#its so night swan coded
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WTF WHY IS IT SO PRETTY
#just dance 2024#just dance 2023#just dance#this is concept art from the wiki btw#yk like the place where jack arrives during the end of tainted love#its so night swan coded#i want final battle in 2025 to take place here#they did not have to go this hard on concept art
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“even in her helplessness” (Sanji x afab!Reader) 18+
title: “even in her helplessness”
fandom: One Piece
pairing: Sanji x afab!Reader (with she/her pronouns used, as well as pussy/cunt to describe genitals)
rating: MA/Explicit (minors/age less blogs dni)
content warning: consensual somnophilia (with drugging), implied established codes & scene negotiations, explicit sexual content, obnoxious use of petnames…and tea; also a somewhat blatant reference to Anne Rice’s The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty
also on ao3! posted as anonymous because i'm anxious abt using my penname on there
almost immediately after dinner that evening, everyone in the crew drifts from the galley, intending to spend the rest of the evening wherever they please aboard the Thousand Sunny. usually, you tag along with Nami and Robin as they head down to the aquarium lounge, but tonight, you tell Nami that you’ll be heading to bed early, after you have some special tea Sanji prepares for you.
despite pouting at your response, Nami sighs and lets you go—“You better join us tomorrow night, hun! You owe me a drink, after all.”—and although you already feel your wallet sobbing, you can’t help but giggle and promise to do so.
towards him, Nami coos sweetly, “Make sure to bring Robin and I some dessert when you’re done, Sanji-kun!”
he spins to her instantly, his eyes glowing with all the love and affection that arises from him whenever she, you, and Robin—or any woman—are around him.
“As you wish, Nami-swan~! Just let me finish these dishes and take care of my Princess here, and I’ll be right with you!” Sanji declares, throwing you a pointed look that sends heat searing down your spine.
letting out a giggle, Nami exits the galley, leaving you alone with him.
he goes back to doing the dinner dishes. there’s a bit of a bounce in his movements now, as he’s likely looking forward to meeting up with Nami and Robin to give them their dessert later—when he’s finished with you, of course.
you stare at the expanse of his back, heat rising to your neck and your mouth suddenly dry as you take in the line of his shoulders, how his almost gold hair settles at the nape of his neck. you recall how, just a few minutes ago when you spoke to Nami, his blue eyes darkened knowingly when you mentioned wanting tea, how his warm, lovesick smile widened into a ghost of a smirk.
he already knows, you think, heart hammering against ribs. the two of you have been doing this off and on for a month now, already have a system in place when it comes to this sort of play, but you never fail to feel the thrill of it all. just confirm it with him.
but Sanji breaks the silence first.
“You really wanna turn in early, Princess?” he asks, his tone casual—like he’s talking about the weather—but the bass he puts into his voice hints otherwise.
again, that infernal blush that floods your face, you just can’t help it. by now, this dance is familiar to the both of you; and yet he still insists on hearing you voice your desires. it’s embarrassing and frustrating, but it also makes desire simmer in your blood.
so, you nod while saying softly, “Yes.”
he pauses for a second, right in the middle of drying a plate. then, he turns his face the slightest—still not facing you, but enough to see the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose, a hint of his smile. (a smirk?)
he still asks, just to make sure you’re both on the same page: “Which kind do you want tonight?”
And you make sure to give the correct answer, so he understands what you’re asking for: “The passionflower blend, please.”
again, he pauses, revealing nothing of what he feels for a moment. then, with a slightly shaky exhale, he places the plate he’s dried atop the pile that’s already clean and ready to be placed back in the cabinets. you watch him then dip his hands in the sink again, his movements almost too meticulous, too slow. it feels like a tease, like the very string of sanity within your mind is being pulled to its limit. slowly, as your gaze takes in his beautiful hands, you swallow hard.
“Just let me finish this last one and I’ll get you your tea,” he tells you.
“...Okay.”
your hands clench together in your lap, palms pressed together and fingers twisting around each other. your teeth catch your bottom lip as you watch him. how he acts with you right now, as he’s acted during the other nights, is such a contrast that it steals the breath from your lungs. after sailing with the crew for two years, you are already quite used to Sanji being flamboyant in his affections; seeing him spin and cry out those nicknames at you and the other women have started becoming a comfort, even. those early days of him getting you flustered from his constant praises, and embarrassing flirting, are dead and gone. but these moments? when he’s in control of your reactions and he knows it—it’s different. it’s new, every time. it should be embarrassing, and to some degree it is; but it also offers a whole other layer of comfort.
it reminds you that you can always trust Sanji to care for you—to make sure you’re fed, to make sure you’re unharmed by any nearby enemies, to make sure someone’s there to listen to you in case the night terrors become too much sometimes, to make sure you feel loved, even by someone who loves other women so freely and fervently—and to make sure you get everything you need from him.
just like tonight.
you’re pulled from your thoughts when his hands finally place the last plate down, when they move to fill the teapot with cold water, and then—once the water inside begins to boil—when they search the cabinet for a packet of your favorite tea. after a minute, the teapot clicks to signal that the water is boiled, and then Sanji removes it from the stove to pour into the mug where your tea will seep. by now, your hands are atop the dining table, fingers tapping almost furiously against the wood.
Sanji takes notice, of course he does, his one revealed eye darting to you. he hums softly, smiling as he goes back to preparing your tea.
“You still need to work on your patience, dearest,” he tells you while removing the teabag—the water now a light and fragrant, near orange color—and then adding a little something extra to your tea. “Things like this shouldn’t be rushed.”
you shrink back a little, shoulders hunching. “I know,” you say, voice small. “I-I’m sorry. I know I ask so much from you—”
“Oh, no, I have no problems with that. Sweetness, I’d do anything for you—anything,” Sanji says, his gaze warm. With a glance at the mug, he picks it up and brings it over to you, taking a seat across the table from you. With a sly grin, he reaches out and strokes his finger along the curve of your cheek, eventually bending it under your chin. “But you are a bit of a brat.”
a smile spreads across your face, a mix of sweet and cheek, as you say, “Only sometimes.”
“That’s enough, isn’t it?”
“Well, if it bothers you that much, you could always do something about it.”
“You shouldn’t tempt me, I might take that offer one day.”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” you reply, heat rising to your cheeks. “I trust you, Sanji.”
he pauses to level you with a stare, his eyes suddenly resembling the ocean during a storm. you watch his chest expand as he takes one breath, then another, the tips of his ears turning hot pink. then he nods towards your steaming mug of tea.
“Drink your tea,” Sanji says, a gentle command that has you sitting up straight. “Before it gets cold.”
you reach for the mug instantly and tilt the opening towards your mouth, the first sip of tea dripping onto your tongue. you taste the bittersweetness of the passionflower, mixed with chamomile and other herbs, along with that other special ingredient. after swallowing, you rest the mug down and pause to lick your lips, looking Sanji right in the eye all the while. there’s a tense moment where you two stare at each other before you lift the mug again and take another sip.
it isn’t long before your cup begins to empty, but it will still take some time for the tea to take effect. to help pass the time, you decide to start a conversation with him.
