him move, cataloguing the exact pattern of the culinary travesty staining the carefully chosen wallpaper when you recognize the clink of a bowl, the scrape of chopsticks pulled from a drawner.

You whip around to find Neji gripping a piece of something vaguely bell pepper-shaped--though not, you grimace, bell pepper-colored--between his chopsticks.

"Neji, you don't have--"

He pops the object in his mouth and chews, slowly. Thoughtfully. You watch as a small muscle in his temple twitches, as if the Byakugan is about to activate.

"Mmm," he hums, the sound strained slightly.

You all but melt, the vision of your husband eating your terrible cooking just to make you feel better almost too much to handle.

"It's... sweet?" he says, another errant question that should be a statement. "And... sour, too, a little."

You bite back a laugh as Neji takes a second bite, disguising an obvious gagging sound with another exaggerated, "Mmm."

You feel the tears threaten again, but this time it isn't because of shame or embarrsment, it's from love. From knowing that even if you will never be a perfect wife, Neji is a perfect husband.

You walk across the room to place a kiss against his twitching temple, giggling a little, "Come on," you say, "let's go out for dinner tonight."

Neji sighs, visibly relieved, "Are you sure?"

You nod enthusiastically, tugging him toward the door. He hesitates, though, brow furrowing. "Perhaps," he says carefully, "you should shower first?"

Not really a question, either, because there's no doubt you shouldn't be in public covered in whatever sticky sweet rice curry monstrosity still clings to you. You smile, nodding, and head toward the bathroom, dragging a blushing Neji along behind you.

[daintylovers]

obsessed with the idea of snow x reader x lucy

like how you meet lucy first, being part of the covey

so obviously lucy and you are pretty close right off the bat

its a running joke around twelve that you guys will get married and somehow have children

its said with cruel intent but lucy sees it as the best possible future she could have

i mean why wouldn't she want to spend the rest of her life with you? she's already spent this much of it doing the same

all you two need to communicate with is one little look

its a furrow of the brows from her and wide eyes from you

lucy isn't a naturally anxious person- carefree and wild is more her lane

but when it comes to you, she can't help but almost mother hen you

always watching out for you during her concerts

and she won't hesitate to get in a fight with a local if it means getting his attention away from you

her worry only increases when she gets reaped

her first thought isn't even about herself

it's about you

if she's gone, you become public domain again

and the pair of you have made plenty of enemies who are just itching to get you alone

but before she can even take her first steps up the stairs a hand shoots out from the audience

someones taking her place- thank god

but, no, not thank god at all

in fact, there probably isn't even a god because if there was, then it wouldn't be you whose hand was raised

as if things couldn't get worse for the songbird

she gets ushered away and the two of you cross paths

she goes out to try to get a grip on you, but the guards yank her away

it's weird because she almost feels betrayed?

how could you do this to yourself? to her? how is she supposed to live if you aren't by her side?

as you make your way up the stage, every piece of you cracks in some way or another

the games have already begun to shape you into a monster

lucy can see it in your eyes, the light faded out

later on, after a day or so of travel, you've decided to try and forget about lucy

it will be easier to die without the reminder of what you've left behind

but also easier to kill, if you have no one who remembers the way you used to be

you've barely talked to the male from your district

in fact, you don't really recognize him

but when he sees you staring, he calls out your name

your stone-cold face doesn't make a change, so he tells you that he knows lucy

fuck

that he's heard all about you and will try to protect you as best as he can

well- so much for forgetting about her

you tell him you don't need his protection and try to shrug him off

it hurts more than you thought it would

the boy wakes you up when you arrive at the capitol

you don't bother to learn his name, it will be easier to kill him if you aren't attached

stepping out of the train car, you see a tall blonde man wearing a ridiculous amount of red pacing around with something in his hands

it's clear he isn't meant to be there, so you don't pay him any mind

but when he turns around and sees the boy from your district, he knows that the smaller figure beside him must be you

his tribute

as soon as he witnessed your little display of love for lucy, the longing looks the two of you shared before being ripped apart, he knew he was in luck

knowing the name of the person you clearly loved most would help him shape you into a nasty little thing for the arena

you would be the key to the plinth price money after all

but jesus you sure are smaller than expected

i guess television does make everything look grander

he calls out your name, but you don't turn to face him

he tries again and gets a little frustrated at the lack of acknowledgment he receives

so he moves to tap you on the shoulder, but as soon as one of his slim fingers meets your shoulder, you swing at him

I'm taking closed fist knuckles out hard as hell swing at him

obviously, it takes him by surprise, and on the impact his head goes flying to the side and he stumbles back, the rose he had been holding dropped from his grip

you move to keep walking forward but he recovers himself and practically yanks you around back to him, holding you away from him like a stray cat

glaring up at him, you still don't say anything, making him feel more uneasy than if you would have started screaming at him

he tries your name again, maybe the television got your name wrong?

but when he says your name for the final time, your eyes water

it's subtle, something only a man like snow would recognize

he said it just like lucy would

except lucy would be holding you tighter

she would feel warmer

this man feels cold, isolated, and dangerous

he introduces himself and you almost laugh at the irony, snow, of course his name is snow

well it's not fully snow, of course he has a first name

but snow suits him better

he tells you that he's your mentor, here to help you win the games

he offers you the rose that he's retrieved from the ground but you don't take it

please is all he says

and maybe it's because he reminds you of the comfort lucy would have given to you, or maybe it's because he just looks positively pathetic, groveling like a little kicked puppy, that you take the damned rose from his awaiting hands

he smiles at you, flashing pearly whites

a sting of insecurity shoots through you, your teeth definitely looked like a lemon compared to his shiny ones

just another reminder of how different you two really are

thank you, you offer him, you're covey and covey know their manners, even in the face of their oppressors

you turn to leave him again, but can still feel his presence close behind

looking around you notice that he's the only mentor here

it makes you feel uncomfortable

now there was a huge target on your back

and that fear is confirmed when you hop into the truck and are met with snickers and glares from your peers

and snow only makes things worse when he jumps in with you all at the last minute

maybe if you don't interact with him, they'll see that you are still one of them

still just a lowly district kid with no other option

you watch as he gets ganged up on and when he looks at you with pleading eyes, a hint of guilt racks you

but he's capitol, you remember, and capitol wouldn't save you either

so you let them at him

but when the truck car starts to tilt, he still moves to protect you, shoving the kids off him and caging you in his arms

his tribute will not die because of shitty driving

everyone tumbles out of the car and into the wild

and when snow pulls you up and away, you see that it really is the wild

you are now caged in some lame forest area?

you aren't really sure what it is because the crowd outside the cage is really throwing you off

and then you see the camera crew and the happy announcer in the middle

but the guy also sees you and snow, locked in each other's embrace

it mortifies you, lucy will see this

you detach yourself as quick as lightning and make your way to the man, who is equally as curious about you as you are about him

and who might you be? wait, hold on, we know you, you're the girl from twelve who sacrificed herself for her lover. tell me, do you regret it?

every part of you screams to spit in his face, how dare he use you like bait for the audience?

but two can play that game

i would never regret saving someone i love. would any of you? lucy gray, i miss you every day, and I'll continue to miss you even when I'm gone and grey.

A/N: tumblr is yelling at my computer and saying this is too long so I've cut it in half. but if you want more let me know because i love this dynamic and i barely explored it here lmfao. had to lay the ground work yk! anyways, lot of love <3

[siriusleee]

Like Blood on Iron | Part 7

Historical Executioner AU Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

A/N: Two in a week? Who am I? I wrote most of this today, and should have just waited until my regularly scheduled days to post, but I couldn't.

If you like this fic, consider sending a dollar on ko-fi.

You would recognize his silhouette in a hurricane. Wet hair plastered to your forehead and rain dripping in your eyes doesn't disturb the image of him waiting for you down the now mud swamped road. You push your hood off of your head, trying to let him know to come to you, to come speak to you, but instead he turns and disappears into the narrow alleys between the small shops and houses. 

You should go inside; you can tell from the twitch of the curtains that someone is watching you - watched Jonathan kiss you on the cheek and walk off. You know whoever it is: Mother, Father, Maggie - they're waiting for you to come inside from the stinking rain that's pelting your skin. They're crowded around the window wondering why you won't move. 

You run after him, slipping and sliding in the mud that clings to your skin and coats you in a thin sheen. You can barely make out the edge of his cloak whipping around corners in a seemingly nonsense pattern, always too far away from you for you to catch up. It's not until you emerge at the edge of the village, overlooking the cove that you realize where he's gone. 

You slide down the rocks, scraping your shins, your palms, the back of your thighs against the rough rocks as the rain makes them too slick to catch a grip on. Blood mixing with the rain and the mud, you crash into the sand, dress torn to shreds. Just another to end up shoved in the back of the closet where questions can't reach it. 

Simon's a black mass against the dark sand, a tornado in his own right as the wind pulls his cloak away from his body, whipping it into terrifying shapes - the monster the rest of the village thinks he is. The mask is gone, for the first time you see him bare outside of the safety of his own home. The cross scar shines pale against the rest of his skin, the moon still bright enough through the clouds to illuminate him. 

"Simon!" Your voice is carried away from you by the wind. You don't know if he hears you or knows that you'd follow as he turns toward you. 

He doesn't reach out to you, the reflex you've gotten so used to him showing around you as you come to a stop beside him, your own cloak pulling painfully against you in the wind. 

"Shouldn't you be inside?"

He speaks so low you're not sure if you actually hear him. 

"What?"

"You don't need to be out here in this; you're getting married soon. You don't want to be sick."

His words are like a kick in the stomach - not just the what he's said, but the way he speaks to you. Even from the first time here on the beach, he'd never spoken so flat - so empty to you. There had always been something so uniquely Simon in his voice. But now - this is how he must speak to those knelt down in front of him, waiting for his sword to swing. How he must have sounded to Uncle Henry when he knelt down to whisper to him. 

"Simon it wasn't - it was just a kiss on the cheek. It wasn't anything important."

"It should have been more."

The feeling of it all: his words, the cloak tugging at your neck, the rain and mud sticking to your skin, the burning in your palms, it's too much.

"What did you say?"

Simon doesn't look at you as he speaks, his hands held tightly behind his back, eyes watching the waves that crash heavy on the horizon. 

"He's going to be your husband. You should have been sneaking off with him - you should have followed him. It's the right thing."

His skin is ice cold where you grab him on the arm, none of his usual warmth bleeding through the dark fabric of his shirt.

"Simon, please don't say that. I don't want -"

"Go home."

"No."

Simon doesn't shake your arm free, doesn't shove you away, but he might as well with the look in his eyes when he finally looks at you. Bright eyes unusually dark, the circles underneath them nearly black. 

"Why do you keep coming back? There is so much more for you elsewhere."

You can't breathe, you have to clutch his arm to keep yourself grounded or you think you might let the rain wash you out into the sea. He grabs you, hands warm while the rest of him is freezing. 

"We can dream all we want, but I've got nothing for you but a shack in the woods and a life full of being shunned."

"Better that with you than anything with anyone else."

He's heaving beneath your touch, trying to keep himself from unraveling everything that he's packed so small inside. He doesn't want to speak what he's thinking of: you can see it written in the corners of his eyes, in the wrinkles of worry you're not sure you've ever seen before. 

"You say that now. But what about when you want a family?" His voice is pained at the thought. 

"You are my family."

"This life isn't enough for you, even if you refuse to see it yourself," his grip on you turns bruising - harder than he's ever held you, even when you begged for harder. "I will not be responsible for seeing you suffer in the coming years because you thought you loved me. You told me you wanted to leave and travel - I can't do that with you here."

"I do love you."

You're begging; you will get on your knees to beg if it makes him stop talking to you like this, to stop holding you like he's never going to get the chance to do it ever again. But there's iron in his eyes, and your blood on his skin, and you know that this is it. 

