#and it makes me so sad to think about how long she's been sacrificing herself for me yknow? sad and very loved

[hellodropbear]

take me back

alexia putellas x reader

angst

neither of you had anticipated a career-ending injury.

neither of you realised what it would mean

~~~~~~

Alexia Putellas is an expert. 

An expert of football, of family, of friends. An expert of cooking, of driving, an expert of making people laugh. 

An expert of having a girlfriend, of making you the happiest person in the world. 

She is an expert and she prides herself on her unique ability to master anything that she sets her mind to. 

You think that might be why she has taken this so hard. Why she can’t seem to come to terms with the reality no matter how hard you try to tell her that fighting this is futile. 

But this is something that you pray she will never be able to master. 

Because a career ending injury for you felt like the end of the world, but for her, for Alexia Putellas - the two time Ballon d’Or winner who had dedicated every minute of her life to this, her career, the end of her career would mean the end of her. 

She lived for the chants of her name that echoed around camp nou, the three syllables sending uncontrollable shivers down her spine, her hands shaking and heart racing as she fought those emotions that threatened to explode out of her. 

Running out onto that pitch with what felt like the world on her shoulders, those times where adrenaline kicked in and would be able to do anything she wanted. 

When the ball struck the goal, rippling the net and sending the stadium into a frenzy, loud as she celebrated with her teammates, with the crowd. 

Celebrating because in those moments everything made sense, it was worth everything she had ever sacrificed, everything she put in. 

It was what she lived for, those moments on the field were irreplaceable. 

The pride, happiness, excitement. 

The sadness and longing as well, for times when she was the one cheering out her favourite players name as she sat in her fathers lap, their seats never vacant in the large stadium. 

Football, for Alexia, is everything. 

Her entire life. Her happiness and sadness, her excitement and fear. It makes her so incredibly carefree even when she feels like one wrong move would cause the colossal weight she carried around with her drop and crush her to the ground. 

But she is an expert of walking that line between triumph and failure, aware that at any point she could be harshly shoved in either direction. But she is so determined that she will succeed, that her team will succeed. 

It was something that connected her to her father, something that she could share with her friends and family who didn’t play. Playing football for Barcelona ran deep in her veins, a passion she can feel running through her all the time. 

Even after the games, as the tiredness caught up with her, as she crashed from the overwhelming adrenaline that had been pumping through her for the past 90 minutes. After the games she could celebrate with her family, smile and laugh with them as they clapped her on the back, hugging her and kissing her, proud and content. 

Because football was everything, to Alexia and to her family. They were connected by those powerful chants, the red, yellow and blue stripes that emblazoned their hearts. 

But for you, football wasn’t everything. 

Football was what made you happy, of course. It was what connected you with your teammates, with other players from around the world. 

It was where you felt the most carefree, where you felt you could let loose and forget about all of your problems. 

It was what gave you Alexia, the love of your life. 

But that was all football really was for you. 

There was no real connection, no family for you to celebrate with.

No expectations and no pride either.

There was no weight on your shoulders that told you that success was the only option, no trophies in your apartment that held your name on shiny plates. 

It was just you and a football, your friends and your girlfriend. 

It was where you were happiest, of course it was, but it wasn’t your entire being. 

You could live without it. 

At least that’s what you told yourself as the physios spoke, as they relayed the news that you had been waiting to hear for what felt like years. 

It had only been a year since it all began to fall apart, but it had been so much longer since you had realised that maybe your career wouldn’t be all trophies and happiness, all those rainbows and sunshine that you had wished for as you kicked around a ball with the boys in the school yard. 

~~~~~~

1 year earlier

The back pains were nothing new. It wasn’t a sudden aggravation that had you worried, it was a constant dull ache in the base of your back that you had gotten used to in your early teenage years. The aggravations and flare ups were just something you lived with. 

You didn’t think it was related to the tingling in your legs or the weakness that would overcome you after training sometimes. You had thought those symptoms were just fatigue, overuse. Issues that could be managed and fixed with appropriate recovery. 

But you have had back pains for as long as you can remember and you adjusted your life to keep them at bay back when you were a teenager. All the seats in your apartment were lined with cushions, your washing machine and dryer were both up on the wall so you don’t have to bend forward and load or unload your washing. 

You had become a master of using your feet to open and close cupboards and drawers, often using your football techniques to pick objects up off the floor without having to bend forward. 

You were a well oiled machine, the actions all in your subconscious as you tried to live your life free of pain. 

But then one day you’d have to do weights in the gym and the pains would come flooding back, leaving you sore and stiff for the next few days, unable to even lie in bed without immense pain radiating through you. 

You thought it was normal, that the back pains were just some muscle aches that came from bad technique in the gym. 

You would tell yourself that you’d ask a trainer to check your technique. But you never did. 

Part of you knew that it wasn’t nothing, that a pain that was nothing didn’t last this long. But it was scary, you didn’t want something to be wrong. You didn’t want anyone to know that there was anything wrong. 

So you continued to live your life with your adjustments, ignoring the brief frown Alexia would shoot you as you performed yet another daily task in an adjusted way. 

She would ask you about it, why you flinched when she pulled you towards her in bed. Why you picked everything up with your feet, always crouching down to the ground whenever you had to reach to the floor. 

But you used the same response each time. It was a habit, all of it. You had moved like that all your life, there was no reason to change it.

Part of you wanted to believe that yourself, you’d try and tell yourself that nothing was wrong, it was all just a habit. 

All just fatigue, overuse. 

You never actually told yourself that there was something wrong because that was just like manifesting something you didn’t want into reality. 

Doctors through your childhood had told you it was nothing, they told you it was growing pains and overuse, that if you iced your back and rested for a few weeks it would go away. 

It never worked, but you would tell yourself you were fine and go back to football anyway. 

Your parents wouldn’t even know, not when they were so busy with work. 

~~~~~~

It had been a few weeks before the match that your back had been hurting more again. It was exhausting, the pain. Hiding the pain from Alexia, from your team. Pushing through the pain even when it felt like your back could simply collapse from all the pressure. 

But you had done it before and you were sure you’d have to do it again. It was nothing new. 

That thought didn’t help the hammering in your chest and the pulsating pain in your back as you sat in the locker room before the game. 

It was like you knew something was going to go wrong, the way your hands shook as you tried to tie up your laces, accepting Alexia’s help as you struggled to tie your hair back. 

“You feel so tense, my love. What’s going on in your head?”

She looked at you curiously, her facial expression soft. 

“Just the usual nerves,” you had replied, your voice shaking. 

She could hear in your voice that there was something wrong but knew better than to push further in the locker room, so exposed, so vulnerable. She would ask you later, she thought, instead just pulling you into a hug, holding you close to maintain pressure and trying to ease some of your nerves. 

It had worked, you thought, your nerves calm as you walked out, breaths even as you lined up, as you posed for the photo and as you jogged over to your starting position. 

It was an easy game against Seville, a constant flow of goals flying into the back of the neck. 

But it was a gruelling one, with the increasingly frustrated opposition becoming more and more physical with every goal conceded. 

You found yourself on the floor over and over again but you had been able to break your fall with your arms, easing yourself onto the ground to avoid the searing pains that would shoot up and down your back and legs if you aggravated it. 

But this tackle had come out of nowhere, you hadn’t even seen them coming. 

The ball was barely in your vicinity, but she barged into the side of you, easily knocking you off your fatigued and lethargic legs and onto the floor with a loud thump. 

And as soon as you hit the floor, you felt it like you had never felt it before. 

You were lying on your stomach so able to rest your face in the ground as you groaned in pain, whacking the floor with your hand and writhing in pain as you struggled to move your legs. 

You could barely hear the commotion above you, you could barely feel Alexia’s soft hand on her cheek as she knelt beside you and tried to wipe away some of your tears. 

“It’ll be alright, my love. You’re going to be ok.”

You could only wince, your breath hitching as physios began to poke and prod at you, eventually flipping you over and lying you down on the stretcher. 

It was then that the pain became unbearable, it was then that you let out an ear piercing scream, agony radiating through your body. It was when you were in the back rooms that everything became too much, too overwhelming for your weakened body. 

It was in the back rooms that everything turned dark. 

~~~~~~

“What do you mean, long term?”

Alexia’s voice was harsh but you could hear how anxious she was. You could feel her hand on your arm, clammy and shaking as the doctors hesitated. 

But your eyes opened before they could speak and she was immediately moving closer, cupping your face in her hand. 

You could see the tears in her eyes, the fear in her face. 

You had never seen her like this before. 

“Ale.”

She smiled, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“Amor. Hey.”

She brushed your hair out of her face with her spare hand, closing her eyes and sighing quietly. 

“They’re saying they think you’ve been in pain for a while. Long term.”

You nod. There was no point in trying to keep that brave face, not when the doctors were right there. 

“It’s been a while.”

She frowns, subconsciously grabbing your arm and squeezing it.

“How long? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrug. 

“It’s been a while, Ale. I just sort of forgot about it, I didn’t want anything to be wrong.”

She let out an uncontrolled exhale, shaking her head as if wishing this was all just a dream. 

“I’m sorry, Ale.” You reached up to stroke her cheek with your hand. “I thought I was fine. I should have told you. I’m so sorry.”

She continued to shake her head. 

“No, I should have known.”

One of the doctors took a step forward. 

“We want to run some tests. We want to know if there’s anything else that’s been bothering you, if you’ve had any pain other than that in your back.”

You nod hesitantly, biting your lip. 

“Sometimes, in my legs. I didn’t think it was related but sometimes they’ll go numb, or just really sore. They feel so heavy and tired when I walk and then I’ll get pins and needles, or shooting pains down my legs.”

I hear Alexia’s heavy breathing but I can’t bring myself to make eye contact with her, not after lying to her for all this time. 

“And your back, what’s that pain like?”

You nod, taking a deep breath before answering. 

“It’s always there, like a pulse. But sometimes if I go too hard in the gym it’ll flare up. Sometimes it’ll get worse if I just bend forward to pick something up. It’s been worse recently, I was going to tell someone.”

The doctor nods.

“We’ll take you for those tests. You’ll be fine, Miss. It’s good that we know now.”

~~~~~~

Severely herniated discs is what they told you. Only three of them, but apparently that was enough to damage your nerves that travelled all down your legs. 

They had told you that if you ever wanted to play football again, surgery was necessary. They would have to remove portions of your vertebral discs and hope that it didn’t damage the pathology of your back. 

They couldn’t promise anything. 

All they said was it was a severe case. 

You were silent as Alexia drove you home, she was silent too. You didn’t even notice you had pulled up in the car park until she had opened your door for you, right there in front of you and wiping away your tears. 

“It’s going to be ok, my love. They’ll cut out some of your back and then you’ll go through rehab but you’ll be ok. You’ll be good.”

You nodded absentmindedly, taking her hand to ease yourself out of the car. 

They had told you that they couldn’t be worsened by walking, by engaging in everyday activities like sitting and sleeping. But you felt like you could make it worse. It was like you had lost trust in your back, something so vital in allowing you to do anything, something so vital in your simple existence as a human being. 

“Ale…” 

She shook your head. 

“You don’t have to apologise. I should have done something. I knew something… I saw you wincing all the time, I noticed you never bent forward. I never did anything, even when I noticed. I should have done something, I should have told someone.”

“No, Alexia. No.” You shook your head, grabbing her hands that rested on your face. 

“It’s not your fault. I could have said something but I didn’t. Even if you said something, I wouldn’t have admitted it. I didn’t want anything to be wrong.”

She nods, her eyes watering.

“I just feel… so guilty. I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened to you.”

You shake your head, chuckling dryly. 

“You speak like I’m dying, Ale. You speak like I fell off the side of a cliff and you were the one who pushed me. It’s just a back. It can be fixed.”

You watch as she nods, dropping your hands to wipe at her eyes. 

“I don’t like seeing you hurt. That’s all.”

~~~~~~

You spend the next few days in bed, laying on a mountain of cushions as Alexia waits on your hand and foot. She’s careful, all the time. Cautious not to jolt you, lying down motionless beside you, arms and legs by her side like she’s in a coffin. 

She will take your hand sometimes, but you don’t know how to tell her that all you really want is her comfort. Something to take away the pain that radiates through you. 

You just wanted her. 

You wanted her to smile more, to stop walking around looking like the world was coming to an end.

But you realised, eventually, that if she was in your shoes, it would be her world coming to an end. 

You and Alexia had been together for years. You had met after you moved to Barcelona from Menorca when you were 15, following your father’s work opportunities. 

It worked out for you, finally given some opportunities to progress in the sport that you had discovered you were good at, able to trial for the prestigious La Masia, to play in front of scouts when you got in. 

You didn’t board, yet you were new to Barcelona. You couldn’t speak a word of Catalan and fit in with the other day girls, yet you didn’t have the bonding experience in the dormitories with the other girls who were from elsewhere in Spain. 

You were lonely, isolated. You spent your lunchtimes in the toilets, you sat alone at the back of your classes and alone on the bus between the school and the training campus. 

But one day, you were assigned partners in a maths class and you were paired up with Alexia Putellas. 

You were terrified, to put it simply. She was like the queen of the school, despite only being in the first year. She was popular, confident, talented. Not the sort of person to befriend the lonely girl from Menorca. 

But you were partnered together and despite expecting the maths to be awkward and tense, you actually enjoyed it. You laughed with her like you hadn’t laughed with someone since moving across the country. She spoke in Spanish without a complaint, telling you that she would help you with your Catalan, that some people in your grade were just too snobby. 

You always thought she was the ringleader of them, but as you got to know her, sat together in maths class, you realised she was quite the opposite to what you thought. 

She was kind, funny. She always had a witty comeback at the ready, something to make you laugh. She wasn’t great at maths, but she didn’t let you pull her through it, insistent on learning the concepts, of mastering them like she did everything else. 

She loved her friends, her family. You thought that maybe one day you would be real friends with her too, not just someone she sat with in maths class in that first year of La Masia. 

But eventually she wondered why she never saw you in the cafeteria during lunch, why you were always by yourself at the front of the bus when everyone else was loud and rowdy with their friends. 

It was a soft topic for you, self conscious of your severe lack of friends, especially in front of Alexia Putellas - likely the most popular and respected person in your year. 

But she understood when you told her you didn’t really have a group and said that you were more than welcome to sit with her and her friends. 

You smiled, thanking her, but you knew you would not accept her offer. It was one thing to have no friends, but another thing entirely to go over to the group of popular girls as Alexia Putellas’ charity case. 

Another few weeks went by and she brought it up again, wondering why you were still sitting in the toilets. She made a joke about it, you blushed and the rest of the maths lesson was awkward, neither of you quite knowing what to say. 

But at lunch time that day, you walked into the toilets and found them occupied, Alexia sat on the bench and munching on her lunch. 

“This is so unhygienic,” she had remarked. “I promise, it’s so much nicer outside.”

It was the start of something that quickly became your whole life. Alexia Putellas became your whole world. You were inseparable, Eli became another mother, Jaume another father and Alba became the younger sister that you had wished for your whole life. 

You were 13 when you met, 13 when you became friends. 

You never stopped being friends, but somewhere along the way, sometime when the pair of you moved into the B team she had kissed you. It was short, experimental. It was both of your first kisses, and quite quickly you both realised that neither of you ever wanted to kiss anyone else. 

You were 18 when she kissed you, 18 when she asked you to be her girlfriend. 

Neither of you had ever looked back. 

Even when you were sent away from each other on loans, you struggled through long distance together. 

When Jaume died you both moved back to Barcelona, both grieving the death of the vivacious man. 