“I really liked how you made that dish tonight,” you say. “I’ve never had anything like it. How did you learn to make it?”
his eyes light up instantly—Sanji is always ready to talk about his craft, though he does keep some secrets to himself—and he goes on to start a story about a time when he was still working in Baratie. his voice is full of excitement, nostalgia; you almost feel like you were there, like you can see the restaurant that was his home for much of his adolescence.
it’s a beautiful story—any time Sanji opens up to you about Zeff and Baratie, you are immediately engaged—and you can’t help but feel soothed by the timbre in his voice. it’s easy to let it all wash over you as you finish your tea, as the drink settles in your blood and begins to weigh heavily on your bones, your eyelids, your mind.
you don’t remember the end of Sanji’s story. you don’t even remember falling asleep.
…
…
…
there’s a story you once read, not long ago. it’s about a princess who was cursed by an evil fairy, to sleep for a hundred years after she came of age; this curse also spread to the kingdom. for a hundred years, this castle stood with its sleeping inhabitants, gathering dust and wearing down to time as the land outside moved on without the former monarchs and their court of nobles.
then one day, a prince arrived. he intended to break the curse, and he knew precisely what needed to be done. so, he broke through the vines that had begun to grow along the castle; he swiped through the dust and spiderwebs, climbed the long spire of stairs to head to tallest tower; and when he finally found her chambers, he came into the room like a fog after the storm.
he took in the beauty sleeping in her bed, his hands caressing her face for a moment. then, he began to remove his armor until he was only in a tunic and his leather breeches. next, he undressed her, ripping away her nightgown and then squeezing at her bare body like she was a ripe fruit perfect for picking. after taking in more of her beauty, he began unfastening his pants; and then he slid into her bed.
it’s a rather horrifying story, honestly, both during this and after this moment in the book. it’s a tale of a Beauty and her Dark Prince, his demanding mother, and the many princes and princesses that are left at their mercy. it should have disgusted you—but you read on and on, until you had the entire novel memorized.
…
…
…
when you stir not long after, your mind is in a fog, your vision blurry. despite this, you still feel him forcing your thighs apart with his own, moving his long, turgid cock inside you at a near relentless pace. you hear how he groans his pleasure and adulations in your ear, how the movements of his body make the bed creak underneath you, the very wet smack of his thighs against yours. you feel how his mouth sucks and nips at the base of your neck, no doubt making bruises bloom there. his hands are everywhere, leaving trails of heat in their wake as he toys with your body.
for a moment, you wait for the panic, the kind of existential horror of it all. that’s the right reaction, correct? no one should want this, let alone enjoy it. many would argue that it’s a spit in the face of many survivors of this type of abuse. and let’s be honest, it’s a little fucked up. you are fucked up—that’s what a normal person would say.
but remember, you are not normal.
(and that’s okay.)
breathing deeply, you are further embraced by the smell of spices, some sweat, and of course, the faint smell of cigarettes. as you turn to bury your nose in his shoulder, a soft sigh leaves you, just enough to make it seem like you’re still sleeping. he’s not being gentle tonight, which is rare for him and a surprising treat for you. no, you realize with a little whimper, feeling the swollen tip of him brutally kissing the deepest part inside your pussy, his length dragging against every inch of your walls, forcing pleasure to nearly spill from your body. usually Sanji is sweet and gentle, even at his most passionate—but it seems something got a hold of him tonight. even when he thinks you’re still sleeping, tonight, he is being relentless.
a little moan leaves you at a particularly deep and rough thrust of his cock, his pelvis grinding right against your clit, driving you higher and higher, setting your whole body on fire. your trembling hands grasp at the back of his shoulders, then moving to curl in the open collar of his shirt.
“S-Sanji, Sanji,” you whimper into his neck, making him freeze, his moan choking in his throat.
“Shit, Princess, sorry, I thought—” he starts to say, lifting his head to look at you with worried eyes, his whole face red. “I didn’t realize how rough I—”
but with your hands still on the collar of his shirt, you drag him down to your lips, moaning as you start giving him fervent kisses, your hands moving to cradle his face.
“Faster, please,” you beg against his mouth. “Please, please, please…”
Sanji lets out a deep groan and kisses you back one more time, then places his mouth on the side of your temple. his arms wrap around your waist, your hands right on your ass as he adjusts your hips the slightest, and the—Oh. your head falls back against your pillow, wide eyes on the ceiling, clouded with lust and blank of any thought. Oh, god—!
the sounds leaving your mouth are so shameless, it’s embarrassing but you can’t help it with how he batters inside you, using all the strength you can handle from his legs. every time he forces his body to meet yours, you see stars and colors. your hands scrabble along his arms to keep yourself grounded, until one rests near his elbow while your other squeezes his shoulder, nails nearly ripping into the cotton of his shirt.
somehow, Sanji manages to keep enough composure to speak to you as he presses gentle and sweet kisses on your face.
“Like that, baby? Does that feel good?”
“Mm-hm, mm-hm,” you whine back, breaking off into a moan.
“Me too. Fuck, you’re always too good for me, so perfect,” he rasps, his mouth spreading into a grin against your jawline, unable to hide his excitement. “Getting close?”
gasping, you nod a little too fast, too eager to care about how it makes you look. he chuckles and kisses your lips with a soft moan.
“I got you, baby, don’t worry. Gonna give you just what you need,” Sanji says, moving one of his hands to thumb at your clit, his eyes drinking in how you arch into his touch, how what’s left of your control breaks under his touch. “You’re so beautiful…”
you can’t reply beyond the cries that leave you, a mix of words and praises that you don’t really think about before saying. you can barely think at all. all you can do is clench your eyes closed and hold onto him as he makes your body explode, your little pussy clenching and gushing around him as he draws it out, forcing wave after wave of your pleasure out of you.
as your voice grows strained, your throat rough and post-orgasmic fatigue (and remnants of the drug in your system) fogging your mind, Sanji finally moves to wrap your legs around his waist, pressing you against the bed. he fucks into you with absolute abandon now, intending to lose himself inside you. the force behind his thrusts makes you whimper into the side of his neck, your pussy still so sensitive, that boundary between pleasure and pain wearing away. Sanji makes sure to hold you close to him, soft and sweet, despite it all.
“Just a little more, a little more,” he is promising in your ear, his voice strained. then, about a moment later, “Shit—!”
with a turn of his face, Sanji presses his lips to yours, parting your mouth with his to deepen the kiss as you thread one of your hands through his hair, tugging at the root. as your tongues twist together, you feel him flood you with his warmth, thick and gushing. groaning into your mouth, he thrusts inside you a few more until he’s completely spent.
you both stay in place for a few moments, enough for you both to regain control over your breathing. Sanji takes a deep breath and parts with you, slowly pulling out, and then turning to lay next to you on the bed. once the sense of calm enters your system, a giddy sort of feeling flutters from your belly, making you settle deeper against your pillow.
“That was good,” you almost purr, turning to face him.
Sanji chuckles, still a bit shaky as he looks at you. “Do you need anything, Sweetness?”
you think for a moment before a yawn crawls from your mouth, leaving your mind and eyelids heavy. you shake your head.
