#toaster bursting into flames

[batnbreakfast]

Guess who’s boiler just broke down so that there’s no warm water anymore?

The house seriously thought: Oh, you’re leaving on Thursday, time to throw my annual breakdown at you!!

[mylifewithgoober]

[vivwritesfics]

Fighting Fires

Fire seems to follow her everywhere. As does fire captain Carlos Sainz. Not that she minds

Warnings: Fire, Logan almost dying

Viv's AUgust Event

Her landlord had warned her about the alarm. "One bit of smoke," he'd said as he placed the keys into her palm, "and the alarm will go off. The firemen will be called and the building will be evacuated." He closed her fist around the keys. "Don't set it off."

For three months, she'd been careful. For three months she hadn't set off the fire alarm.

The toaster was broken. She knew it was broken, knew she had to pop the toast before it popped itself. Because it wouldn't pop itself, it would burst into flames. She shouldn't have put the toast down before went in the shower. Before she knew it, the fire alarm in her apartment building was ringing.

Rapped in her pink robe, with her narwhal slippers on her feet, she was rushed out of the building. Her legs shook from the cold as the firemen rushed inside.

That was when she remembered.

The toaster. Fuck.

The firefighters walked out of the building and called her apartment number. Embarrassment was written on her face as she approached them, looking at her feet instead of the stares of her fellow tenants.

"It was the toaster, wasn't it?" She asked as the firefighter pulled off his helmet. As the handsome firefighter pulled off his helmet. Even after running into an almost burning building, helmet on his head, his hair was still perfect. His brown eyes drew her in as he stared down at her.

But she wasn't ready for his voice, the way it wrapped around her when he spoke. "Your kitchen is ruined," he said. She stopped herself from shivering, and not from the cold. "Do you have anybody you can stay with while your landlord pays to get it fixed?"

She opened her mouth, but she didn't get a chance to respond. "Wait a moment, Sainz!" The landlord shouted as he strode towards them. "She set my building on fire! She can fucking pay for it!"

She didn't mean to cower. But it had been a long evening and it was her fault that the building nearly burnt down. She wanted nothing more than to lay on her floor and cry.

The firefighter looked down at her, sympathy written on his face. If the ground opened up and swallowed her whole, she would have been happy. But the firefighter turned to her landlord. "This isn't the first time we've been called out because of the toasters you've put in your apartments, Christian," he said, large hand settling on her back.

Her landlord backed down and the firefighter turned towards her again. "Have you got somebody you can stay with while he gets your kitchen fixed?"

She swallowed and nodded.

***

Fire was following her, she swore. She sat at her desk, tapping away at her computer when the fire alarm went off.

It had been a week and a half since the fire that wrecked her kitchen. Her best friend Logan had insisted that she stay with him. He picked her up and took her back to his house, giving her the couch to sleep on (reluctantly giving her the couch to sleep on. Logan had insisted she take his bed, but she declined. It went back and forth until Logan gave in).

And now the fire alarm was going off in her office. She stood with the rest of her co-workers and followed them out to the car park. Other businesses on other floors of the building grumbled as they made their way outside.

"What is it this time?" The guy from the paper company from the floor below asked.

She crossed her arms over her chest as she looked up at the building. "It wasn't one of your guys, was it?" She asked with a little laugh.

He laughed right back. "I don't think so," he replied and nudged her with his elbow. "One of yours?"

"I hope not."

When the sirens sounded, everybody turned towards the entrance of the car park. The fire engine pulled in and everybody stepped back as the fire fighters climbed off of the truck and made their way inside of the building.

"We had a small fire at my apartment two weeks ago," she said to the guy from the paper company as they waited for the firemen to do their things. Was fire captain Sainz in there? God, she hoped so.

The guy from the paper company let out a laugh. "You're just a bit of bad luck, aren't you?" He asked jokingly and she gave a nod.

The firefighters emerged from the building. Just as when they'd put out the fire in her building, the fire captain pulled off his helmet. Perfect hair, pretty brown eyes and soft, pillowy lips. Fire captain Sainz addressed the crowd before his eyes landed on her.

His eyebrows went up, but he finished what he was saying before he approached her.

Helmet tucked under his arm, he strode over to her. Fire captain Sainz looked all kinds of sexy as he walked up to her, grinning. "You again?" He asked as he looked down at her.

She could have melted beneath the warmth of his gaze. "Trust me, it wasn't my fault this time. At least, I don't think it was my fault," she said, head tipping to the side slightly.

"Did you use the microwave on the top floor?"

Her eyes bulged slightly and she released a laugh. "The microwave finally gave out? I should have known," she mumbled and shook her head. "No, but this time it wasn't me."

Paper company guy stepped back, but neither of them noticed. "I wouldn't mind putting out your fires," he said and adjusted his helmet in his grip.

Her heart was beating so erratically as she looked at him. He was flirting, that was definite. She just wasn't sure how to flirt back. Instead, she gestured towards helmet. "Can I try it on?" She asked and Carlos placed the helmet in her hands.

***

Logan insisted that they go out for drinks. "Just let loose," he had said, and she agreed. She got dressed into her favourite skirt and a top to match.

She and Logan walked arm in arm into the bar. It was busy, music loud and atmosphere lively. They sat opposite each other in a booth and Logan got up for the first round of drinks.

It had been so long since she and Logan had gone out for drinks together. Her hands tapped against her thighs as she looked around. Surely they knew some people here, old school friends they'd lost touch with as their adult lives began.

Logan sat down and placed a colourful cocktail in front of her. "What is it?" She asked as she picked it up and smelt the liquer inside.

"It's called a tropical smash," Logan said as he sipped his own drink.

She lifted it to her lips and sipped. It was delicious, didn't taste like it contained alcohol.

She had a second before the face of the handsome fire captain came into view. She was stumbling slightly as she approached the bar, not having yet spotted the handsome fire captain.

But a large, warm hand settled on her waist, steadying her. "Woah there, Arrancadora de fuego," he said with a deep chuckle.

She turned to face him, eyes going wide at the sight of him. His button up shirt wasn't all the way buttoned and his sleeves were rolled up. He looked damn good.

"Captain Carlos!" She called and threw her arms around him. "You look hot!"

He laughed, but he didn't take his hands off of her. "Have you had a few drinks, by any chance?" He asked as he brought his hands to settle on her waist.

"Do you wanna dance with me?" She asked as she leaned back in his hold, arms still around his neck.

Maybe it was his saviour complex, maybe it was because it was her, but Carlos couldn't say no. He led her to the dance floor, made up of only a few people, and followed her movements.

Dancing didn't come naturally to Carlos. He was stiff, and that had her frowning. So, she grabbed his hips and moved him with her. Loosened him up until he was moving fluidly against her.

Logan and drinks were forgotten about as she stared into Carlos's eyes. She could have kissed him, could have pressed her lips against his own and enjoyed the moment. He was leaning in, wasn't he?

But then his phone rang. He pulled away from her to answer it, pushing through the crowds of people to get outside.

***

(Note: this is not a reflection of real people)

Logan's girlfriend was a little bit... ditsy. Forgetful. Like leaving the freezer door open, leaving television on and forgetting to turn off her hair straighteners before she went to work.

Logan had no idea. His temporary roommate had no idea. They were sitting there, watching television as the straighteners sat on a cushion. Stretching, Logan yawned. "I'm heading to the bathroom," he said and stood up.

The fire alarm went off while Logan was in the bathroom. She switched off the television and stood up. "I'll see you outside, Logan!" She called and headed out of the apartment they were currently sharing.

The rest of the tenants were outside. It was mindless chatter that she joined in with while she waited for Logan. He was on his way, she knew.

But then those around her started gasping. She turned towards the apartment building and looked up.

That was Logan's bedroom window. An orange glow came from inside, a fire. "Logan!" She called desperately as she searched for him. He had to be outside.

But he wasn't. "Fuck," she hissed. The sirens of the fire engine in the distance, but there was no way for them to get there in time. Not with Logan still inside. "Fuck," she hissed again. It would be so easy to just run inside and get him out. "Fuck."

She ran forward, pulled open the doors of the building and headed inside. The elevator was out, shut down the moment the fire alarm went off. Taking the stairs two at a time, she headed up to Logan's floor. The fire engines were much closer now. If she had time to look out of the window she would have seen them parking up and climbing out.

One of Logan's older neighbours grabbed a hold of fire captain Sainz's arm. "Please!" She cried. "She just ran inside!"

Carlos remained calm as he spoke to the old woman. She gave the name of the girl that ran inside and Carlos felt the blood drain from his face. He knew that name, knew that girl. Of course she would be here. "We'll get her out safely, ma'am," he said and headed inside.

Smoke filled the corridor as she entered her floor. She coughed and held her elbow over her nose and mouth as she headed towards Logan's front door. "Logan!" She shouted and pushed her key into the lock.

It was so damn hot when she pushed open the door. Fuck, this was a mistake. "Logan!" She shouted again. "Are you in here?!"

There was a muffled noise from the bathroom. Dropping to her knees she crawled over to the bathroom door. Her eyes stung, throat burned as she reached up for the door handle.

Suddenly a hand was on her shoulder. It pulled her back, pulled her into a strong chest. "He's in there!" She cried and tried to push away from the chest. "Get him out, please!"

Strong arms picked her up, held her head against his chest so she was breathing nothing but him as he got her outside. Other firefighters were rushing about around them, putting out the fire and getting Logan out. But she wasn't aware of any of it as the fire captain carried her outside and placed her on the ground.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" He shouted as he pulled off his mask.

Fury was written across his face as he stared down at her. She let out a cough and folded her arms over her chest. "Logan was still in there," she said as she looked at her shoes. "He could have died."

"We would have gotten him out! You could have died going in there!"

Tears stung at her eyes. A mixture of smoke inhalation and humiliation. Suddenly his fingers were on her chin, tipping her face towards him. "You had me scared, cariño. When your neighbour told me that you ran in there..."

She leaned forward to kiss him, something she should have done that night in the bar. Carlos wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "I'm sorry," she whispered against his lips.

Carlos settled her back on her feet. "Never do something like that to me again," he said, his forehead against hers.

"Never again," she whispered and kissed him again. "But shouldn't you be helping your men stop my best friends apartment from burning down?"

He looked towards the building. The fire had died down and they'd gotten Logan out, but he still had a job to do. "Wait here," he said and kissed the top of her head.

Pulling his mask back over his face, he ran inside.

Her hero.

[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

Ghostober - Day 12 [River]

"My toaster was definitely talking to me this morning" - 1k

CW: River gets injured - burns (no blood or graphic description)

⊹ Ghostober Masterlist ⊹

River had been a chronic patient in the infirmary under Omega’s care. Always doing something that ended him back laying in a bed in the medical wing. Between him and his brother Lake, River was somehow always the one ending up on the wrong side of a prank, or pulling the short end of the stick.

This week had been no different.

It had started out harmless enough. Hiding all of Terzo’s left socks, switching out Alpha’s shampoo with lube, turning a whole row of books to have the spines facing inward in the library - top to bottom I might add, it took two and a half hours for the Sisters to turn everything back the right way.