He doesn't have to tell you he loves you - not like when he whispered it into your skin or when he would braid your hair into tangles in the early mornings. It rolls off of him as he pushes you back, mouth capturing yours. He tastes like the rain and something bitter, something you've never tasted on him before. 

You trip over a divot in the sand, but Simon catches you, pulling you up so that your legs wrap around his waist. He walks the two of you back until you're sheltered by the rocks that form the ledge above. 

The rocks dig into your back, but you don't feel them as Simon hitches up your skirts around you. This time it's different - there is no gentleness in the way he takes you; not like all the other times before. The rain covers the two of you, and you know this is the last time. The last time you'll taste him or feel the thick calluses of his fingers on the back of your thigh. 

And when the two of you cross the ending together, he doesn't pull out to spill himself anywhere but inside of you. He pushes you harder against the rocks, keeping himself buried inside of you until he can't stay any longer. 

You can feel the scratches on your back stinging from the rain, and you hope they never stop - one of the last reminders of Simon you know you're ever going to get. 

He doesn't kiss you when he settles you onto the ground, doesn't kiss you as he straightens the tattered and torn edges of your skirt back down, fingers chaste against the soaked and ruined fabric. He doesn't speak as he holds your face in his hands, thumbs brushing the water from your cheeks and you don't know if it's rain or tears, but you're sure he does. 

You don't know if it's the rain or the sorrow that stops your feet from working, but Simon, strong as he always has been, carries you home on his back - a caricature of all the times you've been in his arms before. His boot kicking against the front door is thunderous on the darkened street. 

Father doesn't ask what's happened when he swings the door open and finds Simon sliding you off of his shoulders; he doesn't ask why your knees buckle or why Mother rushes forward to grab you from Simon, her own hand lingers on Simon's a moment to long before Father whispers a 'thank you' and let's the door slam shut. 

You know by the way her hands cradle you that Mother knows what happened out there in the storm. She doesn't let Father touch you, instead pushing him away and calling for Maggie to help carry you up the stairs. Your mother, always so fastidious about cleanliness and the whiteness of the linens, strips you down to your underdress and tucks you into bed, mud and all, burrowing herself beside you, fingers doing their best to push away the fever that threatens to build at your temple.

"I'm sorry."

I'm sorry.

You're sick for two weeks, fever burning through your skin. You think at times that the blankets around you must be turning into ash. The people beside your bed flicker in and out: Maggie rearranging the sheets around you, Lily pressing a cold washcloth to your forehead. Jonathan reading something in a book to you, his voice rumbling through the house. 

Mother bathing you gently, fingers brushing through your hair, working the tangles out with a comb. 

It's Jonathan at your side when you wake, a book in his hands and his boots tapping heavily on the floor beneath him. The sound shoots straight through your skull.

"Will you stop that?"   

His hand probes at your temple, fingers taking your temperature. You don't even have it in you to push him off, to tell him to go away. The chair someone placed beside your bed creaks under his weight as he slips off of it, book landing heavily on the floor. He drops to his knees beside you so, eyes scanning your face for any sign of the fever coming back.

"How'd you feel?"

He speaks to you like you're a wounded animal, soft and low. Like you'll run at any moment. but there's nowhere to run this time.

"Like I was trampled by a horse."

His chuckle, just a short breath from his nose, washes over the ache in your muscles. 

"I thought you were when I saw you laying here the first time."

He slides his hand beneath the blankets to grab yours, and you let him, welcoming the warmth and roughness against your still frozen skin.

"Did I sleep through our wedding?"

"Unfortunately not. There's still six days for you to be rid of me."

You can't help the hot tears that start to flow from you - Jonathan doesn't ask why as he brushes them away, pulling himself into bed beside you and letting you turn the front of his shirt dark with your own tears. 

"I know love. I'm sorry."

But his warmth isn't enough - isn't a replacement for what you're wishing for.

The dress is beautiful, you think as Maggie's fingers lace the back up gently. In the three weeks you were sick you'd lost so much weight that the stays have to be pulled tighter to form the fabric around yourself than originally intended. You want to apologize to her; this should have been her dress - she is the one who wants to get married. The weight of your disappointment grows heavier as Lily works around Maggie, her fingers pinning your hair up deftly with Grandma's pins. 

You don't recognize yourself when they step away; the white of the dress sparkling back at you in the wavy mirror, blurring your features as you furiously try to blink back the tears that threaten to ruin the entire thing. 

Jonathan had been there every day you'd been sick, but it wasn't the same. You'd wanted to ask him if the dark shroud was outside, if he was there at all. But you couldn't do it. Couldn't bring yourself to know if he wasn't there. 

"It's going to be alright," Maggie soothes, fingers running down the fabric of your shoulders. "And you'll still be close - Jonathan asked Father if Lily and I could come stay with you for a while after the two of you return from your trip."

"I'm not sure my husband would appreciate sharing a bed with the three of us."

Maggie's distorted reflection smiles weakly at you in the mirror; you clasp her hand tightly, hoping the sweat doesn't stain the delicate white fabric. 

A heavy knock reverberates through the house - you feel it shake the floorboards beneath you. 

"I'll get it," Lily says, slipping out of the door, heavy dress swishing around her ankles. You think of her asking you to tighten her dress, of the way she'd smiled at the boy in the market. Soon you'll be getting her ready for her own wedding, and you wonder if she'll consider it a death sentence like you or look forward to it like Maggie. 

Her voice is muffled; you try to focus on it as Maggie ducks beneath your bilious skirts to help you slide your shoes on. You teeter on one foot, and she grabs your calf to try to help you from falling. Lily's feet patter up the steps, and she trips through the door, skirt catching on a snag on the floor.

"There's-" she's breathless from rushing up the stairs, "there's someone here to see you."

You know who it is by the way she stumbles over the word 'somebody'. 

Maggie's warm hand finishes the lacing on your shoe before she emerges from the cloud of skirts around you, hair disheveled. Lily's still staring at you, the thread of her dress connecting her to the floor, to the house you once so desperately tried to escape from. 

Your heart squeezes in your chest; you grip the lace at your wrist hard enough you can feel some of the threads snapping. 

You know it's a horrible idea: to see him now. But you push past Maggie and Lilly, tripping on the skirt as you do your best to keep your balance flying down their stairs. The feeling of him courses through your veins as your feet hit the main landing; but the entryway is empty. Your stomach sinks; he must have left, must have -

"You look beautiful."

Simon stares at you from the kitchen doorway; hands clasped behind his back. He's devoid of his usual mask; pale skin exposed to the world. His eyes are dark, the skin around them gaunt and sleep deprived. You long to reach out and grab him, but you keep your hands to yourself. He looks so much like he did that night in the cove. The scratches against your back have healed up, but you can still feel them pulsing just below the surface. 

"What are you doing here?" You ask, trying and failing to keep your voice steady. 

"I wanted to see you again before I couldn't again."

A thousand wild thoughts course through you: this wouldn't have to end the two of you. You could still see each other, in secret; you would do anything to keep him, but you know what his answer to it would be. How he would shake his head, and tell you it's impossible. 

And you know that, despite however you may feel, Jonathan doesn't deserve that level of cruelty, not after nursing you back to life for the past three weeks, not after kneeling at your bedside and brushing away tears he knew didn't belong to him. 

"Why today? You could have come to see me days ago."

"I wanted a glimpse into a different life."

It's not sadness that flows through you; the fever burnt that out of you weeks ago. Now it's anger like you've never felt: the anger that you know takes over Mother when she smashes things against the wall in her and Father's room. The anger that takes her over when she makes the walls rattle in her wake. 

"This is cruel, and you know it."

Simon has the good graces to not meet your eyes as he shifts, boots covered in a thick layer of dust. 

"I know."

"I thought you wanted me to forget you."

In the distance the church bell tolls, timing the hour. The minutes to your wedding tick down, waiting for the sun to fully set before Father comes to get you to escort you there. And Simon in front of you wears down whatever resolve that you had to get yourself there.

"I think I'm too selfish for that."

"I wish you were."

He chews on the inside of his cheek, and you know if you were to kiss him right now, you'd taste the iron of his blood. 

"I would still run away with you, if you asked right now."

"We've got nowhere to run to."

"That doesn't bother me."

A sharp staccato of a knock on the door breaks the spell between the two of you. You linger, waiting for Simon to say something else, but the knocking increases, pulling you away from him. 

Simon takes advantage of you walking away to try to slip out the backdoor. The small courtyard is covered in leaves, they crunch heavily beneath his booted feet. The sound of the door opening back up behind him pulls his attention away from the path home. 

He doesn't turn to look back, but he cowardly hopes it's your voice that calls out to him from the doorway. But it's not.

"You're just going to run away? You're not even going to fight for her?"

Maggie stares at him from the shut doorway, all acerbic and sharp edges - the opposite of you. Simon feels like the look in eyes is enough to set him on fire from shame. 

"She deserves better than me; better than a life on the run."

"Who are you to decide what my sister deserves?"

She walks quickly, heels sharp against the cobblestones. Simon thinks she's going to hit him. He would deserve it; he can tell by the way her fingers curl that it would hurt. 

"My sister," Maggie says, nearly whispering at him in the biting air, "could do worse than Jonathan. I had to beg my father and mother to not marry her off to some of the men they had in mind. But she deserves more than just being someone's wife for the rest of her life."

She cuts Simon off sharply when he tries to speak.

"My sister would run to the farthest edges of the earth to be with you - to see the world with you."

She leaves him there, the wind cutting through him, slamming the door shut hard enough behind her to rattle the windows and the wood. 

tag list: @silverianni, @milfs4lifee, @koi-feish, @shirabeastly, @pookie90, @ghostlythot, @hearts4sky, @crystallizedtime, @the-worlds-tempest, @myconglomerateromance, @elena-ph, @chaoticgoblindev, @pipocfamily, @canadianmilkbag, @caspertheassholeghost, @2512121morningstar, @glitterypirateduck, @elli0t3r, @clairdelunelove, @captainprice4life, @generaldestinychild, @crowsjourney, @c0pernicus, @wistfullyhypomanic, @arbesa-mind, @ray-rook, @daisyfrubies, @september-22-1996

[bonefall]

Oh I ADORE the idea of a Bumble/Star Flower dynamic. I always imagine Star Flower to have this sweet and soft exterior to her that allows her to manipulate Clear Sky, but is in actuality a cold, solemn, purpose-minded cat who takes no shit. Her geniunely taking interest in this sweetheart kitty who's full of confidence (and probably hates Clear Sky's guts as much as she does LMFAO) is so intriguing pleaaaaase tell me more ❤️

At the moment it's just sort of indulgence because I think their dynamic is interesting, so I haven't completely leaned onto it yet. I probably will though.

What I like a lot about them is that they're so different, yet so alike. They're both victims of their canon's misogyny, in opposite ways. It killed Bumble and prevented Star Flower from being what she could fully be.

In BB, Star Flower was the high priestess of One Eye, in one way, a daughter in others. He was violent and controlling. She was charming and capable. She did exactly what he wanted from her, and she enjoyed being his devotee. They loved each other like a parent and child, and for him, she would stay blind to the pain in the world.

Because she KNOWS that what she does hurts and kills people. Clear Sky isn't the first cat she's skilfully bled out slowly. But when her God is involved, this is not a terrified, screaming person on an altar. It's meat to be prepared for her beloved father.

And as long as she has One Eye to serve, she doesn't have to think about the humanity that is part of her new form. In a way, she's the same extinct medicinal flowers she used to be, before she took a shape as a mortal. She's his treatment. His bouquet. The flowers at a funeral.

And that's a kind of toxic dynamic, too, yknow. To love someone who merely offers you the simplicity of being their butcher.

How could she ever have prepared for his DEATH? To be SEPARATED from him? She is like an angel separated from her lord, whose one purpose has been destroyed.

