#be stuck with this remaining love for those who have left that will cling to you until death?

[yamikawaii]

like idk how to get my therapist to understand that I believe almost everyone's love for me is conditional because it has been proven to me time and time again that i am actually one of the very rare cases of people who can experience unconditional love in the first place. is it that so hard to understand

[lustlovehart]

since reqs are still open i have a thought,,,,

scara/wanderer falling in love with reader all over again after he forgets them and everything else after the attempt of becoming god feel free to ignore those

A/n: For the sake of this request, he forgets who he is for months instead of just a day.

Summary: He’s had no name for so long, maybe his salvation is the voice that has remained in his head. Though, it seems that voice has turned to reality.

Warnings: Told from his perspective, Wanderer without his memories, but bonus is when he does get them back, Spoilers for Sumeru, Scara wants to kill Dottore, Jealousy, Kinda corny

Puppets are meant to have strings, and yet he is forced to lift his limbs on his own. Puppets have puppeteers make them do what they must yet he has to think for himself.

It makes sense, yet why is he left to walk without a purpose.

It feels like he's forgotten something from his past, yet there is no past for him to remember.

"Kuni... Have you... that isn't my... Huh...? You're just embarrassed I... pictures... Didn't hide... Okay... Think it's sweet... from you...!"

It's like his brain only had memories of some broken past he could no longer recall. Yet, he still finds some worth in the broken words that echo in his head.

"Uhm sir...? Can you please hand me that sunsettia? I have the Mora for it."

His trance is quickly dissipated as the voice in front of him is sounded. It feels familiar yet he doesn't have it saved in his brain.

"Huh...? Oh sure."

With no sure background on himself, nor any real idea of how he came to be, he's stuck working many jobs. His finger tips quickly brush against the hand in front of him, it felt like static rushed up to his chest, though he lacked a heart it felt as if there was one there.

"Thank you, I'll be taking my leave, so, have a good day." Familar...

"Sunsettias and Bulle fruit are kinda different huh? In fontaine, there's this certain candy made out of it, have you ever had it Kuni? No? I'll bring you some when I go back! You wanna come too...? Wha?! Don't act like you didn't say that! Hey don't walk away from me!"

Before he could reach out and ask for your name, you had already walked away from him. It didn't feel like the first time it had happened either.

A week later, all he could remember was that single interaction. His fingers still tingling whenever he remembered you.

It's as if he had some third sense for you, the moment you step into the bazaar his eyes quickly looked toward the direction you had cam in from.

"What is your name" his hands cling onto your wrist, even though you weren't planning to leave any time soon, almost like he felt as if he let go you would disappear once more.

"Wha...?" You're still not too caught up in what it is exactly he's asking so your don't answer, only quirking your eyebrow at him.

"Name?"

"Mine? It's [Name]...?" He quietly whispers it under his breath, like a mantra, a prayer. When he says your name again it's like it melts off his tongue.

Like you belong there on his lips.

"Am I in trouble? I promise i didn't steal anything from the stand sir!"

"What? No no, It's not that." He pauses before he speaks, a little hesitant while he thinks of his wording to dish out, how does he ask without coming off as weird? "I think... You're... You seem familiar."

"Hm? Well I do get supplies here often so maybe that's it-"

"Can we have dinner later?"

"Wait wha? Well, I mean we can, but I only know you as the vendor here, so that's kinda sudden is it not...?" He takes what you say into consideration, but only shrugs his shoulders.

"It probably is but, I wanna talk to you more." He couldn't let the opportunity slip between his fake fingers, for such a long time since he had awoken, it's like your voice had been in his head for such a long time.

No, not like... Your voice has been with him.

------

Months had passed by in such a hurry, yet he still had no title to go by. He didn't have anything attached to his person, so he told you the name he remembers feint whispers of.

"Kuni...?"

He can tell in your expression the name is familiar on your tongue, but does not hold any memories in your head. He doesn’t mind though, it's nice to hear you adress him, even if if the name you speak isnt one he remembers.

It doesn't take long before occasionally meets up turned into daily hang outs. There wouldn't be a second where you two weren't attached by the hips.

The two of you sit on the highest branch of the tree located at port ormos, your head rested on his shoulders while the wind calmly brushes by the two of you.

"Kuni." He doesn’t give you an answer but you can feel his eyes bore into you.

"I have to leave next week. Something urgent came up and… My job needs me to leave sumeru for some time, i’m not sure how long though." His expression doesn’t give too much away, but when you lift your head to look at him, the slight squint in his eyes is all you need to know he’s upset by it. “Don’t give me that look, it probably isn’t gonna be for more than a month anyway so i’ll be back soon.” He turns his head away from you, presumably to hide whatever look he has splayed on his face.

“Don’t be like that, besides, it’s my birthday soon. It’ll give you time to prepare for when I get back.” He still doesn’t answer you. A sigh leaves your throat before your hand reaches up to his face, pulling it closer to your lips as a quick peck is placed on his cheek. It’s enough to stun him a bit, watching his brain short circuit in real time while a smile cracks on your mouth.

“What would you want anyway? You’re not too open about your wants.” It’s nice to know he cares. Though you don't give him a straight answer, once again deciding to mess with him.

"Who knows, maybe I want you-" it doesn't take long before a palm pushes your face mid sentence. "Wha?! I was gonna ask for food."

With the way his face is turned, you'll never notice the way his face is warmed. He's sure if he had one, his chest would be beating sporadically.

He hopes the two of you can last.

------

Bonus:

It had been awhile since he had last seen you, 2 weeks maybe? At the time, when you had told him on your little date, he didn’t think much of it, he had only the memories of the clothes on his back to stick to, so he really believed it was for a simple job.

But with his memories back, he knows what your "job" truly is. Formerly, you were his assistant back in his harbinger days, but now that he is no longer the ballader, he can only seethe in silence at the thought of you being a differnt harbingers aid.

He might even go insane if he finds out you're to be working under The Doctor.

God Forbid, he finds out that man has been messing with you, he'll gladly become a god once more if that means he can protect you, or better yet, destroy him.

Instead of his hiding spot being a place to relax, he's now left with the thought of Dottore in his mind, it makes his hands curls into balls, grassblades ripping apart at how tight he's clutching his fists, he's sure if he was human there would no doubt be blood pouring out-

A sudden weight had jumped on him from behind, arms quickly tightening around him, a familar head coming into view.

"I finally found you." His eyes are right in front of your own, like your eyes are locked onto his and he can't look away from you. "I was worried, about you, ever since I had come back yesterday, you weren't at the usual spot."

Of course he wouldn't be. He had finally remembered his past sins, he no longer felt worthy enough to lay by your side.