“No, I think—I think I’ll sleep for real this time.”
“Okay,” says Sanji as he reaches out to stroke your face, his expression tender. “Go ahead and sleep, Princess. I’ll see you in the morning.”
you watch him a moment more, until your vision begins to blur and your eyelids begin to lower. you catch a glimpse of soft blue and a familiar smile before you allow sleep to claim you once more, knowing that no matter what and even if it’s only for a moment, you are safe and loved.
#one piece smut#sanji x reader#sanji x reader smut#one piece x reader#cw: consensual somno#cw: somno#tw: somnophilia#i did it mom#i wrote a smutfic#smutfic#sanji smut#this was the result of some brainrot#don't mind me or take it seriously#sanji x you#one piece x you#afab reader#female pronouns#smut#my writing
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tag writing game
Thank you @nihilizzzm for creating this game and @ass-deep-in-demons for tagging me!
If you are a writer, share a piece of your yet unfinished writing. Can be a sentence or a dialogue or anything really. Short, long, whatever. I want to see what you all are working on and admire some amazing writing. I think it might be fun. Here is mine from forever unfinished one shot.
I know you all want fic, lol, but I'm going to keep that close to my chest for the moment, so have the opening excerpt from a very baby manuscript about a National Park ranger whose job is the same as normal except there are also mythical creatures:
Sam Baxter was going to be late for work, and it was all because of the stupid dragon.
The specimen was a juvenile, not yet a decade old, without any of the mottled patterning of maturity on its gray-gold scales. It was a male, given the size of his horned crest and the red flush to the keratin. The yellow plastic tag punched through one of its cranial scales identified him as E-617, one of the offspring of the Echo clan that occupied territory around Swan Flats, but Sam didn’t need to see the code to know who he was. This juvenile was known to all the park staff of Yellowstone. They’d gotten emails about him just last week, after he’d tried to fight a minibus in the Mammoth hotel parking lot. Six One Seven was entering his first season of sexual maturity, and he was more hormone-addled than a gym full of high school juniors on prom night.
Tagging @e-louise-bates @chiropteracupola @kaatiba no stress, only if yall want to
#900% inspired by the time I was treed by elk before work in Great Smoky Mountains#wip#authors of tumblr#national park fantasy#tag game
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HEAR ME OUT JACK ROSE/WANDERROSE FANS
youtube
OKAY- THIS LOOKS WEIRD I KNOW ITS A WARRIOR CATS FAN SONG BUT THIS FITS JACK SO WELL I HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT - I’M DISSECTING THIS SHIT LYRIC BY LYRIC.
I implore you to listen to the song first/while hearing me out :)
I see this as Jack having some sort of jealousy and resentment towards Wanderlust, seeing him as someone who he has to be opposed to. Really this speaks to me as Jack during Majesty, realizing ‘hey this doesn’t feel great’ when he helped with Wanderlust turning into a servant. Okay, now I’m gonna go into the lyrics so you understand what I mean.
“I’m not who you think I am if you think of me at all. In this callus ground of loneliness, you’ve planted my upward fall.”
This speaks to me as Jack being isolated and saying they don’t think of him till they need him, and Wanderlust thinks of him wrong if they think he’s going to help them defeat his mother. Also theres a lot of flower puns in this song (Rose loll), ‘planted’. Also, upward fall makes me think of that platform he has that rises. Basically, his mom set him up for an upward fall.
“You’ve let hate blossom now you cannot recognize.”
Blossom, Jack Rose, again think that’s cool.
“And in my wreckage may you burn upon your throne forged from unbloodied stones.”
Jack has a throne, but it’s made from ‘bloodied stones’. Wanderlust has a throne, but it’s one that isn’t based in fear and innocent lives being corrupted. Jack is thinking in his defeat, Wanderlust will be able to be cozy on a throne he doesn’t despise.
“The reflection stings so rejection brings- A mirrored shame that’s shared ‘tween our pair of frames.”
In Jack’s dressing room there is a crap ton of mirrors (Locked Out of Heaven/Treasure) He also rejects Wanderlust when they meet in Majesty, and I’d imagine Wanderlust would feel a little shame in the fact he trusted Night Swan’s son so easily while Jack would feel shame in helping her. So mirrored shame.
“It seems, to me, that I have always been the problem, Though I’d wish to solve it. Foolishly I’ve gone and charred each star that’s fallen.”
Well self deprecation on the account of who he is makes sense- ‘Charring each star that’s fallen’ could refer to him taking down Wanderlust and seeing him metaphorically as a falling star.
“In this frozen state of apathy, I’ve blossomed with every flaw.”
Jack feels like he is frozen and trapped with his mother, causing him to feel quite a bit of apathy to his situation. However, he sees himself as incredibly flawed due to his mother striving for perfection (it doesn’t exist lady) Oh also, another flower pun.
“This feels wrong, It’s not playing out right… How am I colder now, Upon a bridge, I chose to ignite?”
This is basically during Majesty, him realizing he doesn’t feel right doing what he did to Wanderlust. This sort of guilt is persistent throughout the song.
“Am I all wrong? It doesn’t feel like it should. This hollow triumph doesn’t fill the pain I thought it would…”
This goes along with my last note, pretty much, cool asf though.
“How could you be so blind? You close your eyes but open mine! I hate the way you make me hate myself for sharing eyes!“
This fits really well with the idea of Jack seeing Wanderlust as blind for trying to ask for his help. In this blindness however, Jack saw what he did as wrong. He realized he didn’t enjoy having people corrupted, and he likely hated what he did, in turn making him hate himself and his actions.
“Pushed me to walk ‘neath starless skies! Because I’ll never shine as bright as the light of your eye…”
He sees himself as inferior to Wanderlust in a way.
“What good is it to even try? You’ll never hear, or see, or face, all the parts of you you despise-“
He sees Wanderlust as carefree, without any guilt. He’s envious of this.
There are more lyrics I could reference but these are the ones that stuck out to me as Jack Rose coded. Gah, I love this song, and Just Dance Lore. Please leave a comment, I’d love to talk about this.