And then she seduces Clear Sky, the treacherous beast who betrayed them. She'll bleed him like a goat, and be reunited with her father. And even more--

She'll offer it to Thunderstar, too! He understands her anger! Skystar is a snake who's bitten him as well. He will be grateful. There will be more who worship the warmth of the God of Summer, just like her.

But he rejects it, and you know why?Because he's had a toxic dad too.

Not one he loved like she did her own, but it gave him the clarity to realize that sacrificing Skystar HERE, after being backstabbed at his lowest point and suffering for hours, to bring a MONSTER back into the world, would just be revenge.

...and revenge is what Star Flower wants, too. She's hurt, but doesn't recognize that emotion.

(Still working out the climax of Thunderstar's Justice. I'm thinking that One Eye pops up, half-ressurected, and turns on Star Flower for his last sacrifice and Thunderstar saves her from that)

And after that, she can't go back to SkyClan. Of course.

When she speaks to Bumble for the first times, Star Flower is still threatening betrayals. Insisting, chuckling, that she's done Terrible Things and will do them again.

And Bumbs clocks immediately, "You're doing that to get a rise out of me and it won't work because no one would tease their secret evil scheme."

Bumble is going through a lot right now, actually. Thunderstar is getting good at speaking Parkmew on his own, now. Sparrow Heart, her daughter, betrayed her to join SkyClan in the pursuit of power. Her son Pebble Heart goes by Owl Eyes these days, and he's a big strong warrior who doesn't need her. It seems like no one needs her.

She talks a big game about her self-worth, but a lot of it is bluster and self-assurance. She'll insist she's the BEST AND COOLEST CAT THIS SIDE OF THE EVERYWHERE but she's hiding a LOT of guilt, none of it deserved.

I feel like Star Flower is fascinated by this. The dishonesty here. How Bumble presents herself as boisterous and over-confident, but hides a great sadness within it.

Ahh, Bumble wants a God to serve too, doesn't she? Everyone does. Is a Clan a sort of God to serve? ...yes, this is making sense.

For Bumble to Star Flower... she's brand new, an outsider just like she was once. A very strange one with strange humor, who exists at a time when her life is undergoing a lot of changes. She likes the way Star Flower is so interested in her. She enjoys showing her around the territory.

God, sometimes it just... it reminds her of Turtle Heart, you know? Before Tom came. When it was just them, and they were young and they were learning all these wonderful things together.

It never got better, really, losing her lover and her best friend. She's just been GO GO GOing for years, GO out of this Clan, GO get your kittens, GO open negotiations. It wasn't until NOW that she's really had time to process the loss of Turtle Heart.

And that's sort of where they are, now. There's not really an end in sight, they're just very involved and interested in each other. Not quite courting, but not NOT courting either. Sappho and her acquaintance lmao.

[fuckmeyer]

HEY i'm having unhinged carlisle/edward thoughts again and i had to come into your inbox to share them because YOU DID THIS TO ME--

but truly. like. the bond between creator and created. (this may or may not have been inspired by a conversation with su-angelvicioso about yknow. a different ship) the creator recognizes themself in the created, the created knows the creator because they were shaped so fundamentally by them...so any time they're looking at the other person they're seeing themself, but also any time they see themself they're seeing the other...there's no way to define yourself except in the differences and similarities you have to this person who you know more intimately than anyone else in the world, except really your view of them will ALWAYS be distorted by your view of yourself...like!!!!

edward thinks carlisle is perfect because he thinks of himself as a monster. carlisle thinks edward is the best of all of them, the reason to believe vampires have souls, because it's the only way for him NOT to believe he himself is a monster!!! edward hates and fears carlisle for being a standard he can never measure up to, but he loves him because he is that standard, and he keeps forgiving him...but maybe actually the forgiveness just makes him hate carlisle MORE because edward doesn't WANT to be forgiven!!! carlisle thinks of edward as his own redemption, but that means he'll never actually fully see edward and he can't actually forgive him in a meaningful way!!! they're obsessed with each other, but neither one of them can actually express that to the other!!!!!!! holy FUCK they're a MESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(sorry this is not even a question, my brain is just scrambled eggs about them now apparently)

THIS IS IT I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME THE SPACE TO TALK ABOUT CARLWARD I SWEAR I AM GOING A LITTLE FERAL OVER THIS SHIP? FORGIVE ME THIS ASK SHOULD HAVE BEEN MORE POIGNANT BUT IM JUST GONNA SAY STUFF OK

THE BOND BETWEEN CREATOR AND CREATED!!!! YES!!!!!!!

the creator recognizes themself in the created, the created knows the creator because they were shaped so fundamentally by them. [...] your view of them will ALWAYS be distorted by your view of yourself

and isn't it just so beautiful when we put Carlisle & Edward's canon relationship in this context! i wrote this in another post but:

Carlisle believes Heaven exists because of Edward.

Heaven is not a place for the damned creatures like vampires, but a place for humanity.

which means!!!! Carlisle has chosen to see his own humanity in his son. for all it entails. its light, its shadows, all the shades of gray in between. and, yes!, the scary thing is, this is the only way Carlisle can believe he himself is not a monster - to see his progeny thrive within Carlisle's philosophy.

but the beautiful thing is he accepts Edward. he loves Edward. always. no matter what. & this is what allows him to participate in society, to take the Hippocratic Oath, to live a life of vegetarianism: Carlisle loves humanity in all its forms, BECAUSE OF AND IN SPITE OF EDWARD.

and Edward!!! Edward is the physical manifestation of Carlisle's beliefs. for better or worse. on the surface, Edward is a vegetarian vampire, med school grad, etc., and who wants to believe in the value of human life. (he doesn't always live up to this in day-to-day interactions obvi.)

on a deeper level, he has grappled with questions re: humanity, especially his place within his preconceived idea of Humanity. he considers himself damned, just as Carlisle does. (perhaps, even, the darkest part of Carlisle doubts the existence of his own soul.) he spends the entire series rebelling against the idea of his soul & his worthiness of love while battling his own monstrous nature.

but unlike Carlisle, Edward has actually gone out and tested these ideas. can i still have a soul if i'm a vampire? can i still be human if i kill bad people? can i still be human if i take away life? can i still be human if i do x, think y, say z?

because Carlisle doesn't necessarily have the space to do what Edward did. not just because of his busy schedule as a doctor, but his coping mechanisms, his compartmentalization required to live this vegetarian life, his religion (/religious trauma?), & his position as a coven leader do not afford him the luxury of testing these ideas himself.

at the end of the day, Carlisle can never do what Edward did. if Carlisle is going to 'save' other vampires, he needs to be (at least outwardly) secure in the notion that he has saved himself. even if he isn't.

Edward can go further, dig deeper, and that allows Carlisle to go further, too.

and in that context, god, how beautiful is it that Carlisle just has this unwavering, unconditional acceptance of Edward? that through the darkness and mistakes, there is something worth loving? that through this acceptance, Edward finds his soul in the end?

like, the breakdown of the relationship is:

to Edward, Carlisle is a god.

to Carlisle, Edward is a man, i.e., a disciple of his teachings.

& in that context, how beautiful is it that, baseline, Carlisle & Edward share this deep, spiritual love for each other that will never be broken? FUCK that hits

[guerillas-of-history]

Hi! Love your page and everything I've learned from it. It's really opened up my eyes to alot of things that I've never even imagined! Which is why I have to ask because I can't find a correct answer or logical thought process to it.

Why does the U.S support the appartied Isreal state? I truly can't come up with a logical reason to it and really sorry if you've brought it up before but I'm truly lost on why it's been like that.

Thank you for the work you put in to this page 🌻

Dear anon, thank you so much for your kind words, I am truly glad you think so. I apologize that its been a few weeks since you sent this, I've been trying to articulate a satisfactory and succinct response. With the monumental events currently underway, now is maybe the most appropiate time to try and answer.

U.S. support for israel started in 1948, with president Harry S. Truman being the first world leader to recognize the state of israel. This was because Truman's old buisness partner Edward Jacobson spent years laying the groundwork alongside zionist leader Dr. Chaim Weizmann (who would become israel's first president) this was in the aftermath of World War 2 and European powers were exhausted and former colonies were starting to rise up and throw off the imperial yoke. Simultaneously the Cold War began to take shape, the Middle East with its oil and strategic waterways such as the Suez Canal proved to be one of the sought after areas for American hegemony, concurrent to this the Soviet Union had been supporting secular Arab Nationalism as a counterpoint to the nascent zionist state. Perhaps the two most important events explaining the unequaled support for israel by the U.S. are the Six Day War in 1967 and The October War of 1973. In the 1950s the CIA recognized israel as a "logical corollary" against the radical nationalism growing in the Middle East. In June 1967 israel defeated the combined armies of Egypt, Syria, and Jordan in just six days, israel then proved to be the United State's greatest ally in the region capable of both defending and projecting U.S. interests. In 1973 Egypt and Syria launched a massive suprise attack on Yom Kippur, the war was fought to a relative stalemate with heavy casualties on both sides. Henry Kissenger traveled between the nations and help negotiate a ceasefire utilizing what became known as "Shuttle Diplomacy" the U.S. used the aftermath of the war to subvert Soviet influence, particularly in Egypt. America laid groundwork for normalization of ties between the two foes, with it being finally cemented in 1979, even though israel is almost universally despised by the Egyptian people. Since then U.S. support for israel had only increased exponentially with israel becoming by far the largest recipient of American aid since WWII. In 2016 then president Barack Obama gave 38 billion dollars alone, through a defence agreement. U.S. support over the last half century have enabled israel to grow into the monster it is today, israeli apartheid and systematic oppression of the Palestinian people is one of the greatest crimes of the last one hundred years.

This is an incredibly complicated question, and I'm sure I've missed some key points and its hard to summerize this subject concisely. I haven't even gotten into domestic support for israel as well as other external factors. If there are any specifics you would like to know please feel free to send me an ask or message me directly, and if anyone has other valuable input I highly welcome it.

[tobiasdrake]

This is so surreal. I am having trouble processing emotions right now.

Why would you think that?

How would you think that?

When were you involved enough in the planning of this to think that?

...

Hey, so, how are we going to explain to the people of Mooncradle why we and Garl popped over to the Celestial Willow and dug up Garl's grave?

Do. Share everything. At the very least tell it to Teaks and then she can explain it in a way that makes sense.

And now there's a cosmic wish involved, that is not you coming back to life?

GUYS. START EXPLAINING OR I'M GOING TO START HITTING PEOPLE. Serai, please move about six feet to your right because you have done nothing wrong but you are in the danger zone.

Do you know what it feels like to not have an ever-burning fire of vengeful fury raging inside of your heart every waking moment of your existence? Because I'd honestly forgotten.

I hope you get to experience it too soon.

You and me both, Serai. What kind of person blankets a planet in flesh monsters when you could be playing Wheels or something instead?

These guys are very smart, yet somehow not half as smart as they think they are. Everything has to be schemes and riddles and chess games and 35-step master plans. Just go have a fistfight or make out or something and leave everyone else out of it.

I'll take Garl's emotional intelligence over their extensive practical knowledge and sly trickery any day.

That's also not what happened to you and I'm still very confused by why the metaphysics are acting like it was. The Chrono Trigger homage is interfering with the plot.

It was already fully online and ready to go as soon as I walked up to--

I MEAN YES IT WAS A TON OF WORK AND YOU SHOULD BE VERY GRATEFUL. And awed. Be awed by the extensive effort I put into it for you.

I accept tribute in the form of pancakes shaped like my face. T-T I've missed your vanity pancakes so much.

...you had... the cosmic forces from beyond life and death... make dinner reservations for you.

...

You know what, I can't even be mad. That is such a Garl way to use a reality-warping cosmic wish. There are so many other things I would do with a power like that, but you wouldn't be you if you didn't use it like this.

REVERSE FUNERAL For fuck's sake how are you the best?

OOOOOOOOO I know I know I know!

There's a big empty pond with no fish in it that has its own dedicated island. Pissed me off. Why dedicate a whole island to a pond with no fish in it? I bet we can use the hook there.