But he still had some sense to at least protect you from the shadows.

"I just felt like changing the scenery is all."

"Hm? You've never wanted to do that before. Did something happen?"

His fingers... His fake fingers, tightly grip onto your very real arm.

"Maybe I've grown a hatred for doctors, is that not reasonable?"

"Huh...?? It's certainly random to change a spot for that reason that's for sure."

"If a certain doctor had any copies of himself, I would've loved to rip him to pieces."

"Okay future serial killer..."

He doesn't answer, maybe... Maybe it's best you don't remember his past atrocities with him.

"Perhaps you're one too [Name], who knows, maybe you're just as bad as me."

Your head leans forward, resting your chin on his shoulder while he talks.

"If that's the case, we really are meant to be huh?"

He let's a laugh escape his throat, not the usual one he lets out, filled with joy, it's filled with something more sinister, menacing? Yet it's still filled with some love for you.

"Yeah, that might be why we're together again."

"Again? Did you date a doppelganger?"

"Just sit down."

" Oh wow, that's some new attitude."

---

Wanderer before he got his memories back would probably be really awkward so I tried to incorpate that. (I wrote this really sporadically, so there's probably a lot of mistakes and really rushed I'm so sorry 😔)

[gardenwons]

I'm still your boy daydreaming  ִֶָ☾。

SYNOPSIS: As graduation draws to a close, Jungwon, who has quietly pined for you for years, remains daydreaming.

PAIRINGS: Whipped bff!jungwon x unaware!reader

GENRE: college!won, fluff, some angst(?)

A/N: listened to “the cutest pair” by Regina Song, but in wonnie’s pov!

Jungwon watched as you anxiously bit your fingernail, fixated on the projector while the professor droned on about the upcoming graduation details.

Amid the collective buzz of nerves and excitement, you were determined to get everything perfect for this special academic moment. Sensing his gaze, Jungwon breath hitched as you turned to glare at him, saying, ''For a summa cum laude, I'd expect you to pay attention, won." With a sigh, you leaned back in your chair, deciding to ignore your own advice and drift into distraction. Jungwon blinked away the image of you that had been stuck in his head for the past hour and straightened his back, finally focusing on the topic at hand.

For years, Jungwon poured all his energy into his studies, making academics his sole focus. In contrast, you seemed to glide effortlessly through your responsibilities, seamlessly balancing your love for baking while maintaining excellent grades. Your natural grace and effortless talent captivated him, turning his admiration into something more profound.

Being president of the student council, Jungwon frequently found himself in need of support, and you were always there— covering missed classes, updating him on quizzes, and even bringing him homemade cookies. Each time he received those sweet treats, he adoringly traced every chocolate chip, imagining you in the kitchen, preparing them just for him. Your small acts of kindness and your effortless charm only deepened his admiration, turning him almost into a fanatic.

To Jungwon, you were the epitome of support and sweetness—the kindest, most lovely person he had ever encountered. Your presence was as delightful as strawberries and as warm as chocolate, and he found himself completely captivated. Any affection you showed him made him blush furiously, a reaction you took as just part of his normal demeanor. His attempts to hold your hand, which you happily reciprocated, left him almost fainting, his heart racing with every touch and glance.

As junior year passed, both of you grew older and more mature, with Jungwon's gestures evolving from shy touches to confidently resting his arm around your shoulders. His boldness extended to occasionally inhaling the comforting scent of your hair... secretly of course. Whenever another guy approached you, Jungwon would wrap his arms around you and flash a sweet, knowing smile. “Hi, lovely. Shall we?” he’d say, his gaze casually drifting to the suitor whose hand would hang awkwardly by his side, holding sad flowers.

With a nonchalant smile, you’d cling to Jungwon, blissfully unaware of the advances you were turning down. To you, his protective presence felt natural, yet for Jungwon, every touch and moment with you was a testament to his deep affection and longing.

Jungwon was convinced that you must have feelings for him—how could you not, given the way you were with him? It seemed almost cruel to be so affectionate and loving if you didn’t truly feel the same. His eyes, always filled with love and adoration, had been that way since he was 16. Now, as he stood at the brink of adulthood, he felt an overwhelming urge to finally ask you the question he’d carried in his heart for so long.

Before the big day, you and Jungwon found yourselves huddled in a café, finalizing details and perfecting his valedictorian speech with your help. As you focused on your own tasks, writing notes to help him with, Jungwon couldn’t help but steal glances at you, his eyes blinking slowly as he tried to conceal his smile. Over the years, he had brushed off the constant teasing from classmates and possibly the whole student body who shipped you two together, fearing that acknowledging it might push you away. But in that moment, watching you immersed in your work, he was overwhelmed by the realization of how deeply he loved you. Jungwon knew with certainty that no one could love you the way he did, "Don’t you think we’d be the cutest pair?” Jungwon asked, his gaze fixed on his screen, too shy to meet your eyes. His words were accompanied by a soft, nervous smile. You giggled at his question, finding his hesitation endearing. “We already are, silly.” you replied warmly.

Hearing your response, Jungwon let out a breath of relief. His eyes slowly lifted from the hair that had fallen across his forehead, his fingers nervously fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. As he looked up, he was met with your radiant, reassuring smile.

You reached across the table and gently took his hand in yours, giving it a tender squeeze. Jungwon’s heart raced as he felt the warmth of your touch, his nerves melting away. The simplicity and sweetness of the gesture made his feelings for you all the more intense. As he gazed into your eyes, he couldn’t help but think how incredibly fortunate he was to have someone as special as you by his side. The world seemed to stand still for a moment, and Jungwon knew, with absolute certainty, that he never wanted to let go.

…

As Jungwon delivered his speech, his gaze move across the sea of students and faculty before finally settling on you. Despite his dislike to public speaking, he spoke with a confidence fueled by his desire to inspire others and make you proud. With each word, he poured his heart into crafting a message that can resonate deeply.

As he reached the end of his speech, he paused for a moment, his voice tinged with emotion. “To hope is to live,” he said, “I still have a dream to reach, and achieving this was already a step towards it.” His hands trembled slightly as he concluded, his shyness evident in his final words of gratitude. “Thank you, everyone.” As the applause filled the room, Jungwon’s eyes sought yours again, hoping that you could see just how much this moment meant to him.

After a few more speeches and the excitement of the ceremony, students began tossing their mortarboards into the air. Jungwon made his way through the crowd, clutching a bouquet he had carefully prepared for you. His heart pounded with each step as he approached, only to find you already wrapped in the arms of Sunghoon, your boyfriend.