Yet that was all elementary. The terror twins were simply not satisfied.

They had upped the stakes as the week went on. Putting laxatives in the Tuesday chilli, they hid a smoke generator in Secondo’s office, activating it when he was alone and causing everyone to think there's a fire. The whole Abbey had to evacuate while the two ghouls snickered wickedly in the corner. They had simultaneously replaced Sister’s masterkey with a similar-looking, non-functional one, causing her to be locked out of everywhere she needed to go - including the security office to shut off the fire alarm.

River had put itching powder in Dewdrop's laundry detergent, causing the little fire ghoul to be miserable all day until he finally snapped. He had marched all the way to River’s room, leaving a trail of black smoke in his wake as his little legs quickly ate up the distance.

Dew had found River sitting casually on the couch in the den. His carefree expression and body language made the former water ghoul’s skin boil.

“Can’t you prank somebody else, River? I’ve got enough shit going on.” Dew snarled, closing the distance between the two of them.

River couldn’t help but look at the little ghoul with his face scrunched in confusion before remembering what he had done a few days prior. All Dew got in reply was a little snicker.

“It’s not funny! I feel like my skin is crawling!” He had ripped his shirt off and River could see that he might have put a little too much. Dew was covered in red scratches all over, clearly trying to use his claws as carefully as he could to relieve some of the itch.

River felt a little bad, but Dew had done pranks of this calibre to him before he was a fire ghoul.

“Okay, maybe I put a little too much? But it’s kind of funny.” River chuckled, which only angered Dew more as he moved to stand right in front of the larger water ghoul.

“No. More.” Dew hissed through gritted teeth, his fingers working tirelessly to relieve the discomfort all over his arms and chest.

River stood, towering over Dew as he took in the sight of his red, raw skin.

“I’m sorry, no more…. Maybe just the harmless ones?” River smirked.

That was the final straw. Between the insatiable itching, the lack of sleep that night due to the itching, and now River’s incessant taunting. He was about to explode.

And he did.

Dewdrop’s fire element was unstable on a good day, but today it was well fed on his sleep deprived brain and untapped rage as the little ghoul had burst into flames, sending River flying back over the couch.

And that’s how he ended up in the infirmary this week.

He had bandages covering his many burns and blisters as he laid back in the bed Omega had almost permanently labelled with his name.

“You’re lucky water ghouls have a protective mucus in your skin to protect you from this kind of stuff. Otherwise this would’ve been a lot worse.” Omega had said, along with something about consequences of actions? He couldn’t remember. Or more accurately, he didn’t want to hear it.

Lake had come in to see his brother every day. Letting him in on all the gossip and things. Those two were absolutely insufferable around the Abbey, and Secondo had threatened to send them back to the Pit on numerous occasions. Yet somehow they were still here.

“Hey Riv? Can I tell you something scary?” Lake’s voice was low with a sinister tone.

“Oh I’m all ears– ah. All ear.” River joked, patting his one ear that was bandaged against his head.

“Okay, you know how we’ve been debating whether the den is haunted?” River nodded, leaning in to listen more intently. “Well, I was laying in my nest last night and I heard voices.”

River’s eyes went wide. “Really? What did they say?”

“I don’t know but the TV turned off without me touching it. There were knocks coming from your room. You haven’t heard anything like that have you?” Lake asked as he tried not to burst out laughing as he saw River shake in fear. He really shouldn’t be taking advantage of his brother while he was high as a kite on pain meds, but it was just too easy.

River pulled the covers up to his face and hid behind them. “You don’t think they’re following me, are you?”

Lake tilted his head, genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”

“If you were hearing voices…. Then my toaster was definitely talking to me this morning.”

Lake couldn’t help it, he burst out with laughter before being grabbed by the scruff of his neck and forcibly removed from the infirmary by a rather large, rather annoyed Omega.

“Can’t even let your brother recover without causing a ruckus?” The quint stood with his arms crossed, the scariest look on his face. It was much like the look you’d get from a very disappointed mother as he effectively took up the space within the doorway, blocking Lake’s every attempt to get back inside.

“O-Omeg…ahaha! Please!” Lake wheezed, clutching his side as he got a stitch from laughing so hard. “Come on! His face was priceless!”

With two large hands on the water ghoul’s shoulders, Omega effortlessly turned him around and gave Lake a loving boot in the ass out of his infirmary.

“Scram, you leech!”

A/N: Not proofread, sorry it's so short.

[all-together-now]

So. Surge and Blaze. You’re telling me that neither of you can follow the simple instructions on a box of pop tarts without risking it bursting into flames?

Blaze sighed, “No…even the simplest methods of cooking I cannot manage without overdoing-”

“Instructions?” Honey interrupted, “What instructions?”

The other girls all looked at her.

“You know,” Amy said, “Like…putting them in a toaster to heat them up.”

“Who the fuck wants a warm Poptart?” Honey asked.

“Bitch, that’s what they’re made for!!” Surge argued.

“I’ve never stuck a Poptart in the toaster,” Honey huffed, crossing her arms, “They taste great straight out of the box.”

“I mean…you’re not wrong, but neither is Surge,” Amy said.

“A-Aren’t we getting a little sidetracked?” Trip asked.

“This is more important, Spikes!”

[boygiwrites]

Living the Vida Loca   Ep.

•  Jesse Pinkman & Reader. (Platonic)

(Here’s part one.)     (Here’s part two.) (Here’s part three.) (Here’s part four.) (Here’s part five.)

• (Find this story on Ao3.)

Summary — A short story about how a young teenaged girl gets wrapped up in Jesse's life.

Notes — Phew. The epilogue. Please enjoy :)

.

Bear Creek, Alaska.

The first thing you do when Jesse gets the keys to your new apartment is throw your bags on the floor and run around, poking your heads into all the rooms, pulling open all the kitchen cabinets, and laying like a pair of starfish on the bland carpet of the bedrooms.

Holy shit, you laugh.

Holy shit, Jesse laughs.

You lay there for a long time, waiting for your new lives to feel real.

Saul Goodman really missed out on being a real estate agent.

He picked the perfect apartment.

It’s got heating, for when the cold becomes colder.

It’s got two bathrooms, with an elephant’s worth of space in each.

It’s got spacious wardrobes that will eventually be filled with band shirts and beanies and thick, woolly socks, and a fireplace that with time becomes a mantle for you to frame your little polaroid's on, turning fleeting flashes into permanent memories above the cozy flames.

It’s got everything.

The first week goes by fast.

You’re on a high and you won’t come down.

You and Jesse have become avid thrift shoppers in the wake of your old riches, determined to fill out your home with bits and bobs; knicks and knacks. On every second corner of this mountainous town, there’s a second-hand store bursting with charm. Oh, and someone’s grandpa’s collection of Christmas sweaters. 

(Yes, Jesse buys one.)

You also buy a toaster, some sofa cushions, and a big, green blanket that will be perfect for your movie nights. You hit three more on your way back.

You also go bananas in the local supermarket.

You sit in the cart and swipe almost every cookie and frozen lasagna you can off the shelves, while Jesse hops on and scoots you both around.

Your fridge looks like an overstuffed suitcase.

You use the town library to print off a couple resumes, and some hours later, you re-converge at the same parking lot you started out in, and you both run up to each other and shout —

I got the job!

When the population is as small is Bear Creek’s, anything is possible.

You become a cashier at the supermarket.

Jesse starts bussing tables at a small steak-and-chips restaurant.

(They let him spray-paint a mural onto the side of the building. It takes three whole days and two broken ladders, but it’s beautiful, and Jesse walks around now with compliments on his shoulders and a pep in his step.)

The first week goes by fast.

A blur of shopping, moving furniture, and movie nights.

Two kids in a candy store.

Then, after that  —

It’s the slow and steady Bear Creek lifestyle.

The slow Bear Creek lifestyle.

Everybody knows everybody in Bear Creek.

The elderly clerk at the corner store knows the man who walks in with his dog, and the man with the dog knows the lady from the bookshop down the street, and the lady from the bookshop knows you, and you know the guy who busks outside the library, and the busker-guy knows Jesse, and it just keeps going in circles, circles, circles, until it’s all a big web.

Some years ago, you might have perceived this as danger.

You might have perceived this community as a reactive entanglement of whispers, and stares, and one rogue phone call to the wrong people.

But one thing Bear Creek teaches you is how to let go.

How to let go of glancing over your shoulder.

How to let go of peeking out the windows at night.

How to let go of these things that have shaped you into something sharper than what you really are. The person you used to be.

The same goes for Jesse.

For a month, he tucks a gun in his pants-line.

He smokes cigarettes while he scrutinizes your new IDs.

Isaac and Riley Miller.

He has three different phones, and refuses to text anybody except you.

You can hear him, in the night, checking on you from your doorway, like you might’ve disappeared in the ten minutes he’s been in the other room.

It’s difficult, because old dogs can’t learn new tricks, but Jesse gets better.

He’s safe enough, now, to revert back to that teenage boy he’s always been at heart, even if he is twenty-nine years old.

You build lop-sided snowmen together in the apartment complex’s parking lot, and pelt each other with snowballs. It’s a parallel image to your nights back in New Mexico, throwing frisbees in the driveway, except with two completely different people who look like you and Jesse, but have been through and seen so much more.

You go for walks and shit, like normal, healthy people.

The DVD store becomes a second home for you.

You drink hot chocolate out on the balcony and argue over who got more marshmallows while you people-watch.

You take your sleds down to the edge of the forest, and you coast down the tall mounds of snow and hoot into the trees like happy children.

Some nights, you lay in bed and wonder about your old life. Are there ghosts of you, back home? Do people think of you?

Some days, it’s hard to keep looking forward.

There are just some things you will never be able to forget. Some things you will never be able to look at with the same eyes as everybody else.

Like how all meat looks like sheep guts.

And all flies come with a flash of dead eyes.

And how sometimes, when Jesse reaches to hold your hand, you’re back in that desert and you’re being grabbed, pinned, and shot.

The days are slow, and they give you time.

Sure, the apartment is nice and all, but Jesse’s always been your home.

He’s always there to pet and shush away the nightmares.

He’s there when you need him, and he’s not when you need space.

He’s a familiar face. 

He’s family. 

He’s your twin, trapped in the same echo of an old nightmare you survived together. He’s someone who knows what you’re thinking whenever you see a grate in the ground, or a bucket, or a paperclip. He understands.

The days in Bear Creek are slow.

You spend them painting, laughing, exploring, and living.

It’s sort of like buying new shoes.

Uncomfortable, at first, but then it learns to work around you —

And everything is easy-peasy from there on out.

A visit from Uncle Goodman.

Jimmy has a thick moustache, and he can’t handle the cold.

These are the first things you notice when he shows up at your door, with that strip of carpet above his lip and the three coats he’s shivering in.

You’re in shock. Jimmy?

He is not. Are you gonna let me in, you little punk, or what?

He says he is freezing his nuts off. 