You supported her throughout it all, you were her rock when she was so busy being the rock for her mother and for Alba. 

She always said that she never could have gotten through that time without you, she wouldn’t be where she is today if you weren’t there with her all those years ago. 

It might be why she feels so guilty now, because she didn’t think she was there for you like you were for her. Because if she was there, really there, you surely would have told her that something was wrong. 

But she didn’t know that it had been a problem since before you’d met, since you lived in Menorca, not even aware of each other’s existences. 

“Ale. Please.” You look over at her longingly as she once again eases herself onto your bed, settling uncomfortably on top of the sheets. 

She gives you a look, confused and uncertain. 

“What do you need?”

You sigh. 

“I need you.”

She frowns, biting her lip as if assessing her options. She can either stay where she is, not moving you at all but likely disappointing you or she can move into your space, pleasing you but potentially aggravating your back 

But before she can make her own decision, you do it for her, reaching out and pulling her towards you, into your arms. She rests her head gingerly on your chest and you feel her exhale, tension quickly leaving her body as your arms wrap around her. 

“You can breathe now, Ale. I’m alright. I just need you to be alright too.”

She nods, her eyes closed. She inhales a deep breath, releasing it out onto you. 

“I love you. I just want you to be ok.”

You nod, feeling her becoming more stressed again. 

“I will be. It’ll be one surgery and then rehab. I’ll be back out there before you know it. Can’t let you get that much better than me, can I?”

She chuckles dryly, shaking her head. 

“No, never.” 

She hesitates and a comfortable silence settles upon you. It’s easy to read her, after knowing her for so long. You know when she’s sad, happy, angry. You can read the deeper emotions too and you can easily tell when she’s hiding behind those more superficial ones. 

And right now you can tell she has more to say, which is why you aren’t surprised when she breaks the silence.

“I will be here for you, every single day.”

It’s a reassurance you didn’t need. You knew she would always be here for you. 

“And I’m going to be the person you talk to, the person you cry to and the person you yell at. There may be times where you don’t want to do it any more, when it’s just all so hard that you want to give up… I won’t let you and you will hate me for it. I just want you to always remember that I am going to help you because I love you. I love you more than anything in this world.”

You wipe away the tears that slipped down her cheeks, smiling softly and planting a kiss on her head. 

“I know. I know it all comes from that big heart of yours. And I love you too, of course. Even if I tell you I don’t, I do. Even when I’m yelling, begging you to let me stop, I love you.”

She nods, another silence falling upon you. 

It was necessary that night. A new territory that you entered when she tore her ACL, but not one that’s ever been this way round. 

You’d never even had a serious injury before. 

~~~~~~

The year passed and you were good. You went through rehab, you made your comeback in a full stadium for the last 5 minutes of a champions league quarter final. 

Your back was pain free and you had been thriving. Better than ever, completely happy.

But then you felt a twinge. A small twinge but one that was overwhelmingly and terrifyingly familiar. 

For a couple of days, you pretended that it wasn’t there. You fought off its existence, praying that it was nothing big, praying that it was a… phantom pain or something. 

Your surgeons had told you that there was a small chance that the remaining parts of the discs they cut up could do the same thing, would herniate again. It was unlikely, but there was a possibility that you’d have to go through the whole thing again. 

They had stressed how unlikely that was, put so much emphasis on how the surgery was a success and they expected you to have a full recovery. 

But as you sat at home, waiting for Alexia to return, you knew that wasn’t the case. 

The injury was something you were familiar with and you knew you wouldn’t be able to ignore it for any longer. You had herniated discs again, or something, and you knew they couldn’t keep doing the same thing - they couldn’t take out more of your discs like last time. 

You allowed the tears to fall freely, a complete feeling of helplessness washing over you. You had done everything right, you were sure, yet it came back. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Alexia found you like that, in tears on the sofa and she was quick to rush to your side as soon as she opened the door. 

“It’s back, Ale.” 

You had broken down then, sobbing into her chest as her arms wrapped around you, holding you tight. 

You could tell by the way that she tensed that she knew what you meant. You could tell by the shaking of her voice that she was just as scared as you were. 

“What’s back, my love?”

You looked up at her, tears in your eyes and a look passed between you. One of understanding, of care. She knew what you meant, she just needed to hear it from you to really believe it.

“The pain.”

~~~~~~

This time was different to last time. Instead of waiting until the pain was so unbearable that you had to be carried off a pitch in a stretcher, you were waiting in the physios office two weeks later, Alexia beside you. You’d visited them already and they told you to go to the hospital. You had scans, MRIs. Massages too. But they didn’t give you the results, instead sending them straight back to the club. 

The physios at the club knew you best, they knew what you could and couldn’t do and they knew exactly what you needed to be able to continue at this level. 

They could tell you that it was completely fine. Or they could tell you that it is the end of your career. 

Alexia knew that, which explained why her hands were shaking more than yours, why you had to put in headphones to block out the sound of her foot tapping on the cold and hard floor. Her nerves were more superficial than yours, easier to identify. 

Yours were hidden deep within you, as if they had been pinched and were being held back by your false display of confidence. 

But Alexia could read you and she didn’t have to look twice to understand that you were anxious. That the next ten minutes could either change the trajectory of your life or mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

Neither of you were naive, you both were aware that this injury wasn’t something to be played through, your nerves and spinal cord were not something you could mess around with now and worry about once your career had finished. 

But all she could really do was squeeze your hand reassuringly when it fell into hers, leading you blindly into the office as the physios told you they were ready for you. 

As they spoke, you realised that you’d spent the last year preparing yourself for this moment, for the words that were spilling out of their mouths. 

Alexia’s hand tensed around yours, her breathing hitching as they finished. 

But you were frozen in your spot. 

“They can chop up your back over and over again but eventually they’ll run out of things to cut out. It’s in your best interest to stop now, to stop while you're ahead.”

“So she has to retire?”

They discussed other options, therapies that could ease your pain. Surgeries that would take out different parts of your spine, trying to relieve it from the pressure that the herniated discs were putting on it. 

But they weren’t confident, not like last time. Last time they would tell you it was just a bump in the road, but this appointment feels like you’ve already reached the very end. Their lack of confidence, the frowns that are carried by the creases in their foreheads, it tells you all you need to know. 

Your realisation was immediate. You realised that you’ll be alright because even though this could very well be the end of your road at Barcelona, it’s not the end of everything. It’s not the end of you. 

Alexia is close to tears as you leave, her hand gripping yours so tight that you’d be surprised if there was still blood circulating in your fingers by the time you reached the car. 

“They mentioned therapies, you can try it. And the laminectomy? It’s completely different to the discectomy that you had last year. You’ll be alright, my love, you’ll be back on the pitch. It’s not the end, I promise.”

You smile, eyes watering. Surprisingly, it’s not because you’re upset about the potential retirement, but more because of Alexia’s clear distress. 

“It’s alright, Ale. I just need to have a think about it all, think about what the best options are moving forward.”

She frowns, but you can tell she’s biting her tongue. 

You can understand why as well, because if Alexia was in your shoes it wouldn’t be something she’d have to think about. She’d put her body through anything if it meant she could play.

It didn’t matter what consequences it could have on the future, it didn’t matter how brutal recovery could be. 

Anything to be part of something so much bigger than herself, anything to experience that pure bliss, to feel on top of the world. 

She would do it, no questions asked and no thoughts needed. 

The end of her road at Barcelona would be the end of her. 

But you’re different to Alexia, in more ways than one. You’re a defender, she’s a midfielder. 

You are more approachable, but she is better at bonding with younger players. 

She’s funnier, but you are more kind. 

You don’t have the confidence that the most popular girl in school would, but she does because she was the most popular girl in school. 

You don’t carry that same passion as her, you wouldn’t die for your sport like she would. 

You love football, of course you do. Right now a world with football seems so meaningless, like the one thing that you love is being stolen from you. 

But unlike Alexia, you know you will be able to move on from that. You will find a new career, you may study to become something different. 

Alexia would never be anything other than a footballer. It’s in her DNA, her entire identity. It’s what gets her out of bed in the mornings, what forces her to eat, to charge her body and to put herself through so much pain and so much strain. 

It’s who she is. 

It’s who she thinks you are too because for her, football is everything. 

It’s when you get back home that she speaks, her words even and clearly thought out. A script, of sorts, one that you are sure she had been planning since the moment you told her you needed to think.

“It’s not the end, my love. You heard them, they told you there are surgeries, different ones. There are different therapies that can make it hurt less, maybe to even fix it. You can’t let those stupid vertebral discs win this fight. You can come back, I know you and I know you can do this. Because you’re the strongest person I have ever met, you can do anything.”

She takes a deep breath and you shake your head. She doesn’t let you speak though, not yet. 

“I know it’s hard, it’s not what you wanted to hear. It doesn’t feel like something you can fix either, not when you tried less than a year ago and it’s already bad again. I know that. I know how it feels because I had the same thing with my knee. But I had the second surgery, I got better and I trained, I rehabbed and I put in so many hours. It was all worth it though because now I get to run out every week and play the sport I love. I get to run out onto the pitch every week with the girl I love right by my side. You have to give this a go, please. If not for yourself, give it a go for me.”

You sigh, biting your lip as she finishes. 

“Ale… it’s not the same. It’s a spinal cord injury, it’s not something that I can play around with. I don’t want to do this now and then by the time I’m 40 have crippling arthritis in my back or have chronic pain that’s worse than when it all started. I know they said therapies, I know they suggested surgeries but I don’t want any more surgeons poking around in my back. I don’t want them to chop off half of the bones in my back because even then they can’t promise I’d ever be match fit again.”

“But you would be! I’m sure of it! You would get better, you would be able to fight against it.”

You shake your head, reaching out and letting your hand rest on your shoulder. 

“I can’t do it, Alexia, I can’t. We’re different, you and me. I don’t want to mess up my body forever for football. I’ve had a brilliant career, it’s alright if it’s ove-”

“Stop! Don’t say that!” Her eyes began to water, shaking your hand off her and standing up. “You can’t just… quit! It’s not who you are, it’s not what you do. You’re not a quitter, amor! You’re a fighter, stronger than me. You have to fight for what you love. There’s a chance that you’ll be fine and if you don’t even try you’ll spend your life not knowing whether you should have given it a go or not.”

“I’d rather that than spend my life regretting having the surgery, in pain and stuck in a broken body.”

“I don’t want to say something I regret.”

She shakes her head, walking away. 

You know what she wanted to say. You know how desperate she was to yell, to tell you that you should try. That giving up now was the worst thing you could possibly choose to do. She wanted to tell you that your life would mean nothing without football, that you would have nothing left. 

Because for her, that is true. It is what she believes. 

Her passion is something you admire, but sometimes, it is like poison. 

It’s when she shuts the door behind her that you let the tears spill out. Because of course you’re upset, of course you don’t want it to be the end.

You would much rather keep playing, stay where you are with your friends, with your girlfriend. 

But sometimes it’s not that easy. Sometimes you have to learn to say goodbye to the things you love. 

You make your decision two weeks later, taking it upon yourself to talk to the club, only mentioning to Alexia that you’re not going to have the surgery. 

She doesn’t take it well when you tell her you’re going to announce your retirement in the coming days, collapsing into tears but refusing your comfort.

“You don’t understand what I’m thinking, mi amor. If you did, you wouldn’t have chosen this.”

You want to tell her that you do understand, that you know exactly what she’s thinking. You want to tell her that you’re not choosing anything, that you’re completely devastated that this is the end. 

But she doesn’t stay to listen, instead escaping and driving away again, you assume to Eli’s. She went to see Alba last time but she had quickly sent her sister back, scolding her for being so naive. 

Alexia had no idea what her younger sister was talking about. 

A week after telling Alexia, you head into the club. They told everyone it was a mandatory film session to prepare them for the upcoming game. You were the only one who knew the true reason for the random session, although upon arriving you realise Alexia also knows. 

There’s no way she’d miss a film session so important. 

It’s alright for her to miss you announcing your retirement. 

But you think everyone sort of can understand where the meeting is going as soon as you stand out the front, biting your lip with a soft smile on your face. 

You knew not to beat around the bush, you knew that if you started by telling them what was wrong you would likely break down into tears and become unable to say what you wanted to. 

You refused to admit to yourself how upset you really were, unable to deal with all the sadness that would come with the end of your career. 

You refused to reminisce on the past, on joining La Masia, debuting for your club. The euphoria that came with finally signing that piece of paper, the pride that came with finally being called up for the senior national team. 

It had all felt so surreal then, just a little girl from Menorca, taking the big stage and representing your country. 

Sometimes you still felt like that little girl from Menorca, so naive, so innocent. 

But you couldn’t think about any of that now, not without breaking down in front of all of your teammates. Ex teammates. 

So you were straightforward, maybe even a little harsh. 

“You’re not here for a film session today. You’re here because I’ve made the decision to retire from professional football. I didn’t want to have to make this decision, but there comes a time where you have to look at your priorities. I will miss you all so much and I am so grateful to each and every one of you for shaping my time here. You’re all so important and I can’t wait to see you smash it in the future.”

The room was silent. People’s mouths had fallen open, Mapi was clearly biting back tears. 

There was surprise written over all of their faces, anticipation as if waiting for you to tell them that this was some harsh joke, that you’d sit down and Pere would be able to press play on the film. 

But that wasn’t the case so you instead endured the hugs, the pats on the back and the reassurances that you wouldn’t be alone, that they’d always be there for you. 

You hadn’t ever doubted that, but it wasn’t them that you wanted. 

It was Alexia, more than anyone. But she was the only one who wasn’t there. 

~~~~~~

She returned home a day later, her eyes puffy and bloodshot, her posture defeated. 

“Amor…” 

She took a deep breath, staring at the back of your head. You couldn’t see her but you knew what she would look like, you knew how deep her breath was. 

“I spoke to Mami. She said I was acting like a child. I agree with her.”

You close your eyes, unaware if she’s moving or if she’s just stood by the door. 

“I am here for you. I am supposed to support you through your decisions, to tell you that the things you want are the right things.”

You nod and take a deep breath. 

“I know we’re different, Ale.” You know she has heard the tears in your voice by the way she is quickly moving towards you, her presence immediately warming you up.

“I know you would have made a different decision than what I did. But football isn’t everything to me like it is to you. I love it a lot, but I can live without it.”

She wraps an arm around you, pulling you into her embrace. 

“You are passionate, Alexia. You are so determined and football is almost your entire being. You love it more than anything else in this world and I understand that, I appreciate it and it’s one of the many things I love about you. I know what your decision would be, but I need you to know that we are different. My decision is different to yours. I can live without it. I can live with myself knowing that I chose this, knowing that I’m doing this to save myself from pain, from endless surgeries and rehab.”

You can feel her nod, carding a hand through your hair. 

“I am so confident about this. It’s the right thing. I know it is and nothing anyone says will convince me otherwise. I’ve had a great career. I’ve won the champions league, the world cup. I’ve achieved all my goals for myself and now I just get to watch you achieve yours. As long as you’re by my side, I’ll be happy.”

She inhales shakily. 

“I was wrong, to tell you that you had to have the surgery. I was manipulative, telling you that you would be quitting. Because you’re not. It’s not quitting. I’m proud that you made this decision, really. I’m proud that you could stop yourself while you were ahead, that you could put aside what you really want to what is best for you. I am so sorry that I told you otherwise.”

Her words were exactly what you needed to hear. She knew you better than anyone, you realise. She knows exactly what you need, exactly how to make you feel better. 

Because you collapse into sobs, mourning what you have lost. 

But you’re certain that she knows that while you’re sad now, you’ll be alright soon. It will take some getting used to, but you will find your new normal. You’ll find what you need. 

“And you’re wrong, my love.”

Between cries, you look up at her, your eyebrows furrowed. 

“Football isn’t what I love more than anything in this world. It’s you.”