Sunghoon was the only man you seemed to notice with his advances, the only one who somehow slipped under Jungwon's radar. How could he have been so blind? Despite the sharp pang in his chest, Jungwon forced a smile as he neared you both, his other hand fidgeting and squeezing around his toga, struggling to mask the ache of his unspoken feelings. He offered Sunghoon a congratulatory nod, who returned it with a warm smile and a heartfelt “Congratulations.” Jungwon’s gaze shifted back to you, and he saw you squealing with excitement, your joy infectious.

When you finally turned to Jungwon, you greeted him with a tight hug. The embrace, meant for him alone, now enveloped him in a bittersweet moment. The scent of your perfume, which he had imagined would be his exclusive reminder of you, was now mixed with the warmth of Sunghoon’s presence. The hug that was supposed to be his alone felt like a cruel twist of fate, making his heart ache even more as he realized that the affection he had longed for was now shared with someone else.

Jungwon, feeling like a coward in the midst of his emotions, stood before you as you beamed with pride. “I’m so proud of you, my boy,” you said, your eyes brimming with happy tears as you cupped his face gently. Jungwon’s own eyes were clouded with sadness, the tears he fought so hard to keep at bay finally spilling over. “I’ll always be your boy, yeah?” he whispered, his voice barely above a tremor.

You laughed softly, your laugh like a bittersweet melody, leaving a tender kiss on his cheek, your affection clear but the meaning unmistakable. “Always, Jungwon,” you replied, your words carrying a platonic warmth that seemed to echo louder in his heart than he could admit.

Jungwon stood there, his heart aching as he realized how deeply his own feelings contrasted with yours. The kiss he had hoped would signify something more was a gentle reminder of the reality he had tried to ignore. The warmth of your embrace and the affection in your voice only served to amplify the distance between your hearts. He sniffled quietly, nodding and biting his lip to hold back the disappointment that threatened to overwhelm him. Even as he forced a smile, though it was a hollow expression trying to be happy for you and your new chapter with Sunghoon.

Jungwon was left with the crushing realization that he was merely a boy daydreaming of a future that would never be his, longing for a love that remained forever out of reach.

[iwishthebestforyou]

it still hurts, watching him fade away

kazuha x gn!reader // I didn't reread it before I posted it, so probably isn't that good

sypnosis: your childhood bestfriend — who you've had a BIG crush on since kindergarten is moving away soon. With the remaining time you have to be near him, you make it a mission to confess before he leaves.

angst btw

You fiddled with your pen as your teacher continues speaking about a topic you couldn't care less about, your mind on a whole different topic.

Staring at the window beside your seat, looking out at the view. It was already the end of your senior year, exams are piling up and it seems spring is coming to an end.

Your eyes left the windows view and stared at the career test on your table, the small piece of paper felt heavier than it should have. The simple questions make you feel pure dread.

Looking around the classroom, everyone was writing down their hopes, dreams and ambitions on that paper. While yours laid empty.

Sighing deeply, as the bell rang signifying the end of the class, finally. Your paper was still empty so, guess you'll turn it in tomorrow.

Walking out the classroom, you watched everyone walk by. Everything felt so fast, like time was mocking you as it flew by, the people around you seemingly adapted to the fast currents of time, while you.. you're still stuck here. Still stuck never knowing where you're gonna be..

Your deep thought process was interrupted by a tap on your shoulder, ah—

Its him. Kazuha.

The man you've grown to love for years, your childhood crush up until now. It may seem silly, but you've loved him ever since you were a child. Ever since he helped you up that day when you sprained your knee, that memory still perfectly in touch, the way he cried harder than you did despite you being the one injured.

It was meant to be right?

You smiled at him as he chuckled

" Just what are you doing here, standing around here hm? Waiting for me? "

He teased, words casual like always. He had no idea how much it affected you — you hated how he could say such words without being affected, while you were a mess just from a simple sentence.

" No way! I was just thinking... " You said, defending yourself from the accusation that he gave. You're not waiting for him!

" Thinking about what? It's not like you to be so lost in thought.. " He said, responding pretty quickly, as his face turned into one of curiosity.

Your face started to heat up.

" It's nothing.. it's just about the career thing.. that stupid test. " You said, looking at him and you felt the butterflies erupting in your stomach, God, how could he just stand there and look so.. so beautiful?

His eyes softened, nodding in understanding before looking at the window, the sun now annoyingly bright.. but he didn't seem as affected as you.

" I already filled that out. I'm moving abroad, I don't think staying in one place is my thing .. " He said a soft smile on his face and yours faltered.

Huh? He's moving?

Your breath hitched before you quickly repeated

" Abroad? " ..

" Yeah. " He said, looking at you.. but it felt like a knife was twisting in your chest.

" Oh.. good for you! " You said, forcing a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

The rest of the day passed in a blur after those words. Moving abroad?.. You felt the weight in your chest grow heavier.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about this before.. people leave, plans change and he's no different, you always knew he had bigger dreams than this small town.. He has to do what he can to get a good future, no?.. but hearing him say it so casually made it feel so.. feel so weird.

You had one month.

Your eyes lingered on him as he walked ahead, the sunlight catching his hair in a way that made your heart ache even more. You clenched your fist, a new found determination.

One month to say what you’ve been holding onto for years.

One month to say I love you.

You can do this.

As days flew by, you found yourself clinging to every moment with Kazuha. The playful teasing, the comfortable silences everything about him became a little more exciting, a little more bittersweet, knowing that by the end of this month you won't be able to see him as freely, each playful remark, each smile a silent plea for him to realize your feelings.

You tried to confess in small ways, complimenting him, subtle hints on reconnecting after graduation, but Kazuha seemed oblivious. Or maybe he just didn’t feel the same. The thought ate you alive, but there's only a few weeks left.. you cant back out!

" Are you going to the festival? "

Your friend asked, as you snapped out your thoughts and looked up at her. Nodding absentmindedly.

" Ah.. yeah. "

Your town had an annual festival, fireworks would be lit up, the whole town would be there and it would mark your last festival before you enter adulthood.

As the days continue passing by, You had gathered the courage to ask him to the festival, determined to make him yours by the end, this would be your final attempt..

Now.. it was the day of the festival.

The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, lanterns glowing in the dusk, and the scent of street food filling the air. It was the perfect setting, almost like something out of a movie, the perfect setting to confess.

" Ah, this place is beautiful as ever.. " He complimented, looking around.

Kazuha walked beside you, seemingly carefree as always. Talking about his day, his poems.. you barely listened, heart racing thinking about what could happen tonight.

You guys took photos together, played games.. everything a couoke would do. You felt warm, really excited. Happy to be with him.