Why's it called Hook of Time, though? Are we going to, like... catch the Ghost of Fishing Past or something?

I... I think I caught... the statue sunken into the lake?

Yep, definitely the statue. How this connects to dinner at the Golden Pelican is beyond me. But the important thing for everyone to recognize is that I am now demonstrably the best angler who ever lived.

Okay, but it doesn't want to bite. Like, it aggressively ignores my--

...

Hang on. I might be an idiot.

I'm an idiot. This test is a trap for people who get distracted by fishing opportunities and I goddamn fell for it for five straight minutes.

Well played, mysterious ancient architects. Either Docarri or Ovates, probably.

That is definitely something you have to fish for.

With gusto.

...HI!?

You. Uh. You have a fishhook in your eyebrow. This might sound a little weird given the circumstances of our meeting but do you need help getting that out?

...this is...

This is where the owner of the Golden Pelican lives. That's what's... that's what's been in this lake this whole time.

Does everyone have to jump through these hoops to get a reservation? How swanky is the place? They said no to me twice and I'm... have you met me?

This better be the best dinner I've ever had in my life or I'm burning that place to the ground. And you should be warned: Courtesy of present company, the competition is steep.

[the-heart-of-a-monster]

SHADOW'S LITTLE SMILE OH MY GOSH THAT'S ADORABLE-

Oh and uh yeah, the people of the arctic recognize Sonic, but it's not that big a deal tbh. Why?

...

WELL I'M GLAD THAT NONE OF YOU ASKED BECAUSE I'M DELVING INTO IT ANYWAY SO STRAP UP FOLKS, WE'RE GOING FOR A RIDE.

Okay so start things off with the obvious, every time Sonic's visited someone or crossed paths with someone, they hardly even flinched when interacting with him. The clearest memory/recolection I have of this was an issue waaaaaaay back (Probably like 2 years ago now) when our main trio was finishing a mission and exhausted outta their minds. A kind chinese family let them into their home with no sweat and with as much welcoming energy as anyone would have for a renowned hero. They gave the team food and a nice place to sleep, all while Sonic was in his Werehog form.

There were a few more instances of this same thing, but I can't remember if Sonic and Shadow actually stayed the night or if the people were just really nice or not. Either way, random people on the street showing unfounded kindness and attention to the heroes without breaking a sweat WHILE Sonic was in Werehog form... It's far from uncommon!

In short, seeing the arctic villagers be so kind to Sonic and Shadow is nothing new. At least to us, that is...

Think of this through Sonic's viewpoint. He's a monster, a rage-filled beast, a myth, resembling a mystical bear that this snowy town worships like a god! In no way, shape, or form (Well except for one form lol) does he feel like himself. Every lock of fur, every shimmering marking, every Gaia monster he faces... It just reminds him of the kind of thing he has become. In Sonic's eyes, kindness and forgiveness is now beneath him. To this poor little edgey hedgey, he's finally hit his peak, and if people knew who he truly was, then it would all be over for him. The least Sonic can do now is try to clean up the world-shattering mess he thinks he made.

Sure, he had Shadow and Chip to be by his side, but they were exceptions. Shadow caught him at a bad time and had nothing to share except pity, and Chip left him already. As time went on, Shadow became more reserved, more like the type of guy we know now, and Chip became more cautious. He wasn't as physically affectionate as he used to be, and to Sonic, that was a sign that Chip was beginning to fear Sonic, seeing him for the monster he really is. And Shadow is... Well, Shadow! Who knows what he thinks?

And then, out of nowhere, completely unprompted, the girl in the hoodie walks up to him and says...

"We may not know what happened to you, but we know it's still you." (That's probably not it but I can't look at the page while writing this)

And all of a sudden, like magic, part of the giant hole in Sonic's heart has been filled.

They know who he is. These people, these sad, cold, lonely people who just want the best for each other, know who Sonic is behind all that fuzz and darkness. His appearance, while menacing and intimidating to most, didn't phaze that little girl in the slightest. His eyes, bright and piercing through those who dare to look at him, hardly damaged any of the people within this village. They hugged him, they played with his ears, they accepted him! Nobody here cared what he looked like or how he acted at all! They only cared about who he was deep down, or at least what he aspired to be. Everyone smiling at him wasn't fake or forced, and it was all genuine this entire time!

Even Shadow, who had been so reserved and so distant this whole time, was giving Sonic a small, warm smile, hardly visible yet clearly genuine.

He couldn't ask for anything more.

So yeah I really like the funny anthro hedgehog comic-

theyre not sad cold and lonely though AJKSFBDHKSAFHKAJS theyre happy cozy and... togetherness..? opposite of lonely?

ANYWHO THANKS for the comment im so glad you enjoy the comic and i hope you will enjoy todyas page

[ironychan]

A Little Human (as a Treat)

Part 1/? - Un Voluntario

Part 2/? - Un Escursione

Part 3/? - Una Complicazione

Part 4/? - Una Famiglia

Part 5/? - Una Aiutante

Part 6/? - Una Ricerca

Part 7/? - Un Confronto

Part 8/? - Un'Emergenza

Part 9/? - Una Speranza

Ciccio and Ercole need a place to spend the night. Flavia and Perla just need a grownup. @dysphoria-sweatshirt @writer652

The problem with sulking is that it's boring, and Ciccio hadn't been sitting there at the base of the anchor chain for very long before he started to get tired of it. He was still angry with his father, so he couldn't go back to shore, but Signora Trota wasn't going to want to see him, so he couldn't go to Giordana's house, either. Where did that leave?

Even worse, what was he going to do with Ercole? Ercole wouldn't care about the argument, and it wouldn't have been any of his business if he had. All Ercole would want was to see that stupid magic scroll and change back to human. It wouldn't be fair of Ciccio to leave him stuck down here just because of some family drama – and unlike Ercole, Ciccio actually cared about things like that. He would probably have to make up with his father as soon as the kids got back. He wasn't looking forward to that.

Ciccio was still stewing over this when Ercole himself arrived, looking for him. It was impossible to say whether he'd also gotten the sea monsters' innate sense of direction with his transformation, but he clearly hadn't had a very good trip. He was once again tangled up in seaweed, and his leg was stuck in a scrap of net.

“Here you are!” he said indignantly. “Why are you sitting around?” He shook his foot to try to get the piece of net off it. A small crab, also stuck in the mesh, hung on for dear life. “What happened to the children, huh?”

“They're not back yet,” said Ciccio.

“What? What's keeping them?” Ercole demanded.

“They got lost.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” said Ciccio. “There's anything anyone can do about it. Signor Marcovaldo and Signor Scorfano went to San Giuseppe to get them, and they'll be back when they're back. Until then, we just have to wait.”

He couldn't help feeling a little smug about it. Ercole enjoyed making other people do things he didn't want to do himself. Now he was in the last place he ever wanted to be and there was nothing to be done about it. It felt well-deserved.

“I don't want to wait! I'm sick of this!” Ercole insisted. “I want to go home!”

“Good for you,” Ciccio told him. He settled further into the mud, as if he never intended to move again.

“You can't do this to me!”

“Can't do anything else.”

Ercole reached to grab him by the gills, then stopped, not wanting to get stabbed on a spine again. Neither of them had any idea what a second such injury might do. He seemed to think for a moment, then sat down on the bottom next to Ciccio. “Then I'm gonna wait with you,” he announced, “just to make sure you're telling the truth.”

“Why would I lie about it?” Ciccio wanted to know.

“How am I supposed to know why you'd do something? You're the one who apparently wanted to be a slimy sea monster,” Ercole replied.

Ciccio was about to say something rude in reply, but he heard the sound of a motor. Looking up, he could see the shape of a small boat against the sunset light, puttering out towards the Island. It looked familiar. Was that the same boat Guido had been in earlier? If so, was it heading to the Island on the assumption that Ciccio would go back there? He wasn't sure about his ability to recognize a boat from the bottom – although he knew Alberto could apparently do it – but if there were some news, did he really want to risk missing it?

“Wait here,” he told Ercole, and swam up to see what was going on. He grabbed the side of the boat to look over the edge, and was relieved to see his friend. If it had been somebody else, there was a chance this situation might have gotten even worse. “Guido?”

“Oh, per fortuna!” Guido exclaimed, turning around. “I had no idea how I was gonna find you! Listen.” He used an oar to turn the boat so he could better face Ciccio. “Signor Scorfano telephoned from San Giuseppe. Flavia wasn't where she promised to wait, so they're going to look for her.”

Ciccio felt that awful crawling fear inside him again. What if they never found her? He wanted to shut his eyes and try to physically shake that horrible thought out of his head.

This must have been plain on his face, because Guido held his hands up and tried to reassure him. “Don't panic! They think she's got somebody with her, but they might be back really late, and your Dad wants me to make sure you're okay. He told me to ask if you have somewhere you can spend the night if you need to.”

This really did nothing for Ciccio's state of mind. If his father was resigned to him spending the night in the water, then this was really serious. “I don't know. We might be able to stay with the Donzellas, I guess? We helped them fix their barn.”

“We?” Guido asked. For a moment he was puzzled, then he remembered Ercole and was even more confused. “Ercole helped?”

“Sort of. Not on purpose,” Ciccio told him. “Anyway, Papá's met Signor Donzella. Silvio's dad, the big guy with the beard.”

The Donzellas were fairly familiar faces around Portorosso. Guido nodded. “I'll probably be back really early to check on you again,” he said. “I don't know if there's any way to let you know if they get back after midnight or something...”

“I'll wait for you at the Island again in the morning,” Ciccio promised.

“Okay. Uh... sleep well,” said Guido uncertainly.

“I'll try,” said Ciccio, who was pretty sure he wouldn't sleep a wink.

Ercole was waiting just below the surface, tail twitching impatiently. “Well?” he asked.

“Flavia's still missing,” said Ciccio.

Ercole scowled. “Doesn't she know we can't change back without her?”

“Yes! She knows that!” Ciccio replied impatiently. “She's probably not doing great, either, you know. She's by herself in a strange place.”

“What if she doesn't come back? I don't want to spend the rest of my life as a nasty, smelly sea monster!”

That hit a little too close to Ciccio's own fears. “Maybe I do!” he snarled, not because it was true but just to make Ercole angrier.

“I don't care what you want,” Ercole informed him.

“I know! You don't care about anybody but yourself!”

“Why should I?”

“Because everybody else does!” Ciccio roared. “Giordana wanted to help the Donzellas because she wants them to have a place to live! I wanted to do this partly to hang out with Giordana but also partly because I felt sorry for Flavia and I wanted her to have a good time! I could have just left you there but I felt like this was my fault and I didn't want you to get hurt! Everybody cares about other people except you!”

For a moment Ercole just stared at him, astonished by this outburst. Then he snorted and said, “it's not my business if your fish girlfriend wants to do extra work. Now, if the children won't be back tonight, what are we going to do?”

“We're going to ask the Donzella family if we can stay with them,” Ciccio replied. “And if Signora Donzella allows it, it's because she cares that we don't get eaten by the giant squid!”

Ercole looked suspicious. “Everybody keeps talkinga bout this giant squid. I think you're making it up.”

“Then you can just sleep on a rock somewhere,” Ciccio said, and turned to head for the Donzellas' house.

“Hey! You just admitted that this is your fault!” Ercole swam after him. “You can't just leave me!”

Ciccio didn't answer. He'd been told that sea monsters could instinctively find their way back to any place they'd been before, but it was still surprising to see first-hand that it was true. He didn't even have to think about it. He knew exactly which way he had to go to find the Donzellas. Ercole didn't question his sense of direction, either. He was too busy continuing to rant.

“Why do you want a sea monster for a girlfriend anyway?” he asked. “I mean, I see why normal girls wouldn't want you, but are you really that desperate?”