~~~~~~

3 years later…

It was pure luck that your placement was in the area that you were hoping to work in. 

They could have sent you anywhere, geriatrics, paediatrics. You could have gone to the psych ward in the hospital, you could have been sent to the clinic down the road. 

But you had been put on a sports physio placement, in the workplace that you were hoping to work in once you graduated that year. 

The Barcelona physio team were a familiar group, people you had worked with before, people who knew everything about you, why you had decided to study physio after such a successful career in football. 

It was an added bonus that you were able to watch your wife play, your friends alongside her. 

It was weird, being on the other side of the fence. Being on the staff bus, surrounded by people you were so familiar with yet in a completely unfamiliar role, a completely unfamiliar setting. 

But you loved it, like you had loved every minute of your course so far. 

It was something so different, learning so much about how the body works. Learning about how people are impacted by it, physically and mentally. You had learnt so much in what felt like such a short amount of time but realised just how rewarding it was. 

To help people who feel like they have hit rock bottom. Reassuring them that their lives won’t be altered forever, that they would be able to move on from their injuries, to find something that suits them. 

It was good for you, you had realised. Because you were in that position not long ago. You could relate, you knew how hard it could be. 

“I knew you wouldn’t stay away from football.” 

Alexia chuckled, her voice slightly muffled over the phone line. 

“I wouldn’t have been able to, Ale. Not in a million years.”