" The fireworks should start soon.. " You said, the fireworks starting soon also signifys your confession. You can do this. Your ready.

You both found a quiet spot away from the crowds, it was a secret spot you looked for weeks before the festival, just so you guys can have this moment. A high top that overlooked the town.

The countdown begun, the countdown..

5. the crowd started, as you started building up your courage..

" 4! " The townspeople screamed, your mind screaming at you to just do it already!

" 3! " No regrets this time. C'mon. Just say it.

Your eyes looked at him, face scrunching in determination.

" 2! " You can do this.

Before the final number, You stole a glance at Kazuha, his face illuminated by the flickering lights, his expression peaceful, a glint of excitement in his eyes at he stared at the sky expectedly.

Your heart pounded. This was it.

You opened your mouth, the words sitting heavy on the tip of your tongue. I love you.

Your hand trembled as you reached for his. The distance between your hands was so small, yet it felt like an ocean. But before you could close the gap, a wave of fear crashed over you.

What if telling him would change everything? What if he didn’t feel the same, and this comfortable space between you shattered? Every single moment from before up to now would be useless. No way, you can't handle that. You didn’t want to risk losing him, even if it meant never knowing.

You hesitated, fingers curling back into your palm. The words died in your throat, swallowed by the sound of the fireworks exploding in the distance.

Kazuha turned to you, smiling softly, completely unaware of the mental battle in your head,

You forced yourself to smile back, the ache in your chest growing.

The fireworks lighting up the sky and the people cheering in joy, it felt like the world was mocking you.

"Enjoying the fireworks?" he asked, his voice casual and soft, the same voice you wish you could forget right now.

You nodded, unable to trust yourself to speak, feeling something welling up in your eye, looking away from him.

The fireworks continued to light up the night sky, but you couldn’t bring yourself to watch them anymore, the moment was quiet. If maybe in different circumstances it would've been a romantic moment. But right now, you felt so far from him.

You had your chance and you let it slip away.

As the fireworks bloomed in the sky, casting their glow over the town, you felt the weight of the silence pressing harder against your chest. You’d practiced this moment in your head a hundred times, imagining the perfect scenario where you’d gather the courage to say the words.

Just 3 words.

But now, standing beside him, it felt impossible.

Kazuha leaned back, a soft smile, letting out a soft sigh. He seemed content, his eyes reflecting the colors above. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, his voice low and content.

You nodded again, still unable to speak, eyes looking away. You couldn't bare to look up at the sky. The ache that had been simmering in your chest all month— maybe years, had finally turned into a dull, throbbing pain. How could you stand here, so close to him, and still feel so far away..

Isn't he supposed to be your safe person?

Another firework exploded in the distance, removing you from your thoughts, followed by a round of cheers from the people down below. The world seemed so full of life, moving together. But here, in this quiet corner with Kazuha, all you could feel was the passing of time slipping through your fingers and the fear of what's next.

You tried to focus on the present, on the warmth of the moment, but your mind kept spinning back to the what ifs.

But each question led to another knot in your stomach, each doubt pulling you further from the idea of confessing.

As the last burst of fireworks lit up the sky, Kazuha stood up, brushing the dust off his pants. He turned to you with a soft, gentle smile—the kind that made your heart flutter and ache at the same time, he pulled you up. The touch making you feel horrible and warm.

"Thanks for today," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. " I had a lot of fun. "

How could he just smile like that?

You managed a small smile in return, trying to ignore the tears threatening to spill over.

" Me too ."

For a moment, you stood there, staring at him, hoping maybe, just maybe.. he’d say something, say that he understands the feelings lingering between you. But he didn’t.

Instead, Kazuha gave a small wave, turning back toward the festival lights. "Let's head back. It's getting late."

As he walked ahead, your gaze followed him, the words you could never say caught in your throat. You had your chance, and you let it slip away. And now, all you could do was watch as the one person who meant the world to you disappeared into the crowd, the distance between you growing with every step, he was moving on. Just like everyone else.

He was going home and in the heat of moment you screamed at him from afar,

" Kazuha! The moon..! The moon is beautiful tonight!! "

You yelled, smiling at him with a pained look, a desperate look. Just maybe— Maybe!

He looks back at you, an unreadable expression on his face. He sighed before flashing a soft bittersweet smile and yelling back.

" I prefer the sunset. "

The tears you've been holding back all this time finally spilled, all your emotions hitting you. Sobs coming out as you looked down.

— And just like that, that marks the end of your crush on Kazuha, a crush that lasted from kindergarten to now, your eyes fixed on his figure that slowly got smaller the further he got.

A painful reminder that your no one special in his life, when in yours he was the most special one. You will fade into his memories, staying as someone in the past, never the present.

And so, you stayed there, standing alone under the empty sky, watching the flickering glow of the festival fade into the night. He was moving on, just like the sunset.

And maybe.. maybe it was time for you to do the same.

[stuffymcstuffsworld]

Guilt

Sullivan could only stare at the empty throne in silence. It had been empty for such a long time now. Why did he keep clinging?

Everyone was starting to get restless from it. Wanting a change. Yet he wanted everything to remain as it was.

◇It is expected. An oath by blood to hold the throne. And the starlight passes overhead, fuels all the skills I've honed.◇

If Derkila was no longer the demon king, then you no longer had a reason to stay. Your contract with the demon king was tied to that throne.

◇I am a guardian, a watcher of these ancient rights. Yet I find myself drawn from that path on those dazzling moonlit nights◇

You were the demon kings subordinate, not his. You hadn't budged on that statement at all since he disappeared. Normally, when an aleph like yourself was so defiant, there would be punishment.

But this was you. The sweet aleph who he and Derkila often stayed with. A loyal servant to a fault. A prideful demon who would not accept a new master. Even if it was Sullivan.

◇Let me hold you, keep you close to me, I long to hear your voice.◇

So he made you stay. Bound to that throne where you couldn't leave. Permanently stuck till a new king is crowned.

You silently glare at him from your place beside it. Maybe this is why Derkila said he would never become demon king. Because he had done such an awful thing to you through his own Greed.

Cause he had the nerve to call that love. To make excuses and claim it was for protection. It had been so long since you last spoke to him.

◇But dearest, I know better now. I must give you this choice.◇

Your tail flicked in irritation, as it always did when you saw him now. Gone were the days of grinning fangs and wagging tails. He had lost that privilege.

◇I can give you everything you need or do you want to hear me plead? Just look my way. Just look my way~◇

You looked away from him, obviously disgusted. You were the one who knew him the longest after all. More than anyone else. You couldn't stand the sight of him anymore.