“Believe it or not, I like Giordana,” said Ciccio. “She's tough and pretty at the same time, and we both like to bake. And she likes me, too,” he added. “She says I treat her like a lady, while the sea monster boys think she's not girly enough.”

“Oh, so neither of you can find somebody your own kind,” was what Ercole took from that.

Ciccio didn't answer, because something caught his eye... a flicker of blue-green light somewhere off in the darkening water. He turned to look, but didn't see anything.

“What are you...” Ercole began, then fell silent. “Per milli cavoli.”

This was spoken in a hush that was very out of character for Ercole. Ciccio found him looking up – he followed his gaze, and saw that with the sun going down, the water near the surface had lit up with softly glowing blue plankton. This swirled and shifted with the water, looking like pictures Ciccio had seen in a magazine of the aurora polare in Canada, except in constant motion. It was breathtaking.

“Wow,” he said.

“Does that happen every night down here?” Ercole wanted to know.

“I couldn't tell you,” Ciccio said. Neither Giordana nor Arturo had ever mentioned it to him. Maybe it was so ordinary to them that they didn't think it was worth talking about, sort of like the moon.

It must have been the same glow that Ciccio had seen a moment earlier. It had only startled him because he hadn't known to expect it. Yet he couldn't help looking over his shoulder before they continued on their way, just in case. When he did, there it was: a gentle pulse of greenish light among the seaweed. He waited, but it did not appear again.

Ciccio's sense of direction didn't fail him. The Donzella family's house was right where he'd thought it was, with a soft pinkish glow visible through the windows. This, too, was bioluminescence, coming from a cluster of jellyfish the sea monsters kept in their houses. Silvio was helping his mother feed these when Ciccio and Ercole came to the door.

Massimo knew he was supposed to call out. Ciccio did not, and feared that doing so might be rude. Since there was nothing to knock on, he just waited there awkwardly for somebody to notice him.

It took a few moments, but eventually Signora Donzella spotted them, and cried out in surprise. “Mother of pearl! Say something next time!” She gave her bowl of krill to Silvio and came to welcome them in. “What can I do for you boys?”

Ercole looked at Ciccio – talking to sea monsters was his job. Ciccio took a deep breath, or at least its underwater equivalent. How much should he tell her? The truth was complicated and he didn't know how she'd react. Signora Egelfino earlier hadn't exactly been upset, but he couldn't imagine her letting them spend the night, either.

He decided to say as little as possible. “I had a fight with my father, and Ercole's a long way from home. We were wondering if we could stay here tonight.”

Signora Donzella was surprised and a bit puzzled by the request, but she rose to the occasion. “Of course you can. I'm sure everything will seem much better in the morning. I remember having some awful rows with my mother when I was a girl, but a good night's sleep always helped. Let me find you something to eat. Silvio!”

Her son looked up from what he was doing. Half the jellyfish immediately extended their tentacles to try to grab the bowl of krill from him, and he had to quickly move it out of their reach. “Yes, Mom?”

“Find those extra sponge mats, will you? I know we brought them with us. I'm afraid there's not room for you in the house,” she told her guests, “but thanks to all your good help today there's plenty of space in the barn, and we haven't moved our livestock in yet so you won't even have to share.”

Ercole was appalled. “You want us to...” he began, but Ciccio grabbed him by a whisker and pinched it. “Ow!”

“Grazie mille, Signora Donzella,” said Ciccio. “That's perfect. We can finish feeding your jellyfish for you.”

“Would you? That woudl be lovely,” said Signora Donzella with a smile.

Silvio grinned and gave the bowl to Ciccio before swimming off to find the bedding. His mother vanished into another room, and with them both gone, Ciccio took Ercole's arm and leaned in close to talk to him.

“We are gonna be good guests,” he said threateningly, “and if you aren't, I'm gonna tell her husband who you really are.”

Ciccio did not know if Ercole realized that Signor Donzella was the same person as the large bearded man who'd helped scare the American carnival owner away back at Christmas time, but he had the events of earlier in the day to tell him that this wasn't somebody he wanted angry with them. He nodded.

“Good.” Ciccio let go of him. “Keep your mouth shut, and let's get to work.”

-

Flavia and Perla were afraid Felicia would try to drag them back to the French bakery, but she seemed just as determined to reach the police station as the girls were. All three came puffing up to the Piazza Centrale together. Flavia had not noticed the police station when she had been in the piazza earlier, but it was not a conspicuous building, wedged as it was between a dressmaker's and a shop that had once been a greengrocer's but was now empty. Even now that she was looking for it, Flavia would have needed Perla to point it out if it hadn't been for the crowd gathered around it.

“I need everybody to stay back, please!” a young policeman was saying, standing on a chair to address everybody. “This is not a circus show! We're trying to contain a threat to the community.”

“You girls hear that?” Felicia asked, worried. “You two shouldn't be here.”

“What about you?” Perla asked.

“I'm looking for my husband,” the woman reminded them.

It wasn't impossible that he was here somewhere, Flavia thought. There were at least a couple of dozen people gathered and he could easily have been one of them. Rather than go look for him, however, Felicia remained lurking with the two girls in the side street.

“What do we do now?” Flavia asked.

“I dunno,” said Perla, with a nervous look at Felicia.

There was a fuss somewhere up the street, with the ringing of a bicycle bell and several startled shouts. The girls and Felicia turned to look, and then froze as they heard a familiar voice.

“Heaven's sake, watch where you're going!” exclaimed Signora Pepitone.

“Sorry, Ma'am!” replied the boy on the bicycle who'd nearly run into her.

Perla grabbed Flavia and the two darted into the space between two buildings, ducking under an old wooden pallet that was leaning against one wall. Felicia, who had turned back to watching the crowd outside the police station once she'd realized nothing important was happening up the street, did not notice them. Moments later, Signora Pepitone and Roberto went hurrying by, in the sort of tired jog that suggested they'd begun their journey running but were now out of breath. Felicia jumped as they startled her on the way by, and only then did she look around and realize the girls were gone.

She did not look for them, though, because as soon as she entered the piazza Signora Pepitone began calling for help. “We need the police!” she called out. “Those sea monsters! They took my granddaughter and her friend!”

“Oh, no,” whispered Flavia. Now Signora Pepitone was even more upset about the sea monsters! If Flavia and Perla came out and said they'd run away on their own, then the others wouldn't have to take the blame... but then Signora Pepitone would drag them back to her flat and there'd be nobody to try to help Alberto and his friends. Flavia wished Papa Leo were here. He would have been able to do something. This was getting worse and worse. “We're gonna be in so much trouble.”

“Then we have to help your friends before she finds us,” Perla decided. She wiggled out from under the pallet and studied the side of the building. “I'm gonna go take a look.”

“She'll see you!” Flavia protested.

“No, she won't,” Perla promised, and began shimmying up the drainpipe. “Wait here, and be very quiet,” she told Flavia.

“Okay,” said Flavia, glad Perla hadn't tried to make her come along. The other girl vanished over the edge of the roof, and Flavia sat down on a wooden block to wait. She hoped Perla wouldn't be too long.

Flavia might have worried less about Perla falling if she'd been able to see her scrambling over the rooftops like a mountain goat. By the time she reached the former grocery shop, Signora Pepitone was already inside the police station shouting at the prisoners. Perla could hear her voice, and so she crouched on the roof and waited for Ippolito to escort her grandmother out. Then she slid down onto a lower part of the roof, and peered in the small window there.

There wasn't much happening inside. Alberto was pacing up and down the room, trying to think of a way to escape. Giulia and Luca were sitting on either side of the thoroughly miserable Antonio Macarello, watching their friend.

“I knew I should have taken Errico up when he offered to teach me to pick locks,” Alberto grumbled. “Massimo said I didn't need to know that.”

“Even if you did, they're still right outside,” said Luca. They could dimly hear Signora Pepitone wailing as she described what had happened to the police. Luca didn't like being stuck in here while Flavia was apparently missing... he hoped she was still with Signora Pepitone's granddaughter, even if only so she wouldn't be all alone. “If the policeman comes back, you should try talking to him again,” he told Antonio.

“Yeah, I think you were getting to him,” Alberto agreed.

But Antonio shook his head. “My parents were right. Land monsters can't be reasoned with.”

“That's not true at all!” Giulia protested.

“Yeah!” Alberto said, and almost made a joke about how Giulia was still totally unreasonable even now she was a sea monster. At the last moment he managed to think better of it.

“Once the people in Portorosso realized we weren't going to hurt them, they stopped wanting to hurt us,” said Luca. “You just have to convince the people in San Giuseppe. You're already friends with some of them, so that's a start.”

“But how?” Antonio asked. “You saw Ippolito. He just... stared at me, then took us all away.”

“But he looked sad when you started talking about how long you guys had been friends for,” Giulia reminded him. “You need to do more of that.”

“He left, though,” sighed Antonio. “He probably never even...” he cut himself off with a yelp. Luca and Giulia jumped to their feet, and Alberto nearly fell over.

“Sorry!” said Antonio. “Something went down the back of my neck. I...” He shook his shirt, and they heard a small object hit the floor. Giulia reached down, and picked up a little pebble.

Everybody looked up, and found a face peering in between the bars of the tiny window high up on the back wall.

“Flavia?” Giulia asked hopefully, but a moment later she realized it couldn't be. Flavia had short hair, while this girl wore hers long in pigtails.

“Don't shout!” said Luca. “The people outside will hear us.” He thought for a moment. “Signor Macarello, could you stand on the bench, please?”

Antonio got to his feet and climbed onto the bench along the back wall, and Luca and Giulia helped Alberto up to sit on his shoulders. While they watched nervously for the return of Officer Ippolito and Signora Pepitone, Alberto grabbed the bars and looked outside. There was indeed a girl of about eleven crouched on the roof outside looking back at him, and she was definitely not Flavia.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

“I'm Perla!” she replied. “Are you Alberto? Flavia told me about you,” she added, without waiting for an answer. “She's scared of climbing so I came. Are you guys the sea monsters?”

There was no point in denying it – and if this were Flavia's new friend, she would hopefully have a different opinion about that than the adults outside. “We sure are,” said Alberto. “You wanna see?” He took a deep breath and transformed.

“Hey!” protested Antonio, as Alberto's tail suddenly smacked him in the face.

“Sorry!” Alberto quickly changed back.

“Wow!” whispered Perla, grinning.

Alberto couldn't help a proud grin, but he quickly got back to the important questions, “is Flavia okay?”

“Yeah, she's fine,” Perla promised. “I know Nonna's looking for us, but we're gonna help you guys first.”

“How?”

“We dunno yet, but we're gonna do it. Just sit tight, okay?”

“Yeah, we can't exactly go anywhere,” Alberto said. “You'll tell Flavia we're all right?”

“Absolutely. See you soon!” Perla stood up to climb onto the roof edge above the window, and vanished from view.

Alberto dropped back to the floor, and Antonio Macarello dejectedly sat down on the bench again. After a few moments Luca and Giulia once again sat on either side of him, doing their best to look like they hadn't moved in case the police came back and got suspicious.

“She's not going to help us,” sighed Antonio. “She's just another land monster.”

“Don't say that,” said Luca. “Humans can be surprising.”

Flavia waited for Perla for what seemed like an awfully long time. She sat on the block of wood in the alley, fiddling the the ribbons on her borrowing blouse or scuffing patterns into the dirt with her shoes. What if Perla got caught? Could Flavia possibly help her friends on her own? Or what if somebody found Flavia waiting, and asked her...

“There you are! What are you doing back there?”

Flavia screeched involuntarily, which in turn frightened the woman who'd just spotted her – Felicia from the Patisserie. Felicia shouted back, and the two of them spent a moment staring at each other in shock and horror.

“Are you okay, Signora?” a boy's voice asked from somewhere out on the street.

Flavia gave Felicia a pleading look and shook her head.

“I'm fine! I saw a... one of those things with the tail,” Felicia said. “Everything's all right!” She squeezed into the space between the buildings with Flavia. “I looked up and you two were gone. Where's your friend?”