But you also knew that there was always an answer. That you always had your people in your corner, no matter what. 

~~~~~~ i don't know if i've ever said this on here but i have herniated discs in my back! it meant i had to quit football and dance but because i was nowhere near elite i didn't need any interventions. i know about this stuff because it was discussed at length :)

anyway let me know what you think and what you want to see!

unless i get any very good requests for part 2 this will very likely just be a oneshot :)

[yamujiburo]

God I've been so on board with the hanamusa train despite coming in late that I just never questioned how Delia decided "this person tried stealing my son's pokemon but its OK bc really all she wanted at the end of the day was someone to validate her existence and I love her and will always let her know her existence is valid" so i went to go read the origin story and... omg its exactly that pretty much. She's sus at the beginning and like, who can blame her!! But the Rocket Trio are genuinely Good People who do Bad Things but ultimately just want to Love and Be Loved and will do anything for that, even if it means sacrificing themselves (thinks back to the episode where they gave up Weezing and Arbok even though it meant losing their long term friends AND getting so beat up in the process... that episode makes me cry)

Your honor, i love them (adds hanamusa to the "ships ill gladly write fic for no questions asked" pile)

YES YOU GET IT!!! Her backstory is sooooo sad but soooo good! And not only are Team Rocket good people but later on in the series, they definitely show that they really care for Ash a bit more

BUT ALSO it cannot be understated that Delia is a liiiiittle dumb. If not dumb then naive and trusting (she's still very young herself). I think about this clip A LOT

Could also speak to how she knows Team Rocket aren't really an actual threat or that she knows they're not BAD bad people.

And if you write that fic PLEASE let me know!!! <3

[keepingsecretstokeepyoutk]

So Long London - Full Lyric Analysis

My Gaylor/Kaylor interpretation at a glance: Taylor uses the bearding narrative of her breakup with Joe as an allegory to talk about her reluctant decision to “break up” with her fans/kill off her public persona in the process of coming out. 

The Joe bearding narrative was likely created for this very purpose - an "ex" who didn't allow her to "bejeweled" (be her whole self), who she tried to make it work with, tried to change herself for, before realizing she couldn't keep sacrificing her wellbeing, mental and otherwise. Read through this lens, this song is devastating, so prepare yourselves emotionally, maybe have tissues on hand.

I interpret a number of the "break up" songs on this album (almost all of them) as being about her reaching the end of her rope with being in the closet and trying to slowly change her fan's attitude towards her queerness. So many of these songs imply that she has hit her breaking point, and the metaphor of a failing romantic relationship is the perfect vehicle to express this shift.

I believe this precedent exists in her work, and for this particular chapter, was established with "You're losing me".

This is also one of a few songs on the album that conceptualize her fame (as obtained with her public, hetero persona) as a place. In this song, that place is represented by London (hence, "so long, London"). In Florida!!! she may be running away to Florida from this place, (after she comes out and needs to escape the backlash). In "I hate it here", she dreams of escaping this place, and imagines two other locales within the lore of her songs - "secret gardens", a probable parallel to Betty's garden and the "garden gates" in Cruel Summer, as well as the "lunar valleys" referencing the galactic landscape established in Down Bad.

Lets get into it!

Verse 1

“Saw in my mind fairy lights in the mist/kept calm and carried the weight of the rift/pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away/my spine split from carrying us up the hill/wet through my clothes, wary bones caught the chill/stopped trying to make him laugh/stopped trying to drill the safe”

In this first verse, Taylor introduces the idea of her fans being like a partner who isn’t present in the relationship, and more importantly, a partner that is ultimately rejecting her true self. 

“Fairy lights in the mist” - Taylor has used daylight/light images to represent the end of her closeting/her coming out for at least 5 years. Here she sees small pinpricks of light amongst darkness and the classic metaphor for hiding/confusion, etc - mist. She is saying that in the past she had hope, she saw a possible path forward to coming out while also keeping all of her fans.

“Kept calm and carried the weight of rift/pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away” - Taylor reflects on her years of hoping that she could slowly introduce her fans the idea that she is not straight, then come out with minimal rupture in her relationship with her fans. She tried to keep the faith and looked past a lot of bad behavior on the part of some of her fans, convinced that she could make them see her and that their love for her would extend past their need for her being the persona they have grown attached to.

“Stopped trying to make him laugh/stopped trying to drill the safe” - ultimately, she gave up, having been rejected too many times - ignored when she clearly signaled her gayness and the masses of her fans just refused to acknowledge it. Beyond refusing to acknowledge it, they bullied those that did see it, demonstrating to her how reviling they found the idea that she might be queer. “Drill the safe” is a metaphor for trying to force something that will never happen, she is realizing she needs to let go of something that isn’t for her.

Chorus

“How much sad did you think I had/did you think I had in me/oh the tragedy/so long London/ you’ll find someone” 

Taylor now must ask her fans, how long did you expect me to sacrifice my own happiness while you continue to ignore my pleas for you to see me? 

“You’ll find someone” = you’ll find another idol/para social relationship to obsess over, identify with, etc. This is a reference to Dear Reader, when she sang “you should find another guiding light.” In that song, Taylor warned fans that she is not who they think she is ("you wouldn't take my word for it if you knew who was talking"), that the idea they have of her life is constructed, and strongly lamented her life choices, essentially telling fans they shouldn't look to her for life advice, because she is lonely and miserable. Here, the reference not only underscores the idea that they don't know her, but also that she is making the choice for them to "find someone" else, because she is choosing to come out of hiding, and in so doing, is also choosing to leave behind the misery that made her write Dear Reader in the first place.

Verse 2

“Didn’t opt in to be your odd man out/I founded the club she’s heard great things about/ I left all I knew/you left me in the house by the heath/I stopped cpr after all it’s no use/the spirit was gone, we would never come to/ and I’m pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.”

I made a post about the "Heath" reference that you can read here. Please note the reblog of it that I added an addendum to about the Heath being a park in London. Heath was a doctor that practiced conversion therapy, meaning that her fans "left her at home" with someone trying to change her. By ignoring her signaling, they told her they didn't want the real her, which kept her in the closet, and I fear kept her more vulnerable to those who may have tried to manipulate her into trying to change herself, or deny her true self even behind closed doors.

"I stopped cpr after all its no use/the spirit was gone we would never come to" - again Taylor is using the of a failed romantic relationship to express her lost hope in salvaging the corners of her kingdom that ultimately won't accept her when she comes out. This is also an example of the frequent gothic/death related imagery Taylor uses on this album, a theme consistent with the idea that something is ending, that she is killing off her public persona.

"and I'm pissed off that you let me give you all that youth for free" Taylor has spent so many years choosing her fans and her current carrer path over the full expression of her life and happiness. Again, she had hope that the people who have given her endless validation and effusive praise for years would accept her for who she is. She is realizing that the love between her and at least some of her fans was conditional, and given what we know of how much her fans have meant to her over the course of her career, this was likely a devastating wake up call that took years for her to accept - undoubtedly a huge factor in her seemingly delaying her coming out so many times.

"So long London/Stitches undone/two graves, one gun/I’ll find someone”

Taylor has said her fans are her longest relationship; the imagery in this song reflects the idea that this is a break up with someone she has tried with over and over again. So she undoes the “stitches” that link her to them. This line references her song Glitch on Midnights, “fasten myself to you with a stitch” symbolizing being bonded with a romantic partner (which represent a portion of her fans in this song).

"Two graves one gun" is likely a reference to burying her public persona self, and the second grave could represent her fans (a parallel to the "cheating husband" in "Florida!!!"?) or it could be a shrouded suicidal thought - the second grave being her private persona - both selves being killed off. This lyric is one of my favorites in this song but I don't have a strong conviction on who the second grave is, I'm very open to others' thoughts...

Bridge

“And you say I abandoned the ship/but I was going down with it/my white knuckle dying grip/holding tight to your quiet resentment/and my friends said it isn't right to be scared/every day of a love affair/every breath feels like rarest air/ when you're not sure if he wants to be there/So how much sad did you think I had, did you think I had in me/How much tragedy/Just how low did you think I'd go/Before I'd self implode/before I had to go be free"

"And you say I abandoned the ship...white knuckle dying grip" Taylor emphasizes her wish for things to be different with this lyric, clinging to her ship as it sinks. We all saw her try to right the ship, she's finally choosing to let go and swim to safety (a nautical parrallel to the manuscript's "my trip to your shores"?).

“My friends said it isn’t right to be scared everyday of a love affair…if you’re not sure he wants to be there”

Similar to when someone is in a bad romantic relationship, i imagine her friends expressed their concern that her relationship with her fans is unhealthy. Although many of her friends are high achievers themselves, Taylor’s success is in another league (monster on the hill) and they would likely have expressed their hope that she can slow down and accept a slightly less monumental career in the interest of her mental health. 

“How much sad did you think I had/did you think I had in me/Just how low did you think I’d go?” “before I self implode/before I have yo go be free”

Taylor imagines arguing with her fans in the throes of the break up, and in this passage it becomes clear that she is convinced they know the truth but are refusing to acknowledge it. That they allowed her to keep faking her straight persona for their sake. That she was a woman pushed to her limits by a partner (fans) who knew they were running her ragged, a partner that didn’t in fact love her, but loved what she could do for them.

 So she asks them, how long did you think I could keep doing this before it broke me? How long did you think I would go along with this, be willing to sacrifice for you? how much would she fake/take the money to keep up the straight persona?

“You swore that you loved me but where were the clues?/I died on the altar waiting for the proof/ you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days”

The para social relationship is again a perfect match for the metaphor of a partner that uses you but doesn’t meet you in relationship as a full person. The praise puts you on an altar, but their actions don’t reflect the effusive words. “Bluest days” is a red herring to match the bearding narrative/fan rumor that Joe’s mental health affected their relationship, but also could be interpreted as the fans overlooking her truth in the interest of relying on the idea that their favorite pop star has the same boy problems that they do, their "bluest days" were the days they were torn up over a relationship or an unrequited love and needed her break up anthems, and they wouldn't have the same effect if they knew (and weren't in denial) that the songs are about women (or now about them, ironically).

Last Verse/Outro

“I’m just getting color back into my face/im just mad as hell cause I loved this place/for so long London/had a good run/moment of war son/but I’m not the one”

The first line here parallels the language in “you’re losing me”, which uses the metaphor of a relationship literally dying (“i can’t find a pulse”, etc). In this song she is leaving the relationship to save herself, and in leaving she is recovering her health, hence getting the color back in her face after being pale when sick and near death.

“This place” or London, is a stand in for the world, the Swiftverse that she created for and with her fans. It had been her life’s work, her source of pride, self worth, her legacy, but now she must leave, because it was built in large part around a self she created to make herself palatable to the fans she amassed. She can’t be that person anymore, and maybe in some ways “this place” doesn’t even really feel like hers. This parallels Florida!!!, "your home's really a town you're just a guest in/so you work your life away/just to pay for a timeshare down in Destin". She is just a guest in the musical world of the brand of Taylor Swift that she spent her whole life building ("the story isn't mine anymore")

To close, she repeats the main lines of the chorus,

“So long London/Stitches undone/two graves, one gun/you’ll find someone” 

This repetition drives home the finality of this decision - her exit, her killing her public persona, her detaching herself from those that don't see and support her, and her reassuring herself that those people will find someone else to worship, and someone else to see themselves in, and her realization and relief that they aren't her responsibility anymore.

[lesbiantrish]

hiya!! ive been meaning to do this for awhile…

but uh! this is a music analysis for thoschei for so long, london (taylor swift ) !!!

( @thetorturedlovergirl @dykethoschei )

“i saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist” so i could be remembering wrong but i believe during the gallifrey flashbacks in divided loyalties, they talk about some sort of lights overhead? how koschei and theta probably saw them together.

“i kept calm and carried the weight of the rift” koschei was dying inside all that time at the academy, but she couldnt let herself show it. for theta.

“pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away” koschei tried so hard to hold onto theta. but the truth? theta was going to leave in every timeline.

“my spine split from carrying us up the hill” again, koschei just wanted theta. that was all. they tried so hard to hold onto him, but he didnt even see it. maybe he did. it didnt matter.

“i stopped trying to make him laugh” they used to be so close. one day it just wasnt worth it anymore. he couldnt pine after a ghost.

“thinkin, how much sad did you think i had” koschei was always there for theta. did theta even see it?

“so long, london” not leaving london, but gallifrey. afterall, koschei couldnt sit and wait around for theta to come back forever, could he? he had to move on. move on without theta.

“you’ll find someone” because theta did. again and again. companion after companion.

“i didnt opt in to be your odd man out” theta has loved so many, but apparently he could never bring themself to love koschei.

“i left all i knew” because he did. koschei left all he knew on gallifrey, and went to search for a purpose.

“you left me at the house by the heath” why did you have to go theta? didnt u understand koschei was going to love you forever? she did. they still do. it wasn’t enough.

“i stopped CPR, after all its no use” theres no use trying to be good when everyone has always treated u like what u r, a monster.

“and im pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free” they were just kids. koschei wasted her teen years loving someone that was always going to leave.

“two graves, one gun” in the end, its always theta pointing a gun at koschei, and koschei welcomes Death.

“and you say i abandoned the ship, but i was going down with it” theta was always so mad at koschei, but koschei would have sacrificed everything for theta. and didnt she?

“my white knuckle dying grip” koschei was always meant to die by the doctor’s hands. and he will continue to every time.

“holding tight to your quiet resentment” maybe it isnt so quiet. but its there.

“my friends said it wasnt right to be scared, every day of a love affair” this could mean multiple things. maybe koschei talked to the deca about theta?

“every breath feels like rarest air, when you’re not sure if he wants to be there” koschei never knew that theta loved him. she knew. of course she did. it didnt matter.

“just how long did you think i’d go? before i’d self implode” how long would koschei have waited for theta? not forever. he was always going to break eventually.

“you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues” again, koschei was begging to be noticed. theta didnt even see them.

“i died on the altar waiting for the proof” even now, koschei is just trying to get theta to look at him. he dies every time.

“you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days” about how theta left (in the divided loyalties flashbacks) and went and found the toy maker. he was a god.

“and im just getting color back into my face” will koschei ever be over theta? no. i dont think so.

“im just mad as hell cause i loved this place” gallifrey, but more, theta.

“had a good run, a moment of warm sun” they were happy for a bit, so was it all worth it? was all the pain and suffering and death worth a few of theta’s smiles? theta will look at anyone but koschei. why?

[lizzyscribbles]

Tonight's blabber is brought to you by sleep deprivation and my desire to ignore it long enough to try to get my sleep schedule back on track. Drink your electrolytes when you're out in the sun for long periods of time kids, even if you don't feel thirsty, don't be me.

Lizzy's MHA Ramble of the Evening (I need a shorter title for these things): Why I think Toga's death was one of the best in the series.

Now, before I begin, I have to say that as an author, I think that her dying was a good choice since it seems so authentic to her character and I can’t see an end where she’d be happy being captured. Over and over again, she shows us that she's only going to do what she wants. It makes the whole scene so much more impactful, because it shows us how much Ochaco's words really meant to her. We know from over the course of the series that Himiko doesn't do shit she doesn't want to, that's the whole point of her being in the league. So, her sacrificing herself because she wanted to just feels so right and satisfying from an author standpoint, it's the kind of development I die for. Could it have been better? Probably! But that’s a thought for another time.

...But, as a fan, it hurts my heart so much. Toga was another character, much like Bakugo, that I hated so much in the beginning yet grew to love by the end. Her story hits home for me for several reasons, but mostly because it not only shows the importance of finding people who don't ask you to be someone else for their comfort, but also inspires us to be that person for someone else.

You see, love is a funny thing, mostly because it's never the same twice. Be it platonic, romantic, familial or friend, it's never something I think we'll fully understand. However, I do believe this:

Himiko Toga was never truly loved before she ended up in the league.

I don't necessarily mean romantic love here, by the way, I feel like I should say that. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but I don't really think that's what matters here anyway.

We see at the end of Toga's fight with Ochaco where she gives the hero her blood that she ponders what she would've done if she'd found love sooner, love that made her want to give and not take. I think that tells us a lot about the love she received before she left. She was under the impression that love was all take, take, take, and I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that's because that was the only kind of "love" she ever received.

That is, until Ochaco came along and offered up herself, even when she didn't have to. Like Himiko tells her, Ochaco could've killed her and she would've been in the right, but she doesn't. Instead of demanding something from Toga like everyone else had done, Ochaco offered a part of herself at no cost. She didn't expect anything back, she didn't ask for anything back, she didn't even tell her to stop, she just offered her wrist and said "please, tell me everything".

She doesn't apologize, she doesn't beg, she levels with Toga as a person and shows her what love actually is. And what does Himiko do with that? She turns around and gives it back. Even though she could've let Ochaco die and moved on, creating an easier world for her to live in, she didn't. I think that's the magic of love, as cheesy as it sounds, the second she got a taste of what it truly was she realized it was worth dying for.

In a lot of ways, love is a sacrifice, a piece of yourself you never expect to get back. But, sometimes, when you find those people who love you as much as you love them, they take your love and give you theirs.