◇Is there something more that I don't know? That you won't say till we've both grown cold.◇

You couldn't stand the groveling. Or the threats. You could stand being in the same place for endless nights. You would never accept his love. Not like you once had.

◇Just say "please stay" look my way~◇

Why... why did he have to be so jealous? Jealous of a demon who was no longer here. Why did he do this? Forcing you into submission here of all places.

When you had been bright and free when Derkila was here. Far happier without the slender demons interference. So why? Why did he bind you...

◇This unspoken contract. A deed we formed for mutual gain. If that's all this was when you're not here, what is this rooted pain?◇

Little imp, darling demon. Temping lover... such warm affections left behind. Your eyes are full of malice. Where did he go wrong?

What had possessed him to keep you here? You couldn't even fight back. You were an aleph. He can overpower you with a single finger.

You certainly couldn't dispose of his magic. The magical chains that keep you bound and unable to leave.

◇I don't care that you're of lower station or primed to state my dark temptations. Why can't you understand? Let me explain~◇

He had tried thousands of times... but nothing came out right. There was no proper justification for his actions. Any excuses were shoved to the side with a venomous stare.

Was your past feelings not there in the first place? Had it all been in his head? It had been so long since he had seen your genuine smile that he didn't know anymore.

◇I'm terrified as I try to make these feelings true. What's left for me and my broken heart if I can not have you?◇

Everyone was slowly leaving him. Time after time he was constantly left. So... he couldn't have you do the same. Or so he thought.

◇Unless it's me. And not matter what in this world I could give, it's not enough to get past the walls you conjured up to live.◇

You had been a charming demon it was true. But you had walls that even Derkila hadn't been able to break. So why did Sullivan think he had a chance?

You who were sensitive about ranks and were constantly belittled by others for being deemed weak. Truthfully, you were always the stronger one emotionally. Never letting your thoughts run wild.

But Sullivan had ruined that, too, hadn't he? Leaving you alone for so long. Him being your only company. Shutting you out from the rest of the world so much so that you had been forgotten by many others.

◇Is this how you feel? Scorned by a relem that can not comprehend what you are. So I'll grant you this mercy. This bind on our souls needs to end.◇

The click is the only sound in the room. It makes your ears twitch and your tail stiffen as you glance down. He had removed the chains.

Your eyes meet. Curiosity filled your features, but you didn't say anything. Just waiting for the catch you thought was coming.

But the older demon said nothing. Merely turned around and left. Leaving the door wide open behind him.

◇I will try to make amends for making you a means to an end. So look my way~ Please look my way~◇

He hears your wings flap. He truly believes it's over now. You must have run off. To get far away from him. To snatch your newfound freedom.

◇If there's something more that I don't know, I'll save us both before we grow cold.◇

A pair of arms wrap around him, and he's stunned. Your face pressed into his back. Your smaller body clining to his tall frame. You whisper softly.

☆Just look my way☆

[ronqueesha]

I've been developing my death knight as a new WoW roleplay character in my head for a while.

I don't have every detail planned, but the things I know about her:

Her name (for now) is Rosalyn Kwesha.

She was a small time thief and petty criminal in Gilneas before the worgen curse afflicted the population. She gained quite the reputation for her lawbreaking among the poor and downtrodden. She wasn't quite a robin hood figure, the people just liked it when someone made the king and his laws look bad.

She was in the prison that player worgen characters go to early in the introduction questline. The one absolutely infested with feral worgen. This means she was one of those people who was turned by the curse into a mindless canine monstrosity who attacked the player, and was killed.

Not long after, Bolvar Fordragon the lich king rose Rosalyn and several others as he secretly built up his forces. This new crop of death knights would prove useful to him during the legion invasion and other conflicts. Rosalyn herself was just one of many rank-and-file undead soldiers the lich king held in reserve, not an important adventurer.

When Sylvanas Windrunner destroyed a huge part of the lich king's power by destroying the helm of domination, Rosalyn was freed of her magical compulsion to serve him. She did not take part in the shadowlands story, instead she immediately ran from the servitude of one bad king to see the remains of her home and the ashes left behind by another bad king.

As of now, the former thief turned undead worgen is struggling to build a new life. The old Rosalyn is quite literally dead and gone, but the new one still lives inside her skin.

So she's like a mix between my other OCs Saoirse and Iona. but also a werewolf.

Like all of my OCs, she hides her true feelings under a mask of falsehood. Where the real Rosalyn is lost and full of regrets over a wasted life and an unjust death, the fake persona she puts into the world is much more upbeat and pleasant.

The main sources of inspiration that my brain obsessively clings to are the songs "Run Away to Mars" by TALK and "Dial Drunk" by Noah Kahan.

This line in particular sticks with me:

"I ain't proud of all the punches that I've thrown in the name of someone I no longer know."

I guess my muse is trying to say Rosalyn had someone she deeply loved in her past, who is perhaps still alive and several decades older. Someone who has moved on without her, but Rosalyn is stuck in the past, full of regrets and sorrow over what was taken from her.

[uninhibited-introspections]

The fool who fell in love with a war

I have started dreading month ends and mornings have become unbearable I suppose this body of mine has really grown and it wish it slows. I sit down to eat my food and there's too much sauce in my pasta, the carmine hue a reflection of her. They say love is a flow, an act of living but how would i know? when its my quick cure to silence the echoes..echoes of everything lost, a ruined childhood and a soul torn apart. I want to grab a knife stab myself and twist it inside than feel the depth of my emotions again, which cling onto me forcing me to stay stuck, bound to what I can't let go of. They say that if you keep carrying old bricks then you will keep building the same house but how would they know the work it took to turn into a home..a home where I finally felt at ease, a home where she welcomed me, loved me and ruined me. How would they know that the clay in those bricks contains remnants of her that I can't let go of as i've turned weak it seems.

"The past is in your head the future lies in your hands" she says but does she know that my hands are no longer mine and all that remains are bones. Fragments of my failure incapable of handling even the smallest of storms and I wished i loved myself enough to leave you but i always fail to do so. You ruined my heart, abandoned me after playing with it but i wonder that if you had really loved something, wouldn't a little bit of it linger softly? no matter how devastating it was.. such a cruel joke and the irony of pain you see, seeking solace from the very source of such suffering and the architect of this despondency I'm left in which i drown.