Jimmy McGill is in your living room. He’s shed all his layers, toed off his boots, and apparently, he’s jet-lagged, so he helps himself to your coffee machine like he’s lived here all his life. You stare at him while he sips it.

There’s an awkward silence.

I thought I’d never see you again, you mutter, at this version of an old memory you forced yourself to forget, currently standing in your kitchen.

Jimmy sets the mug down.

He looks like he tries to say something, but then he just opens his arms.

You hug him for the first time in four years.

You’re an adult, now.

He must sense this change in you, not just physically but mentally, because when he pulls back, he doesn’t want to let go, and he’s just looking at you and crying, which looks wrong on a guy like Jimmy.

Why’d you have to go and get all grown up on me, huh?

Then he demands that you tell him everything.

You demand he tell you everything, because, How’d you even find us?

He says he knows a man who knows everything about everyone; someone who can make fake IDs and people disappear. He says it’s how you’re living out here, and you’re reminded of the night you were herded into the back of an electronics store and given a new name.

Jimmy helped you and Jesse out in the beginning, but only as a voice through a phone line, and then as an invisible force pulling strings.

Even when he’s 2,800 miles away, Jimmy’s been there for you.

You tell him about Hank Schrader and Steve Gomez.

You tell him about the phone call, and the sheep guts.

Then you try telling him about the desert, and the Welkers, but your voice gets caught in your throat like a fish hook, and he suggests going for a walk instead.

You trail the sidewalks until you bump into Jesse.

He’s on his way home from work, and when he sees you, he almost faints.

Yo, yo, yo, hang on a second, His mouth hangs open. 

You giggle while they take each other in.

They even do a bro-hug, because Jesse does things like that, now.

He tells Jimmy that the apartment kicks ass, man, and that he can’t believe he flew all the way up here just to see you guys.

Hey, man, Jimmy holds up his hands, I just came here for the waterfalls and the moose. You people were second-to-last on my itinerary.

You both tell Jimmy to shove it, and then you walk together to the park.

Just like old times, right? Jimmy asks you.

These are nothing like old times, but you got your two favorite people in the world back together again — your weird little family — so that has to count for something.

Whatever you say, You chuckle.

You see a fire-colored fox sniffing along the frozen lake while you talk about everything that’s changed; everything that’s happened. The people you’ve become. You cry again when Jimmy says he’s proud of you, and Jesse gives you a hard noogie for being such a sap.

Apparently, Jimmy’s staying in Bear Creek for a while.

Today’s a good day.

The final piece.

You graduate college in May.

It’s been a long struggle, but you made it.

Jimmy’s there.

Jesse’s there.

Your friends are all there, too, in matching gowns and caps.

You hear your name, Riley Miller, being called, and you step up to the podium with the overwhelming sense of metamorphosizing from one cold husk of a life into a newer, brighter one. One where you have a new name and a new home, but the same old family cheering for you in the crowd.

You can’t believe how much everything has changed.

For one, Jesse shaved all his hair off, ‘cause he’s an idiot.

At least one thing makes you laugh every day, now.

(It’s usually Jesse shouting bitch at your Xbox, or Jimmy complaining about the people he works with, down at the Cinnabon, because the only young person he can stand to be around is you.)

It’s been a year since you last had a nightmare.

You’re back to walking dogs again.

You’re back to singing in the kitchen.

You moved into the apartment next to Jesse’s, and he tells you every day how much he doesn’t miss finding your dirty dishes in the sink. But you know he hates that you’ve grown up so fast. He comes around for dinner almost every single night, swaddled in that big, green blanket you bought when you first landed in Alaska, and you’ve upgraded from watching Tinkerbell to old Disney movies. He cries every time at Lion King.

Jimmy lives ten minutes away, in a proper but small house.

You know there’s days where he yearns to live on that same pillar of glory he had back in New Mexico.

He plans on heading back to the states in the coming months.

He says he’ll miss the crisp air, and the caribou, and watching the snow roll over the caps of white mountains while he eats breakfast croissants with you in quiet cafes, but it’s just not in his nature to stay in one place for too long. You can’t trap a butterfly in a bird cage.

Besides, he’s basically the poster child for burner phones.

He’ll find a way to contact you.

That skatepark seems like a million years ago.

You throw your cap in the air.

Now when you spend nights at Jesse’s place, ‘cause the two of you are like teenage girls obsessed with sleepovers, and you warm yourself up by the fireplace, there’s one more photo sitting there, now.

 Dead center. Ceramic frame.

The final piece of the puzzle.

It’s you, holding your degree and laughing while the sun blooms on your shoulder, with Jimmy and Jesse on either side of you, throwing up rock-star hands like they’re at the sickest concert they’ve ever been to.

You smile to yourself.

Because you love those fucking idiots.

And they love you, too.

End notes  — Oh my God! The epilogue, it’s finished!! I hope you enjoyed reading, and I hope I was able to wrap this up in a satisfying way. Thank you for reading, everyone :)

[bobalegsanji]

Umakemenotwannadie

Chapter 1 ☆ Chapter 2 ☆ Chapter 3 ☆ Chapter 4 ☆ Chapter 5 ☆ Chapter 6

Sanji just needs a little love in a world that couldn’t care less

Modern magic AU. Zosan. Chapters: 6/?.

Trigger Warnings: depression, substance abuse, implied drug addiction, past childhood abuse, panic/anxiety attacks

One Piece Masterlist

In the upcoming weeks, Sanji begins to find his own routine, both around the house and in his school life.  The commute to his university isn’t even very long, but he manages to miss 3 classes by taking the wrong metro before he really figures it out. 

Sanji becomes the main head of food in the household. He helps Nami with the finances, so he knows exactly how much they have for food. With her help he starts making the grocery lists, often making Franky and Chopper get the actual ingredients. He has his own notebook, safely put in the cutlery drawer, with everyone’s favourite foods, allergies and dislikes. The only pages that are still blank are Luffy and Zoro’s. 

Sanji makes sure there’s enough food for breakfast and lunch, so everyone can grab whatever they want, but he provides dinner almost every night. The only exceptions are when Chopper or Usopp beg him to order take out, which he doesn’t allow too often. Most weekends, he gives in and makes breakfast for the house anyway. He wakes up early and doesn’t even trust Chopper near the toaster, so it’s a no-brainer, really. 

Robin often accompanies him in the kitchen. She likes to read with a cup of coffee, sometimes commenting on interesting findings from her studies. Sanji enjoys the company, cooking can get lonely sometimes. Robin knows exactly when she can talk to him and when she should stay quiet because he’s too focused. 

It’s been 3 weeks since he moved in, and he hasn’t really had any trouble with the magic-users in the house yet. He was a bit wary of Usopp at the start, but that’s mostly been resolved. Nami and Usopp don’t mention magic, at least not around him, so he doesn’t have anything to complain about. He takes extra care in the morning to take his suppressants, not that he ever forgets to take them in. It’s unconsciously built into his brain, similar to breathing and hearing. Every morning, he obsessively checks whether his stock is still enough: like it could suddenly vanish overnight. He still isn’t comfortable letting anyone touch him, but luckily no one seems to mind.

Because he’s become so comfortable, he almost forgot that Usopp is a herbalist. 

Almost. Until, one moment late in the day. Sanji is completely focused on his French tarragon chicken, not completely familiar with the recipe yet. Robin is lounging in a chair near the open doors, basking in the sunlight with another book. She hasn’t bothered Sanji much, because of which he is glad, he needs all the focus he can muster to get the proportions of onions to shallots right. When Usopp comes storming in with a small, potted plant with thick, healthy leaves, he barely notices.

‘’Sanji, can I leave Peony on the counter?’’

Sanji looks up from where he was dicing the onions. ‘’I guess, why?’’

‘’She’s getting lonely in my room. I think she’d like to watch you cook.’’

He stops cutting to send a death-stare at the plant, almost like it could burst into flames at any moment. 

‘’Chopper is not going to like you taking out Peony,’’ Robin comments.

‘’I don’t care about Chopper! Look how sad she is!’’

‘’I don’t see anything off with the plant, dear Usopp.’’

‘’She feels sad. She’s lonely. I think the other plants are bullying her.’’

‘’I’m uncertain whether they have the capabilities to do that.’’

Usopp’s ears begin to turn red. ‘’They can, I told you they’re intelligent!’’ 

‘’I have no doubt about that, but I’m not sure if she’ll understand the concept of dicing cabbage.’’

‘’That is not going anywhere near my kitchen, Usopp. I’m sorry,’’ Sanji states. No way in hell is he going to let that plant-thing stare at him all evening. 

‘’Firstly, Peony knows she’s not a cabbage, so she’s not going to get scared by Sanji cutting up some vegetables near her. Secondly, it’s a she.’’ Usopp pauses, his long rant forcing him to take a breath before finishing. ‘’Thirdly, please Sanji. Chopper will be fine if you allow it.’’

‘’I’m not cooking dinner with that thing anywhere near me,’’ Sanji goes back to focusing on dinner. If he ignores the problem, it might go away.

‘’You’re not even magical Sanji, you can’t even sense her, please.’’

He opts to ignore Usopp, who’s starting to become desperate. The problem is that he knows what Usopp is talking about. He remembers pushing his mother’s wheelchair through the garden on sunny days. Remembers the vibrant auras of everything around him. The splashes of blue on some plants he could see. He was never able to really connect with them: never able to hear them, or really understand their feelings, but he knew enough to sense the dreadful sadness coming from them. He asked his mother once why they looked like that. 

‘’That’s just life, Sanji,’’ she had said with a small smile. ‘’You can’t expect everyone and everything to be happy all the time, can you?’’

It was the first time he had felt his mother’s aura shift to a more navy colour. He had never asked her again. 

‘’You have no problem with my magical herbs in your kitchen, so what would Peony change?’’ 

‘’Usopp!’’ Robin looks angry, ‘’Don’t push him.’’

 Sanji stares wide-eyed at Usopp, ‘’your WHAT?’’

Usopp cringes at his loud voice. ‘’It’s not a big deal, really.’’

He stands up to rummage through the one cabinet he filled with the housemates’ items he doesn’t use. They barely had any unnecessary possessions in the kitchen, mainly a dozen or so glass bottles filled with various herbs and some random paper plates and cutlery. He had expected the greens were Usopp’s, but hadn’t realised they could contain magic. They didn’t hold a label, and he didn’t want to just use anyone’s ingredients without asking. He had planned on asking Usopp what they were exactly and if he could use them for cooking, but he had barely entered this cabinet, so he had forgotten they were there to begin with. 

He picks up two glass bottles to take a better look. They don’t look any different from normal spices, they don’t feel different. He wouldn’t have known if Usopp hadn’t told him. 

His hands tremble as he puts the two glass bottles down on the counter. 

‘’I promise, they’re not dangerous. The left bottle is serenitea. If you brew tea from it, it helps settle your nerves. The other one is serenade. It tastes kind of like how you would imagine a sunset tastes? Like happiness and warmth.’’

Sanji can’t respond, too focused on staring at the bottles like they’re going to talk back to him. 