Love is a lot of things. It makes you happy, it makes you sad, it makes you safe, and sometimes it forces you to be a little uncomfortable while you face things you didn't want to face. To love someone is to make them happy yes, but it's also to help them realize that it's okay to not be okay. Love is beautiful, but it hurts sometimes.

No one forced Himiko to give her life for Ochaco's, she didn't do it out of a warped sense of duty or because it's what she was supposed to do, she did it because for once in her life she found someone worth giving to instead of taking from.

Himiko died, but she died how she lived, doing exactly what she wanted to, and I don't think she'd have wanted it any other way.

In a way, Ochaco did save her, just like Izuku saved Tomura, even if it wasn't the way they intended to.

Okay I HAVE to go to bed because I can't keep my eyes open so hopefully that all made sense, farewell all and if anyone has any fix-it fanfics with Himiko please recommend because my heart hurts after writing that.

[writing-fanics]

. wild uncharted waters .

Prince Eric x Fem!Reader

[Chapter Five: Brokenhearted ]

table of contents

@ladynoiree @bambi-horror @or-was-it-just-a-dream @jakesullylvr @katies-reading-space  @anangelwhodidntfall​ @h-l-vlovesvintage @whosmadij

​ Gabriella delivered the unfortunate news to her sister that Eric’s engagement party two the mystery woman. Her sister's reaction showed the devastation caused by this revelation, as her face fell with hopelessness. After confessing her feelings to Eric and him needing time to think, the news of his impending engagement made it clear that he had made his decision.

Gabriella noticed her sister's sniffling coming from the bedroom and approached the door. Upon opening it, she saw [Y/n] lying in bed with an item from Eric's voyage, gently rubbing her thumb against it. Gabriella knelt in front of her sister and [Y/n] spoke softly, "You were wrong..."

Gabriella expressed sympathy towards [Y/n] by placing her hand on their wrist and comforting them. She acknowledged the pain of heartbreak and reminded [Y/n] of their positive qualities, stating that Eric did not appreciate them and lost out on a wonderful person. Gabriella attempted to uplift her sister's spirits during this difficult time.

As she stared at the item that Eric gave her from one of his voyages, “I wanna be alone for a bit.” She said, and her sister looked at her and nodded. “Okay, I’ll make your favorite for dinner tonight okay,” Gabriella said, and her sister didn’t say anything, just stared at the item in her hand. She looked out the window and looked down at the item, she climbed out of the window and down the side. Once landing on her feet, she made her way towards the beach. 

>>-----------<< 

With a heavy heart, she gazed at the object in her hand before tossing it into the ocean. As it sank into the depths, her heart sank with it. She then noticed Ariel sitting on a rock in the middle of the water, and her heart ached for the girl as well. She walked towards the girl and knelt down, and gave her a warm smile

Ariel listened as the girl shared her heartbreak about confessing her feelings to her best friend, Eric. She had held these feelings since they were teens, and finally decided to tell him last night. Unfortunately, Eric did not reciprocate her feelings. The girl explained that her sister, Gabriella, had given her false hope by claiming Eric had feelings for her based on his behavior and actions toward her. It was clear the girl was feeling sad as she looked down at the water.

[Y/n] knelt down beside Ariel, unconcerned about getting her clothes wet. "You can tell she was wrong," she said. "I'm surprised Eric didn't choose you. You both looked so happy together. I would have wished you every bit of happiness, even if it meant sacrificing my own." Ariel looked at her sadly, realizing that [Y/n] had loved Eric for longer than she ever had. Ariel was unaware of how close Eric and [Y/n] were, but now she realizes it. She noticed the way he spoke about [Y/n] with longing, even though it made her heart ache. 

“There you are, I've been looking!” A bird landed on the rocks beside the two girls, and [Y/n] looked at the bird dumbfounded. ‘Is that bird talking?’ She thought to herself, “I thought I found you cause I heard your voice. B-But then I saw it wasn’t you it was her!” the bird shouted, and [Y/n] stared at it completely shocked, “I-In the mirror,” the bird rambled on, “S-She had your voice.” the bird rambled on, “What’re you talking about?” Sebastian said, looking up at Scuttle. 

‘The crab just talked’ 

“Don't you hear what I’m telling you” Scuttle shouted, looking down at Sebastian,“The prince is being tricked!” She said, both Ariel and [Y/n] look at Scuttle shocked, “That lady that showed up is actually the sea witch in disguise.” [Y/n] was still trying to process everything, “What’s going on here?!” [Y/n] said, and then for a moment, “You know what, forget it. At least it’ll help me forget about the awful week I’m having.” She said, Immediately, jumping into the water along with Airel to swim toward where the wedding is being held. 

….

Ariel and [Y/n], up the stairs as fast as they could to stale the engagement. The sun slowly started to set in the distance, and Ariel’s time on land slowly running out of time. 

At present, Eric is feeling uncertain and something doesn't seem right. He is trying to locate [Y/n], but even her sister hasn't seen her since this morning, and Ariel is also missing. Just now, his mother handed him a ring that once belong to her mother and is now giving it to him. Eric held the ring in his hand, and looked at it. 

“Oh Eric, it’s beautiful.” Vanessa said, looking at the ring. Scuttle flew down squawking as she flew towards Eric, bumping him causing him to drop the ring it falling to the ground, by Grimsby foot.

“The ring the ring I’ve lost it.” Eric said, looking around frantically for the ring. Grismby looked down and pursed his lips and kicked the ring to the side and looked around as if nothing had happened.  

Scuttle came back and landed on Vanessa and started to attack her and peck at her head, “Get away you filthy bird!” Vanessa shouted, swatting at Scuttle. Lashana who was holding back Max, let him go and the dog ran towards Vanessa and started pouncing on her. Max sarted barking, as Vanessa climbed up onto the fountain. “Help me, I’m being attacked!” She shouted, and just then Ariel and [Y/n] appeared. 

“Y/n,” Eric said, breathlessly seeing her as her and Ariel push through the crowds of people. “Y/n, I’ve been looking for you everywhere, and she immediately along with Ariel ran right past him towards Vanessa.

Ariel pulled on her hair and swiftly grab onto the necklace, around her neck. “What’re you doing!” Vanessa shouted, at Ariel and [Y/n] glared at her as a cat fight ensued. 

Ariel continued to play tug of war with Vanessa who held a tight grip on the necklace. [Y/n] had a tight grip on one of Vanessa’s arms to help pry it off the necklace, that Ariel so desperately wanted.

After a few moments, Ariel was underneath Vanessa still trying to grab the necklace. Eric shouted, at the two of them to stop but they didn’t listen, and [Y/n] tugged on Vanessa’s hair causing her to scream in pain. 

Allowing, Ariel to tug the necklace off from around her neck and kick Vanessa sending her falling backwards. Ariel stood to her feet and smashed the shell necklace on the ground, a blue orb coming out and a voice could be heard singing. Everyone, including [Y/n] watched as it floated up and then towards Ariel. Finally restoring her voice. 

[tamlinrose]

NuWho Characters as The Entities (TMA)

9th Doctor- The Desolation.

He is fresh off the time war, where millions were sacrificed in flame. He is the main cause of death of his entire people and rose like a phoenix from the ashes. DEFINITELY the desolation

Rose- The Eye.

Come on, she becomes an all knowing goddess of Time. How could Bad Wolf NOT be the Eye??

Captain Jack Harkness- The End.

He literally dies over and over and over. Even though he can’t permanently die, I’d say he’s feeding The End some good cosmic horror

The Tenth Doctor- The Lonely.

Pretty self explanatory. He desires companionship so much, but everyone leaves him, whether by choice or force. In the end, he is all alone. And regenerates knowing that for all the connections he made, none could stay. Sad wet boy

Martha- The Hunt.

I debated this one, but I think especially her traveling across the world with the sheer determination to defeat the Master shows her becoming the predator instead of the prey. She also becomes a unit soldier, and her arc is her adopting the soldier mentality the doctor so hates about himself onto herself out of survival.

Donna- The Spiral.

Her whole arc is around not being able to trust herself, her own mind because she’s been told she isn’t clever or worthwhile so many times. Not to mention Fear Her, where everything about the World is Not Right and she’s at the center of the wrongness vortex.

Sarah Jane- The Web.

She’s a journalist, she’s constantly picking at threads, finding out information she shouldn’t have, weaving it to her will. I also think that the doctor dropping her off and ditching her without her consent is playing into the fear of having your life puppeted by forces outside of your control.

11th Doctor- The Stranger.

Idk something about him… his penchant for theatrics, his burning desire to be human but always being just slightly left of human behavior, mannerisms. It’s like he’s mimicking the humanity he wants so bad, but it just gives him the uncanny valley affect that makes him even more alien than ever.

River- also the Web

She is scared of being controlled by forces beyond her. She was brainwashed into wanting to kill the doctor and ultimately it is not her will that pushes her to do so. She lives to be free of influence but she is controlled by the outside forces of the time stream discrepancies that keep her and the doctor apart.

Amy- The Flesh.

Okay this is for silly goofy reasons, but the fact she was LITERALLY a flesh avatar for like a full season really sells it for me. Not to mention a lot of her arc is very centered on body horror (pregnancy without her knowledge, giving birth, not being able to have kids, etc).

Rory: Also an avatar of The End.

He just dies so many times man, him and captain Jack should go to couples therapy or smthn

12: The Dark.

Okay hear me out. It’s the oldest fear entity, which I think really folds in with 12s general air of wisdom and the fact he’s been around a fucking long time. Also, he has that entire episodes where he tries to find out what lives in the dark at the end of the universe, and what lives under the bed that absolutely does not wish to be seen.

Clara: Also The Desolation

She is sooooo self destructive man. Especially after Danny Pink dies, she’s willing to burn it all to the ground. Her eventual demise is because she is impulsive to a fault, and in some ways it could be argued she has a death wish.

Bill: The Vast

She just gives me that childlike wonder for new worlds and the open sky. IK this seems like pretty vague reasoning but I think like Simon Fairchild she just loves the vastness of the universe so much that she eventually goes travelling with star eyed girl to see it all.

13: also The Vast

Citing that youthful wonder again. Honestly I don’t know much about 13 or her companions so if you have Headcanons for Yaz, Ryan, Graham and 13 hmu! Tag them below

The War Doctor: The Extinction

Self explanatory. He’s the doctor who ends it all, his entire species. And that choice defines and haunts him into future incarnations.

The Master: The Slaughter

Senseless chaotic violence for the sake of violence. Sounds pretty on brand.

If you have any contradictions, additional thoughts, or help on 13s era I’d love to hear it in the tags!!!

[seramilla]

So follow up to the homophobic heaven au ask. After Emily comes out to Sera and gets told that it's not love she'll grow out of it and to not tell anyone about it especially the elders. Emily is confused and hurt by Sera's response but what sticks with Emily is that Sera's reaction isn't angry, disappointed, disgusted or sad but instead terrified even when Sera tries to act like she is one of those it's clear to Emily she's mostly acting but Sera's fear is clearly genuine. She decides to try and figure it out she goes and talks to some other angels not coming out to them but more talking about the idea of someone liking someone of their own gender saying a human told them they were worried if their kid would get in because they are gay. Now all the angels who were alive before Lucifer fell supported heaven during that mess but most in the years since then have become somewhat disillusioned and or think the elders are too harsh or disagree with them on some points. So they tell her maybe and explain the whole story of Carmilla who was Sera's best friend and fell after it was revealed that she was in a relationship with a woman and didn't say who it's clear that angels Emily is talking think the elders response was wrong and they talk about how shocking and kinda of messed up how Sera seemed to not react to lossing her best friend and why they have kept somewhat distant from her. Emily realizing the fear how close Sera and Carmilla were described and some other things thay seemed odd growing up concludes that Sera was Carmilla's lover and decides next time she sees her sister to ask about Carmilla.

"Who's Carmilla?"

Hearing that name in her little sister's voice sends such a pang of emotion through Sera's entire body, that she nearly falls over from the shock of it. Slowly, Sera turns to face Emily, who is sitting patiently and humbly on the couch in her office. She's looking at Sera with genuine curiosity -- this isn't some trick, or a gotcha, or a way to get the upper hand. She genuinely wants to know.

When Emily had asked to "talk" earlier that morning, Sera had thought it would be something about the newest wave of Winners about to enter Heaven that day. She thought it could be about virtually anything else; she hadn't expected to be reminded about the woman she's tried all these thousands of years to forget.

"Where did you hear that name?" Sera asks, trying to remain calm, but failing spectacularly. Her eyes are blown wide, and she's shaking all over. She can't stop herself from sweating.

"I don't want to say," Emily answers, meekly.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to punish them."

Oh, Emily. Ever the selfless, self-sacrificing, considerate angel who always puts others' wellbeing before her own. Sera worries so much that she's going to get herself in trouble one of these days. The type of trouble Sera can't protect her from.

Sera bends down in front of Emily, taking the younger woman's cheeks in her hands, stroking them softly. Emily is so small. So young. So fragile in Heaven's eyes.

"I won't punish them...but if you really won't tell me, then may I ask why you're asking?"

"Umm...someone...some people...told me that you cared about her very much. That you were inseparable. Best friends. But when she fell, there were rumors that it didn't even bother you. That you didn't care. But I didn't believe them, Sera! How could you not care? After everything you'd been through together! That's not the Sera I know!"

Sera's fighting back tears now. Just hearing Emily speak that name, and remind her of the special bond she'd shared with Carmilla for so long. Carmilla had opened her heart, made her see herself, and Heaven, and the entire concept of existence and what they're doing up here, in a different light. And to protect herself, she'd pretended nonchalance. She'd acted like it hadn't bothered her, so she could stay here, and make some type of difference in Heaven, even if it was only a little one.

She'd wanted to make Carmilla proud. Now, hearing Emily talk about her again, brings all of those memories and hopes for good intentions to the forefront. After the way Sera had guilted her sister, instead of being honest and explaining things to her...how she'd condemned her sister's actions as confusion or just a phase...Sera wonders how much Carmilla would be ashamed at what she's become.

She's become the thing that she hates most.

"I did care," Sera confirms. "I cared a lot when she fell. So much, that I kept it bottled up inside. To protect myself...and to protect you."

"Sera, did you love her?"

This question of Emily's also catches Sera off guard. Her instincts tell her to lie again, to brush it off, and say no, of course not, that's a sin! The old Sera would do that. She'd do it in a heartbeat. But Sera already feels guilty enough about the way she'd handled Emily confronting her with her feelings about other angels. About women. That she likes women, too.

Emily is so much like her. It's scary how much her sister is a reflection of the High Seraphim.

So Sera tells her the truth. The entire truth, for once in Emily's life, and not some half-baked version of it. Because Emily deserves that much.

Sera sighs heavily.

"I did. I did love her. I loved her so much. Heaven took her away from me. And then they gave me you. And I thought that was recompense enough, for a while. But then I did you wrong, Emily. I lied to you. I'm no better than they are. I'm so sorry. I loved her, and I love you. That shouldn't be a sin to say. Emily, I want you to love as fully, as wholly, as I did. I want you to love as much as you possibly can. Do you hear me? No matter what I or anyone else says. I take back everything I told you before. Can you ever forgive me?"

Emily smiles. There are tears in her eyes. Of course Emily would forgive her. She barely had to ask.

"Of course, Sera. I love you. And I just want you to be happy, and feel loved, too. That's all I've ever wanted for you. Thank you."

[pinkroseblooms]

SPOILERS FOR JJK CHAPTER 259 AND A LONG ASS RANT I JUST HAD TO GET OUT

Look, it's not just that I'm sad Choso is likely getting killed off. He's my personal favorite, and honestly, him sacrificing himself for his last living brother, atoning for the death and harm he caused beforehand, yeah normally it would actually feel right for him to go out this way.

EXCEPT WHAT WAS THE POINT?! Yuki sacrificed herself so he could keep fighting. She had this big, emotional thing where she encouraged Choso to not just throw his life away, to live on and embrace his humanity. It sucked this awesome character who barely got any focus went out so quickly but okay, fuckon fine, but at least she was able to impart something meaningful to-

Oh wait Choso's dead? Just like that? Welp fuck it.

I'm sorry I know, I KNOW, since the very beginning we get told this is a dangerous world, we learn early on that death, cruel, unceremonious death, is a very real thing that just comes with the deal of being a sorcerer. But the narrative clearly wants us to care about these characters. It's not just a nihilistic slog. We're supposed to get attached and find meaning in these characters and the hardships they have to deal with. And I wouldn't be so pissed if Gege didn't keep doing this thing where he keeps killing off characters and ending arcs seemingly because he just doesn't really know what else to do with them in the story. It's not good story telling. I'm sad Choso most likely is dead but I'm more annoyed because I don't feel more sad. It feels so anticlimactic and borderline lazy.

If you set up a characters arc and it ends with them dying and we as the readers are meant to give a shit, there needs to be follow through. Commit to the themes and the tone being established. It's just such a waste and honestly I'm starting to care less and less about how this is going to end. I'm guessing it'll end with Sukuna somehow being defeated but I doubt by the end of it I'll put down my phone and think "man what a satisfying conclusion. I'm glad I read this." I'm probably mostly going to think "wow this could have been way better, but ok,I guess I'm glad I finished it." And that makes me bummed out.

[inkedroplets]

I have a bunch of unanswered asks in my inbox about my Peggy/Lena story gathering dust. Here's a snippet instead of me answering anything promptly.

It felt strange to be back in her office again after so long away. Hunched over her desk again, poring over a mountain of paperwork, signing her name in what felt like a hundred places on a thousand different forms  had all the qualities of a dream that she couldn't seem to shake no matter how much time ticked away. 

It wasn't just that she had been away for nearly an entire year or that she felt like a stranger in what was now to her a strange land. Both those things were true but it was the fact that she was in the process of relinquishing control over L-Corp, letting go of something that had once seemed so important to her, so vital. And yet, the only feeling she could muster was a sense of relief, knowing that the paperwork would be done soon. 

She wanted to laugh, feeling like a child that had lost interest in what they had only moments ago proclaimed was their favorite toy. But she feared that if she did, she might also start to cry. Beneath the irony and the relief she thought there must be sadness. In the same way that one might look at the sky and know that it must rain soon. She initaled her name on another page in several places and flexed her hand to work out the cramp that was beginning to form there when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. “You got my message,” Lena said, relieved to have an excuse to put her pen down. “I got your message,” Lillian said tonelessly as if this alone was nothing of note. As if Lena hadn’t been missing for nearly a year.  “I also saw the news.” A flicker of annoyance passed over her face and Lena instinctively braced herself for whatever venom would come spilling out of her mouth. 

 “Why?” she asked. She tilted her head at an insouciant angle as if trying to suss out Lena’s reasoning before she could answer. “I didn’t think people would sleep very well at night if they learned that the sky suddenly ripped open and aliens from another Earth destroyed half the city.” “But that’s what happened, isn’t it?” Lillian said testily. 