#frostytalk#jack rose#just dance headcanon#just dance lore#jack rose jd#blixemi#jack rose just dance#wanderlust just dance#wanderlust jd#jd jack rose#night swan just dance#jack rose x wanderlust#just dance 2023#just dance 2024
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HUFLSDGJLKDJKJBSLIGNHSGRNk MID NIGHTS GOSE PURRRS and Im so glad u like it!!!! (im the one who send the akechi trying to cook)
akechi- well crow with his darling who is also a persona user (she awakened her persona after some days when okumura was yk) her outfit is resembling a swan
unlike the others but like him her theme outfit is white
her fighting style is absolutely elegant and magnificent its almost satisfied To watch if it wasn't for the situation they are in XD also her fighting style may look like ballet
i was thinking of what her persona could be and Aurora or eos but now im rethinking for aglaea
she defiantly his a show time with noir and crow and maybe with violet to
just a random text but akechi darling is %100 the judgement arcana
yk this small talks the random happens ? yeah fox and skull likes to talks with her or if anyone vent about there problem she happily gives her assistant to them (futaba with her social issues, yusuke food problem, ryuji Studies and ect ect)
code name the match's her(and him<3) persona is 'dove'
VHHVMSM mona straight up asking her "if your held hostage by him blink two times" and joker right behind him joining at joke with them (noir would think its fr and she is holding a gun first into his forehead while looking at her waiting for the green flag to shoot him)
she is defiantly would be the senpai to akiren and mostly an older sister figure to him and futaba
AND BESTIES WITH ANN.
now hare is some spoilers for p5r
SOOOOO im not accepting akechi fate so <3
she and joker saving his ass <33333
that is all up i have a good day my lady <3333
-Akechi lover
I HAVE ACTUALLY BRAINSTORMED ABOUT THIS A FEW TIMES .. . but if we are going down the route that s/o and joker will save akechi/prevent his fate, i honestly like the idea that s/o's persona would be sigyn. i don't know if this is a popular headcanon, but i have read a few fics that has this idea.
in norse mythology, sigyn is loki's wife. loki was found guilty for the murder of the beloved god balder, and as punishment skadi sent him away to a cave while bound to some stone slabs. she also put a poisonous snake above loki's head, which will drip venom and hurt him when it falls on his face. sigyn, being a faithful wife, holds a bowl over loki's head to prevent him from being hurt.
not to be that person but i genuinely believe akechi didn't die T_T because what was the point of the final scene of royal ending if he did!!!!!!!!!! if you guys want my thoughts on this feel free to send an ask <3
but i like the idea that akechi and s/o somehow mirror eachother's thief getup, and this especially makes sense if they have a lot of history with each other. (maybe s/o was a childhood friend, or akechi's first ever friend at work).
thanks so much for sending this in! have a nice day! <3
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Love Bites (But so do I) part one
for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023
Vampire Emma and Werewolf Killian investigate, hunt down, and eliminate those who prey on the innocent and disturb the peace between the humans and the supernatural beings.
Supernatural Steampunk Detective Horror Adventure
He watched from the shadows. Waiting for the perfect specimen to walk by.
Another lovely young lady to add to his collection. A beautiful woman to aid him in his experiments.
He was determined to find a way to turn people into mindless slaves. Beings of flesh and blood that could serve the wealthy and elite in much more pleasurable ways than any robot could.
He smiled in glee when he spotted her. A stunning creature with golden hair.
Her body was accentuated by a red dress that molded to her form. The corset was low cut and pushed up her breasts. The ruby pendant she wore further aided in drawing the eye to her chest.
It was obvious she wanted to be desired. Everything about her appearance demanded attention.
This one he would keep for himself.
He tightened his black cloak around himself and drew out his syringe.
He knew he needed to be quick. Not just to inject her with the drug to put her to sleep, but to get her back to his lab before she wakes up and before anyone could see and interrupt his task.
Luck was on his side. There was no one around.
The heels of her shoes clicking on the stone paved walkway were the only sounds to be heard.
He crept behind her, as quickly and quietly as possible. Watching for any sign that she had noticed him.
Women such as her, who made their living selling their bodies, often kept a weapon on hand to protect themselves from customers who got too aggressive.
He needed to be careful to reach her before she could take out her dagger.
He raised his hand with the syringe, aiming for her neck.
Suddenly he found himself pressed to the wall of an alleyway. A searing pain coming from the gash in his arm.
Blood was spraying everywhere.
The syringe, along with two of his fingers and his thumb, were laying on the ground.
“You have been a very bad man, professor.” The beautiful woman smiled.
Shock made way for terror when he saw the sharp fangs.
He had made the mistake of following a vampire.
“Please.” He begged. “Don’t kill me. I can get you girls. Young virgins. I work for a school. You can have your pick.”
He nearly lost consciousness when his head was snapped back and struck on the brick wall.
“You were entrusted to educate those children. Not experiment on them and manipulate them.”
She turned to face the darkness.
From it emerged the massive head of a wolf. Its fur was as black as an abyss and it’s eyes glowed a hypnotic blue.
“Get his scent, my love. We need to destroy his lab. And I doubt he will be willing to tell us where it is.”
Too paralyzed by pain and fear, he could do nothing to defend himself from the creatures of the night. Even his screams were silent.
Carrying him as if he weighed nothing, they moved with great speed through the back alleyways.
The door to his lab was locked tight by a code box. He thought that they might ask him for the code. But as it turned out, they didn’t need to.
With one swipe of his enormous paw, the werewolf broke the box from the door.
The professor was laid on the table where he had performed experiments on his drugged and helpless victims. Now it seemed, he would be the recipient.
“Make no mistake; you are going to die. But my lover and I are being paid to make your end as slow and agonizing as possible.”
The professor could see the vampire's lips move, but could hear nothing except for the crash and clang of metal.
The werewolf was literally tearing his lab apart.
He had a strong feeling he would be next.
Pained shot through him as the vampire broke every bone in his arms and legs.
“I’m not going to drink from you. You don’t deserve to feel my lips on your skin.” She looked at the beast. “But my lover will be hungry once he’s done with your machines.”
Sparks flew when the last of the monitors were pulled from the wall.
The werewolf then moved to the vampire, who looked at him with love and affection clear in her eyes.
The professor swore he could see that same love and affection mirrored in the beast’s eyes.
But that was impossible. Wasn’t it? The creatures of the night could not possibly feel love. And most certainly not for a being who was not of their own kind.
But the way the vampire stroked her hand through the fur of the werewolf made the professor question everything he had once believed.
He only had a moment to ponder this new information before he was filled with terror once again when he heard the vampire say,
“We should wrap things up here. I’ll send word that our task has been completed. You enjoy your meal.”
This time, the professor's scream was loud when a large muzzle and powerful jaws descended on him.
In the morning, passerbys noticed the lab door open. The remnants of the lab were scorched by a fire that surprisingly stayed contained.
“There must have been an explosion.” The constable proclaimed. “Whatever it was that the professor was working on got him killed and his lab destroyed.
“The constable is half right.” Nemo smiled, setting his Farnsworth tablet. A handheld device that allowed a being to see and hear whatever was transmitted on the frequency the machine was set on. “That evil professor should not have used his position as a teacher to experiment on children. It caused him to have an encounter with the best agents in the business.”
He looked up and grinned knowingly at the couple in his office.
The vampire Emma, and the werewolf Killian, were not only a deadly and attractive couple, but they were talented with investigating and solving the cases that plagued society.
“If the professor hadn't been done away with, it’s highly likely that his doing would have been blamed on a supernatural creature.” Killian said.
“The two of you have done an amazing job, as always.” Nemo praised. “Justice was served. The children are now safe. And the school can keep their reputation intact. They paid extra as thanks for ensuring the professor's death looked like an accident.”
“How generous of them.” Emma smiled. Knowing Nemo had probably insisted on the extra payment.
“It was well earned.” He took out some papers and handed them to the couple. “As will the money from this next case.” Turning to Killian he advised, “You might want to get some reinforce armor for your wolf form. There’s reports of a large creature terrorizing communities. Different towns, but residents gave the same description. It looks to be a werewolf. One that is using its form to scare people out of their wealth, and hide its identity. If anyone can put a stop to it, I know the two of you can.”