‘’Sanji?’’ Robin asks softly. ‘’They’re not going to hurt you.’’

‘’I know,’’ Sanji snaps. He immediately regrets it. Is he really so far gone that he’s currently raising his voice at a beautiful lady?

‘’I think... I’m just going to take Peony and go…’’ Usopp says awkwardly. ‘’Robin, can I…?’’

She doesn’t take her eyes off Sanji, who’s still staring at the unmoving herbs.

‘’You can put Peony in my room for the time being,’’ she says. 

He nods and quickly leaves. The fall of the kitchen door brings Sanji out of his trance. 

He immediately walks over to Robin, ‘’I’m so sorry for snapping, my love. I didn’t mean to get mad at you. I should never, my love.’’ He’s so mad at himself right now.

‘’Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll make you a cup of tea?’’ She offers.

He immediately shakes his head, ‘’I have to finish dinner, Franky is almost done with class and I want it to be ready when he gets home.’’ 

‘’Sanji, sit down.’’

He nods and takes a seat at the table. Robin’s wish is his command, especially after the fool he just made of himself.

‘’Again, my dear, I’m so sorry for-’’

‘’Stop apologising.’’

He nods and keeps quiet. 

She picks up the jars and before Sanji can help himself, he speaks again, ‘’I don’t really want… Want that one.’’

Robin chuckles, ‘’I know, cook. I’m just putting them back. Is regular black tea fine?’’

That settles his nerves. The little nickname is endearing, he can feel a slight blush on his cheeks. ‘’That’s my favourite.’’

‘’I know,’’ she smiles sweetly as she gets to work.  

 A couple of minutes later, she puts down two steaming mugs of regular black tea.

‘’Thank you, my love.’’ Sanji takes a sip before continuing, ‘’This is brewed to absolute perfection.’’

Robin laughs, ‘’You know, you don’t have to compliment everything I do, right?’’

‘’But everything you do is perfect!’’

She plays with the little spoon in her teacup, but doesn’t answer. The air immediately turns more serious.

‘’I think we need to have a little talk about everything,’’ she says.

He doesn’t want to. Sanji is not stupid, he knows he’s messing up whatever dynamic the house had before he came. He doesn’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable or change who they are, but the way he reacts sometimes is out of his own power, it’s rooted deeply in his core. 

It would be so easy for Robin to tell him this isn’t going to work. He hasn’t even lived here all that long, three weeks is nothing compared to the years of friendship they all already had behind them. But he doesn’t want to leave; no matter how uncomfortable the Usopp-situation has been, he has never been as happy as in the past few weeks living with them. 

‘’I’m sorry, it just took me a bit by surprise.’’

Robin nods thoughtfully. ‘’I could see that.’’

He cringes at her words. ‘’I don’t… I don’t want to leave,’’ he confesses.

Robin looks surprised, ‘’No one said anything about you leaving.’’

‘’I know, it’s just… I don’t want to-’’ Tears prick in his eyes. It’s pathetic, why does he feel so many emotions? He’s only known her for such a short amount of time.

‘’You don’t have to explain yourself, I understand.’’

He looks up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time since the subject came up. ‘’I don’t want to be a burden. You didn’t even really need a new housemate to begin with.’’

Robin is quiet for a long time, simply staring into his eyes. Her gaze makes him uncomfortable, but he can’t break away for some reason.

‘’Do you know anything about magic?’’

Sanji hesitates to respond. He understands more than a normal human being, but definitely not enough to be called knowledgeable about the subject. He spent the last couple of years trying to suppress any knowledge he had, avoiding everything magic-related. His father never supported him indulging in the subject after finding out what useless ability he had inherited, but he’s not about to broadcast that right now.

‘’A bit,’’ he says sheepishly.

She hums and breaks her gaze. Sanji finally feels like he can breathe.

‘’Are you willing to learn?”’

He stutters a bit, not sure what to say, ‘’I- I’m not..’’

‘’You don’t have to learn everything, nor does it have to happen overnight. I just think you’ll be a lot more comfortable once you learn it’s not as dangerous as it seems.’’

Sanji stares at his teacup. ‘’Why don’t you… Why don’t you just ask me to move?’’

‘’Because you’re happy here. I know you’re a good fit.’’

‘’How are you so sure about that?’’

Robin smiles mischievously. ‘’Because Luffy says so. And I think so as well.’’

‘’What does that even mean?’’

She sips from her tea, averting her gaze from Sanji. ‘’I’m a clairvoyant.’’

Sanji can feel his jaw drop. 

‘’You’re… You’re magic as well?’’

She nods, ‘’I didn’t want to overwhelm you.’’

He lets that sink in for a moment. 

Okay, so, it’s not just Nami and Usopp. It’s Robin as well. Nami can control the fucking weather. Usopp talks to plants. And Robin can, can what exactly?

‘’What are you?’’

‘’Clairvoyant,’’ she repeats. ‘’Basically, I can perceive and see things beyond normal comprehension. I can’t control it very well, but I get visions of the future sometimes. They’re not always reliable or precise, though.’’

She gives him some time to think about it. 

‘’I didn’t- I didn’t know,’’ he stammers,

‘’I didn’t want to overwhelm you with it. I’ve gotten a vision of you before, that's how I recognised you in the coffee shop. I think you can be happy here, with us, but you have to work for it.’’

He nods. ‘’So…. So you think learning will help me?’’

‘’I think so.’’ She stands up to refill their cups. Sanji takes his with a thankful but uncertain smile.

‘’You can think about my offer, on helping you learn, I mean. It’s okay to say yes, and it’s okay to say no. But I’m uncertain whether you will find your place here if you refuse to change your views on our… our lifestyle.’’

He nods. She’s right, he has to accommodate if he wants to keep living here. He feels so at ease here, so comfortable, he’s not sure whether he’ll ever be happy if he doesn’t take her up on her offer.

‘’I don’t have to think about it.’’

She looks at him with hopeful eyes, ‘’So?’’

‘’I want to learn. But please don’t set the pace too high. I’m… I don’t have the best experience with magic.’’

She looks pleased with his answer. ‘’Don’t worry, we’ll go at your pace.’’

He’s relieved. At least Robin has his best interests in mind, so he doesn’t have to worry about that. There is just one more thing he wonders about.

‘’So are the others also...?’’

She nods before he can finish his sentence. ‘’Do you want to know?’’

It’d be best to get it over with now. ‘’Yes.’’

‘’Chopper is both an animal empath and a shapeshifter. He can communicate with almost all animals. He can change into animals as well, but that’s a work in progress,’’ she laughs as she says it. ‘’For now, he can do a deer. But that’s about it.’’

Sanji nods. Chopper can turn into animals. Okay okay okay okay

‘’Franky is a conjurer. He needs a link of some sort to do it, usually a sigil, that helps him call forth objects from other locations. It’s pretty cool to see. He’s not allowed to do it inside the house anymore, though.

Robin stays quiet to see his reaction. When he doesn’t say anything, she continues.

‘’Brook is an empathic healer. He can heal physical wounds, but also take away mental pain, even though that’s a lot harder and doesn’t always work.’’

Sanji doesn’t react, just lets the information sink in. 

‘’Are you okay?’’ Robin asks after a while.

‘’Yes, yes, of course I am.’’ Sanji circles the rim of his teacup with his finger, still lost in thought. 

‘’We didn’t want to keep it from you. We just thought it’d be best to let you settle in before you heard.’’

Sanji nods again, ‘’Thank you.’’

He makes a way to stand up. ‘“I think I have to continue dinner, if that’s okay. You can stay here if you want.’’

She doesn’t respond. Sanji takes that as his cue to resume dinner. 

It was a good decision to let Sanji settle in before letting him know. Otherwise, he would’ve most likely packed up his bags and rented another hotel room for who-knows-how-long. But he can’t. He’s felt so out of place all his life. The warmth this house and these people give him make it impossible to just up and leave. 

‘’Sanji?’’ She says after a while.

He hums, turning around to look at her. She’s staring out of the window, gaze unfocused. 

‘’You don’t have to tell us what happened.’’

She turns her head to look at him. Their eyes meet, and Sanji can feel the hair on his arms stand upright.

‘’About the magic. You don’t have to tell us anything.’’

He just stares, at a complete loss for words. He can’t break their gaze, he can’t do anything. He’s trapped in her eyes.

Only when she looks away does he blink.

‘’That’s all.’’

He doesn’t respond, just finishes up dinner as quickly as possible before Franky gets home. He doesn’t want to know what she knows.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

It takes two days before someone approaches him about the subject again. 

Sanji sits outside, a cigarette in hand, with a study book open before him that he hasn’t read a single sentence of yet. He’s been slipping up lately, skipping lectures and classes left and right. He never cared about his studies, he just knew he had to choose something, or he’d be sitting in his hotel room all day doing nothing. He had already joined quite late in the semester. He should be happy he even got admitted into his educational leadership studies, but he couldn’t care less. The classes on finance and instructional leadership just feel a bit too much like the dinner conversations back at home. 

‘’Cook, what’s for dinner tonight?’’ Nami comes outside in the most beautiful purple dress he’s ever seen.

He smiles at the nickname. Robin started it, but the others are starting to pick it up as well. He’s glad, it makes him feel important. Like he’s actually a member of the house now.

‘’Nami, my love, you look as perfect as ever,’’ he swoons.

‘’I know, I know. What’s for dinner?’’ She sits down in the empty seat next to him, the old chair creaking under her weight.

‘’I can make whatever my lady desires.’’

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t tell him off. ‘’I don’t care. No actually, I do. Make that thing you made last week, with the fried eggs...’’

‘’Roasted duck with mikan sauce?’’

‘’Yes! That one! Please?’’

She didn’t need to do the puppy eyes, he would’ve made her anything she asked.

‘’Of course, my dear Nami. Anything for you!’’

She laughs as she picks up his mug, ‘’Is this coffee? And is it cold ?’’

‘’Hmm. I forgot I made it. I won’t let it go to waste, don’t worry.’’

She smiles mischievously as she holds the cup in two hands. ‘’I’m glad you won’t let it go to waste, can I ask you something?’’

Sanji stumps the last part of the cigarette in an old coffee cup. No one in the house smokes, so the cup has become his personal ashtray. ‘’I’ll answer anything for you.’’

‘’Do you know how to make onigiri? And meat?’’

‘’Of course. Onigiri is easy, and what kind of meat?’’

‘’Anything is fine. Luffy and Zoro are getting back on Saturday.’’

He pauses in the middle of lighting a new cigarette. That’s news. 

‘’They like that kind of food?’’

Nami hums. ‘’Zoro loves onigiri. And sake. Luffy eats everything, but he likes meat the most.’’ She’s quiet for a moment, aimlessly staring at the clear sky. ‘’I’m happy they’re back, they’ve been gone for five weeks or so now.’’

Sanji makes a mental note to add this new information to his notebook later. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before responding. ‘’Where have they been?’’

Nami’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘’’No clue. It’s Luffy and Zoro. Luffy’s always dragging him everywhere, it’s a pain in the ass most of the time.’’