“It is,” Lena said. She glanced at the pile of documents that still needed her signature and let out a small sigh  before finally looking up to meet her mother’s steely gaze. “But now people will think that I’m the one that opened the portal.” “And did you?” Lillian asked, even though it was obvious she already knew the answer. “I did,” Lena said and felt a little swell of pride knowing that her answer wouldn’t so much as budge the needle of a polygraph. “You’re lying,” Lillian said flatly. Much more an observation than an accusation. “Force of habit,” Lena quipped, wondering what her mother would think if she told her she had spent the last two months working as a spy. Lillian let out an exasperated huff. “If you’re still trying to protect that—” “Peace of mind is why,” Lena said. “For whatever that might be worth now…” She tried to stop herself but couldn’t help but look behind her to glance out the window overlooking the city. What remained of the city. “A Luthor going crazy and destroying half the city in the process…” A humorless chuckle slipped from her lips. “It makes sense. People won’t blink an eye at that headline.” “I call that libel,” Lillian said silkily. “I’m sure whatever publication chooses to print—” “Much harder to sue when they'll have irrefutable proof and my confession,” Lena interjected as kindly as she could manage. The last thing she wanted was to make what promised to be an unpleasant conversation anymore so. Lillian frowned, another little huff slipping from her mouth, like a kettle letting off a little jet of steam. “Always so quick to play the martyr, Lena, honestly…” “That implies I’m sacrificing something… I’m not.” There was nothing noble or self-sacrificing in her decision, at least she didn’t think there was. How could there be when she had already let go of everything she would be losing? “No?”

“Even you must have noticed that I’ve been away,” Lena said and despite knowing it was on her to keep the peace, to try and make this conversation somewhat pleasant (because there wouldn’t be that many left) there was a part of her that believed Lillian might not have noticed she had vanished seemingly without a trace that made it hard to keep the hurt completely out of her voice. “I was aware,” Lillian said indifferently. “That girl came to me for help months ago. As if I hadn’t noticed you were gone. Like I wasn’t already looking. When I couldn’t find you, I figured you didn’t want to be found.’ She tilted her head at an insouciant angle. “You showing up now, I assume that I was correct?” There was no doubt in her mind that the girl in question was Kara. Who else could produce such venomous contempt except perhaps herself under the right circumstances. “I guess you are,” Lena agreed. She hadn’t thought about it until now but, yes, she hadn’t wanted to be found. “When this is all over, I’ll be going back there. I won’t be back, mother.” “Early retirement for you?” Lillian peered at her skeptically. “Somehow I doubt that. Unless you’re talking about a self-imposed exile. That I could believe.” Lena laughed, she couldn’t help it. “I guess I could too but that’s not what I had in mind. I told you, I’m not giving anything up. I’m just… moving on.”

Lillian’s gaze narrowed slightly. “Where have you been all this time, Lena?”

That’s a long story, she thought and no matter how true it was, she knew that her mother wouldn’t relent until she had an answer. “Another Earth,” she said. “The same place those aliens came from that destroyed the city.”

“Another Earth?” There was no distrust in her voice which surprised Lena although maybe it shouldn’t have. Not much seemed to phase her. Lex attempting to dabble in patricide had been the only time she could recall her mother being truly lost for words.

“You’d like it there. No Kryptonians,” she joked. “More importantly, I like it there. Not exile,” she insisted. “The people of National City get to have someone to blame for the tragedy that occurred and I get to do one last good thing before riding off into the sunset.”

“I see,” Lillian said in a tone that said didn’t understand a thing. “And what of your reputation if you do this? You were the one who so wanted to right the ship. All the work you’ve done? You’ll walk away from all that? From this company?”

“I did,” Lena agreed in a small voice, once more almost brought to tears at the reminder that there was once something she had held so dear that now meant so little to her. “I wanted that more than anything.But even more than that I wanted to be a force for good. I still want that.”

Lillian scoffed. “By being this city’s sin-eater? Is that really what you want?”

[insipid-drivel]

To All Those That Have Reached Out

It's been a very bad few weeks, and I haven't exactly tried to be subtle about it on tumblr lately. I've gotten tired of bottling up the persecutions and backhanded slaps from my brother and sister from the entire world, and tumblr is one of the few platforms I'll vent about them on.

Sincerely, thank you to those people - mutuals, followers, and outright strangers alike - who reached out to me over these past awful few weeks. I haven't had the ability to get back to everyone yet because my health is taking a nosedive again and I haven't been able to expend the kind of emotional energy to communicate and get back to everyone quickly without risking another backslide. I need surgery soon, and I'm trying my hardest to lower my stress levels and focus on my health. I'm autistic, so overshooting my social energy can really be bad for my general health.

From offers to doordash groceries to my house, to offers just to listen, I've wept over the amount of concern and compassion that I've received over the past days. I am not exaggerating, to those who have sent me a message, that your shared sympathies, concerns, advice, and care have been above and beyond anything I've received from my siblings in over 10 years. Backdraft is a helluva symptom when you've been taught from childhood to believe your very birth was the cause of your older sibling to hate and abuse you. My sister resents me for being born and taking my mom's attention away from her (she has openly admitted this to our mother), while my brother resents me for my mental and physical disabilities and has taken to taking his angst and childish pettiness out on our mother as a way of punishing me. I've been ashamed of the little brother I spent so much of my life devoted to bringing up well that I barely recognize him anymore.

I was recently taught the phrase, "Never hold water for your oppressors, because they will never let you have a drink," and I've been taking it to heart. I hate to think of my brother and sister as oppressors or anything but people I want more than anything to see how much I've sacrificed, changed, endured, and given up out of love for them, but staying on the island they've marooned me on will only result in a sad end when I have the opportunity to set my own sails for other waters. Even my mother has washed her hands of my siblings, feeling just as used and taken advantage of by them as I've felt unfairly persecuted and judged. My siblings are extremely myopic, self-centered, and selfish people that never deserved the time and effort I put in to showing them how much I loved and cared for them.

I'm thankful to have grown up as part of one of the generations that celebrates found family, because it's made it impossible for me to feel completely hopeless about the future.

Opening up to one of my best and only friends of over 10 years has resulted in what may turn out to be a happy change. My mom and I would benefit from another person in the house, and after several tense and nerve-wracking talks with him, my best friend will be visiting for a couple of weeks soon. Given that he's queer and his is one of the states that flipped red this past horrifying election while I live in Washington, it just seems to make sense that we at least meet up in a safe state and see how we go together and if he likes it here.

My mom is thrilled to the point of practically flying to him herself and carrying him piggy-back here overnight. She's an incredibly stoic person in the face of abuse, but I know my brother's disrespect and outright rudeness to her recently has been hurting her.

I can't wait for when my friend visits and if he finds he wants to settle here, either as a housemate or in his own place (although real estate prices are skyrocketing in WA right now due to a rush of former red-staters fleeing here in the wake of November 6th's election results). We met here on tumblr not long after I first joined the site to promote and work on a webcomic series I was involved in at the time, and our friendship turned out to outlive the comics. I'm very excited for the opportunity to see him and spend face-to-face time with someone I've loved like another brother for years.

Things are still bumpy, and if you haven't heard from me after messaging me, please know that I've probably seen your messages and taken them to heart. My dark spells still come and go, and there are times where I still get trapped in feeling hopeless and lonely, but I'm working on it.

[scribblestatic]

I've been on my Sonic the Hedgehog brainrot since I was a kid, and it's not stopping anytime soon, so how about I write an AU where Sonic is actually Maria reincarnated just because I think that's fun?

Because Shadow kinda forgot that she was a person. Don't get me wrong—he remembers her lovingly, but perhaps due to time or perhaps from Prof. Robotnik messing with his memories, he remembers Maria as a beautiful, healthy-looking girl who spoke with kindness and peace. A balm on his hurt and pain for not being able to heal her despite being the ultimate lifeform.

In reality, Maria was a person. Someone with flaws. Someone more than sad softness and peaceful smiles.

Maria was angry. She was in pain. Her skin was pale, not from some sort of natural beauty, but from illness. She had dark circles under her eyes. She had the Robotnik nose and wore glasses to help with her eyesight on days it went blurry (never quite as 'pretty' as the pictures of Prof. Robotnik's late wife). She didn't wear them all the time, but she wore them more than Shadow's memory would allow.

Her fury came out in her words, full of snark and bite, and she'd use her intelligence to dig in deep. And she'd just as deeply apologize when she went too far, knowing her pain wasn't an excuse to be cruel.

She liked pigs in a blanket when she had her cheat days. She liked fiddling with Shadow's air shoes and improving them, glasses on to protect her sensitive eyes. She wanted to enter the bio-zone of the ARK, but was staunchly prevented from doing so, unable to sit in the flowers and greenery she saw within.

She was jealous of Shadow. Of his speed, power, might. Of his health. But she cared for him more than she was jealous, because she truly did love him.

She wasn't always right with some of the things she said or did, but she did her best to do what she thought was right. She sometimes fussed despite alternative solutions being logically better. She hid her pain as much as possible, not wanting to be seen as weak anymore. She hated being around other people for very long because they'd always look at her with pity. She wanted to be sociable, to be strong.

She'd give up her intellect if it meant she could touch grass even once.

She wanted, desperately, to go to Earth. And she died, sacrificing herself to save Shadow, with no regrets. Though she never stood on Earth, the fact Shadow would make it there was more than good enough for her.

And she died.

Years later, Sonic was born.

He grew up on his own for the most part, his parents mere fuzzy silhouettes in his memory. Even so, Sonic was fine with that. He could adapt to anything. His high amounts of Chaos energy helped him immensely.

His favorite food for a long was anything to do with sausages, though that evolved further once he was introduced to chili dogs. In his free time, which is often, he loves rolling in flowers and laying out in the quiet, simply enjoying the Earth and the soft thrumming of the energy around him.

Since he didn't grow up with a formal education, he's not the most book smart. Even so, with some learning from the locals, he knew enough to build and fly a plane all on his own despite being a kid. Still, he found he enjoyed spending more time moving around. Being a bookworm was good and all, he just preferred the joy and rush of adrenaline that came with running.

Because he's fast. He's so fast.

He always knows which direction he's facing and knows, to the centimeter, how far he as to run to get from one place to another. He remembers each place he's been and learns extremely detailed information about every location. He finds hidden routes and has quick reflexes to navigate around anywhere. He adapts to just about anything with ease.

That's how he adapts to Tails following him around, to being his big brother and dad at the same time. That's how he adapts to fighting off Eggman and his robots, crushing them with ease and power, feeling the thrill of it. That's how he adapts to speaking with others once he finds his voice, being snarky and prideful but just as easygoing.

He's adapted to a lot over the years. To getting to know Amy and Knuckles and the others he's grown to care for and love. To growing further into his powers and becoming even stronger. To fighting and befriending people from every walk of life. To seeing robots as their own beings and teaming up with the ones that are able to excel beyond their programming. To his playful friendship with Rouge, joking around with dramatics; to his vague understanding with Omega, who he doesn't mind helping; to his rivalry with Shadow, who produces so many different feelings in him, some that he's never felt before, others that he's felt forever.

The one thing he hasn't quite adapted to, though, is the strange little visions he saw after looking at the scrawled writing in Prof. Robotnik's cell. Flashes of something deep within pulled, briefly, to the surface. Like he's watching through the glasses he used to wear when he was very young and his fur was still brown, eyes still black.

They become more frequent, though they don't startle him, really. Sometimes, they come in dreams he only half-remembers by the time he wakes up, the thoughts almost completely fading after an hour or two. He doesn't really bother exploring it, not right now, anyway.

I'll continue this at some point, I think.

[pampushky]

Creature (Both Haunted & Holy)

Vinsmoke Sanji/Reader - Chapter 24 - 5.3k

A long-awaited talk about your self-sacrificing tendencies, as well as Nami’s finally coming to terms with her trauma. Oh, and Wapol happened.

ao3 | series masterlist | masterlist | next part

Nami wakes up to you lying at her bedside, arms folded beneath your head as you snore softly. Your hair is tumbled over your face, hiding away your expressions, but she can see the slight stirring from where your breath moves your hair. 

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Nami says, as she watches how you sleep at her bedside, head in your arms, “I— I don’t know why I said all of those things.”

You shift again, and look up at her, not speaking. Your eyes are dark with sadness, as you look at her. 

“Nami?” You shift into a standing stance, groaning in a bit of pain. “Are you okay?”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Nami blurts out, and she hates how your face crumbles from stoicism to devastation. 

“That’s a change,” you whisper, shaking your head gently as you get up to leave.

“I don’t know why I said those things to you,” Nami holds your wrist tightly, “Please, don't go.”

And by some miracle, you do stay, though you look uncomfortable. So Nami practically vomits out her words, knowing they don’t all make sense, but that at least you know  

“And… you just settled into the crew so well. They all love you. And I do too. But I just got worried, I guess, that you’d replace me.”

You just sit there, listening. No change of face. Nothing.

“It’s stupid. Because you’ve always been there, no matter how stressed I get. And you just let me lay on you. But seeing you with Sanji, and Luffy…”

Gods, why won’t you react?

Scream at her!

Cry!

“…. And then when you got hurt, I was afraid I’d lose you, and it all just came tumbling out.”

Anything would be better than how quiet you are.

“I’m not really mad at you. I know you don’t mean to do anything that annoys me. And you’ve always put me before anything else. I just… I wish I could do that for you. Be there for you more. Let you put some of your burden on me if it meant Arlong wouldn’t haunt you.”

“…you’re an idiot, Nami.” 

And then you hug her, so tight that it hurts her lungs, that she can feel her ribcage cracking. But you’re hugging her, and then you pull away, hands on her shoulders, and look at her with such love that the navigator knows everything will be okay. 

“I could never replace you— that’s foolish even to think that,” you scoff, but there are stubborn tears that nearly fall, “….I just wish you had told me all of this sooner.”

“Why’s that?”

“Don’t you know? Surely you remember?” Your smile morphed into one of sadness, and the room around Nami shifted as you stood. She could see a dark stain on the front of your torso, with something soaking through the front of your pelt, “Arlong found us again, while you were sick. But he said he’d let us go if I went with him—”

“No—”

Nami feels as though she’s been plunged into ice water, as you step backward, with a familiar hand being laid on your shoulder, pale purple skin, and a malicious smile, just visible in the shadows of the room, pulled further away from her.

“It’s okay, I did it for you, I’d do anything to keep you safe, my pod, my dearest friend,” you croon, more scars slashing across your face, and your hair growing tangled as Nami continued to look at you, as if you truly were back in Arlong’s grasp, tears cutting through the grime on your face, “ I only left thinking you hated me .” 

“No !”

Nami wakes with a fit of coughs, and she feels someone’s hand on her back, soothing her through the coughing fit, and gently easing her to sit upwards.

“That’s it— here, cough the phlegm into this, that’s it—”

“Where is she?” Nami finds herself panting, gripping the sheets of the unfamiliar bed the moment she can speak properly. Beside her is an old woman, oddly fit for her age. She frowns.

“The selkie?” The old woman tilts her head a bit, before laughing. “Last I checked, she’s in this castle, healing from her own wounds, out cold.”

“She’s hurt? ”

“Eh, not so bad that it’ll kill her anymore, but enough that she’s not allowed to walk.” The old woman’s scowl is nearly comical, “That idiot had been using most of her energy to keep you stable, she’s the reason you’re not dead right now, I’d wager.”

Nami feels a chill run down her spine. Your voice— laced with exhaustion every single time she had woken— swims in her ears. Of course, you’d been healing her constantly, that’d explain the pulsing. And from what little she understood about it, healing traded the energy between healer and patient, while also drawing from the water around it. It was more helpful for open wounds— not so much an illness like Nami had experienced. 

“But it can keep illness at bay,” you speak softly, from where you sit in Nami’s tub. Arlong had let you stay with Nami and Nojiko, one of your little demented rewards. The ginger gently washes your face, and lets you scrub your own body. 

“We had real doctors— my uncle is one. My grandfather was as well.” Your eyes go foggy as you mention him, and your frown only deepens, wrinkling your face. 

You’d failed to heal a sick member of Arlong’s crew, explaining that he’d need an actual doctor or antibiotics for the fishman, who only grew weaker by the day. He’d died by the second week, and Arlong, in a rare bout of mercy, recognized that it was not your fault, and instead let you leave the park and stay at Nami’s house for a week, knowing you couldn’t run without your pelt.

The water around you in the tub was dark, and you carefully stepped out of it to let it drain, and then watched as it refilled, with more sweet-scented soaps added to the water, much to your delight. Nami only hugs you tightly, letting you just lean against her shoulder. She washes your hair thoroughly and gives you clothes you’ll actually enjoy wearing. Long skirts, that sit high on your waist. Baggy sweatpants. A pair of well-worn shorts with a stained crewneck for when Nojiko would make orange marmalade. Nami’s never seen you happier, especially when you hesitantly dip your toes into the water of a creek near the house, letting out a happy trill that sounds more like a screech, your natural chirps and whistles so rare nowadays that they sound false.

The week is good for you. But it’s only a week of pause.

It’s been a year and a half since you were taken, and little does Nami or yourself know, but your family already lay dead in the ground, buried by a grieving Pell. 

It’ll be another year before Nami even meets Luffy. 

“I—I need to see her,” Nami gasps out, just as Luffy stumbles into the room, wrapped in bandages. Wapol makes his chaotic entrance not an hour later, and still, Nami hasn’t seen a single sign of you or heard your name, not until Sanji throws a toddler-level tantrum, insisting on someone setting up a cot next to yours, so he could be there when you wake.

Before you know anything else, you only know that something hurts and that your head pounds as you try to open your eyes. It feels as though your skull is too small to hold your brain, whining as you roll on your side, only to feel even worse, with one of your arms beneath you. It burns and throbs and feels as though the very flesh is going to melt from your bones as you try to awaken yourself further, whimpering and hating the way your body feels as you struggle to find comfort. 