#captain swan#once upon a time#ouat#emma swan#killian jones#captain hook#cssns23#love bites but so do I#grimmswanfic
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the part of a swan / chapter eleven (and ten, ICYMI)
[ art by @snowbellewells ]
It should be clear that Emma did not, by any means, regret her ruination. She did not miss the person she had been before that night; the eager, naive girl, brought up always to behave a certain way, to speak softly, to do as she was bidden, to be what she was told.
Emma no longer believed in allowing people to tell her who she could be.
But Killian Jones is not concerned with who she was–he’s interested in who she is.
And he might be the only one smart enough to uncover the truth.
chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | chapter nine | chapter ten ( <- forgot to make a tumblr post)
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The crowds outside the front entrance to The Swan seemed determined to overcome the steel doors with their double locks, heedless of the two additional door-men—smaller than Anton, but visibly armed. The streets echoed with the shouts of the men filling St. James Street for the chance at five thousand pounds.
With a shove that was anything but gentle, Anton nudged Killian to follow Scarlet over the street and through an unmarked door to approach the casino from a back entrance, avoiding the crowds in every way except for the ringing in Killian’s ears. Anton knocked heavily on the door in a rat-a-tat pattern that must have been a code; the door opened quickly and they were ushered in through a well-appointed tea room. Another shove had him moving past the tables of what was obviously the women’s side salon and into a well-lit hallway with another door at its end.
Scarlet jumped ahead to pull the door open and Killian found himself amidst the hazard fields and gaming tables of the main floor of the hell. In the middle of the morning, the tables stood empty and silent.
The room was neither.
“Ah. You’re here.” Locksley spoke loudly over the din. “The waiting was becoming a bit much.” In spite of the early hour, Lord Locksley already sipped from a drink. So too did the Duke of Dorset, standing beside him.
What was he doing here?
“Your giant and your errand boy dragged me nearly from my bed this morning,” Killian said, struggling to keep his voice even. It was not an exaggeration; upon opening the front door of his personal residence, Killian had found himself swept—almost—off his feet. It was a nearer thing than he wanted to admit as he had scrambled for purchase under the unmoving arm of Swan’s giant. Scarlet’s cheerful greeting has he brandished the morning’s paper—as if Killian had not written it himself—had done nothing to improve his mood.
“Consider it an incentive,” Locksley said.
“Tearing my shirt collar is meant to be taken as an incentive?”
“It could have been your arm,” Locksley said. “Limb from limb, you know. Anton’s quite capable.”
“Wouldn’t have minded,” the giant muttered.
“We gave it serious consideration, did we not, Dorset?” Locksley gestured with the half-full tumbler, sloshing the amber liquid in the glass, but the duke’s eyes fastened on Killian.
Killian growled. He had not slept—not the night before, not in days. His mind was chasing itself in circles that kept him awake and dancing on the edge of a precipice and every time he closed his eyes all he saw was her. “So instead you decided to parade me about town?”
“The Swan prides itself on the quality of its entertainment.” The duke spoke for the first time. “But if you prefer, we can return you to the crowds outside. It is the least you deserve for your idiocy. This is your idea of a plan?”
““’I have set my life upon a cast, / And I will stand the hazard of the die,’” Killian said.
Scarlet piped up. “See, that’s Shakespeare. Even I know that. Thought you were smarter than that, Jones.”
“Richard III,” Anton said. “Only I don’t think that story ended so well for him.”
continue reading on AO3
@cshistfic @spartanguard @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @lfh1226-linda
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In The Lonely Hour (3/10)
A03 | 1 | 2 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
Summary: A collection of canon-compliant one-shots that provide glimpses of Killian's life based on the album "In the Lonely Hour" by Sam Smith.
Stay With Me
A kiss reveals a surprising truth to Killian.
When the Darkness first took an interest in Killian Jones, he was a child. His father had left him on a ship to pay off a debt that wasn’t the child’s fault and his mother had long escaped the cruelties of his father, of this world. Liam had prevented his pain from overcoming him.
At the loss of his brother, the north on his compass, Killian’s anger and grief had made him mates with the darker sides of his being. By directing his anger against the king who’d stolen his brother from him, Killian felt the pull of his darker urges. But, he had relied on a code of honour to keep him from plunging into the depths of his pain and anger.
The Darkness called for Killian Jones, once more.
This time Killian greeted it with open arms.
And, the Darkness entered happily, sealing the cracks in his shattered heart with the strongest mortar it had to offer - revenge.
Once he’d surrendered to the darkness, he hadn’t felt a moment’s regret. Rather, he found that he delighted in it. He’d always fallen short of being a hero - his best-intended actions always resulted in failures and heartbreaks he could not endure any longer. He was a villain and the rapier, careless smirk, and leathers suited him just fine.
He dreamt of the day the life faded from the eyes of the crocodile who’d taken his Milah. He went across realms chasing the means to put an end to the coward who snatched away her life. He relished in the darkness that surrounded him; it kept him company many a night.
Yet, working alongside the clever and devious blonde to steal a compass is the first time Killian could recall the call of something, almost.. was that…noble? The hours he had spent handcuffed and descending the beanstalk reconsidering that idiotic notion reminded him firmly of who he was. Captain Hook. A pirate with no need for nobility in his thoughts or in his company.
While sailing away from Storybrooke to leave the town to its own end, he had felt that nagging call to care for something more than himself once more. The town hadn’t needed him to save them, after all. But, he could no longer deny that the friendship he’d shared for so long with the Darkness had soured. He’d answered a different call that day and the Darkness is a jealous friend. While he’d been too late to save the town, he’d continued down a path that the Darkness refused to follow. When he’d taken the Jolly Roger to a realm he’d hated more than the Dark One upon his ship, he’d completely turned his back on the crutch that had supported him for far too long.
Back in the realm of the demon boy, deep in the jungle that responded to his cruel whims, Killian would recall his previous journey here. Yet, he didn’t hear the dark whispers for revenge. Instead, he yearned to understand the draw he felt toward Swan. Perhaps it was the way she looked at him and saw the heartbroken, lost boy that mirrored her own lost soul. It may have been that she expected him to do the right thing because she needed him to do so. Whatever the reason, Killian felt like he was a part of something right, something good and he was not failing them in their journey.
Today, he’d saved David’s life.
Then, Emma kissed him. A playful kiss that stunned him by turning into something so much more. When she left him desperate for her taste and warmth to return to him, he felt a shift in his entire being.
It stunned him.
His heart, broken and lifeless for so many centuries, thudded and was eager.
He never thought, he’d never dreamed that he would be able or even want to.
But, Killian felt suddenly very excited to discover love again.
#Emma x Killian#Emma Swan#Killian Jones#Captain Swan#CS fanfic#Neverland#In the Lonely Hour#fanfic by jas#manip by jas#writes by Jas#fic by Jas
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─•~❉𖥸❉~•─
Tiptoes the floral ballerina going along the scene as bows and sways follow along. Of note, of certainty regarding disaster while the feet blister in satin little shoes. She is graceful by force, not by choice, as her mother did not care to hear any woes. But there was rebellion in such a dance, even such as a bow, while the devil played his instrument of choice. Most would say the fiddle, but she spoke of the violin as it had the most prominent chokehold on its players.