‘’They don’t go to university?’’

‘’Oh no, Zoro does. He studies sports science or something, I don’t really know. He’s barely passing whatever he’s taking anyway. Luffy doesn’t go at all. He works at the coffee shop with Usopp. We’re close with the owner, so she lets Luffy go on his random rampages occasionally.’’ 

It’s interesting to hear about them. Sanji isn’t sure what to think of Zoro and Luffy. He still feels like the odd one out every now and again, but in general he’s comfortable. What if they don't like him? Will he just have to leave, even now that he’s ready to put in the work with Robin?

He’s lost in thought. He’s so far gone, he doesn’t even notice the now warm mug Nami pushes into his hands. Only when he absentmindedly takes a sip does he realise. 

‘’Huh?’’

‘’I heated it up for you.’’

He looks dubiously from the mug to the orange-haired beauty. ‘’You did what? When did you get up?’’

‘’I didn’t!’’ she smiles.

He doesn’t get it.

She puts up her hands.

…

He still doesn’t get it.

Her smile falters, ‘’Are you an idiot?’’

‘’Guess so?’’

‘’I can alter temperatures. Not just the weather, even though I’m best at that. I can heat up small things like a cup of coffee.’’

‘’Ah.’’

It’s quiet between them. Sanji’s mind is racing, he logically knows this doesn’t actually contain magic. It’s just been heated up, and that can’t be that bad, can it? He already sipped it, and he hasn’t died yet, so it shouldn’t matter. 

He feels anxiety clawing its way up his throat, but he refuses to give in now. He promised Robin he’d try to be more comfortable with it. 

‘’Thank you, that is sweet,’’ he manages to get out. He takes another careful sip, and he can’t lie, it doesn’t taste off. It’s just regular coffee.

Nami smiles as she repositions herself. ‘’Robin said she talked to you.’’

Sanji nods as he puts down the cup. He’ll finish it while it’s still hot, but he’ll take his time. Every sip takes a small mental discussion to convince himself. 

‘’She did.’’

‘’Well, this is your first lesson!’’ Nami’s face is all sunshine and rainbows, and Sanji can’t help but show a slight smile.

‘’Thank you, my dear Nami.’’

She gets up, before she can turn around she turns her attention to Sanji once more. ‘’Also, Peony now lives on top of the fridge.’’

She skips away like she didn’t just drop a fucking bombshell on him. What do you mean, Usopp’s carnivorous plant now lives in his favourite place?

He sighs deeply. What has he gotten himself into?

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

In the five days leading up to Saturday, he gets two more lessons.

He finds Chopper sitting outside on Wednesday morning, talking to a calico cat that’s lying on the grass. He’s pushing a small bowl of water towards it.

‘’For the last time, I’m not giving you milk. It’s bad for you.’’

‘“Excuse me,’’ Sanji says, confused. ‘’What are you doing exactly?’’

‘’Sanji! This is Neko!’’ Chopper smiles brightly, hand pointing towards the cat.

The cat lazily gets up and walks over to Sanji, head bunting his leg.

‘’Hi?’’ he says awkwardly. He goes down to pet its head. The cat immediately purrs.

‘’Zoro gave him milk once, and now he refuses to drink water. Do you know how bad dairy products are for cats?’’

The cat meows.

‘’You’re so spoiled, Neko.’’

Annoyed, Chopper puts the bowl of water on the grass. ‘’Don’t you dare give him milk, Sanji!’’ He says angrily as he storms off.

Sanji just stares at Neko. Lesson two, I guess , he thinks. 

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

The third lesson happens on Friday evening. 

Right before dinner is served, Robin walks in with a big, ancient-looking book. She drops it on the unmade kitchen table with a loud slam.

‘’What is that, my love?’’ Sanji asks curiously.

‘’It’s a history book about magic. Are you free this afternoon?’’

Sanji gulps. ‘’I am.’’

‘’Good,’’ she smiles. ‘’I thought it’d be best to teach you a bit more about the origins and basics.’’

He just nods, not even trying to go against her. If Robin made up her mind, it’s basically set in stone.

After dinner, they spend the evening hunched over the book. 

It contains lots of information Sanji didn’t know yet. He had never learned the basics of magic. His father didn’t care about bringing over magical knowledge, and especially not to him. He cared more about the power Sanji and his siblings held and the possibilities this gave him. 

He learns that magic actually is as old as time. No one knows exactly where it came from or what it is. Magic is just part of some people, it’s not tangible or visible, it just exists. Magical abilities are hereditary, but it’s unpredictable: sometimes it skips a generation, or the ability gets slightly altered into a new version. In general, there are certain branches that different people have an affinity for. 

“What about making someone magic?” He asks after a while, eyes tired from staring at the letters this long.

“What do you mean?” Robin says, not taking her eyes off the ancient pages. She’s completely in her element.

“Giving someone abilities. How does that work?”

“We just read the part about how magic is hereditary, are you sure you’re paying attention?” She finally looks up at him.

“Of course I am! But what about deciding on someone’s ability? Like… Like making someone a clairvoyant?’’ 

“Oh.” She returns her attention to the page on divination. “That’s not possible. Magic is way too uncontrollable for something like that.” 

Sanji stays silent.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

The next day, he wakes up tired. Robin made him stay up until 3 am to study, which is something he’s definitely not used to. He had planned on making breakfast, but the clock on his desk read 11:03, so it’s a bit too late for that. 

He spends the next hour cleaning up whatever needs to be cleaned in his bedroom. There’s barely any clutter, both men don’t own enough to make a mess, but Sanji decides to be a good person and clean Zoro’s part of the bedroom as well. Anything to be liked by his new roommate.

Only once both his and Zoro’s beds are made, Zoro’s clothes are in the laundry basket, and the floor has been vacuumed, does the room look tidy enough. Sanji makes sure to hide his magazines in a box under his bed. It’s not the best hiding spot, but if Zoro goes looking there, he doesn’t know what else he expected to find. Lastly, he reorganises his desk. His school books go in a big pile next to it. His desk is lined up with the small amount of trinkets he’s gathered over the years, he replaced them so they’re all lined up perfectly . He rechecks the amount of pills in his drawer as he takes his daily medication. His nerves settled a bit as he finished. 

Okay, he might be a bit neurotic, but it’s a nerve-wrecking day for him to meet Zoro ánd Luffy. Cut him some slack. 

The rest of the day went on as usual, minus the exciting talk of his housemates. Zoro and Luffy returning seem to put everyone but Sanji in high spirits, who’s just getting more nervous and agitated as the clock keeps ticking.

Nami and Brook accompany him in the kitchen as he starts dinner. It shouldn’t be long until the two men arrive, but Nami reassures him he can serve dinner at the same time as usual.

“Are you okay, Sanji?” Brook asks him.

“Of course,” he forcibly smiles. “Why?”

“You’re kind of... Restless,” Nami remarks.

“Are you nervous about meeting Luffy and Zoro?”

Sanji’s ears turn a soft shade of pink. No use in hiding it. “A bit.”

“Do you want me to ask Usopp to make you some calming tea?”

“No!” He immediately declines, he’s not ready to consume anything Usopp-related yet. “I’m great, thank you.”

At that moment, the front door opens.

Nami and Brook spring up, but before they can reach the kitchen door, a small boy with a straw hat runs in.

“NAAAAMIII!” He immediately jumps into her arms, making them fall in the process.

“Luffy, be-fucking-careful will you?” She screams.

Brook doesn’t notice her cursing, or at least pretends not to, as he hugs Luffy too, putting even more weight on her. 

A green-haired man walks in after Luffy, looking very amused at the scene in front of him.

“Nice to see you too, Nami.”

She pushes Luffy off of her to run in his arms. “Don’t ever leave that long again!”

He laughs as he hugs her back, “I couldn’t let Luffy go to Europe alone, could I?”

His eyes fall on Sanji. “You’re the new one?” 

Nami hums, “That’s Sanji. He makes the best food I’ve ever tasted.’’ She pulls back to turn to Sanji, ‘’This is Zoro.”

Before Zoro or Sanji can say anything else, Luffy suddenly stands right in front of him.

“Hi! I’m Luffy!” 

He goes in for a hug, but Sanji quickly dodges, making Luffy fall flat against the fridge. 

“I told you he doesn’t like physical contact,” Nami scolds him. “Why don’t you ever fucking listen to me?”

Luffy turns around, hand rubbing his nose. “I didn’t know he’d do that.”

Sanji just stands awkwardly leaning against the table. “I’m- I’m Sanji?” It sounds more like a question than an introduction.

“Is that a question?” Zoro asks mockingly, putting his bag right in the centre of the kitchen table.

Sanji scoffs. Something about the green-haired man pisses him off. It may be the nerves that haven’t completely stilled yet.  “No, it’s not. And we’re going to eat dinner in five minutes, so please take that off.”

Zoro turns his attention to Brook. “Is he always like that?”

Brook just nods, “Pretty much.”

“Can we eat any sooner?” Luffy comes in between the two.

Sanji takes a moment to really take Zoro and Luffy in. They did not prepare him for this.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

Ignoring the rocky introduction, the remainder of the evening went quite well. 

Zoro and Luffy love the dinner Sanji prepared. It takes both Nami and Usopp to make sure Luffy doesn’t try to hug Sanji again as a thank-you. He had prepared drinks as well, expecting the friends to stay up late. He made various cocktails for everyone but Zoro. For Zoro, he got his favourite brand of sake. 

Sanji learns more about everyone. It’s not the first time he’s seen Usopp or Brook tipsy, but it’s definitely the first time they’re this talkative. Whether it’s because they’re happy about their friend group being whole again or becoming more comfortable around Sanji, he’s not sure. 

All-in-all, it was a successful day. 

Sanji decides to go to bed first, wanting to give the friend group some time to catch up among themselves without him intruding. Not that they make him feel left out, the contrary: no one treats him any differently. Even Luffy acts like they’ve known each other for 3 years instead of 3 hours. The only exception is Zoro. He barely looks at Sanji and doesn’t try to string up a conversation, but Sanji doesn’t blame him. There are more important matters for him to focus on right now, like making sure Usopp doesn’t throw up all over the couch.

Sanji goes to bed content. He’s been stressing so much about today, now that it’s finally over, he realises all the nerves weren’t necessary. 

Robin was right. Maybe he can be happy here. 

Chapter 1 ☆ Chapter 2 ☆ Chapter 3 ☆ Chapter 4 ☆ Chapter 5 ☆ Chapter 6

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Who’s this?” 

“Uh, it’s a band called Tame Impala.”

“It’s a bit… trippy or something isn’t it? I don’t think I like it.”

“Well you’re the one who put it on, passenger princess. I’m not the one with the aux.”

I quickly unlock Jude’s iPhone and scroll through his Spotify playlists in search of the one he made for me with no name, just that weird, very human looking sun emoji. He had this bright idea that he’d ease me into having an actual music taste seeing as I have none, and no idea where to even begin acquiring one. This playlist is a random mix of genres, anything and everything he could think of, and I scroll past everything else on the list in pursuit of one that I’ve become inexplicably attached to: Amie by Pure Prairie League. He shakes his head when the guitar riff begins, but doesn’t say a word about it.