There is an undeniably harsh voice, and you feel something hold down your head, while a smooth medicine — tasting heavily of ginger and honey— slides down your throat. It burns the moment it lands in your belly, and then stops, an odd cooling effect spreading through your entire body, finally letting you feel at home in your own skin, breathing out shakily as you still struggle to open your eyes. 

“Doctorine— the mucus has returned over the selkenfolk’s eyes— I’ll wash it now,”

This voice is high and hesitant, cracking still from puberty, and the same touch from before returns, wiping away the gunk over your eyes with a warm, wet cloth. You let out a whine, bringing your hands up to whatever hand is wiping it away— only to find… a hoove? 

“Eek! D-Doctorine—!”

“Ott— bring your hand down, you’re safe, I promise,”

Sanji. Sanji. Oh thank the sea mother, he’s alive, and you feel his familiar hands guide yours away, still holding onto you, thumb running over your knuckles comfortingly, whispering to you in French, which you can’t quite understand but you can half-translate through the bond. You can read his tone and the meaning plucking away like the bassline of a song in your mind as you fight to stay still. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you can open your eyes, and the first thing you see is your courted, his hand in yours, looking at you as though you’re the most beautiful thing in the world, despite the fact that you just know you look a wreck. 

“Hi,” you squeak out and lean into his touch against your face, closing your eyes as you feel his thumb on your cheekbone, tracing over the twin scars that marred the side of your face so lovingly. He’s in a chair beside your bed, head wrapped in bandages, and a warm blanket around his lower body. 

“Hello,” He leans his head down, just so his nose brushes against yours, so intimate, so loving, as he just hovers there. There’s a wetness that falls on your cheeks, and you realize he’s crying, shoulders shaking as he leans over you. “Please, never scare me like that again ,”

It starts out as a little whimper. 

Then a sniffle. 

And before you know it you’re sobbing, covering your face in your hands before you can so much as look at him without feeling a wave of guilt come over you. It takes a very, very, awkward cough as you both look over, in tears, snot probably running down your faces. An old woman, with a little… reindeer-like creature behind her, leaning the incorrect way to hide from view. 

You really can’t help it. You remember how your younger brothers and cousins tried to hide from you, and in a deadpan, so stoic compared to the sobs that had previously choked their way from your mouth, you say; “Uh. It’s… you’re hiding the wrong way.”

The little reindeer squints at you, and almost accusingly goes “What? ”

“You’re… leaning the wrong way.” Sanji chimes in, helpfully, wincing as he leans forward himself. “You’re only partially behind Dr. Kureha.”

“Oh!” He situates himself then happily, now fully hidden behind the old woman’s slender legs, still looking at the two of you rather accusingly, though he does have a shimmer of glee in his eyes.

“That nonsense aside,” the doctor strides forward, leaving the poor reindeer standing shocked in his spot, and leans down so she is eye level with you, nearly folding herself in half. “I need to have a serious discussion about self-preservation with the both of you.” 

On both sides of the bond, there is a distinct, fluttering panic. How had she managed to get such an accurate read on the both of you so quickly, and then feel that she was in a place of authority to just…. call you out like that? You partially fear and admire her, honestly.

“Your bedside manner is…. unique,” you play with the tips of your fingers, while she stares at you, just a few centimeters from your face. 

“Yes, and you worked yourself to near death by constantly healing that ginger with you,” the doctor, it seems, has nary any patience for your attempts at humor, only scowling at you, “And then carrying her up most of the mountain, along with whatever feats of strength you demonstrated to those poor lapahns,”

“They nearly killed us!” Sanji lets out a shocked cry, “My back—!”

“Ah, but they didn’t, and I haven’t even gotten to you yet!” She snaps, and you both fall silent again. 

“You, selkie,” she pinches one of your cheeks and you whine, glaring at her, “Are lucky to be alive. We could hardly find a pulse when your captain dragged you back here.”

That makes Sanji freeze, the sudden realization making fear trickle down his spine and then deep into the bond, tugging at the back of your mind as you listened to the doctor continue to speak, explaining that she had not only had to tranquilize you but that you had gotten your heart rate to such a high point that it had been misregistered as hardly being there. 

“Had it not been for whatever god smiles down on you, you would be dead,” Kureha deadpans, flicking off the cap of a bottle of plum wine and taking a long, exhausted drink. “You are lucky I’m the best at what I do, otherwise, well…” she trails off after seeing Sanji’s horror-struck expression. “Now, moving on to the blond,”

“T-that’s enough, please,” Sanji holds up one of his hands, the other pressed against his mouth as though he’s going to vomit. Kureha relents, sighing.

Every emotion that swims between your minds is muddled. First, it’s fear. Then it’s denial. Those are from Sanji’s side. From you, emerges guilt. Then terror at the idea of abandoning your lover. The regret, for not apologizing to Nami. And then the acceptance, which makes Sanji’s stomach churn until he does throw up, heaving over the side of his wheelchair and onto the floor. 

Had you really been so ready to die for them? Sanji thinks, as he pants and tries not to get sick again, clutching the front of the hospital gown, watching as the little reindeer jumps into action by wiping at his mouth, while Kureha grabs a bucket and a mop to clean up after him. 

“Are you okay?” The little reindeer— Chopper, he recalls now, their new doctor, according to Luffy— stares at him with much-too-human eyes and he sobs, startling not only the little doctor, but you, as you lean over to take one of his hands, eyes wide, and a new scent, not muffled by the medicinal smell of the room, overtakes his senses. It’s salt and chamomile, with a hint of burning sage. Your concern. “Let me feel your head—” 

“N-no,” Sanji sputters and grips your hand tightly. “May I have a moment alone, please, with my partner?” 

“But—”

“Bedside manner and patient wishes, Chopper,” the old woman reminds sternly, after cleaning the vomit, and after a pregnant pause, the two leave the room. And Sanji turns to you, looking utterly devastated as he takes in more of your body, now that you’re up.

You’d been out for about two days, whereas Sanji had been awake halfway through the first. Then he had been up and fighting off the same man who had taken out a bite of the Merry—before he was knocked back on his ass by the doctor, unable to get up and be closer to you until he had, a bit embarrassingly, thrown a fit over it. Kureha finally relented and had a cot set up beside yours, under strict instructions to stay in the bed or wheelchair she had provided.

The deep bags under your eyes are almost hidden by the dappling of your skin, but Sanji knows it’s there, has seen it when he’s managed to get you to sleep, watching how you seemed to ache with every movement after you had woken up.

Seeing you now is nearly devastating. You look broken and exhausted as you hold his hand, that deep concern pulsing through the bond as you try to comfort him. Your hands are bony— too thin, too skeletal— and it scares him and he turns them over in his own, looking at the contrast on your palms, all the tiny cuts and scars from your past and current work. 

“Sanji?” 

What an anxiety-riddled tone. What wide, scared eyes. You looked so fragile in that moment, all lost weight, bandaged wounds, and messily braided hair while you held his hands so reverently, gazing upon him like a saint. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“No–no, not at all,” he leans down, forehead against your own, lower back groaning in protest, “I just wish you would take better care of yourself.”

The idea of your death, because you simply wouldn’t take care of yourself makes Sanji want to vomit again. Your hands shake, when he speaks like this, not angry or disappointed, like you’ve come to expect. He’s just…. worried. And somehow, in a mind such as your own, blurred by an instinct only to survive and to please someone who had claimed to love you— albeit for selfish, greedy reasons— Sanji’s worry is so much worse. 

Why doesn’t he understand? Why won’t he let you do this for him? To lay yourself down at his feet, to bare your belly to him and let him slam his fists down on your most vulnerable spots would be a mercy compared to the anxiety etched onto his features as he carefully checks your face, your hands, and your body for any knicks, bruises, and bandages, so tenderly holding you as though you are some perfectly formed pearl to be treasured. You are little more than a speck of sand, rather than a pearl.

You don’t understand.

Why does he care so much? 

Why does your courted cry, upon seeing the deep bags under your eyes, the thinness of your wrists, and how your legs are still just slightly too skinny to appear healthy? Does he flinch away from your devotion to him?

So you repeat the question again.

“Are you…. Sure, you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m certain,” Sanji lets out a huffing, laugh-like noise, gently cradling your face in his hands, letting his fingers trace across the scars on your cheek, and feel the bridge of your nose, the shape of your lips. Everything. “I’m more worried than anything. I don’t like how you sacrifice yourself. It’s terrifying.” 

You don’t know, however, that Sanji was willing to sacrifice paralysis just a day before. That, however, is for another conversation. You were helpless, still unconscious in your cot, and Sanji could not stand by and let the place where you were healing be ransacked. But for now, he can bear that weight and uncover it later, probably in his latest letter to Zeff.

“You want to stay with us, right?”

“Of course,” you look utterly baffled by his question, eyes wide, as he pulls away gently, lacing his hands in yours. 

“Then why do you throw yourself into danger and risk not being with us?” He sounds so pained as he asks, and oh. That strikes deep, making you freeze as he continues to hold your hands, studying you. 

Why is he crying? 

Sanji shouldn’t be crying— not over you, unwanted, leftover, practically chewed up and spit out by the world with your scars and trauma. 

Yet he is. And you don’t know how to feel about that. How concerned he is for you. Or really, just how much your entire crew seems to love you. If you died, there wouldn’t be any sunning on the deck with Luffy and Usopp, or sparring and meditation with Zoro. And Nami— however complicated things may be now— is all you had left, for the longest time. Your oldest friend, your newest sister. What would she do without you?

“I… don’t know?” there are tears in your eyes, and you don’t realize you’re crying until he wipes them away with the corner of his sleeve. “I don’t know. I—I don’t know, Sanji.”

“And you don’t need to,” He soothes, hands on your shoulders, solid and real, a pressure that forcibly grounds you into reality, “Hey— you don’t need to know right now. ”

You’re still crying, silently, too startled to realize what’s going on, so he just holds you, keeping you tethered to reality for the next hour, letting you lean against him silently while you cry. 

“Nami wants to talk to you,” Chopper announces as he brings in lunch, which is a bowl of vegetable porridge, dried fish, and an herbal tea. Sanji picks at his own food and raises an eyebrow at the little doctor, watching as you chew on the jerky, and scoop out a spoonful of porridge for yourself. 

You frown a bit. “Did she?” 

“Aren’t you going to see her?” Chopper’s frown matches Sanji’s as he looks at you, one of his little ears flicking in clear annoyance. “She’s your friend.”

“Boundaries are also important,” Sanji raises to challenge the reindeer and watches as he balks a bit. You lightly flick him, shooting him a glare from the side, a bit annoyed at how quickly your courted crumbles under so much as an ounce of disapproval from you. 

“What Sanji meant,” you turn back to Chopper, “....I need to work on advocating for myself, and Nami was someone, however much I love her, who…. didn’t make it easy to do that.”

“I know what a boundary is.” Chopper grumbles, stamping one of his hooves on the ground. You can’t help but chuckle a bit— he is just too similar to your little cousins. 

“Then why don’t you support your patient’s need for one?” Sanji folds his arms. 

“Because my other patient thinks you hate her.”

“And that… outranks my comfort?”

“No! Well— hm. Doctorine didn’t…. cover that yet.”

“Sounds like you can teach it yourself then,” you sigh and start to look around the room, frowning. “Well, better get this over with.”

Sanji balks a bit, watching as you go to swing your legs over the side of the bed, to which both he and Chopper start to panic. You should not be walking yet— especially in your current condition, getting lightheaded from sitting up too fast. 

“You don’t have to go yet,” Sanji tries to convince you, holding onto your hands. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” 

“I—I know,” you mumble, and pick at your fingertips, “But— this needs to be done. And I have to say some things to her, to reinforce my… boundaries.” There’s a deep determination on your face as you look at him. 

“I trust you,” Sanji holds your hand, and brings it up to his mouth, kissing your palm, “You are worthy of better things, ma moitié, ” 

There’s a long pause, and you lean forward into his embrace, letting him rub your back, easing the tension and knots that have stiffened your form. A moment later, you pull away, take a deep breath, and turn to Chopper again. 

“Let’s go, I’m ready.” 

“Not without a wheelchair!” Chopper snaps, just as you try to get up again, with Sanji sighing deeply, watching as you get wheeled out into the hall, waving to him nervously, before you’re out of his vision, and he can only just hear the wheels in the distance.  

You sit awkwardly in the doorway, looking at Nami, while the little reindeer stands patiently in front of you, his ears twitching. You’re in a wheelchair, still healing from your exhaustion, and not allowed to walk without some form of aid, same as Sanji. It’s a bit funny, honestly, to see you like this, hair braided behind you, with those same white flowers from Louge town tucked behind your left ear, with a baggy sweater practically drowning you, with your pelt tucked around you like a blanket. 

“You… uh…. wanted to see me?” You startle a bit when Chopper pushes you into the room, looking over your shoulder at him in a moment of shock, before looking back at her. There are no bandages she can see, probably hidden by the sleeves of the sweater. Chopper closes the door behind you, and for nearly three minutes, the two of you sit in a very awkward silence, while you fidget with some of the patchier areas on your pelt, picking at the embroidery of the kelp. 

“You’re okay,” Nami doesn’t know why she’s crying, but she is. You’re not as badly hurt as she thought you would be, and you look almost healthy, “ I—I’m so sorry, I— ”

“For…..?” You play with your fingers rather anxiously, all of your confidence starting to fade. “You. Uh. You didn’t do anything, well no, wait—”

“Just— let me say this!”

You look startled by her outburst, grip tightening on your pelt and showing no signs of loosening. 

“Arlong was not a good person,” Nami starts, holding her blanket closer.

“No kidding,” you murmur, and she looks at you hesitantly. You don’t look at her and only focus on your hands, and picking at your pelt.

“He treated both of us, absolutely terribly,” Nami struggles to articulate her thoughts. How exactly do you ask the victims of abuse to compare their struggles? Easy! You don’t. “And recently… I thought that maybe, Gods this sounds really dumb now, that you could have thought… I had it easier?” 

“Oh.” 

You look at her so plainly, blinking, before scowling, clearly annoyed. Part of you wonders why you were so anxious about this in the first place if this is what the root of all of this was. “Why the hell would I think that, Nami?”

“I don’t know!”

“He killed your mom in front of you,” You put up your pointer finger, “Turned your village against you,” your middle finger comes up, “Branded you, locked you to a wall as a child,” your thumb and ring finger pop up in unison, “...and alot of other things that would make me count on my toes as well,” you fold your arms at her, glaring. 

“Yeah…..” Nami keeps her gaze down. 

You let out a sigh. A profound, tired sigh. 

“Nami, I…. can’t just, stop trying to heal,” 

“I’m not asking you to!”

“You yelling at me said otherwise,” Your deadpan cuts deep, and for the first time since she yelled at you, Nami gets it. “Nami, the things you said to me—” You shudder, clearly still affected by her words, even nearly two weeks later, “—hurt. A lot. And after talking with not just Sanji, but Zoro, too, alot of that seemed like… projection.” 

You pause, looking confused. “That… huh. Jesus, I sound like Usopp.”

The silence is potent, and you can see the gears turning in Nami’s head as she processes your words, slowly nodding. She’s not shocked, really, that Sanji is so emotionally competent, but Zoro? That’s unexpected. 

“I got… jealous, I think— no, I know I got jealous,”

“Obviously,” you snort, leaning back, though you do wince a bit, frowning. “Nami, why didn’t you just…. talk to me about this?” 

Visions of you clamming up swim to the front of her mind. Your stiff posture, the tightness of your fists when she was in the same room. Even now, she could see how you were sweating, and how you bit at your lips and picked at the edges of your nails. 

“...It’s a bit hard when I’m worried I’m going to trigger something,” Nami says softly, and something changes in your demeanor. You look…. almost shocked, that she can notice your tension, as if she hadn't spent the last two and a half years holding you down to earth. “And— and that’s not your fault at all, it’s how…. you got conditioned,”

Huh. Maybe the talks with Vivi had helped. 

“....that doesn’t mean you have to bottle up everything,” You look at her, unwavering gaze striking her to the core. It’s…. a bit unnerving, how serious you look at this moment, dark eyes seeing into her very soul, “Why do you reject the fact that you can heal now?”

“I don’t know,” Nami leans against the headboard, and you sigh, leaning against the back of your chair, and looking down at your hands. “I got so used to everything being shit, that when it wasn’t… I guess I couldn’t handle it.”

“But that doesn’t mean you have to make it shit,” You blurt out, and flush, as you look at her, eyes wide. “That’s— I’m so sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“You’re not wrong though,” Nami can’t help it—  she laughs, loudly, her head thrown back as she watches the mild shock on your face. “I kinda did make it shit, huh?”

Slowly, you grin and start to laugh as well, only wincing a few times as you hold your side. 

“Just a bit,” You can’t help but shake your head, looking at her with a sense of wistfulness. “Nami, I missed you.”

The dam breaking isn’t the explosion that Nami expected it would be from her side. Her lower lip wobbles. She sucks up a stubborn bit of snot that starts to fall from her nose. Her eyes water, and then it picks up speed. A few drops, then a trickle, before it’s a raging river, rushing forth and not allowing her a moment to catch up, drowning in her emotions.

And you are there, the lifesaver, diving in to hold her steady, tightly holding her hands, and making sure that she is here, and tethered to reality, forehead pressed against hers, keeping her close and safe. 

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” Nami sobs, holding you close, half leaning off the bed with her hands practically knotted into the back of your hospital gown, face pushed into your shoulder, wetting your stormcloud gray skin with her tears, staining the rough cloth with her boogers. “ Please don’t leave me! ”

“Why would I leave you?” You croon, holding her face and wiping away her tears as you start to cry, foreheads still touching as you rock back and forth as best you can. “Nami— Oh, ‘Mi, it’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s an oddly tender moment, both of you sobbing and holding each other, interrupted by the gentle cough of someone at the door. You both look up, with tears still trailing down your faces as you look at Kureha, who stands at the door, her arms folded as she leans against the doorframe. 

“And what are you doing out of your room?” She raises an eyebrow, flicking the cap off the bottle of sweet wine that had been tucked under her arm, taking a heavy swig from it.

“Uh, I wanted… to talk to my friend?” You’re hyper-aware of the fact that some snot just trailed past your lips, and feel a blush rising again, as you look at her nervously. “I… uhm, Chopper said I could—”

“I did not!” Chopper screams from somewhere in the castle, with Kureha leaving the room as quickly as she had appeared, shouting something at him. Just as Luffy wheels in a very, very annoyed-looking Sanji, whose hair looked oddly…. windswept, for someone who was supposed to have been inside the entire time. 

“Ott!” Luffy cheers, and nearly causes your partner to crash into you, though he stops the wheelchair at the last second, jerking the blond in the seat forward violently. Sanji looks like he wants to throw up again. “You got one of the bumper chairs too! We can finally have a bumper chairs race!”

You only squeeze Nami’s hand. She squeezes back. Sanji looks between the two of you, with a small smile on his face, as Luffy continues to babble on about how he had taken Sanji for an adventure through the halls of the castle, pushing him at top speeds, and then making him drift. And you laugh, surrounded by your pod.