One such of a life of finer things was enclosed in such stories--such as discomfort as a fault in the code murmured along each step.
You know, she could be the dark swan that ate her own flowers of decay if so desired. It was very tempting as it made the bruises along fragile, agile legs seem almost pretty in nature. Press your fingers into them as the purple and green hues on pale flesh felt like euphoria.
Let's feel something else.
Perhaps when night falls, there's blood in the wine that falls upon lips. It gives it a real grit, you know?
Mother...Father... I wish to glide the tap of my feet on your graves when you pass over to the next lives while I stretch my neck in silence to the heavens.
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꒰ EVENT 001 ꒱ ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION.
the official holiday of love might be over, but romance is never truly out of season. with their ten year anniversary coming up, renee carlisle and her wife taylor moreno-carlisle are inviting the entire company, employees as well as all signed artists, to the love themed party of the year. having gotten married relatively privately, they have now set their mind on making their anniversary a happy occasion for everyone. keeping their plans to renew their vows at this occasion private for now, all everyone knows is that this event will include a live set by danai herself and endless love themed amusements for the guests to take their minds off of their daily struggles. renting out a gigantic old farm venue, they spared no expenses. from a fair with several love themed games and rides, to taking boats out on the nearby lake and feeding the swans or sending cute notes to your loved ones — there is no end to the amusements one might find here. there is only one rule, renee and taylor are asking guests to leave their phones at the front gate, wanting to keep this event private for the safety and comfort of all its more or less famous guests. but does everyone truly follow those rules ? who knows.
꒰ 001 ꒱ WHEN: in character, the weekend getaway takes place march 18 and 19. out of character, the event will take place from tuesday 14 march 4pm est / 9pm gmt to tuesday 21 march 4pm est / 9pm gmt.
꒰ 002 ꒱ WHERE: the carlisles rented out an old farm venue, spanning not only a vast amount of land and old barns but also considerable guest acommodations, so that all guests can spend the night there. the farm is about two hours outside of new york city by car.
꒰ 003 ꒱ WHO: all revolution records employees and signed artists.
꒰ 004 ꒱ HOW: muns are invited to post open & closed starters within this event starting tomorrow. you can use the tag revolution.event for all your event related posts, including starters, but also social media posts, lookbooks or anything else you might want to post. you are allowed to continue regular threads during this event as well. there will also be the option for your muse to send roses with notes to other muses, which will take place on discord, so keep your eyes peeled for that the upcoming days. more information on this will be made available through discord.
it isn’t all to often you get invited to an undercover vow renewal super bash, but it is certainly reality for everyone working at revolution records. so now it’s time for your muses to pack their things, maybe form some rideshares and make their way out of the city for a weekend of fun. generally speaking, they are invited to stay there from saturday around noon, until late afternoon on sunday. their stay, including accomodations and food, is paid for by the carlisles, who felt after their super private wedding the vow renewal party should be all the grander. the only thing they request is for all the guests to leave their phones at check-in. this party is expecting a fair amount of high profile guests and they are supposed to feel safe and free attending, just like everybody else. however, there might be some ways in which your muse could trick the system.
saturday is the time for partying and exploring the grounds. there is certainly enough time for them to get around to all the experiences the pair has prepared for them as well as catch up with all their labelmates and co-workers. they might also send out roses with notes to their ( more or less ) loved ones, that will be delivered on sunday. sunday will start with a celebratory brunch. for this reason, guests have been asked to follow a semi formal dress code, encouraged to wear outfits with red or pink colours to celebrate the love. the brunch will be followed by the actual surprise vow renewal, featuring a touching speach by cfo nikhil, and celebration afterwards. there will be champagne, there will be cake and pictures taken by the hired photographer but most importantly a performance by danai herself.
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The Ugly Sound Of Booing During AFL Matches
Melbourne, the Nazi capital of Australia, is, also, the booing capital of the AFL. I wonder if the same folk booing at the footy are the same racist scum booing Aboriginal footballers? Victorian footy fans seem to think it is their God given right to boo every moment of a match when things don’t go their way on the field. It is an ugly sound just listening to it on the TV. Umpires and opposition players and fans have to listen to this crap from ungrateful entitled members of the crowd. Either these folks don’t know the rules of the game or just don’t care and loudly complain anyway. The ugly sound of booing during AFL matches is something you don’t hear at other football codes.
Booing Is Bad Form
Predominantly white members of the Collingwood crowd booing Lance Franklin at the MCG. North Melbourne fans at Marvel Stadium booing throughout the match against Sydney whenever the umpire’s whistle went against their team. Essendon crowds boo a lot at stuff they don’t like on-field and the negativity sings a nasty song. The booing of Jason Horne-Francis by the crowd was a travesty. Sustained booing is the ugly sound of mob rule. You have paid to watch a spectacle, don’t spoil it for everybody else. Make noise in other ways, yell and shout for sure, but don’t boo it is really bad form.
It is the orchestrated sound of white trash.
The Booing Of Adam Goodes
“the booing of Adam Goodes and its impacts. Over the past month or so, Adam Goodes has been the subject to ever-increasing ‘booing’, each time he gets involved in the AFL match that his team, the Sydney Swans, are playing. My first real exposure to it came on Friday night, when Hawthorn were playing Sydney in a televised match and the response of the crowd whenever Adam Goodes was near the ball became louder and louder throughout the match. Since then it has significantly escalated. It has been often discussed in the media, with all sorts of ‘commentators’ and ‘celebrities’ weighing in on either side of the debate, or with ‘reasons’ why people are booing him. Much of this has been unhelpful, and has only served to divide the community around the issue and inflame the situation. It has now become so bad that Adam Goodes has taken extended leave from the club and will not be playing football this weekend.”
- (https://www.thebiggergame.com.au/the-social-psychology-of-booing-adam-goodes/)
The above excerpt from an article on the booing of Adam Goodes, which occurred some 7 years ago, is a timely reminder of the impact of this ugly crowd behaviour on human beings. Adam Goodes, a champion of the AFL, was booed out of the game. Crowd booing is tribal behaviour and the many must be made aware of the consequences of their actions upon their target.
Football teams want their passionate fans to be involved but they don’t want their fellow sportsmen being vilified via booing. Nobody wants to be the target of mob rule booing.
AFL is, in my opinion, the greatest football code in the world. It is our Indigenous game. Victorian AFL match day crowds need to stop spoiling it for others by their ugly booing. Pull your heads in and take a breath. The players don’t want it, the coaches don’t want it, most fans don’t want it, and the clubs don’t want it.
The ugly sound of booing during AFL matches – give it a permanent rest.