The air conditioner is blasting as we coast along the motorway towards the midlands, and the sky and the hills flanking the road are reflected in his sunglasses. I can already tell he’s going to be shockingly out of place among my extended family, and for some reason him meeting my cousins, Decky and Conor, is the thought that is disturbing me the most. It’s a collision of two opposing universes. My heart has been beating at an accelerated rate all day at just the image of him entering my childhood home, ducking in through the doorway and looking my mother in the face. 

“You’re nervous.” He states as we take exit five towards Tullamore. He reaches his left hand over to halt my jerking knee. 

“I want it to go well.”

“It will, parents love me, I’m actually really intensely charming as a person.”

I bite my lip. “Is this a bit much, do you think?”

A glance. “What, this?”

“Bringing you in amongst my entire extended family straight away. I feel like I should have done the main introductions earlier, like, before there was a big event. It feels overwhelming.”

“For me? Or for you? I’m fine.”

“I can just imagine it being so chaotic.”

“It’s a christening, not a tent revival.”

“Yeah but I’m worried it’s all going to be too catholic for you and you’ll think it’s all spooky and weird or something like that.”

“Do you think I’m such a heathen that I’ll burst into flames when I go into the church?”

I fist my hand against my forehead and rest my elbow against the door. “Maybe. No. Just, please don’t tell anyone you’re protestant, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Oh, I’m barely.” He protests. “Only by birth. I’ve never once gone to church.”

“You’re culturally protestant, and that’s enough, I just don’t want stupid jokes about toasters in cupboards, or like, my uncle to start fake fighting you and thinking he’s hilarious.” 

“I’ll say nothing. They’ll never suspect me.” He zips his mouth shut and looks back at the road.

We get to the church just in time to see Sean and Fabiana wrangle their two squirming sons out of the backseat of the SUV. Lucas, two and a half and with a jam stain on his shirt, is clinging to his father’s leg like a spider monkey while Sean tries to lift Freddy, four months old and wailing, out of the car seat. Fabiana smokes a cigarette with one hand and pretends to be trying to peel Lucas off her husband with the other. They barely have time to glance at us when we pass them. 

The rest of my family are in the church already, and when the heavy doors thump closed behind us a dozen pairs of eyes turn to look at us. They’re standing in groups among the pews, and there’s a moment of dead air that makes intense panic explode inside me. There is nothing I hate more than being the centre of attention, even when it’s my own family. Jude grips my hand even as I start sweating and refuses to let me drop it, as I have just realised that I am completely mortified by having-a-boyfriend in front of my parents. 

“Hello.” Jude says casually, and his voice is very loud, and carries across the church in that very american way, and then my dad steps forward like it’s his fatherly duty to shake his hand. I watch carefully for any signs of finger-bone-crushing between them, but there aren’t any. I doubt my father would try that even if he wanted to. He looks about half Jude’s height, somehow. Maybe it’s the slump of his shoulders, the way his posture pushes his neck forward. His dark hair is thinning at the temples and his beer belly protrudes over the belt of his bootcut jeans, and Jude is like an olympic swimmer next to him. Broad shoulders and perfect posture. Clear skin that seems like it’s lit from within. Seeing him in this context is utterly bizarre. 

We move from person to person together, giving hugs and shaking hands, and he remembers everyone’s name, even though I only briefed him in the car on the way down. When he meets my mam he gives her a kiss on the cheek, and she smiles warmly, but doesn’t get flustered like I half expected. She only blushes for Shane Healy, after all. 

“Janey mac.” Aunt Catriona says during our hug. “Where’d you find that fella?” And I can’t tell if she’s impressed or shocked. Maybe both. I tell her that I honestly don’t know, and that I’m kind of still wondering what he’s doing with me. 

“Ah, you were always the best looking of my nieces and nephews.” She pinches my chin as she says it. “But don’t let Conor hear that.”

My cousin has brought a partner along too, Nicole, a hairdresser from town who is immaculately turned out in a white chiffon dress and a wide brimmed beige hat. We perch in the seats behind them as Conor makes a joke about the priest getting mixed up and baptising her instead. “It’s the same dress, like.” He protests when she doesn’t laugh. “You’re in the same outfit as wee Freddy. Okay, fine, you don’t get it.”

We all turn as Sean and Fabiana come into the church with their two boys. They look exhausted. It only takes thirty seconds for them to stop trying to reign in Lucas, who starts zipping between the seats, his little crop of dark hair the only thing we can see over the knees of my relatives as he bobs along on the other side of the church. I watch Jude anxiously the whole time, my fear that he thinks the situation is weird overtaking my fear that my Granny will know he’s never been to a mass before, but he does well. He stands when we stand, kneels when we kneel and even blesses himself with the right hand. Though I have to stop him when he tries to get out of the pew to queue up for holy communion in the middle of the ceremony. 

“You can’t do this part.” I whisper.

“Why?”

“You didn’t have your holy communion, so you can’t have the holy bread.”

“Ah, okay.” A pause. “Won’t that give me away though?”

I struggle with this. “Yes, I suppose, but you can’t just have it.”

“Because I’m not one of the anointed ones?”

“Yeah you’ll spontaneously combust if you do, sorry.” I leave him in his seat as I queue up with the others, at one point glancing over my shoulder to see that little Lucas has approached him offering a wooden clothes peg. Jude holds out his little finger and lets Lucas catch it with the peg, letting out a yelp of fake pain that makes the toddler shriek with laughter.

“Was it nice?” He mutters when I come back to my seat. 

“What?”

“The bread. I always wondered if it was nice.”

I snicker and nudge his shoulder with mine. “No.” 

Freddy screams through everything. He screams when he’s walked up to the altar, he screams when he’s approached by the priest, and he especially screams when they pour the water over his head, leaving soft wisps of black hair matted to his scalp. He’s red faced with a toothless maw, dressed contradictorily in that angelic, pristine white gown that will either be changed or ruined afterwards, whichever comes first.

“Oh.” I say in sympathy. “Poor baby.” I look over at Jude who has Lucas standing between his knees, letting him put clothes pegs on all of his fingers like claws and wiggling them in front of his face, then take them off and put them on again which is endlessly entertaining for him. I think about the mountain of toys this child has, and how he’s settled instead for carrying a bag of his mother’s clothes pegs around with him, the same pegs that seem to have my boyfriend equally enthralled.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[lamppostss]

"Burning Questions" (Suits)

"The building was on fire and it wasn’t my fault. - Hyde, what is going on? He arrived quicker than I expected. The ringing in my ears perfectly masked the screeching of tires and the sound of opening doors. - It appears to have burst into flames, sir. – I answered, sitting on the ground like a concussed chimp, with my scarf slightly singed from the explosion. - How? Normally I would tell him to pack the stupid questions in and call someone to put the fire out, but that wasn’t a normal situation: - I think someone missed their mark… He sighed, standing behind me while I got up from the ground, both of us staring at the flimsy wooden structure being devoured by smoke and flame: - Get in the car. I think at that moment I finally got some of my brain matter back into place: - Shouldn’t we, you know, extinguish the place first? - What for? - These fields are made of corn. Corn, sir, is flammable. Highly so. I could hear him click his tongue behind his stupid toaster-looking mask. Probably rolled his eyes too. Cheeky prick. - People are on the job as we speak. Get in the car, Hyde. I raised my finger, preparing to send him to a nice camping holiday in “FuckYourselfVille”, but then, perhaps for the better, I stopped and silently got into his damned car. It was a better idea than standing outside and inhaling the presumably toxic fumes while arguing with my pseudo-boss. So there I was, dirty and tired, sitting next to a leader of a pretty influential group. At least in our district, anyway. We were speeding down the highway back into the City, with thousands of stars dotting the sky and hundreds of lamps lighting the empty road. - So, ugh, what now, number man? - You tell me. I froze. Punching Nine right now wouldn’t solve anything, though it would be an appropriate response: - Well, you get your head out of your ass, tell me about what we do next and keep your eyes on the road. And then I take your secretary out on a stake dinner, I don’t fucking know… A long quiet followed. I knew for a fact that he was a good speaker, but now he looked like he was getting back at me for all those jabs I took at him. Those long pauses were killing me. - Were the reports true? – Nine broke the silence. Finally. - Yep. Looked like a drug lab to me. Though I didn’t see any powder – only bootleg tonics and stacks of chemicals. - I see. Another pause. He was either absorbed in thought or really not in the mood to start making any sense soon. - You’ll still pay me, right? - After we get in touch with some of the offices. “Offices” was just a fancy name for smaller organizations, more often than not independent from all the families. On paper at least. In practice - most of them were definitely on some fat cats payroll. - Which ones? - “Hooks”, at the very least. - Those are House Clubs. - And? - Clubs hate Diamonds? - And Diamonds hate Clubs. But they know me and they know that lying isn’t my MO. An exchange of what goes on behind locked doors and in hushed whispers. Listening to him was like trying to solve a crossword while both high on acid and lights-out drunk. I dusted off some soot of the brim of my hat: - And then what? As we were approaching the city limit, we got stuck on the first red light. Nine turned to me, most likely frowning at me and my barrage of questions: - We investigate. Get more hands on the case, probably from all the Houses. I think whatever we stumbled upon isn’t a major threat yet, but it can quickly get out of control. Or perhaps we haven’t even seen the full picture… - Oh, how very lovely, sir Nine. I already see all the Houses working together, sure it won’t backfire at all. We’ll even have a nice little dance party afterwards, I am sure. I could hear him smirk behind the helmet: - We don’t need Houses. We need people from the Houses. - And you think you and your office buddies have enough of a pull to organize something like that, really? - You will see, mister Hyde. You will see."

[pyjamac]

an angel is basically like if every time you wanted to make toast you had to buy a new toaster bc when a toaster was done making toast it burst into flames. get it. and also the toaster loved you.

[mythbustersfacts]

Adam: "Today, we’re tackling one of the BIGGEST questions in science: Can a human brain be uploaded into a machine? And what better machine than… this!" (dramatically unveils a standard two-slice toaster).

Tory: (hesitant) "Why a toaster?"

Adam: "Because it’s simple, elegant, and deliciously ironic! Plus, it’s what I had in my kitchen."

Jamie: (already tinkering with wires) "It’s also what we could afford without getting a grant. Speaking of which, Grant, explain the tech."

Grant: (excited, pointing at his laptop) "We’re using a neural mapping system I designed, combined with a modified EEG helmet. It’ll record Tory’s brainwaves, translate them into data, and upload them into the toaster. If this works, Tory will theoretically be able to control the toaster!"

Tory: (uneasy) "Define ‘control.’"

Adam: (grinning) "You’ll be the toaster! You’ll think, and the toaster will obey!"

The team straps a reluctant Tory into the EEG helmet.

Grant: "Alright, Tory, just relax and think about toast."

Tory: "Toast?"

Grant: "Yeah, like, imagine the perfect piece of toast. This helps the system map your thought patterns."