I foolishly fell in love with a war believing that love and war are the same thing but tell me is war supposed to leave you hopeless before it begins? does it make you feel the sting of abandonment and leaving a bright pearl in your bruised hands? Perhaps i did fall in love with a war, a war i didn't know ended long ago leaving me exhausted and holding onto a pearl which i roll around every night and watching it glow under the moonlight in hopes for your return..to hear a "I love you" slip from your soft lips, to feel your soft and tender kisses that once caressed my soul, your sharp deep claws grazing my skin leaving traces of your possession, to hear your soft and seductive voice which making every part of my body ache with hunger igniting a fire in making me feel hot and heavy wanting more of your heat, your darkness and you.

Yet here i am..laughing at my naivety of letting myself be consumed by you, believing that all of this was genuine. The fool that fell for you.

[pampushky]

Creature (Both Haunted & Holy)

Vinsmoke Sanji/Reader - chapter 6 - 3k

Liberation has never been so sweet, or so complex.

Warning: This chapter does have descriptions of violence. Given the genocides that are now occurring, I ask you all to be careful with your mental state.

Furthermore, it cannot be said enough, but free Palestine, free Congo, free Sudan, and free Haiti. Wars and occupations should not be legal. The only one who should have control over your own body is you, no matter your identity.

ao3 | series masterlist | masterlist | next part

The water greets you as an old friend, comfortable in your skin once more as you spin under the surface, resting on the bottom, beside your former collar. It’s liberating, able to exist as yourself– truly yourself– for the first time in two years. You let out a happy rumble, listening to the sound echo in the pool. You turn to spin, circling to look at your back flippers as you do. Your form is much bigger than you remember, and much faster, the fur more sleek, when there had been soft, downy spots previously as you aged into adulthood. Some of the white fur still clings to you though, in large patches along your back.

You let out another low rumble, mourning the fact that your pod will never get to see you like this, and your cry makes the water tremble around you. Unknown to you, the ocean laps at the other entrance to the park, thrashing as heavy waves slam into the retaining wall. Those remaining members of Arlong’s crew watch in horror, as it, too, starts to give way, creaking ominously, threatening to let the ocean flow inward as you push yourself out of the water, appearing as though a geyser had shot you into the air, your seal form melting away as you land on your feet, water falling around you, and clinging to your skin as you look at the fishmen, utter sorrow, and rage in your eyes.

Your hair had long since fallen out of the ponytail Arlong loved, spilling over your shoulders and down your back in waves, as water dripped from the ends. Your skin appears smoother, scars silvered over as if they’ve had years to heal, and your pelt has taken a new shape in the form of a large, white fur coat, wrapped around your form, slipping off your shoulders as you take a step towards the center of the park, still holding it tight to yourself. The only scars that were still fresh, still red and bleeding, were those on your left cheek, two lines from how Arlong had rutted his sharp nose against your skin as you struggled against him, and the failed claiming bite on your right shoulder, still a tender, sore, and nearly inflamed. A bright, ugly sign of your rejection of him. 

The Straw Hats stood in shock, some stuck in the ground where they were. Sanji looked relieved, and it almost looked like he had been preparing to dive into the water after you. Zoro had a hand on his sword, his gaze hardened, and Usopp, well, looked like he was about to shit himself, which honestly, you couldn’t blame him for. You wanted to puke from how terrified you were.

You hear Zoro call your name, and even see the way that Sanji starts to smile as you come closer, starting to make your way over when the ground cracks in front of you, Chew letting out a cackle at the surprise on your face as you freeze, taking several steps back and putting yourself in a defensive stance.

Arlong looks furious, his eyes practically bulging out of his head as he watches your movements in an almost predatory manner, teeth bared, pushing himself up and gripping the rubble around him so hard it cracks. 

“Get. Them.” He growls at Hatchan, Chew, and Kuroobi. You freeze, like a deer in the headlights, letting out a low, warning rumble, as the fishmen step closer to you. They have not seen you like this, so unafraid of them, with a wildness in your eyes they had thought had been long-since beaten from you, stolen away and destroyed over the period of time you had been their captive. 

But you smile at them viciously, a wide, baring of teeth that shows your molars and canines, evolved to tear the very flesh from their bones with ease. Once upon a time, it had been the selkenfolk and fishmen who ruled the oceans. And once upon a time, your kind had been their equals, but only out of mercy. Oh, there had been bloody wars, between your kind, with shredded bodies and fearful tales told to pups and fishmen children alike, centered around the most dominant and terrifying of all selkie variations. 

The leopard seal. Quiet, quick, and lethal. With eyes that could see as clear as the day in even the darkest depths of the ocean. Skin as hard as armor, and teeth as sharp as razors as they pulled the very skin from the muscles of their prey. Claws that could be more dangerous than a sword, when they were at your throat, and a touch that could freeze whatever it touched, calling the water present in any living thing to turn to ice the moment it made contact. 

And these fishmen were staring one down, backed into a corner, that they had tortured. Hatchan swallowed, all six of his hands held in a fighting position, and you stayed still, breathing heavily, eyes darting between the three of them, before letting out a deafening roar that finally sent the ocean water over the retaining wall, the crash thunderous as you let the waves pour over you, unmoving as you transformed once again, head thrown back in a victorious cry.

Sanji watched this all happen, hoping that you took this as your chance to escape into the ocean, taking your life by the reins and living freely in the water, as selkies were meant to. He can only imagine how freeing it felt. 

Arlong let out a roar as you disappeared into the water, charging towards Luffy and ripping him from the ground, concrete still engulfing his feet as he pitched the captain into the water.

The sea embraced you as though you hadn’t been gone, the current created by the destruction of the retaining wall sweeping you out. And you let it, going along with the flower, basking in the cool touch of the waves along your body as you dive deeper, experimentally snapping at a silvery school of fish passing by you, watching them regroup and dart away as you hover. 

You looked down, letting your form shift a bit more so that you were a mix of the two, the normal shape that many Selkies took amongst each other, diving deeper until you came upon the floor, looking at the swirling forest of kelp around you that you hadn’t known was so close to the Conomi Islands. 

Carefully, you laid your head against the sand, curling into a fetal position and letting yourself mourn, low, baleful warbles and rumble filling the water around you. 

The kelp shifted beside you, and you looked up to see a harbor seal, staring at you in curiosity, before another popped out above it, twisting in the water before they came to float beside and in front of you, their whiskers almost touching your cheeks as they both observed you. They answered back, the water filled with high-pitched clicking, the two forms swirling around you. To these seals, you were a lost pup, crying out for their pod, and in a way, they aren't wrong.

How ironic the world could be. 

The first seal stopped in front of your face again, touching its nose to your forehead, before looking up at the surface of the water, blowing bubbles from its nose, as if to guide you upwards. 