“I'm here!” Perla slid down the drainpipe again and landed in a dusty heap between the two. “There's a little window up there that looks down into the cell, and after Nonna left I could see everything.” She glanced up at Felicia and thought for a moment before continuing. “There weren't any sea monsters though, just people.”

Flavia nodded. “Too bad. Seeing sea monsters would be cool.”

“Guess we'll just go to the candy shop and go home!” said Perla. “Come on! It looks like he's still open!”

“Buona Sera, Signora!” Flavia said, waving as the girls climbed over the pallets to return to the street. “I hope you find your husband!”

They took a quick look into the piazza to make sure nobody would see them – nobody did. They were all still gathered around the police station. Keeping close to the wall, the two girls ran down the length of a building and darted into the candy shop. A bell on the door rang as they went inside.

“Good evening!” said Signor Giglioli, removing trays from the display for cleaning. “Oh, hello, Perla!”

“Hello, Signor!” said Perla, and pulled Flavia into a corner so they could talk quietly.

“Did you see them?” Flavia asked.

“Yeah, they're all in there! Alberto even showed me what you really look like!” said Perla with a grin. “I saw him, and there was another boy and girl who must be Giulia and Luca, and a man with a moustache, in a yellow shirt.”

Flavia had nodded eagerly at Perla talking about her friends, but then paused at the mention of a grownup. They hadn't had anyone with them. Were they locked up in there with an actual criminal? Would she and Perla be able to get her friends out without also freeing this other person, and would that be a problem?

Why had Flavia ever wanted to come up on land anyway? She was always hearing about her cousins getting into trouble above the surface. She should have known the same thing would happen to her. Were they going to be mad that she'd gotten them into trouble?

“Don't panic!” Perla whispered. “There's gotta be something we can do.”

“Yeah, but what?” asked Flavia. There'd been so many people, and while she'd never been in one, Flavia had heard enough about police stations to know that they had places to lock people up behind bars.

Perla wasn't sure. “In the movies, you get people out of jail by paying bail money, but I don't have any.”

“Me either,” said Flavia. “Giulia was carrying the money.” And if that had been enough to buy their way out, surely she would have already done it.

“Nonna usually gives me money if I say per favore,” Perla said, “but she always wants to know what it's for.”

“We need more help,” Flavia decided. She looked over her shoulder at Signor Giglioli, who was keeping one eye on the girls as he washed a tray, and remembered something Luca had said earlier. Hoping he'd been right, she approached the counter. “Signor Giglioli?”

The shop owner smiled at them. “Oh, I remember you, you're one of the kids from Portorosso! Do you and Perla know each other?”

“We do now!” said Perla.

“Signor,” Flavia began, but then hesitated, nervous. What if Luca had been wrong? What if Signor Giglioli turned out to be as scared as the other people in this town? For a moment she just stood there, unable to speak, but then he made herself continue. Flavia trusted Luca, and they needed somebody to help. “Remember you gave us candy sea monsters, because people like sea monsters in Portorosso?”

He nodded. “I've run out of them today, I'm afraid, but you're welcome to come back tomorrow.”

“No, no, I don't want any. I mean, they're very tasty, but not right now.” Flavia took a deep breath. “People in Portorosso like sea monsters because we are sea monsters.”

Luca had said Signor Giglioli wouldn't mind but Flavia's heart was still thumping as she waited for his reaction.

It was not what she had expected. “Oh, is that so?” he asked with an indulgent smile.

Flavia didn't know how to reply to that. It was Perla who became indignant. “She means it! Her friends are the sea monsters Nonna saw at the zoo,” Perla said. “Everybody's talking about it.”

Giglioli nodded. “Well, I'll have to change my candies, then. Here I thought sea monsters were scaly things, but it turns out they look just like children.”

Flavia was starting to panic. Of all the reactions she'd imagined, it had never occurred to her that somebody might think it was all a game. “Only when we're out of the water,” she said. “When we get back in, we Change. That's what happened at the zoo, was that the fountain broke and everybody got wet!”

“I see, I see,” he said, still humouring them. “I would like to see that! Do you have to be in the ocean, or will any water do?”

“Any water. But I don't do it,” Flavia said. She could feel tears rising. He wasn't going to believe them.

“It's like how some people are born and their eyes or legs don't work,” Perla added.

“Well, that's a shame,” Signor Giglioli said.

Flavia shut her eyes as the tears spilled over. She hated crying. It was bad enough underwater, where all the salt got crusted at the edges of her eyes, but human crying had turned out to be so much worse. Human tears were hot, salty water that left trails down her face – and that would make things even worse, because Signor Giglioli would see that her cheeks were wet and yet she wasn't Changing.

Signor Giglioli sighed. “Oh, no, don't cry,” he said. “Girls, listen. Sea monsters are a fun story, but it's like the Befana bringing you gifts or jaculi hiding in trees. It's not real. People are panicking now, but they'll feel silly in the morning.”

“But they need help!” Flavia protested, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. Signor Giglioli held out a handkerchief, but she didn't take it because she didn't know what it was for. “They've been locked up for being sea monsters and I know something awful is going to happen to them. Nobody else is going to do anything because they're all scared! Please!”

“Locked them up?” asked Signor Giglioli. “You mean all that fuss that's going on out there... they've got three children in jail?”

“Yes! I saw it,” said Perla. “I saw Alberto turn into a sea monster, too!”

Signor Giglioli took his apron off. “I'm going to go have a word with some people,” he decided. “You girls wait for me.”

Flavia and Perla hovered in the confetteria doorway while he marched past the triton fountain and into the little crowd.

“Now see here!” they heard him say.

[frostedclock]

Strings to Hold You Down

Underfell!Sans x Monster!Reader

(Soulmate Au)

Chapter 1: New Customers

You sat in your small shop, only the of dripping water filled your ears. Its been like this for a while now, and the lack of customers was beginning to drain on your gold. You picked gently at the stitches that were on your wrist, a bad habit you never really thought much of. Even when you would pull and tug till you felt your pitiful HP go down a few points. You drummed your fingers against the work desk. You almost snort.

Work desk huh? When was the last thing you made?

That dress the scary fish woman forced out of you for her friend. At least the lizard girl seemed kind of nice, or nicer compared to the red haired fish monster who made you give them a Royal Guard discount.

You rubbed your eyes and stood up to go lock the front door and just curl up in the room above the shop you called home. But, just as your fingers touched the knob, the door slammed open. Right into your face.

The ringing in your ears almost made it hard to hear the loud yet gravelly voice that followed the prompt door in the face.

"STUPID WOMAN! YOU SHOULDN'T STAND BEHIND DOORS! "

You rubbed your nose, hoping no blood was dripping out of it. "Um yeah sorry... I guess" you muttered as you stepped back from the doorway. Your eyes come back into focus and to a hulking figure in front of you. More tall then large, you were surprised he could fit in the door without bending his head. A tall skeleton clad in black stood in front of you, it made you feel even shorter then you knew you were. He made a grunt in response to the apology, and his eyelights looked around your dusty shop. You were about to ask what he wanted when he slammed some gold onto the neglected work desk.

" I REQUIRE A HOODIE. MY FILTHY BROTHER HAS RUINED THE ONE HE WEARS WITH DISGUSTING HABITS. GREASE AND MUSTARD. I SIMPLY THREW IT OUT AND NOW HE REFUSES TO STAND AT HIS POST WITHOUT IT!"

You hummed gently as he continued speaking about his brother. When he stops, you finally speak up. " Well I can easily do that .. But I dont know his size. Is he shaped like you?"

The tall skeleton scowled, making the scar down his skull seem deeper. " YOU MEAN TO TELL ME I HAVE TO BRING THAT LAZY- " He snarled under his nonexistent breath. "THEN I THE TERRIBLE PAPYRUS WILL RETURN WITH MY BROTHER"

He whirled in his red boots and stormed out of your shop, leaving you a little confused if not excited about finally having something to do. Even if it was just a single hoodie. Papyrus was the tall skeleton's name you assumed, with a slight giggle on your lips. It wasn't long before you could hear voices coming through the echo field outside your shop. One was definitely Papyrus, but one you didn't recognize.

The other voice seemed to rumble in a deep baritone, one that made your SOUL tremble in your body. You couldn't even tell what was being said, and yet your body felt like it was about to be lit on fire. The closer the baritone voice got, the more your body seemed to sake. You had to get ahold of yourself, otherwise these monsters might think your weak.

And in this world you can't afford to show weakness.

Not again.

Pulling and tugging on your stitches, deep shaky breaths. And you were back.

The door opening without a block this time, two skeletons stood in your shop now. If Papyrus was large in height, the other skeleton -his brother you guessed- made up for it in width. You stared for a moment, before Papyrus filled the warm tingly silence that stretched between you and the unnamed skeleton.

"THIS IS MY BROTHER I WAS SPEAKING OFF! NOW SANS GET YOUR HOODIE AND STOP USING IT AS AN EXCUSE NOT TO WORK!"

Sans, you caught the name even more then the rest of what Papyrus was saying. Sans shoved his boney hands into his black shorts and you watched him look away from his brother as Papyrus continued his little rant, small red beads of.. Sweat?... Went down his skull in places.

Then he spoke, and it made your soul clench. "Yea, sorry boss. I just can't stand around in the snow without my jacket. Ya' know?"

"NO I DON'T . YOU HAVE NO SKIN TO GET COLD"

"Well.. Maybe he doesn't want to be chilled to the bone?" You said, a laugh behind your words.

The face Papyrus gave you made you freeze in your mirth and it turned to nervousness. He didn't say anything though, to you at least. His attention was fully on Sans as he spoke. "I NEED TO GO BACK TO MY PATROL. FOR ALL WE KNOW A REAL HUMAN HAS SNUCK BY MY TRAPS ALREADY. "

And with that the tall skeleton left your shop. Sans stood for a moment, you taking notice he had been staring now. It would have normally made you nervous. Most monsters aren't very friendly and most would rather use you to raise their own LV and EXP. Doll monsters were never big fighters, and you were no exception so most saw you as an easy kill. And some stupid monsters mistook you for a human from time to time.

You clear your throat after a moment and produced a bit of magic making a tape measure with it. " Um.. I guess come over here and we can get started."

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

Sans Pov

 

Sans had really liked that hoodie. So what if it was covered in stains? Papyrus had no right to just fucking throw it away! Sans dug through the cabinets as he let his angry thoughts consume him. Those stains were almost like children to him!

"Fuck! Stars be fucking damned! " he slammed the cabinet door shut. The mustard bottle he had stashed was no where to be found. He wanted to drink his anger down with what he had left but Papyrus must have thrown that out too.

Sans drug his slippers across the floor as he headed to his room upstairs. Maybe he could sleep away his irritation. He could almost laugh. Like Papyrus would let him do that. He's lucky to even have the house to himself right now and he had already wasted an hour tearing the kitchen apart .

Papyrus used to not be so bad. He used to hold onto the end of Sans' shorts and cry, and want to be read stories and for Sans to cook for him. Now all Papyrus does is run around doing what Undyne wanted, and yells at Sans at every chance he gets about being lazy and not caring about anything. Sans remembered the week before when Papyrus had gotten angry at him -when wasn't he angry anymore at Sans- and told Sans something that had sent him to Grillby's in the first place.

"KEEP BEING THIS LAZY BROTHER AND NO MONSTER EVEN YOUR SOULMATE WOULDN'T WANT YOU"

Those words stung more then Sans wanted to admit. It wasn't like he thought similar things over the years. If his soulmate was out there she had probably been dusted or worse knew she was his and as avoiding meeting him. It was his luck anyway.

His skull barely touched his unmade bed when he heard his brother come home. He cracked back open his eyesockets, listening to his brother walk up the stairs. He silently wished on the stars he's never seen, that his brother just forgot something and was going to leave without bugging him.

No such luck.