Adam: (interrupting) "Or think about bagels. Bagels are good."

Tory: (groaning) "Why do I feel like I’m going to wake up as a kitchen appliance?"

Jamie: (deadpan) "That’s the point."

Suddenly, sparks fly from the contraption.

Grant: "Okay, I think we got the mapping done. Now for the upload!"

As the team finishes the upload process, Tory's body goes limp as his consciousness leaves his body. The toaster’s lights flicker, and its slots start glowing ominously.

Adam: (cheering) "It’s working! It’s alive!"

Grant: "Tory, try thinking about lowering the lever."

The toaster lever slowly moves down on its own.

Adam: (laughing maniacally) "IT WORKED! TORY IS THE TOASTER!"

Tory: (voice distorted through a speaker wired to the toaster) "Uh… guys? I don’t feel right."

The toaster suddenly starts convulsing, ejecting toast at high speed. Sparks fly, and smoke fills the workshop.

Tory: (over speaker) "WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?!"

Grant: (frantically typing on his laptop) "I think the toaster is rejecting his consciousness! It wasn’t built to handle a human brain!"

The toaster glows brighter, its chrome surface turning molten red. Smoke and sparks pour from its vents, and the air fills with the acrid smell of burning plastic and… something worse.

Tory’s voice crackles over the connected speaker, his tone frantic and warped by distortion.

Tory: (screaming) "GUYS! IT’S TOO HOT! I CAN FEEL IT! I’M BURNING!"

Adam: (panicking) "Unplug it! Unplug it NOW!"

Grant: (frantically typing) "It’s not that simple! His consciousness is fully integrated—if we cut power, it might kill him!"

Jamie: (calm, but tense) "He’s already dying. Pull the plug."

Tory’s distorted screams grow louder, blending with the sound of metal warping and circuits frying. Flames shoot from the toaster’s slots, licking at the ceiling.

Tory: (desperate, agonized) "PLEASE! DO SOMETHING!"

Adam grabs a fire extinguisher, but the flames intensify, as if the toaster is resisting. Sparks explode outward, sending Adam stumbling back.

Adam: (yelling over the chaos) "Grant, can’t you reverse it? Download him back into his body!"

Grant: (shaking his head, near tears) "There’s no time! The hardware’s failing!"

Tory’s voice, now barely recognizable, cuts through the chaos one last time.

Tory: (weak, resigned) "Guys… it’s over. Just… just don’t let this happen to anyone else."

With a final burst of light and sound, the toaster erupts into a ball of fire, shattering into molten shards. The room goes silent, save for the crackle of burning debris.

Adam: (staring at the wreckage, whispering) "Tory…"

Grant collapses to his knees, staring at the charred remains of the toaster.

Grant: (voice shaking) "He’s… he’s gone."

Jamie: (stoic, but grim) "We all knew this was a bad idea. Let’s make sure it never airs."

[batnbreakfast]

Soooo… the kid gave me whatever bug she’s been carrying around when we went to Exeter and - some of you might already be waiting for the catastrophe of the year: The toaster just burst into flames.

No worries, I unplugged it, took it outside wearing oven mittens, and then emptied the small rainwater bucket onto it. The house is still standing, no one was hurt.

I’m going back to bed. 😂

[veinspill]

Chapter 3 - Dreaded Sunny Days

(AN: If you haven't already, check Veinspill's AO3 page out!)

With a wave of my wand, I vibrate a piece of honey wheat bread that had been marinating in blood for a few days into my cauldron-shaped toaster, turning the dial to its longest setting - although blood is the only thing I have to have to stay alive, I appreciate a little variety from time to time, and I've found, the simpler the breakfast, the better. Aside from blood and orange juice, that is. Never again. Never. Again.

"Ah… gothic bread. It will be ready when I return." I head for the door, grabbing a parasol laced with webs from the darkest corner of the foyer. I pet a few of the venomous spiders responsible for its design. A few scuttle into my hair, adding to its silky feel with their webs. Before slipping into my shoes, which are holed, platform clogs with little aquariums affixed to the soles, I feed the piranhas inside of them. I reassure them that among all of the critters I've befriended, more than any other, they kick ass.

I begin to descend down the spiral staircase in front of my house, umbrella in hand, to avoid the dim, albeit still present, rays of the sun. Contrary to what some fiction writers believe, vampires do not simply glisten in the sun, and it is NOT hot. Well, in a sense, it is? If only for a moment before we burst into flames, and all. I guess it is a trade-off for not having to sleep or eat, but it is a frustrating accommodation to make when the rest of town lives a somewhat normal life.

In the past, I have gotten back at the sun a few times in little ways…

"Alright Mr. Brightside, take THIS!" I held a mirror to the sun, reflecting its harsh light back at it. If the sun had an eye as the moon did, then maybe I caused it to recoil for a moment. Or maybe it was blinded. But for a moment it felt good to hold the mirror in triumph. That is, until a dove fell from the sky, seared from the suns' rays.

I shivered. Better a dove than a raven, I thought, before returning inside.

I reminisce about my pre-vampire era from time to time - I always enjoyed sunbathing on the rocks while lulling sailors. Or pretending to be beached, only to scare passing tourists. The lifeguards always thought I was funny, and in some ways, we had a lot in common: white face paint, a means to effectively screech, and of course, having peoples' lives in our hands. If it weren't for their job, I doubt they would've kept me away, but it was their obligation. And I understood.

I miss it sometimes.

After some time spent walking and taking in the familiar sights of the town, I finally arrived at the Keats-Yeats Cemetry. It's a quaint little place with a pond, and several, several rows of graves, many of which have corroded over time and are now unrecognizable monuments of people that meant a lot to a lot of people. I always say I come here to sulk or brood, but I find a lot of enjoyment in trying to restore and upkeep the graves. My wand gives me an easy avenue to restore them, and it benefits the community, so it is nice.

The normal silence of the cemetery was broken up by unenthusiastic groans today. "At this hour? It is awfully early for visitors." I thought, as I began to approach the source of the noise. Before me, I saw a dug-out hole in the ground where a grave would normally be, and in its place, a man.

"Another dreaded sunny day..." the man groaned, clutching his barely buttoned button-down shirt as his hair swooped over his face. From his cradled position, I noticed yellow wings attached to his back, and a faded halo above his head: tell-tale signs of a half-angel.

"Did it hurt when you fell from the aether?" I could tell by the exasperated look on his face that he did not expect to see any visitors. "I hope it did!"

"A vampire? Oh, even the aether itself must know I'm miserable now." He repositioned himself, now sitting cross-legged with his head hung low in his hands. "Are you here to snuff out my light? Well, please do. I'm sick of this wretched place." His wings flapped indignantly at my presence, and he continued to look away. He tried to run his hand through his hair, only to have it make unexpected contact with his halo. Stumbling, he tried to make it look seamless, or in the very least intentional, accomplishing neither.

Calling half-angels insufferable would be an overgeneralization, but in all my time as a vampire, and of the few I've met, it tends to ring true - aether is a corrupting influence in a backwards way. I can't set foot up there of course, but I wouldn't want to even if I could. No matter what they peddle, I've seen its effects on half-angels. They're all so entitled, and become frustrated when faced with a space outside of aether. Adversity forces people to grow, and they never face it.

"What're you doing in a cemetery? Shouldn't you be harking, or heralding, or something?" I slink into the grave beside him, a movement I've practiced numerous times before, and plant myself across from him.

"Not that you asked, but I'm Mortuary… you can call me Morgue. I would ask your name, but nothing would disinterest me more, I'm afraid." His arrogance is palpable, so much so that I'm surprised I wasn't hit with a wave of it prior to entering the cemetery. "Is it you who made this grave?"

"What do you mean to suggest?" I am thankful for the white makeup and the overall lack of blood in my body, as otherwise, I'm sure my face would be as red as the hourglass atop a black widow. I could feel the piranhas in my shoes begin to swim fervently and the spiders begin to skitter about my hair. Like myself, they're empaths.

"Oh, you wouldn't be able to grasp my sorrow, damsel." He grasped his shirt dramatically, and continued. "I'll try to spell it out for you nonetheless: a charming man was blessed by the aether itself, ascending from his mortality, and for twenty years, seven months, and now twenty-seven days, he still falls into an empty bed each and every night - even the gloves he once wore over his hands have left him to pursue matters of baseball." He paused, then his eyes finally met mine. "And, well, damsel, the prettiest girls make graves." His eyes hurt me. They were reminiscent of the sun itself, insufferably blue - for a moment, he seemed perturbed to have not seen his own reflection in my eyes, and shuddered, but continued nonetheless.

"Wait, are you hanging out in a cemetery to… hit on women?" I finally understood why a half-angel would be dwelling in a cemetery, and the look of disgust on my face is palpable - he is exactly the kind of person that gives sullenly sulking or brooding a bad reputation! "Oh, my goth. You're a creep, you know that? No woman is going to want you, man, I mean have you ever even talked to one before?" I was expecting a blatantly speciesist comment towards vampires, or some 'woe is me' sob story, but his demeanor took me by surprise. I couldn't stand it any longer. I transformed into a bat, flew above him, immediately reverting into my humanoid self to deliver a diving kick into his smarmy half-angel face.

"I didn't realize you were a whingebag like the rest of them…" In an instant, his halo constricted and caught my foot before it would have clipped him, and for a moment I was held at a standstill above him. "With how you look in that skirt of yours, it is a dreary shame." As soon as my ears registered what he'd said, my still-free foot shattered the glass of the aquarium under the other, and a swarm of piranhas fell, tearing into him. They disoriented him just enough to make him loosen the halo, giving me the opportunity to escape. With the piranhas still digging into him, I roundhoused him and saw his swoopy hair fling to the side, his nose now bleeding ichor. With a vibration of my wand, all of the piranhas tearing into him returned to the tank under my shoe, and I steadied myself.

"And just so you know, I'm Ra'zorblayde, Ra'zorblayde Veinspill. And I'm gothic and emoti—" Mid-sentence, his body illuminated with the brightness of the sun, stunning me. It hurt. I shrieked, and stumbled back into some shards of the now-broken glass. As quickly as he illuminated his body, he dimmed himself, and I saw him smarmily begin to smile.

"—Ah, I know, I know I'm unlovable, but you don't have to kick me, damsel, full message received, loud and clear." He jumped out of the grave and began to rise into the sky, now above me. "Ah, I'll be back, and when I do, you'll learn to dread the sunny days.

I already do.

"Until then, you might want to go back to that old house of yours. I have this terrible feeling that you may not be able to for much longer." A look of confusion replaced the enraged look plastered across my face in that moment, and he noticed, taking it in stride. "I know you'll be at the edge of your seat waiting for me, damsel, but don't you look so miserable. Until then, ta-ta!" In an instant, the entirety of the cemetery flooded with a yellow light, and he vanished, leaving only a few feathers behind.

