"Welcome to Plummy & Slam. What can I get’cha sweet’eart?"
we're not kids anymore.
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

JVL
Game of Thrones Daily

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shark vs the universe
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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Three Goblin Art

@theartofmadeline
Jules of Nature

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JBB: An Artblog!
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Cosimo Galluzzi
RMH
noise dept.
Cosmic Funnies
seen from Algeria
seen from United States
seen from Russia
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seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
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seen from United States
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seen from Bangladesh
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@goddessofthevirtues
"Welcome to Plummy & Slam. What can I get’cha sweet’eart?"
The mentioning of the princess seemed to resonate with Anthony as his head drooped into his chest similar to the wilted bowing of a flower. He blinked his eyes and sidestepped around the chair calmly in order to seat himself at the table. Face hid from her sight, he dried his tears simultaneously as they fell. The water works stopped abruptly in a moment. For some reason, it felt odd weeping in a bar, in comparison to any location otherwise that he would cry.
If only she knew…it wasn’t her. It was the figure who haunted his dreams and nightmares alike: his lark, Johanna. Seemingly everything in the world centered around the fact that he couldn’t have her, not now nor any other day. Every girl, and even in some rare cases, a man, would remind Anthony of that bed of silky yellow hair, those crystalline sapphire pools of eyes he had lost himself in. Her warm smile. It followed him everywhere, hanging incessantly on his mind as if his very own shadow.
Anthony shook his head, suddenly fully alert, and stood, beginning to shuffle over to the exit without a single word in reply.
The pirate boy was obviously troubled, and some part of Nancy knew it wasn't her, but her overprotective motherly instincts had kicked in. Ever since she lost Oliver, she been searching for someone to look after. Nancy placed the rag she had been holding down on the bar counter. The brunette let out a sigh, before turning to Dodger. "Go," he said, looking at her. "Are ye'sure?" she said, her eyes glancing back towards the door. "Yes," he said, "Not like me saying anything would change y'er mind." Nancy giggled softly, knowing her friend was right. When she made up her mind about something, no one was going to change it.
She rushed towards the door of the bar, trying to catch the blonde boy before he got too far. Nancy hiked up her skirt and ran through the village streets after his figure, and finally caught up with him. "L'me walk you back to ye'r ship, aye? Won't do te'ave you wandering alone out 'ere."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well f'er one, sounds like ye'aven't completely thought it through."
now go love teen! and male! Nancy
"Who's there?"
"That's probably not the best idea..."
happily. COME HERE BBY
I AM HERE. hai. we should definitely plot something
"Oh," the girl said as she bumped into the other boy, slipping her hand into his pocket to take any change he might have on him. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. Are you alright?" And just like that she had money in her own pocket, hopefully without anyone noticing.
screaCHING BACK - A NANNNNNCY
A OLIIIIVVEERRRR
let me love you
orphanedtwist started following you
screEACH
"I don’t even know what love is."
"Ye'know, sometimes I'm inclined to agree with you."
"Well, Just Nancy… What’s a pretty girl like you doing here? I’d have thought you’d look more at home elsewhere.”
"I 'appen to work here."
He gazed back at the girl as if he was about to burst into a fit of tears as she noted that she already had had a savior. His lip pouted thickly as he took a step back from her, the rag in her hand falling to her side as he did. His eyes glazed over despite the fact that they wouldn’t stream tears. It was his famous alcoholic mood swings the sailors had always used to hold against him in the drowsy mornings that followed.
"You don’t mean to say—you couldn’t possibly have meant—that I’m not your—" his voice faltered, "—prince." His lower lip wobbled threateningly, shuffling backwards until his spine connected with the arm of a chair pushed into one of the dining tables. A wave of pain fell over him but he managed to swing an arm around to the back of the chair to steady himself. He gagged slightly, the stingy aftertaste of alcohol thick on his palette. His back arched as if he was going to fall over the chair but instinctively, though his mind was at its softest, his other arm shot around to the top of the chair to support his swaying body fully.
He then swallowed and slowly looked up at Nancy, eyes large and beseeching.
"You’re breaking my heart.”
Nancy wasn't sure whether to laugh at the boy or to be worried about his mental health. She bit her lip nervously, clinging on to the rag like it might somehow drag out of this crazy dream.
"Ye've nearly known me five minutes, Anthony. Somewhere ye'know ye're not me'prince. I bet there's a lovely princess out there, who's jus' waiting te'be saved by her dashing pirate prince, aye?" She meant the words to cheer him up, and she prayed they would work. Nancy never liked to see people cry.
She reached out for his hand to try and steady him, but he was already falling into a chair behind him. She tutted softly, shaking her head.
"Please, Anthony, calm down."
"I’m bored, I’m bored, I’m boreeeeeeeeed."
"Corse ye'are. Stating that over an' over an' over wouldn't keep me entertained either."
"Ruthven. Or Lorcan, if you prefer. I certainly do. Yourself, Miss…?" he replied, with an equally questioning air.
"Nancy," she replied with a soft smile. "Just Nancy."
"Not even distinctly clo—” He began, simultaneously gulping down another tip of his drink so that as he spoke, the drink dribbled down his chin foolishly.
Anthony sputtered slightly as he chuckled, causing his mouth to drip more of the liquid onto his lap. He quickly arched his neck back to swallow the small rest of gin stuck in his gullet as if he were a deranged species of pelican. He glanced back at the girl, senseless smile spreading across his face and cheeks filling with air as he attempted not to break into a crazy fit of laughter. Instead, he summoned the courage to allow a faint smile to fall on his lips and shook his head. The young pirate downed the glass swiftly and outstretched his arms, the alcohol clearly already taking its effect on his mind. He teetered slightly on his heel as he stood up.
"I am Prince Anthony! Come to save…" He swiveled in his stance, fist closing near his mouth as he omitted a small belch, "…you, miss!" He made a point to throw his finger at her incontestably, dumb grin still frozen on his face.
Nancy tried not to laugh at Anthony, but the combination of the drunkenness he was suffering from and the ridiculous faces he was pulling was making it hard. He looked like a mad man who had somehow escaped the asylum.
"Careful on y'er feet. Looks like ye'might still 'ave sea legs," the brunette spoke through her laughter. Her eyes flashed to the stain the was forming from the alcohol he had spilled on himself. "Christ," she muttered, and turned to go find a rag to clean the boy up with. It took her a few minutes, and all the while she could hear Anthony's hysterics throughout the pub. "If we lose costumers because of y'er boy, Nance," she heard a familiar voice say in her head, "It'on't be pretty, lass." She blinked and grabbed the rag and quickly made her way back to light weight boy she had decided to take a chance on. She wasn't exactly regretting her choice, but at the same time, she was nervous that something would go horribly wrong.
He was raging ob about being an prince, and she shook her head and began to whipe him down, starting with the stain on his tousers and then working on the dribbles that covered his chin. "A dead Prince if ye'keep this up, Anthony." She didn't want to see Bill's reaction to a drunken Prince trying to save her. "And I don' need saving. I already got me'a King. Just not a real one."