Loud knocking in the door forced Sans to sit up and get back out of bed. "yea yea what's up, boss?" He said trying to keep his tone level. No use in making his brother any more upset.

He just wanted his happy little brother back sometimes.

"YOU ARE COMING WITH ME. NOW."

Sweat beaded on Sans' skull. " now now? "

"YES NOW. YOU WON'T GO BACK TO WORK WITHOUT THAT CRUSTY HOODIE SO I HAVE ARRANGED TO HAVE YOU GET A NEW ONE TO STOP YOUR INSUFFERABLE WHINING"

Papyrus took ahold of Sans by his shoulders, and began to push him out of his messy room. He could have easily shortcuted away to Grillby's where he the the oh so great and terrible Papyrus wouldn't step foot in. But the words registered in his skull. Papyrus was actually getting him a new jacket? Now that was surprising. Sans started walking, grumbling about how he can still walk on his own.

The two walked in what felt like a nice silence for a while. But something was itching at his skull.

"Why ya doin' this boss? Ya havent bought me nothing since you were a baby bones."

Such as his last hoodie. But it seems that didn't matter to Papyrus like it did to Sans. Papyrus scoffed at him as he strode through the marsh of Waterfall. Sans shoved his hands in his pocket and he ground the tip of his gold tooth against his mandible. He should have kept his mouth shut.

"YOU AREN'T DOING YOUR JOB WITHOUT. USELESS. SO WILL BE THE GREAT SKELETON THAT I AM AND FIX IT AND YOU CAN GO BACK TO YOUR POST!"

"right yea.... gottcha' " Sans grumbled. Then he spoke up the last part. " thanks boss."

Papyrus grunted and Sans wanted to believe he saw a flash of the little brother he used to be for just a second but it was gone as soon as Sans thought he saw it. Echo flowers began to pop up one after another and then in thicker patches as they made their way across the thin bridge that lead to a small purple building in the midst of cyan. It had a pair of scissor on the door in yellow and it said in bold enough for Sans to read from this distance. The Stitched Strings? He couldn't help but laugh to himself.

Everyone in the Underground was horrible with names it seemed, not just the human-hunting King.

"WHAT IS SO LAUGHABLE SANS?"

"uh nothing boss " Sans said with a shrug as they approached the little shop. The echo flowers echoing back their words after they pass by them.

Papyrus pushed open the door, and Sans noticed it was like he was expecting something to hit but didn't. He stood behind his brother a bit as they walked in. The smell that filled his nasal cavity and he relaxed the tension he had been holding in his shoulders that he had forgotten he had even been doing. Why was he angry earlier again? The old shop smelled of lavender and some other sweet scent he couldn't place right now. Mocha? Maybe.

Oh shit. His brother was gesturing to him and talking to a little doll monster. She had lovely locks that framed a simple yet pretty face that usually graced her kind of monster. If it wasn't for the stitches that littered her skin he would have first mistaken her for a human maybe.

Stop its prolly' just a nice candle.

Sans shifted and felt sweat running down his skull. Damn his brother was yelling about his coat again, he shoved his hands in his shorts.

" Yea, sorry boss. I just can't stand around in the snow without my jacket. Ya' know?"

"NO I DON'T . YOU HAVE NO SKIN TO GET COLD"

"Well.. Maybe he doesn't want to be chilled to the bone?" It was the first words she spoke aloud and it made his bones nearly rattle at the honey tone of her voice and the fragile laughter that followed. He swore his brother must have heard his SOUL thumping around in his ribcage. He wanted to laugh at the pun, yet the cold gaze from his brother quieted the room more then before.

Sans swore Papyrus used to like skeleton based puns. He used to smile at them at least. He used to smile.

Sans looked away from the harder gaze his brother gave him before he spoke. "I NEED TO GO BACK TO MY PATROL. FOR ALL WE KNOW A REAL HUMAN HAS SNUCK BY MY TRAPS ALREADY. "

The door slammed shut behind Papyrus as he left Sans alone in this little tailor shop? Seamstress? He didn't know and kinda didn't care. What his main focus on was the monster woman in front of him.

He almost didn't hear her speak after she cleared her throat. He watched her magic glitter in the air and a fabric-like measuring tape appeared in glittering yellow.

He watched those lips part and ask in that voice that was driving him insane. Because it shouldn't be possible.

Someone as useless as him getting this Doll as a SOULmate.

"Um.. I guess come over here and we can get started."

[deathdxnces]

“My apologies.” He says instinctively, before even looking at the person he’s bumped into, bending down, using his cane for support under his arm, and picking up the flyer he had made her drop on accident.

Despite his missing arm and the bad knee, he’s learned to manoeuvre himself fairly well over the years, and he finally gets a better look at her, as he stands back up, only to freeze in place.

He had not forgotten her face. Her features were more defined and sharper, now, and she was quite a bit taller, but he could hardly fail to recognise her, still.

Cold sweat washes over him, settling at the back of his shoulders, as their eyes meet.

So many people there, at the studio, performing, practicing, or much like Swain, coming in for support for friends and family, as he had done for Katarina that night, waiting to take her home afterwards.

What were the odds?

The silence between them lasts a little too long. He doesn’t know what to say or do. He can only think of that scared child looking up at him with terror and rage, and he cannot bear be her executioner, even after her stunt with the blades.

“I am sorry.” He murmurs, uncertain of what exactly he is apologising for,this time, before walking away.

— @visionoxus

The goodbyes are hurried tonight, though never entirely neglected. The day spent at the studio had been busy, yet the tiredness felt like the good sort, a subproduct of good work that finally took shape into a new song. Still, she had plans she did not intend to cancel, steps rushed as if that would make a difference in minimizing the lateness. Her boyfriend isn't the most patient; this time, he'd have the right to not be pleased.

Maybe she could try to make it up to him somehow — oh. The trail of thought is suddenly interrupted when she bumps into someone, the paper in her hands inadvertently dropped. Even as Irelia seeks to reach for it, the older man already does, offering an apology that feels entirely out of place. "Oh, it was my bad. I should have paid more attention — I'm sorry."

"Thank you," she adds abashedly as he returns the flyer, undue trouble she could have managed much more easily.

It's only then that she meets his gaze.

Instinct causes her to recoil as if contact through the piece of paper was enough to burn her hand, and in spite of that, it is cold she feels, blood freezing in her veins as panic rises. The world around them disappears, ears ringing as the sound of other people's movement fades to nothing, the ground beneath her feet unraveling. The thought it can't be never occurs to her; Irelia would recognize those eyes anywhere.

Air refuses to reach her lungs, struggling to breathe as if held underwater. She feels twelve again, a little girl in a nightmare scene (except the nightmare is real, and so are the monsters; that he haunted her dreams for years does not make it less true). Heart thundering and hands shaking, she wants to scream, to attack him, to run away. It feels like dying, her body not under her control, unable to move, while her mind races to that day, recalled as vividly as if it hadn't been years, with the same deep-seated dread, the scent of blood making her nauseous though the scene remains devoid of crimson.

"I'm sorry," he says, excusing himself and walking away — and she lets him, weak and incapable and rooted in place. It may have been minutes or seconds before someone touched her shoulder, a concerned 'Is everything alright? You look extremely pale,' offered with kindness that did not prevent her from jumping at the contact. They lead her to sit down, and though she moves, Irelia still says nothing.

He was alive. He was free, and he was alive, and chance had put them in the same room again when every investigator she had look into the murder turned out nothing. There had been recognition in his eyes, in his silence; he remembers, she realizes, and knows it is deliberate choice to walk away. But that had never been a choice for her, had it? No — they took everything and left her to fend for herself, to manage the destruction left behind while continuing their lives, inconsequential to them that hers had been destroyed.

The dancer stares at her hands, still shaking even as some semblance of control begins to return to her, faltering when it counted most. She loathes the helplessness, the overwhelming fear a glance alone had caused her to feel. She loathes feeling so weak. She feels hysteria bubble within, an overwhelming impulse to laugh at the absurdity (so polite, as if an apology and good manners made him less of a monster).

Irelia thinks of the violence he and his men had exacted that night; the violence that lived on within her, barely contained beneath the skin now, and she hungers for the chance to pay it in kind.

[whitelotusherald]

just to tie up my daily rampage here

this day was wild

just a week ago I had my very first panic attack (hopefully the last but with my current luck... well, let's hope for the best) and not recognizing what it was, I really thought I was having a heart attack, and while normal people would probably have normal thoughts, all I could think of was... "Fuck, I've made it this far and yet I may not see the Nimona movie"

back when I discovered She-Ra, I was in awe of ND Stevenson, as the whole series dared to be unabashedly, unapologetically queer - and when you've been closeted for ages, it can really be a game changer (even if you can't really find a character you can identify with lol)

that was when I turned to queer YA literature, but also started following Nate's Twitter and was super grateful when he let us take glimpses into his life with The Fire Never Goes Out but especially with The Weight of Them and his still ongoing comics, I'm Fine I'm Fine Just Understand

despite having very different paths, his comics give me strength and hope

when reading Nimona, I did sense the underlying queer allegories, but the movie made them more blatant, with more gut-wrenching scenes

with lines like

Some of us don't get the happily ever after we're looking for 'cause it ain't that kind of kingdom.

They only see you one way, no matter how hard you try.

Why would I trust you? / If you don't, you'll die in this closet!

Can you please just be normal or a second? / Normal? / I just think it'd be easier if you were a girl. / Easier to be a girl? You're hilarious. / I mean, easier if you look human. / Easier for who? / For you. A lot of people aren't as accepting as me.

What if you held it in? If you didn't shape-shift? / I'd die. (…) I wouldn't die die. I just sure wouldn't be living.

Little kids. They grow up believing that they can be a hero if they drive a sword into the heart of anything different. And I'm the monster? I don't know what's scarier. The fact that everyone in this kingdom wants to run a sword through my heart… or that sometimes I just wanna let 'em.

No matter what we do, we can't change the way people see us. / You changed the way you see me.

I see you, Nimona. And you're not alone.

so this movie really was emotional for me and important, omfg so, so important

I'm not saying that I'm gonna kick out my fucking closet's door tomorrow morning

but it really got me thinking about my messed up trust issues and that maybe I should let my walls down

'cause a lot of people out there are like Ballister - who won't have an easy time wrapping their heads around things they don't understand, but once realizing they don't have to understand just accept stuff, might be the best allies; we just have to give them a chance

[sunny6677]

October

(A Spooky Month AU Series)

PART 16/CHAPTER 16: Eyes.

Summary: A 19-year old Skid ends up moving back to his old town for the sake of nostalgia. But he finds himself surrounded by familiar faces.

TWS: PROFANITY, IMPLICATIONS OF AN EMOTIONAL BREAKDOWN, MENTIONS OF PANIC, GUNS, WEAPONS, BEING TRAPPED, PUMP HAS ISSUES, PUMP IS SLIGHTLY LESS OF AN ASSHOLE IN THIS CHAPTER, PUMP HAS MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES.

————

Skid had assumed that the three behind him were most likely going at a slower pace, since anytime he looked behind him, they seemed farther than he was. He would have stopped so they could catch up with him, but Pump was the main thing on his mind as of right now, so he hadn't exactly been considering or thinking of anything else.

Skid ran and ran, and let out a soft gasp upon seeing Pump in the distance ahead of him. Pump seemed to be slightly scrambling on his feet, nearly tripping ad he chased after the thief. Pump let out a violent shriek of anger, and ran after the thief, who had been going up.. a hill.

It.. this place, Skid could recognize it. It had been the haunted house on the hill that Roy had told them to go to when they were kids.. that became evident when he looked up and saw the looming shape of the house. Skid looked behind him, the three had not been there yet, Skid considered going back to check on them to see if they were okay.. but he couldn't bare the thought of leaving Pump alone with his own anger and the thief. Skid only said to himself gently, "Oh, fuck it.." and proceeded to dart in the direction Pump had gone, who now seemed to be closer to the house on the hill.