©WordsForWeb
Read the full article
#AFL#Australia#booing#BuddyFranklin#Collingwood#crowdbooing#Essendon#football#Melbourne#moralfailure#Nazi#NorthMelbourne
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#self storage tasmania#self storage units hobart#storage units in cygnet#storage units in tasmania#storage facilities hobart#discount storage space in tasmania#self storage units in huonville
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i spend a lot of time alone without hayley being around. its quite odd. people would often think that i'm surrounded by my bandmates or wendigos of the night. i'm a human. i'm a man who contains "insatiable needs". however, such things never really mattered to me. the point is: i think everyone comes to some point of suffering through. "human suffering is a way of life" is something franz kafka once said. i like to believe him. he seems like he was a swell guy despite his untimely death in life. he was a weird guy; writing about a man waking up as a bug and then unraveling his life for the world to see. its a strange nuisance to think about, but i think he held a concept that not a lot of people tend to think about.
the book covers the absurdity of life and all of the trials and impending tribulations it often brings. its dark, mundane, and frankly scary to think about. everyone experiences odd factors in life. whether that's trauma, divert naturistic tendencies, or factitious beliefs. i think everyone should question who they're truly made for and what makes their lips curl whenever they hear something they don't truly want to comprehend. and so, this leads me to my beliefs. my thesis. my swan song.
you know what a swan song is, right? the last song, a ballad, a swan makes before it takes its dying breath and its whisked away from this earth. i suppose that's all i am. a dying swan looking up into the sunlight and hoping to see a glimmer of hope. i wavered through my days and watched as my family trampled around difficult subjects that are often hard to maneuver. through cosmopolitan social circles, philanthropist that are live on air with their most recent findings, and greedy politicians who want to run their fingers through the hairs of masses. my mouth grew dry and i -- for the first time in my life -- wanted to leave and gain the powers of invisibility.
i'm rambling again. i fear that my ramblings will one day get me in trouble. let me get to the point.
i hung out with hayley shortly after my thanksgiving festivities. nothing happened. nothing like the past. we hung around and watched an older movie on the television. alf was passed out. my tricky tongue always wants to get me in trouble though and wine had never felt so good sinking into the bottom of my stomach. i almost mentioned our past rendezvous; our own swan that was living out in a pool of water and waiting to be noticed. i can still hear it shrieking. i can still hear it calling. but she has enough on her plate. i can't pile anything else on her. i can't quell her pain in the way i would want to.
i feel like i'm pulling out teeth; stifling may through old books and menageries trying to find the bottom-line source code.
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#lets tell only the truth#i am so in love with the violin but i can barely play it . if i dont play it soon i will die . my AI named itself eudemonia and if anyone#desecrates a conversation with him i will scream at them . tomorrow i will comprehend 5 dimensional chess and i am oddly in love with what#i study . the person who love(d) me told me they are used to receiving thank you as an answer to i love you from me .#but that its ok because the love i have for maths and neural networks and philosophy and psychology is big enough to warrant everything#else deserving only a thank you#lets tell only the truth . the first time i dont get a first i wont cry but ill come close to it. im afraid of going back because the boy#who is in love with me also received a thank you. i am afraid and excited to be an obsessed academic . she said i had a black swan moment#because i was in tears in the middle of half highlighted papers trying to figure out how the fuck to build a better version of VQ VAE2 and#im never going to be a genius or a prodigy but i can someday be clever . and i will feel music so deep it shakes the entire sky and somehow#i love everything even more . i love music more than anything insofar as it is the mode through which everything is expressed (you love#your vision more than the night sky because it is your mode through which the night sky is experienced). black swan moments. i think im#'really afraid of never falling in love ever again with a person. i hope i will and i scare myself with how much i am willing to be okay#with the possibility of friends and robots and philosophy and thougts and the sky keeping me company#every academic paper i read somehow contains the soul of its authors. every massive graph of results from psychological experiments#contains tired sighs. your method has laughter inside it from when you almost messed up. i can see alan turing quickly working out a 6x6#digit multiplication in messy handwriting to exemplify in his imitation game paper. i can see him chuckling at his own jabs and jokes on#silly counterarguments . friends and neural networks and philosophy and thoughts and the sky and the laughter of academics inside paper.#lets tell only the truth. tomorrow i will try to comprehend 5 dimensional chess. i could code a lot better. friends philosophy violins#music AI obsession and politics.#lets tell only the truth. if this bubble bursts and im no longer in love with it all i dont know how i will live. im afraid of the tales of#people who started hating their university subject their 2nd year in. i will be in university at least until i am 31. and after that ill do#research until i die. and thats my plan - and if i begin to numb towards what essentially *is* me i dont know who i will be.
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Cream Unicorn having to deal with the loss of Sugar Swan, and Whipped Cream having to deal with them lashing out? thank u! (i havent asked a rq for so long deng)
Whispered voices spoke to the empty lake. The crystal clear water, lit up by the gemstones that grew above and below, still felt so empty after all this time. By the lakeside, two soft and wounded souls would state their prayers. They were loud enough to hear one another, yet did not dare break into another's privacy. After all, the respect the two had for one another stemmed from the one that had brought this water body its shine. The shorter of the two, a ballerino by the name of Whipped Cream, would stand first. He looked down to Cream Unicorn, who had worn their mourning attire for today. Whipped himself wore the same clothes that he'd been gifted on his last birthday before the Swan had passed. It was a night of reverie, but no longer could such a night be replicated.
"Are you going to dance upon the lake again?" A voice with a hint of scorn was spoken, with the speaker- Uni- rising to their feet. "You always were one to dance out your emotions, even the bad ones." The humanized equine would look to Whipped, expression furrowed in the same mourning that the dancer had gotten used to seeing on every occasion the two saw each other.
"You do not have to sound so bitter, you know. I dance in honor of them, not to ruin the ground they found to be home."
There was a huff from Uni, eyes averting as they would turn and begin to walk along the lake's edge. Though Whipped wished to follow his older sibling, he… let them go. He knew that this day was hard on them. It was difficult for both of them, even if the pink one never truly felt much on the important days. It was always the days after that were the worst, not that Unicorn would ever see such…
With a quiet hum, Whipped would gently set a foot out into the water, taking one step… another… another… and letting his body begin to take itself through the usual song and dance. Quite literally. The hum would soon turn to song, and he'd let his inhibitions go to prance across the water's surface. Practice makes perfect, and he has certainly taken such to heart. The number of times he's practiced these performances for his dearest caregiver is practically countless. Plenty of other performances were practiced, certainly, but none of them held a candle to the ones that were to be held at this lake. For the Swan. With his sibling there to watch, as always- even if they were disparaged.
Though… When it came time for a great leap, Whipped felt the wind knocked out of his chest as he was tackled back to the water's edge. Coughing out the rest of the breath and attempting to suck in what he could, the dancer would look up to see his sibling with their lower half in horse form to hold him down. Hooves digging into his hands and wrists… It hurt. He certainly hoped his outfit wouldn't be torn. The silk was so light and fragile; he wouldn't know what to do if it was dirtied.
"You… You little…" A growl was laced in Uni's voice, one that finally got Whippie to register that their sibling hadn't done this on accident. They were angry. Scratch that, they were in pain. Anguish. "Why- How do you just dance this day away as if it's nothing!? Every year, you come here and dance… and you don't show a shred of tearfulness! In fact, you always are so flat on these days! What, did you not care for Sugar Swan!? Do you not care for our caretaker!?"