Whatever happens, it’ll be okay. You have them, after all.

[greatideas-badwriter]

SasuSaku: Sacrificed To The Banished Prince Ch. 27

Sakura was head over heels for her husband in a way she never imagined she’d feel about anyone. She loved him before the wedding, but after their marriage was officially consummated, it was as if their souls had become intertwined. Perhaps it was just her that felt as such. Sasuke spoke about his feelings relatively often, but it was evident each time that it made him incredibly uncomfortable. 

‘That’s just fine,’ the pink-haired princess mused while chopping vegetables in preparation for dinner, ‘He’s more than proven himself a great man. I no longer need words to reassure my anxieties.’ 

The prince in question was not present. He’d taken Shadow to the nearest town, which was a few hours’ ride away, for supplies. They’d only packed enough clothing for a couple of days, after all. Since they discovered just how compatible their bodies were, Sakura assumed he wanted to stay a while longer. 

Blush warmed her face as affection swelled within her chest. ‘To think that someone like me can feel this happy,’ she sighed dreamily, reminiscing about how gentle and loving Sasuke had been last night. 

Then, as all good things must end, the sad truth decided to make itself reappear in her head. 

She mumbled to herself, lips turning downward, “This won’t last. It can’t.” 

Disappointment so strong overwhelmed the young woman to the point that tears welled in her eyes. Life always had a bittersweet way of showing Sakura what she could have before ripping it away. This would be the harshest experience other than the death of her mother. Now she was glad Sasuke was away. Yes, his presence often helps calm her, but not when his happiness was on the line. 

With a resolute huff, the princess steeled her nerves. She’ll do this, no matter what. The prince had rescued her from her pitiful existence and showed her unimaginable kindness and care. Because of this, she’d do anything to ensure his safety. 

The sound of the door opening and closing met Sakura’s ears, so she sniffled and wiped at the few tears that’d risen so her husband wouldn’t notice and worry. 

“Welcome back. How was the trip?” 

Before she could even turn to lay eyes upon him, a sharp pain hit the back of her neck. 

Then, she was unconscious. 

Sakura’s throat was so sore that she couldn’t bear to even groan when she next awoke. It felt like someone had forced her to swallow pins and needles. Groggily, she blinked to clear her vision, but still, she couldn’t see a thing. That was when she realized a thick cloth of sorts was tied over her eyes. Terror iced her veins, waking her the rest of the way. The woman tried to get up. She couldn’t move far because something dug into her neck. When the rattle of a chain reached her ears, she realized some sort of collar was around her neck. It was tight enough that breathing was difficult, too. When she tried to call for help, unbearable pain shot through her throat. Confused, Sakura cried and attempted to remain calm, failing miserably. 

‘It must be an enchanted object, but who would kidnap me that has access to magic users? Where am I? How long have I been unconscious?’ 

As if those holding her captive could sense her wake despite her inability to make even the smallest sound, heavy footsteps were heard approaching somewhere outside the room she was in. Her pulse quickened with each one until the sound of some kind of lock being turned came, then a door opened nearby, and a voice she recognized but couldn’t pinpoint met her ears, “You’re a hard woman to find, y’know that?” 

‘I know this person, but from where…?’ Sakura couldn’t ask even if she wanted to because of the collar. 

She bristled, scampering backwards until her back hit the wall when those heavy footfalls swiftly approached. 

The scent of nicotine and the forest washed over her from the man. Only a millisecond passed that she could comprehend that before a resounding slap stung her face. It was so powerful that she stumbled to the side. Honestly, she would’ve fallen to the ground if the person didn’t grab her hair to yank her upright. Her entire system was fuzzy with shock at the sudden rough handling, so she froze. 

“If you try somethin’ funny like last time, I’ll make you wish you were fuckin’ dead.” 

Sakura’s hands fumbled blindly to the man’s chest, if only to feel more stable. 

His demeanor didn’t seem less angry, but a hint of amusement met his voice, “Be a good girl, and I’ll keep you in one piece until the prince comes looking for you.” The man released the stunned princess so that she fell to the ground, scraping her knees and palms. He snickered, “For the most part, anyway.” 

A long time passed. It might have been days or even weeks. Sakura’s blindfold was never removed, but after behaving favorably, she earned enough trust from her captor to have the chain removed from the collar. There were bathroom facilities in a tiny closet-like room that she had access to, but that was all. The woman wasn’t even given a bed. Just an empty place to rot away in. 

The same man was the only one to ever interact with her. He’d bring her one measly meal a day, often just some cold soup and plain bread, but she considered herself lucky she was being fed at all. As he had the first day, he also had a habit of slapping or shoving the poor pink-haired woman if she didn’t follow orders quickly enough or if he was just annoyed and wanted to take out his frustrations. 

He talked a lot, her captor. Never about anything note-worthy. Sakura listened only because there was a tiny chance he’d let something useful slip, but it didn’t happen until she’d been locked away for so long, she’d given up hope of Sasuke ever finding her. 

The man stood somewhere nearby as Sakura blindly ate while sitting on the floor. He’d been talking about some of his past jobs. She’d at least learned he was a mercenary for hire, and a skilled one if his tales weren’t bravado. 

“I’ve never so much as received a scratch from a target. A few times, one of my partners will backstab me, like when we first met, but none have been successful.” 

The stale bread became caught in Sakura’s throat as she finally pinpointed who’d captured her. It was the magenta-eyed man that’d chased her through the forest when she’d been kidnapped from the royal palace. ‘How’d he survive? I clearly saw him get stabbed through the stomach!’ 

She coughed, covering her face despite not caring whether or not this criminal found her polite. ‘Then again, I should’ve died, too. If I hadn’t been found and my rescuers hadn’t had potions handy, I would’ve.’ 

A heavy hand hit her back, causing her to tense up in a panic. She fumbled to her knees, trying to get away from the violent man. He grabbed her hair and shoved her back to the ground, “Can’t have you choking to death on me, Princess. The boss says your husband should arrive any day now.” 

During the first few days of captivity, Sakura tried to withstand the collar’s punishment for speaking, but that time had long passed. She desperately clawed at the magical device around her neck, wanting more than anything to ask questions like why was she here? What did they want with Sasuke? Who was this crazy person’s boss? 

Luckily, she wasn’t hit or shoved again for the rest of that day. She was left completely alone, though. 

Another few days passed before anything of note occurred. Sakura, feeling helpless and defeated, had begun brainstorming ways to either escape or die trying. Her death would help Sasuke, yet she’d like to at least tell him goodbye. That was the only thing keeping her going. 

On that fateful day, something new happened. The princess’ captor wasn’t alone. He was arguing with whoever’d joined him. She could hear his irritated voice as they approached from down the hall, “-it matter? It’s not like we’re gonna fuckin’ let her go either way!” 

The second person spoke quietly enough that she wasn’t able to get a read on their voice or words, just that they did respond. Then, the door unlocked and opened. The usual man sounded uncomfortable, which was odd, “Have you, uh, y’know….?” Sakura waited for him to continue. After a pause, he did, though he sounded angrier, “You haven’t had a woman’s bleed, have you?” 

Just like that, the world came to a standstill for the poor, captive princess. A choked sound passed her lips when she desperately tried to ask just how long she’d been there. 

‘Oh, God! Oh, no! Sasuke was supposed to have killed me by now! I never even considered the chance of conceiving!’ 

A cold, emotionless voice interrupted her panic attack, “Are you with child?” 

Tears flooded the cloth over her eyes, making it stick to her skin as she nodded, bowing low and holding her head in her hands. 

Sakura didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t for the more familiar captor to cackle loudly, “We hit the jackpot, Kakuzu! We’ll make more by selling a princess pregnant with a royal brat!” The woman shoved uselessly against him when he grabbed her arm and yanked her upright. “We’ll be set for life!” “Release her, Idiot! We’ll report this and wait for further instruction. The money is guaranteed this way.” 

So, the woman was left alone again. Like always, the tight cloth over her eyes couldn’t be removed, just as the collar around her neck couldn’t. 

As more days passed, Sakura’s spirit weakened further. She spent a lot of time praying to be rescued so that an innocent child wouldn’t be put in danger, especially one belonging to her sweet and gentle husband. There wasn’t a single moment where the princess wondered if Sasuke was searching for her. She knew he was. She just didn’t know if he’d make it in time. Now that her life wasn’t the only one on the line, Sakura wasn’t considering taking her own life. No, she was going to get out of here before giving birth, even if it meant having to do it all by herself. 

Sorry for the shorter chapter. I wanted to get an update out there since you’ve all been patiently waiting.

I just finished my last final on Friday, so I should go back to updating at least once a week going forward. Here’s to another school year completed!

[moirasdolly]

how was act 3?? i wanna know your thoughts. i have no one to talk to about this 😔

-🐮

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH OKAY spoilers for act 3 for anyone who hasn’t watched it please keep scrolling !!

soooo episode 7 has got to be my fav episode in the entire series. it portrayed powder and ekko’s relationship so beautifully :<< and what could have been in another universe. i find it extremely admirable that ekko gave up his own happiness in a universe where everything was almost perfect for him (minus vi being dead) to save everyone jn his own universe. he’s better than me though that’s all i can say…. i would have stayed in the good universe 😭

i’m a little irritated though with how he successfully talked present jinx out of suicide multiple times only for her to end up sacrificing herself at the end. i feel like they built up her redemption arc only to lowkey throw it away at the end. i love her so much i just wish i could have seen her happy ending :cc and i know the theories are that she’s still alive but i wanna SEE that, i don’t want just breadcrumbs and theories :cc she deserves the world.

NOW onto mel’s arc… i think she was severely overlooked this entire season. she easily had one of the coolest and most interesting arcs like WHAT, her powers, her transformation, her strength ugh everything about her is so perfect. her fight with ambessa was sooooo gut wrenching as well :< the fact that she’d give up herself to go to a nation where she doesn’t feel like herself just to end all the bloodshed WAHHHHH I WANT TO CRY. i wish she would have had a better ending too, it hurt to see her alone and unhappy on her way back to noxus.

CAITVI… CAITVI SEX SCENE. i needed that so bad… i knew it would be them hehe. but it was sooooo intimate and perfect and sweet 🥹 when vi was having trouble unbuckling caits pants and they were giggling AHH my heart was so full 🥹 i am so happy they got the ending they deserved,,, i just want them to be happy.

sevika’s place in the council honestly surprises me but i can’t help but feel sad for her instead of happy :< it didn’t look like anyone on the council welcomed her and she looked so uncomfortable at the table and AGHH im frustrated. i just hope that as piltover and zaun rebuilds themselves the relationship between topside and the undercity can improve and sevika can feel like she has a true place among the council and that they will actually LISTEN to her. it also makes me so sad that she opened her heart up to jinx and isha so much this season and they were taken away from her so quickly. she has nobody now, and my only hope is for her story to co time and for her to be happy….

AMDDD jayce and viktors arc was actually insane?? that’s honestly all i can say 😭 im in shock.

sorry that this is so long…. i just have so much to say about this season i adore it so much T^T tell me your thoughts as well !!

[blackjackkent]

It's stupid, perhaps, but writing this stuff out makes it all feel very immediate and intense and I sort of feel like I've run a marathon coming out of this final battle, though not - I imagine - to the degree that Hector does.

We get a very long cutscene of the tide turning in the city, the mind flayers losing their potency and the locals running them over in triumph. It wasn't as epic as some of the previous cutscenes so I didn't record it, but it ends quite epically - a crowd of screaming, cheering citizens in front of a battered Sorcerous Sundries, with a line from the narrator atop it:

Narrator: Everything you did, everything you sacrificed. It was worth it for this.

True enough. Hector can hear the cheering as he and the others haul themselves, exhausted, from the water, and for a little while he just stands there and listens, letting the feeling of victory - of having saved so many - soak through him and slowly start to feel real.

Karlach keeps close at his side as they walk along the dock; she has one of his hands clasped tightly in hers as if she never plans to let it go. He is desperately grateful that, whatever lies ahead for them, that she survived this long, that he can experience this victory with her at his side.

The others, all his friends, everyone who traveled so far with him, are all waiting along the shoreline.

"We did it," Karlach mumbles, as if she still can't quite believe it herself. "We actually did it. And the city's still standing."

Devastated, yes... but standing. In the morning, they'll have to see how much has been lost. But for today... Hector allows himself to think about nothing but what will survive because of them, because of what they went through, what they did.

"My powers..." Wyll comments wonderingly. "They're draining. Just like Mizora said they would." He smiles crookedly. "A small price to pay in the grand scheme of things."

Hector grins, reaches out to slap him on the shoulder. A small price indeed - Wyll is free for the first time in years, free of both the tadpole and the pact, free to choose a new course of his own design.

"I should feel relieved, yet my blood still simmers..." Lae'zel mutters. A pause as she works through her own emotions, and then-- she smiles. Hector isn't sure he's ever seen her smile with such sincerity before.

"The parasite," she says, turning excitedly towards Hector. "It's withered, dead along with the Netherbrain! I am cleansed! I will never be a filthy ghaik!"

She pauses, and then her smile fades, her head dips reverentially as she returns her eyes to Orpheus. "Only mild offense intended, of course," she adds, with just the slightest hint of humor, but it fades instantly in favor of the more serious grimace that is her usual mien. "You did the unthinkable," she says quietly. "And I'm grateful for it."

Orpheus shrugs, turns and moves past them off the dock. "Even when my time in the Prism stretched out like an eternity," he says thoughtfully, "even when escape seemed impossible, I never lost hope. I knew that my destiny was to liberate my people. To return to them triumphant."

He turns back to face them, his tentacles twitching. "I was wrong. It seems I can only fulfill one part of my destiny. My people will be liberated, but I cannot return to them. Not like this."

He pulls a blade from his belt, offers it to Hector, his strange alien eyes showing a clear sadness.

"You helped me destroy that abomination. Now help me destroy myself. You must kill me."

Without waiting for an answer, he kneels on the dirty, blood-spattered cobblestones and turns his attention to Lae'zel, who has moved up next to Hector with a grave, grief-stricken expression. "But first, Lae'zel," he says soberly, "I need your promise."

Her eyebrows lift questioningly. Perhaps she is simply too exhausted, but there is none of that eager subservience that once marked her, when Hector saw her stand before Vlaakith. She simply waits, expectant, for the Prince's command.

"Carry my hope," he asks softly. "Carry my burden. Call my dragons, Quulos and Quuthos, and ride to the Astral Sea. Destroy Vlaakith. Release our people. Be our future and our legacy."

Lae'zel blinks, and blinks again, astonished into complete silence. After so much work, so much struggle - to survive, to be recognized, to reach the front lines of a war for her people's fate - she is being asked not only to join that war but to lead it.

More than ever in all the time he's known her, she suddenly looks like what he has known her to be all along - terribly, terribly young. And as she has in the past, as she's started to realize her respect for him and his for her, she looks towards Hector with a question in her eyes.

But he shakes his head, smiles slightly. "This is your choice to make, Lae'zel. Not mine. I entrust it to you." It would never have been his choice to make - but he is proud to stand at her side as she makes it, a decision that she has worked so hard to earn the right to.

What happens to Orpheus... in truth, Hector is feeling too much and all of it too deeply at present to spare a tremendous amount of thought for the man. But Lae'zel... he is proud of Lae'zel. And he knows that whatever battle she chooses to take on, she will be equal to it.

"Duty," she says pensively. "All my life, I've traveled in its slipstream, not once questioning its path. In its service, I came here. And now... in its service, I leave."

She turns to look towards Hector, and he is surprised to see the weight of emotion in her eyes unlike any he's seen before.

"I will carry your hope, Prince Orpheus," she agrees. "And I will carry your burden. But to that burden I must add my own. The loss of those I leave behind."

Hector looks back at her steadily. With a slow, cautious movement, giving her time to evade, he reaches out and puts a hand on her forearm, holds it there for a long moment. Words seem inadequate. I will find some, later, before you are gone, he thinks to himself. Something that articulates what you have become to me. A sister in violence.

Her lips twitch slightly, as if in understanding.

"La'ch cras'ht h'mak vlek. So be it," Orpheus murmurs. "Now, give me my freedom from this form."

Hector turns the knife in his hands hesitantly, meeting the mind flayer's piercing gold eyes. He knows why Orpheus asks, and that he would likely ask for the same thing in the other man's place. And yet... "You don't deserve to die," he says quietly.

"I will not be ghaik!" Orpheus insists fiercely. "I did what I did to save my people. The rest is up to them. Someone else must rise within the ranks to lead the revolution against Vlaakith. Give me my freedom from this form. Release my soul to the Astral Seas while I still have one to call my own."

Phrased like that... Hector can't deny it to him.

Give Orpheus the honorable death he craves.

Hector so rarely fights with a blade that it always startles him to feel how easily the flesh gives. There's a soft sucking sound as Orpheus gasps for breath, his eyes widening.

"Gith'ka tavkim krash'ht..." he whispers... and dies...

For a long time everything is still. Then Lae'zel turns abruptly and walks past Orpheus's body, out into the open square beyond.

"Quulos!" she bellows. Her voice seems to echo in the silence.

No response, for a moment. Then one of the dragons wheeling overhead comes at her call, coming to a crashing landing before her, pale fire drifting from its mouth.

Quulos. Orpheus's dragon, and now Lae'zel's. How long has she hoped to ride such a dragon one day? Did she ever picture such a case as this?

She takes a cautious step forward, raises a hand in greeting to the enormous creature; it snuffs a greeting in return, cocking its head to one side. Its eyes glint with intelligence, understanding.

She hesitates, looks back at Hector. "I can never forget you," she says, and her voice is heavy with emotion. "Your name will be etched in our slates. You will be called Mla'ghir - liberator."

He smiles slightly. "You will have no need to forget," he says quietly. "I will be here when you have need of me." A pause, and then he fumbles out the words he has learned from her over the months, all filed away in his memory as if for this moment - some ungrammatical, awkward representation of a much deeper feeling. "Chraith'kan zharn, t'lak'ma h'taka, n'gi, n'varsh." May your enemies know agony, my sister in battle, my student, my teacher.(*)

Her eyes brighten. She turns away, and without hesitation climbs onto the dragon's back.

"To the skies!" she calls.

The dragon lifts, its huge wings sending gusts of wind across them as it launches itself upwards.

They all watch, wondering, silent, as their friend disappears, and behind her, falling into line behind their new leader, go the entire githyanki force, vanishing back into the Astral Sea.

------

(*) Critical levels of artistic license; Hector doesn't get to say anything here in game, let alone cobbled together githyanki words pulled from the FR wiki. XD