I looked at the shattered glass underneath my shoe, and admired the little mosaic that had been created in the dirt of the cemetery. Even in the wake of a deeply frustrating failure, there is some good to be found - in a sense, the little shards of glass scattered along the ground remind me of myself, and what it means to be a goth. Those shards may not be what's normally considered functional, or purposeful, but they still come together to create a beautiful little collage. As I removed shards of glass from my skin, I consoled the piranhas in the remaining aquarium, and began to rush off towards my house.

[retro-warmachine]

ya know what? fuck you

im gonna start world-building posting

no name for my universe other then the name of the game its gonna be in (DynaMite) yet but whatever

first things:

there are 6 core elements: Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Life, and Shadow. every being, sentient or not, is "attuned" to one element. when it comes to magic, an individual finds their attuned element the easiest to manipulate. one may learn to bend another, but it will be more difficult.

Casting of magic is incredibly personalized. no two individuals will cast in the same way (ie: Spells don't really exist. you could learn a technique someone else uses but its more of a "go with the flow" thing than a scientific thing). from birth, a magically adept individual has some control but it will generally be weak (no accidentaly burning the house down or anything)

Fire attuned are known for great skill in CQC and area denial, a powerful combination. they often keep scrap metal on them to re-forge into any melee weapon they could need in a moment's notice. these "summoned" weapons are often kept just below melting point to imbue them with flame. Fire attuned are also known to use nearly anything they can find as a weapon, whether a boomerang, chainsaw, or literally a fire extinguisher. in the midst of battle, many have noticed that Fire attuned gain a magical defensive "skin," and this has been named "Pyromaniac's Rage"

Water attuned are a mixed bag. simultaneously skilled at defending (with the Ice subtype) and approaching (by becoming one with the water they are bending). they mainly focus on high burst damage switching between offensive and defensive on the fly. many Watter attuned may also use a slightly more passive trapping method, waiting to encase an enemy in a block of ice or washing them away with a wave. Water attuned tend to gravitate towards tridents and halberds.

Earth attuned are the impenetrable walls. forming great stone walls in an instant, it may be difficult to even approach, let alone hit them. Earth attuned are also know for having the ability to siphon mana from other benders, as well as slightly influence gravity to perform powerful throws. few have even learned to manipulate gravitational fields. Earth attuned tend to use spears, and sometimes only a shield.

Air attuned are speedy glass cannons that will most likely dodge anything you throw at them. they use wind as less of a weapon and more as a mobility tool, allowing then to run faster, jump higher, and deflect any projectiles. Air attuned also have a magical parry that allows them to deny nearly any physical or magical attack. a subtype of air is lightning. seen as a more chaotic and dangerous force to control, some benders have attempted to master the stormy skies. Air attuned mostly use ligher short swords.

Life attuned are the de facto healers, keeping groups in tip top shape. whether powerful single target regeneration or an area of effect. Life attuned are also known to have a powerful suggestion ability, making foes confused or dazed. they also have magical strings allowing them to bind or grapple whatever (or whomever) they decide. these strings are often combined with arrows to "thread the needle." Life attuned often use a bow with said arrows.

Shadow attuned are the illusionists, being able to summon objects. these objects are tangible, but the strength depends on the skill of the bender. often summoning anything from a toaster to an entire bus, Shadow attuned will (literally) throw anything they can at their opponents. obviously, Shadow attuned also have great stealth abilities in the dark, becoming practically invisible. Shadow attuned often carry knives or other small concealable weapons.

[angst-king]

Time of Dying pt 1

(So this is a story series for my friend and I's elemental spirit OCs. Due to them being spirits, we've decided to do a 'how would they die' back story series. Here we go!) (CW description of serious house fire and being burned alive) Leyo loved his job he had worked very hard to get into the fire academy, it took him a while but he eventually became a lieutenant. Not only that but he had a lovely girlfriend who he loved with every fiber of his being. From her pitch-black coily hair to her caramel-colored skin, to her bright white smile. He’d do anything for her, he’d risk his life for her. She was perfect for him, she knew how to make him laugh after a stressful day at work. Cooled him down from exploding with anger-Leyo was known for being a hot head- and not being afraid when he’d get mad. She made him feel love and brought him all he could ever need.

There was only one downside….she couldn’t cook. Ashlyn couldn’t cook to save her life, okay that's an exaggeration. She could cook small things, mac n cheese, toaster oven pizzas, just simple things if she was alone. Anything else she would overseason, underseason, undercook, overcook. Leyo grew up and was taught how to took and it was clear Ashlyn was not. It was a wonder she had made it 23 years like this!

After moving in together for a month, Leyo would teach her how to cook whenever he could. It was fun, just another way to spend time together. Dancing around the kitchen and talking about their day, Ashylyn would learn how to cook and Leyo would get a laugh out of her antics. The thing was she was starting to get better and better at it, she still struggled not to walk away from the stove or oven for too long or not second-guessing and needing to put the food back on the heat but she was making progress.

It was a late night and Leyo was grabbing himself a bite to eat on the way home from his overnight shift at the station. He was sitting in the parking lot of a Wendy’s, eating his sandwich only 5 minutes from home when he got a call on his cellphone. Huh, his neighbor was calling, ah maybe their kid was out late again?

“Hello?” “Leyo dude, get home now your house is on fire!” His heart skipped a beat and he dropped his sandwich asking for them to repeat what he heard.

“Your house literally bursted into flames man, no joke, I don’t know where your girlfriend is. I already called the fire department but you know it’ll be a bit. Just get here now!” Without skipping a beat as soon as the neighbor hung up he sped out of the parking lot and down the street. His mind raced wondering what could have happened and if Ashlyn was okay. As he grew closer smoke filled the air polluting it with sparks and the sound of crashing and tumbling. A glow of orange and red illuminated the sky as he zoomed through the neighborhood. Many civilians came out of their homes to see what had happened and just as he turned down his street he saw no fire trucks arriving yet. He parked as close as he could and ran towards his house, calling out for his girlfriend asking if she had come out. But no one knew, and Leyo had a sick feeling in his stomach that she was still inside.

The house was going up in flames, it wasn’t much but the fire was taking it down slowly. He knew it would be a good few minutes before the fire truck would get here, cops would arrive first to clear the street. He looked down and saw he was still wearing his fireman jacket. It was risky but he wouldn’t be able to rest if he waited minutes, he didn’t have minutes he had seconds!

“LEYO!” The purple-haired man dashed inside many bystanders screamed for him to get out, but it was too late. Smoke nothing but smoke, he got as low as he could, face covered by his shirt to filter out as much ash and smoke as he could as he called for Ashlyn. The crackling of fire and would coming down didn’t phase him he had one thing on his mind and it was to get to his girlfriend! First, he checked the kitchen which was the main source of the fire, he couldn’t even get in without being surrounded, and when he called out.

“ASHLYN! ASHLYN!” No answer, he quickly backtracked and went up the stairs continuing to shout for her. This time he got an answer from behind the bathroom door. The floor beneath him was getting hotter and hotter it felt like everything was melting in on itself but he pounded on the door for Ashlyn to let him in. When she did he stepped inside and asked if she was okay. Visibility wasn’t any better up there as the smoke was traveling.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, I-i tried-I tried to make dinner a-and something c-caught fire and I exploded so-so I ran” She stammered out shakily coughing and choking on air. Leyo shook his head and held her close.

“Its gonna be alright, let's get out of here, can you walk?” Ashlyn took a step forwards but stumbled hard almost falling face-first onto the sink. Leyo caught her and wrapped an arm around her waist for support.

“I got you, let’s go!” Headed back towards the stairs a creaking noise came and the smoke had grown denser and the fire was climbing into the living room slithering into the sockets causing sparks. Creaking, crackling, sizzling, popping, and crashing, the house was starting to come down around them. Getting to the front door they thought they could just through the door open but the suction of the outside air and the pressure inside mixing with the heat made getting it open difficult. Leyo remembered he had something upstairs he could use to ram the door open Still, he encouraged her to find a way out, shrucking off his jacket he covered her with it and dashed back up the stairs.

The fire rose parts of the floor were coming down, the hot spots were boiling, it was like being in an oven. Leyo searched and searched he didn’t know how long he was up there but he managed to find a bat with the hopes of breaking the window and getting out. Right as he turned to go back to Ashlyn he made a wrong move and next thing he knew he fell through the second floor and right into a ring of fire. Ashlyn screamed as she heard a sick thud and saw Leyo’s body hit the ground. Leyo let out a scream of his own when he felt something searing into his back.

He kicked and squirmed in hopes of making it stop but the fire spread along his body. Breathing got harder it felt like a 50-ton weight was crushing his chest and acid burning his throat. He had dropped the bat but gestured for Ashlyn to grab it.

“Smash the window and run!” He choked out, she shook her head and tried to get closer to him but more planks and drywall plunged down.

“NO PLEASE!” She screamed, all Leyo could do was nudge the bat over, and pull his body towards the edge to crawl out from underneath the rubble.

“I’ll be okay” He croaked out, another burst of fire crackled around them and the black-haired girl picked up the bat limped her way back to the front, and weakly smashed at the window. It took many tries as he need for oxygen increased her body grew weaker. Each swing felt like it was taking years off her life but she kept going in hopes that she could get out and tell the firefighters where Leyo was and they could rescue him too.

With one final crash, the window had broken enough for her to climb through not without injury but it was better than burning alive. Just as she got to the front of the house a firefighter came to get her away while she rasped out for them to go inside.

“M-my boyfriend, please, you-you have to-have help him! Inside f-first flo-floor” Her world went black, she dropped the bat, the young woman was whisked to the paramedics as soon as she lost consciousness.

Inside the house Leyo was losing a battle he knew he would never win. Pulling himself along the scolding floor, his flesh scraping along the burning wood. Plaster and decor fell atop his body, his mind was becoming numb as his heart was pounding up to his head. Black nothingness was all he could see and flickers of fire. No matter how much he focused on getting to the front door each reach of his shaking arms felt like he was swimming in tar. He wasn’t even sure he was conscious anymore. Nothing felt real, he could hear voices but see nothing, he could feel the vibrations of footsteps thumping up to the front door through the floor.

Weezing and sputtering for air just as a crew of search and rescue firefighters busted through the door the fire erupted like a blazing inferno!

“WE FOUND HIM!” They dashed out carrying Leyo’s limp body hurriedly to the medics. His body had been chard, muscles and bones were being exposed as multiple layers of skin had been burned away. His airway was hardly salvageable, 55% of his body had been covered in 3rd nearing 4th degree burns as even bones were becoming exposed. His hair was melting off his scalp with chunks of his skin, and his heart no longer beat.

No matter how long medics looked for an airway, creating one only bought them time. No matter how many rounds of chest compressions and shocks. No matter how fast they got to that hospital. It was all for nothing.

He was gone

[snake-on-a-skateboard]

Well the angel at MY house keeps asking me to make pop tarts for them because they can’t touch the toaster without it bursting into flame

the angel staying over at my house asked for a nightlight in their room and i told them buddy, don't you produce your own light? what're you gonna do with more? and they said they wanted to see why people like it so much. and also that the nightlight i own is blue and they're been trying to understand color. anyways i think they've stared at it for an hour now