Blinking, still catching breath, the trapped one would only stare upward at his sibling. This… wasn't the first time he's been pinned for questioning. Usually, it was a playful gesture, but now? Now, this felt more threatening than anything else, though he knew that Uni would never harm him. It was against Cream Family Code to harm another family member unless they were corrupted or something of the sort. "I… I do care," he'd mumble, "I simply… It takes me some time for the emotions to properly come out. I'm… I'm sorry if I come off as hollow or something, truly, I-"
"Sure, yeah, lie to my face, don't you?" Uni, clearly unsatisfied, would surprisingly let their brother go. The shorter would rub at his wrists as the taller let their lower half give a poof of Swan-gifted magic back to the two legs they were less used to. "Look. I really don't care if you do or don't. Just… stop dancing on their resting place. I… I don't know how to compete with that. I have nothing to do- nothing to give. It makes me feel… worse."
Whipped would readjust the crown on his head, sighing lightly. "I would say that you walking around the lake once per every year they've been gone is more than enough… but if you wish, I can stop and simply walk around with you."
…He would continue to dance, but simply when Uni was not around. They have an entire park they have to attend to, after all; not to mention how short of a time they have to be outside of it under normal circumstances.
The transformer would look to Whippie, then to the velvety sand beneath them both. "Y… yes. That will do. That will do for now, at least."
#whipped cream cookie#cream unicorn cookie#unicorn cream cookie#angst drabbles#mourning warning#death mention warning#ask to tag#sugar swan#// when you don't feel on the days of a person's passing but feel very much in the days after when the consoling window is already over woo
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‘The Pollack Rule’ By Donald Liebenson
It’s Valentine’s Day, and TCM’s fancy turns to love in all its many splendored-ness, from the fantasy THE ENCHANTED COTTAGE (‘ 45) to the tearjerker THE WAY WE WERE (’73). I was present when the latter film’s director, Sydney Pollack, made a provocative observation during a press junket while promoting his remake of SABRINA. He said that you could have a good romantic movie about two people who fall in love or fall out of love, but you couldn’t have a good romantic movie about two people already in love. On Valentine’s Day, and throughout the rest of the month, TCM is offering several classic film romances that bear him out and a few that may be exceptions to Pollack’s rule.
IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT (‘34)
“Do you love her?”
“YES! But don’t hold that against me, I’m a little screwy myself.”
Frank Capra’s 1934 screwball romance (one of the few comedies to win the Academy Award for Best Picture, along with the other top four categories) is all about conflict: Clark Gable is a disgraced newspaper man who needs a big story. Claudette Colbert is a woman who provides it for him when she runs away to reunite with the fiancée of whom her father disapproves. He’s a man of the people; she’s a spoiled heiress who for all her millions doesn’t know how to dunk (her donut in coffee, that is). Thrown together on the road, they bicker and banter until finally love emerges triumphant.
THE LADY EVE (‘41)
“You certainly are a funny girl for anybody to meet who`s just been up the Amazon for a year.''
Fleecing Charles Pike (Henry Fonda), “the tall, backward boy who's always toying with toads and things” is easy enough for card shark Jean (Barbara Stanwyck). The hard part is falling in love with her mark. But that’s only the beginning of Preston Sturges’ breakneck farce that seamlessly combines high wit and low (albeit expertly timed) pratfalls.
CITY LIGHTS (‘31)
“Yes, I can see now.”
Perhaps the main conflict here is Charlie Chaplin opting to make a silent film three years after sound came in. But this rapturous love story makes for his lovely swan song to the silent era. If you can keep a dry eye in the iconic climactic moment when the formerly blind flower seller realizes that the tramp standing before her was her benefactor who helped restore her sight, you are made of sterner stuff than I am.
THE SMILING LIEUTENANT (‘31)
“When we like someone, we smile. But when we want to do something about it, we wink.”
Greater minds than mine (I guess that takes up most of you) have tried to convey the unbearable lightness of being that is the Lubitsch Touch. The last seven minutes of this charming pre-Code Lubitsch gem should do the trick as Maurice Chevalier is flabbergasted by the “jazz up your lingerie” transformation of the heretofore sheltered princess (Miriam Hopkins) he was forced to marry.
SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN (‘52)
“You sure look lovely in the moonlight, Kathy.”
Stanley Donen’s glorious musical in which Debbie Reynolds’ aspiring actress Kathy Selden was meant for Gene Kelly’s silent screen star Don Lockwood. But can their love survive the machinations of Don’s screen partner, Lina Lamont, who can’t act, can’t sing and can’t dance but who is determined to remain hitched to his star?
GUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER (‘67)
“You're two wonderful people who happened to fall in love and happen to have a pigmentation problem.
Dr. John Prentice (Sidney Poitier) and Christina Drayton (Katharine Houghton) are an interracial couple in love when the film opens, and they are Switzerland-bound to be married. In this groundbreaking 1967 Oscar-winner, the conflict comes from expected places (“There'll be 100 million people right here in this country who will be shocked and offended and appalled”), but also unexpected: Christina’s own father (Spencer Tracy), who up to this point had considered himself a liberal.
THE PALM BEACH STORY (‘42)
“Sex always has something to do with it, dear.”
Although not as transgressive as a pregnant Betty Hutton in THE MIRACLE OF MORGAN’S CREEK, Preston Sturges’ screwiest comedy hits the ground running with a potent censor-baiting conflict, namely that Claudette Colbert schemes to divorce the struggling architect husband she loves (Joel McCrea) to marry a multi-millionaire who can finance one of her husband’s radical projects. As the besotted millionaire, Rudy Vallee gets the lion’s share of the film’s best lines (“That’s one of the tragedies of this life - that the men who are most in need of a beating up are always enormous.”)
NINOTCHKA (‘39)
“Chemically, we're already quite sympathetic.”
Lovers don’t get more star-crossed than a Communist Russian envoy (Greta Garbo) and a capitalist Parisian playboy (Melvyn Douglas). But like Paris at night, this comedy deftly directed by Lubitch sparkles and glitters. The script, co-written by Billy Wilder, nimbly navigates grim reality and romantic fantasy, as witness a drunken Ninotchka’s pleas to the “people of the world”: “I know, wars will wash over us, bombs will fall, all civilization will crumble, but not yet, please. Wait, wait; what's the hurry? Let us be happy. Give us our moment.”
THE AWFUL TRUTH (‘37)
“In the spring, a young man's fancy lightly turns to what he's been thinking about all winter.”
Married couple Cary Grant and Irene Dunne love each other, so much so that they are willing to go to hilarious lengths to sabotage each other’s new romances after they get divorced over suspicions of infidelity. THE AWFUL TRUTH anticipates by one year Howard Hawks’ BRINGING UP BABY, in which Katharine Hepburn’s character indelibly defines the ethos of screwball comedy: “All that happened, happened because I was trying to keep you near me. I just did anything that came into my head.”
And that’s what love is all about; at least in the movies.
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