The other let out a low, comforting rumble, one you recognized well. It was the same rumble your mothers had used to put you to sleep each night, calming your fears. And the same rumble that had been sounding from them as you were taken away. You sniffled, a snort of bubbles filling your vision and you huffed, before holding the seal in front of you close, hugging tightly. And it let you, almost seemed to be hugging you back, before nosing your hair, and pushing you to the surface, dark eyes watching you with a nearly-too-human sorrow. 

More seals had pushed their way through the kelp, soft noses and warm bodies helping you to the surface, surrounding you with familiar rumbles, warbles, and trills. When you breached, they did so with you, all eyes turned towards Arlong Park, as you let out a small chuff, diving under again, this time, to return, the first two seals watching you as you swam away.

Somewhere, you can hear your mothers’ laughter.

Kurobi seems intent on making sure Sanji doesn’t get an opening to help Luffy, even as he watches his captain flounder for breath, he knows he has to do something. There is no one else to help Luffy, or who can free him the way Sanji can. 

Even as he surfaces, just for a brief second, Kurobi is on him, pulling him down when he gasps for air. Sanji manages to land a blow, but his movements are slowed by the water. It’s pointless, it must be. Zoro is struggling as well, still injured from Mihawk, and Usopp has led Chew off on some wild goose chase. The villagers are no help, sent sprawling by Arlong, who is intent on blowing off steam by wreaking havoc around him. 

Sanji has come to terms with this being the end of his life, and his dreams not coming true. He still feels this way when he feels something shoot past him in the water, slamming Kurobi into the side of the pool, leaving the fishman stunned. Something grabs his back and forces him to surface, and as he coughs up water, Sanji’s eyes focus on the form above him, breathing heavily, with a mop of tumbling dark hair staring down at him, eyes wide, lips forming some words he can’t quite hear yet. He is vaguely aware that there is some sort of flipper curled around his lower half, as you check him for injuries, before meeting his eyes and diving back into the water to help Luffy, before diving in after you, a new energy in his veins. 

You’d returned. Even after being freed. You’d returned to help them. 

The captain of the Straw Hats has stopped thrashing, and you dart to the bottom of the pool, examining what is weighing him down as Sanji joins you. You look at him for just a moment, before motioning to the concrete encasing Luffy’s legs. Sanji taps you, motioning that he is going to kick, and you nod, looking over his shoulder at a shape in the water, pushing him out of the way just as Kurobi shoots into the spot where the cook had just been, this time striking you, separating you from Sanji, as your form turns fully seal.

The water trembles with your roar of pain, a burst of bubbles exploding from your mouth as you tackle Kurobi, teeth slashing across his torso, shaking him like a ragdoll. Sanji watches for a second, before focusing on Luffy. The plan was obvious, you had given him the opening he needed, and Sanji took it gratefully, able to charge up a kick and crack the very concrete of the pool's foundation, pushing off the bottom with ease, Luffy slung over his shoulder.

When Sanji surfaces, he cannot see into the water, with how rough it is, and he has other things to worry about, namely, his captain, and resuscitating him. Water slips past Luffy’s lips the moment he presses on the boy’s chest, eyes fluttering open, before he outright pukes the water onto the ground, gasping for air as he does so. Sanji has enough faith in you to know that you would not go down without a fight, not after what you have been through. 

A minute passes, before you shoot out of the water, landing beside Sanji with a thud, your form melting into your full human one as Kurobi pulls himself from the pool on your other side, furious, and you growl back at him, despite your injured state, pushing yourself up on your elbows. 

An ugly, deep gash has turned his side red, along with a dazed look in his eyes. He looks worse than you, and it’s a wonder he has managed to outlast you. But, Kurobi is a trained warrior, who has feasted and slept and drank as he pleased for the past two years. You were kept prisoner, and hardly given what you needed to live in that same time. The odds were never in your favor, and you know that. 

But, you think, as you watch Luffy pull himself up, stalking towards Arlong, eyes burning for a fight, I managed to hold him off long enough for Luffy to break free. 

You waited for the final blow, only to find it never came, Sanji blocking the hit with his foot, glowering at the fishman.

“ I think you’ve done quite enough harm to my friend here,” Sanji’s voice is low, before he looks back at you offering a gentle smile, “Thank you for the help, dear.”

You only nodded, letting out a tired rumble as you rested your head on the ground and let exhaustion roll over you, met by a dreamless sleep.

You wake up to Nami’s face hovering over yours and head-butt each other as you scream in partial shock and fear. Nami clutches her head, and you clutch your own, growling at the pain, and then in confusion with how your movement feels constricted in your arms, and the odd patch on your cheek. 

Bandages. You realize, looking down at your hands and forearms, blinking in wonder. Not only are they clean, but they’re fresh— like they’d been changed within the last hour, not soaked through with blood yet. You tilt your head down, jaw slack as you twist and turn, examining the wrappings on your arm, head pain forgotten. Nami, however, is not as impressed by bandages and is rather annoyed that you head-butted her, glaring at you as you throw the top sheet off your body, looking down at your legs, before crying out, slapping around the bed until you find your pelt, still not entirely used to it’s new shape.

“It’s here,” you hold it up to your face as if to hide in it, before you go silent for a few seconds as if you’re buffering through the events of the past day. “Wait…”

And despite all that you two have suffered, both together and separately, Nami can’t help but break out into laughter, so contagious and joyous that you also start to laugh, head thrown back, trilling from how ridiculous it all seems— yet it happened! You were freed, by random strangers, following Nami after she had stolen their boat. 

“You’re an idiot,” Nami laughs into her hands, and you shoot a playful glare her way. “Oh my gods, you’re an idiot.”

“Not as stupid as you,” you flop down on the cot, wincing in pain a bit. “Y'know, I thought I’d cry more.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… being free. Thought I’d cry more,” you lift up your hand, examining the back of it as you reach for the ceiling. What isn’t covered with bandages, you can see small pinpricks of scars. Silvered lines and dots on your skin, nearly blending in with the natural speckles you have as a selkie. It almost looked like someone had splattered foundation across your skin, albeit several shades too light to blend in properly. “Guess I’m just too tough to cry.”

“As if,” Nami can’t help but smile at you, taking both of your hands into hers. “But I guess you’re right. I never thought about what it would be like after, just focused on getting there.”

“We can do whatever we want now,” Your voice is giddy as you say it, and Nami can’t help but laugh again.

You both sit in a comfortable silence, loosely holding hands, reveling in your freedom until Luffy comes barging in, equally as bandaged, and seemingly freshly awake, shrieking at both of you, until he looks straight into your eyes, flopping onto your cot.

“Oh. You’re joining my crew, right?” 

“What?”