He would dart and dart and dart after Pump like there had been no tomorrow, his feet nearly scrambling on the dirt-path as he continued to blindly follow Pump. He had now been basically panting at this point, and Pump was no longer in sight, presumably, he was now inside of the house. Skid remembered that.. monster he and Pump had seen, and his face quickly turned to horror.

The monster had not harmed them in the past, but.. he was still very anxious for Pump right now, and only shook his head, now desperately panting and scrambling into the direction Pump had gone into.

Skid finally saw the house, and his heart had now been beating more than ever, his panting had grown faster in a sort of rapid rate, and his head felt numb. He stopped running for a brief moment, standing there in pure shock as he took in the familiar sight. The house seemed more worn down now, and dirty.

"I.. I never thought I'd see this place again.." Skid softly said to himself with a few panting breaths, taking in the looming sight of the house. With a shaking of his head, he quickly regained his stamina, and rushed to the door of the house. He swiftly threw his arm in the direction of the handle, and threw the door open.

"P—Pump!" Skid called out desperately as he stepped in, but he then noticed the sight before him in the dark shadows of the house, still panting from the sheer chase that had gone on for what felt like so long. He caught sight of Pump who was standing in the middle of the main room, and who seemed to be cornering the thief.

Pump slowly turned to Skid, still holding the chainsaw. "...Skid?" Pump slowly said for a moment, seeming in shock. He then shook his head, and yelled, "Wait, no.. what are you doing here?! Didn't I ask you to leave me alone earlier?! Why can't you just understand that?!" Pump said, slowly turning back to Skid with furious gestures of his hands.

"N—No, I.. I can't just leave you alone, Pump! Do you have any idea what I'd do with myself if you got hurt because of your own anger? Do you have any idea of where your even at right now?!" Skid said, raising his voice out of his own concern, he took a step foward, lightly gesturing with his hand. "Look around you, Pump! Don't you even remember this place?! Don't you even know what's below us right now?!" Skid practically screamed out of desperation, clenching his fists.

Pump only grumbled, and said with a roll of his eyes, "Skid, I'm telling you, that wasn't real! I—It was probably just a dream that we both had when we were kids, or.. something." It was hard to tell if Pump was being genuine or not. He seemed unsure, like he was trying to convince himself that it had been a dream. "Wh—What do you mean it wasn't real?! Don't you remember all of the times we encountered those monsters?! That Demon, that doll, that man who nearly killed us?!" Skid said in disbelief.

"Okay, that last part was real, Skid, but those first few parts weren't real! I'm sure they all had a logical explanation! Don't try and tell me that a bunch of spooky stuff like that was real!" Pump yelled, seeming irritated, but unsure and almost.. afraid.

"P—Pump, I need you to know that they were real! We can't get through this together if you keep denying anything that ever happened to us, we can't get through this together if you don't try to listen to me! I'm sorry for what I did earlier, but you have to let go!" Skid desperately said. Pump snarled, a tear slightly began to slip out of his eye as he began to yell in frustration, "You don't know anything! Don't tell me what to do, I'll be fine by myself! I don't need you, I don't need anyone's help! No one cares about me, so stop trying to act as if you do!"

"P—Pump.." Skid said, a worried glint in his eyes, he slightly lowered his tone, and spoke in a more empathetic tone. "No! Don't even talk to me! All of this time I just wanted my jacket back! I never even asked you to come with me! I bet you don't even want your mug back!" Pump screeched, shaking his fists, "I bet your just trying to make my life worse! It was already bad enough before you got here, damnit, I don't need more shit to happen to me!" Pumps voice was beginning to become slightly emotional, breaking as he shouted in what looked like anger.

"P—Pump.. wait, I.." Skid tried to take a slight step foward, his focus only being on Pump now. He held out his hand at the now heavily breathing Pump, trying to offer him a gesture of comfort. "Pump, I need you to breathe, okay?" Skid tried to say in the most soothing tone he could, taking a few more steps foward. "No, no, don't come any closer, you—" Pump screamed, he didn't seem to be trying to threaten Skid, he seemed to actually be genuinely begging Skid not to get any closer to him. Skid immediately stopped, and tried to continue speaking, "Okay, okay.. I want you to breathe for me, okay? I'm gonna help you through this—"

"No, no! I dont—" Pump slightly backed away, becoming more emotional than angry now, he looked as if he were about to cry, as a matter of fact.. he actually did seem to be crying. "Pump, I'm here, just—" Skid was then interrupted by a sudden trail of footsteps from behind him. He flinched slightly, turning around to see who it was.

"Put your hands in the air—what the—?!" A masculine and gruffy voice said from behind Skid. It seemed to be.. Jack and John. John seemed to slightly lower his gun at the sight of Pump, Pump still seemed to be holding his weapon.. which most likely gave the wrong impression.

"K—Kid, what's going on here?" John tried to ask Skid, placing a hand on his shoulder in an almost protective way. He took a step foward, seeming to be prepared to protect Skid if needed. "Dont move!" Jack said, holding up his gun upon seeing that Pump was holding a weapon. "W—Wait, it's not what it looks like!" Skid tried to say, not wanting his friend to be misunderstood as some kind of maniac criminal. This was exactly why he was trying to tell Pump it wasn't a good idea.

"Kid, put your weapon down!" Jack tried to say, hesitantly glancing at Pump with his gun still raised. John took a step closer to Skid, incase Pump would try to attack either them or Skid.

Pump seemed to be basically shaking now, his grip on his weapon was loosening, he begged quietly, "No, don't call me that, I.." Skid had only noticed now, but the thief seemed to be gone. Shit, he'd have to do something about that later, but Pump was what mattered most right now.. where were Roy, Robert and Ross? Why weren't they here yet?

"O—Officers, wait, I can explain!" Skid tried to say desperately, it put him through emotional pain seeing his former friend in such an emotionally unstable state. "Kid, we'll figure this out, we need you to get somewhere safe.." John tried to say to Skid, slightly turning to him.

"Just put the gun down, sir.." Jack hesitantly said, he seemed to have guessed that Pump was most likely unstable or mentally ill. Jack and John thought Pump was trying to attack Skid, when that hadn't been the case at all.. fuck!

"O—Officers, I.." Pump whimpered, dropping his weapon hesitantly, his hands were beginning to shake. Skid tried to hold out his hand yet again, ready to push through the two officers if he needed to, but.. a crashing, loud, familiar sound suddenly sounded from the floor. It made all of the people in the room jump with unexpected fear, heightened anxiety was now present in everyone inside of the room.

"W—What the?—" John said, looking down at the ground as the house and ground suddenly began to rumble. Skid heard a large crashing sound from behind him, and slowly looked behind him, his eyes widening as he realized what it had been. It had been.. a large tentacle in fact, and from past experiences, he guessed that.. this tentacle belonged to a certain monster.

Skid had no time to react, for the tentacle wrapped around him tightly, and dragged him into the hole it made into the floor. He shrieked, he saw the officers reach for him. John screamed, "Kid!" while Jack tried to reach for Skid, but neither of them managed to reach him. He heard Pump scream his name faintly as he was dragged into a world he had known, into a lair he had recognized from his childhood.

Pump rushed toward the hole in which Skid had been dragged into, but a tentacle suddenly crashed out of the ground from behind him, and wrapped around him too. Pump shrieked, struggling to get away from it. But to no avail, for he too was then dragged into the underworld he never thought he'd see again.

The two cops stood there in shock for a moment, unsure of what to do. John cursed, the words stinging the air with anxiety and fear, "Shit, we need backup! I knew something weird was going on here!"

————

Skid slightly struggled in the grasp of the tentacle, he then stopped for a moment, recognizing the atmosphere. The light cyan blue glowing at him from basically everywhere, multiple tentacles surrounding the area, and.. a pair of multiple eyes staring back at him.

Skid panted slightly out of surprise, anxiety slightly shivering up in his stomach. He had known this monster wouldn't try to harm them, since they did manage to befriend it in the past, but.. would that be the case after so long?

Pump then suddenly appeared from beside Skid, being held next to him. He struggled in the tentacles grasp, "Let go of me, you little shit! Let go of me! Give Skid back goddamnit, where did you put him—" Pump then noticed Skid who had been beside him, and only widened his eyes.

"Skid! Where the hell are w—" Pump slowly turned his head, and saw the multiple pairs of eyes staring back at him. He stopped speaking a word of anything at all, and his pupils were now bathed in a crystal cyan blue.

"Uh.. Pump? Puuummmpp?" Skid tried to say to the now suddenly hypnotized Pump, "Pump? Why arent you answering me?" Skid said again, seeming a little more anxious now. An ominous voice then spoke, coming from the multiple layers of sharp teeth in front of them. It sounded rough and demonic, surrounding and echoing from all around them.

"YOUR BACK, PILES OF FLESH."

It had been Eyes, the monster they had both befriended when they were only just kids.

Skid felt anxiety piling up in his chest, though not from how intimidating Eyes had been, well.. at least not yet. Pump was hypnotized, and neither of them could move. As much as he knew Eyes wouldn't harm either of them, something about this really induced his anxiety..

It felt like his nightmares. His nightmares of being trapped in a grasp he could not escape, and being forced to watch his worst fears.. Pumps anger, his mother dying, the car accident.. and that was what made him slowly begin to panic from the inside. But on the outside, he had kept his cool.

The only thing he could do was keep his calm, and hope that it would get him and Pump out of this mess.

//////////////////////////////

E

[mediawhorefics]

may i ask for your favourite books this year and a quote from each of them? 💕

hum yes def ?!!!! i have more favs from this year tbh but i went with the highlights.

V for Vendetta (Alan Moore) –> "Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense."

The Kingdoms (Natasha Pulley) -> "You're my family! You were family before any of them. I've missed you even when I didn't remember you. Everything I've done since losing you has been about getting back to you. And I know I've left you behind before for other families, but not this time. I can't do it again."

The Bedlam Stacks (Natasha Pulley) –> "I’d thought perhaps I wasn’t the sort of person who could have lived close to anyone else, but that was wrong, now I was here. It would have been good, always to wake up this way."

The House in the Cerulean Sea (T.J. Klune) -> "Humanity is so weird. If we’re not laughing, we’re crying or running for our lives because monsters are trying to eat us. And they don’t even have to be real monsters. They could be the ones we make up in our heads. Don’t you think that’s weird?"

The Binding (Bridget Collins) -> "Maybe I should have followed him; but somehow it went from too soon to too late, without the right moment in between."

A Marvellous Light (Freya Markse) -> "It didn't take long to become so accustomed to something that you could describe the exact shape of its absence."

On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous (Ocean Vuong) -> "Trevor had passed away the night before. I’m broken in two, the message said. In two, it was the only thought I could keep, sitting in my seat, how losing a person could make more of us, make us two."

Angels in America (Tony Kushner) -> "I've lived through such terrible times and there are people who live through much worse. But you see them living anyway. When they're more spirit than body, more sores than skin, when they're burned and in agony, when flies lay eggs in the corners of the eyes of their children - they live. Death usually has to take life away. I don't know if that's just the animal. I don't know if it's not braver to die, but I recognize the habit; the addiction to being alive. So we live past hope. If I can find hope anywhere, that's it, that's the best I can do. It's so much not enough. It's so inadequate. But still bless me anyway. I want more life."

Brokeback Mountain (Annie Proulx) -> "They seized each other by the shoulders, hugged mightily, squeezing the breath out of each other, saying, son of a bitch, son of a bitch, then, and easily as the right key turns the lock tumblers, their mouths came together, and hard, Jack’s big teeth bringing blood, his hat falling to the floor, stubble rasping, wet saliva welling, and the door opening and Alma looking out for a few seconds at Ennis’s straining shoulders and shutting the door again and still they clinched, pressing chest and groin and thigh and leg together, treading on each other’s toes until they pulled apart to breathe and Ennis, not big on endearments, said what he said to his horses and his daughters, little darlin."