“Well, you make water move, and that’s gonna be pretty important for navigation,” Luffy moves his arms in a wave-like fashion, wobbling himself as he attempts to imitate the ocean, “Plus, you’re super cool looking.”

“That’s what you look for in your crew?” You ask dryly, raising an eyebrow. “Nami, how did you get roped into this?”

“I didn’t!” Nami crossed her arms, “But… I guess, I did in a way, and she leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful look on her face. “It’s not like there is much left for either of us here.”

“Or left for me in general,” You murmured. “Arlong destroyed my village and my pod. I don’t really have anything to return to, in all honesty.”

“So you’re coming?” Luffy grinned for a split second, as Nami struck down on his head, the smile turning into a cringe as he held a growing lump, wailing as Nami scowled at him.

“Don’t be so insensitive! ” 

 “I’ll… think about it.” You put your chin in your hands, closing your eyes as if you’re in deep thought, and Nami makes Luffy leave, shooing him into a curtained-off area where Zoro was sleeping, apparently. 

What do you do? Luffy, however blunt, is absolutely right. You don’t exactly have other options. You had, at maximum, a year and a half of healer’s training under your belt before you were taken, learning only the basics of pushing and pulling energy through purified water, in order to make wounds heal slightly faster, along with how to properly dress and care for most minor injuries and illnesses. 

Quite honestly, what you were most skilled in was your ability to navigate and sense subtle changes in the water, and you remember how you had just started training to become a bosun a month before your capture. You had enjoyed your time learning how to care for the ship, taking stock of supplies and what would be needed on your next docking. It helped that you could also cure the wood, able to make it stronger and more flexible, imbuing the fibers with some of the qualities of water. 

Nami watches you think and sits beside you. Offering at least some support as you debate your choices.

[scatcrccio]

@darkconsumed (young natalie) gets a plotted thing.

SUFFOCATION BECAME AN ENDLESS PARALLEL TO THE UNSCRUPULOUS MORALS of digestion that once numbed all factors of mindful torments led throughout a past wanting to be forgotten. Only to now be nothing more than a means for other specifications drowning out confirmation of those whose opinions remained overall extinct. A fancy and drugged out way of thinking that this time was different than all the other times she's fallen off the wagon. She's trying to justify her reasoning, to tell herself that this meant something more than every time before. It wasn't just about numbing the pain, but to see a greater purpose—— to talk to someone who truly understood: herself. Those few brief minutes or so (however long it was) gave her more than she ever expected when the plan to fake her own death had initially been presented and yet, here she was, on the mattress of Misty's basement, hidden from sight and held in secrecy with the rest of the world thinking she was dead. Perhaps, she should have been. At this rate, she thinks she might as well have been. For a while, there was regret in her mind that she wasn't, because everything had suddenly brought her back here into a state of blissful intoxication. Time and time again, like an inevitability that couldn't be ignored. ❝ Hey… ❞ soft whisper rasped between parted lips as eyes slowly begin to open and the image of her younger self comes into view between blurred contrast with every attempt to maintain focus. It feels like she's dying all over again, and it's strange how comforting that's become. A love - hate relationship in and of itself, for far too many than she's willing to admit. If she keeps this up, maybe she will just finally die and in truth, she wonders if that would be so bad. The only amount of life left within her is still held between fingertips that cling to the bottle in hand beside her, the very bottle that helped in washing down the drugs she's taken in order to get to this point and it's unfortunately, not the first time. Nor does she think it will be her last. Head fallen against a now sunken pillow, eyes blinking, her mouth remains open and there's a hint of drool forming along the edge, just like it used to. Another strangely comforted feeling; a harrowing daze; lost in translation of a world she had only just started to love again. But it was the image of her past self that did her in, this is exactly where we belong, she'd said, we've been here all along, and those words stuck stronger than perhaps they should have. IT'S ALL MY FAULT. It's all HER fault. Natalie. NATALIE. Jesus, Natalie. Natalie, no! I'm poison. Terms and phrases echoed in the back of her mind from people she's known and loved throughout her life including herself but her primary focus was on the words by the bleached blonde entity that didn't actually exist in front of her. The only words that truly seemed to even matter.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

dancing with a ball and chain (through it all we still remain)

Title is from "Birds of a Feather" by the Civil Wars. Season 2 AU where Lucius is part of the post-divorce revenge crew. HEAVY whump/angst/found family bonding through trauma.

(Aka: Lucius didn't drown, but he also didn't escape the Revenge.)

---

There's something to be said for realizing that Blackbeard did the separating on purpose. That he divided the couples straight down the center: Olu and Jim, Lucius and Pete, even Frenchie and John, though they haven't quite defined their whole thing yet.

Izzy is...not part of any couple. He hasn't been since the moment Ed Teach, not yet Captain Blackbeard, just the first mate of a former Captain not worth being named in this legacy, had raided the merchant ship Izzy worked for and laughed when Izzy spat in his face.

Izzy has worshipped Blackbeard for so long. Blackbeard created Izzy Hands, made him out of the clay of Israel the merchant. He shaped the soul of Izzy. He made him what he is.

And in return, Izzy worshipped Blackbeard. He devoted his life to him.

Over the past few months, just as he has for years, Izzy has sacrificed life and limb for Blackbeard. Before it was stab wounds, and long nights, and bad dreams.

But since Blackbeard became Ed Teach became Blackbeard again, it has been toes. Rotten flesh carved away and sacrificed to the sea god, the Kraken, because Blackbeard had his heart broke and decided to destroy everyone else's hearts on board the ship.

Izzy does not know another option. He does not know another way to live. He does not know how to exist outside of the sacrifices he gives of his own blood and bone to the creature that created him, the god that he loves, the inhuman force of nature that commands this ship.

(Blackbeard was only ever a man around Stede Bonnet, and Izzy could not help but hate Stede for it. Because Stede got to see the parts of Ed Teach that Izzy had to beg for, had to sacrifice for, without even asking. He got all of that, and more.)

Izzy doesn't beg anymore. He doesn't offer up prayers. He can't. 

Because if he does- then Blackbeard might turn his eyes away from his most loyal, devoted servant, and to the others.

Izzy doesn't have another half. He never has, as he'll admit in those few moments when he's brutally honest with himself.

But right now, he does have those he must protect. He has the few crew members left on this ship too big for them to run properly. He has Fang and Jim and Archie and Frenchie and they're not much, nowhere near this ship's crew at its most glorious, but stuck in this purgatory, they are all he has. They are all he can cling to.

He does not touch. He does not seek comfort, or safety, or reassurance. He doesn't deserve it.

What he deserves is to fulfill a purpose on this ship. To its crew.

Izzy Hands is not a god. He is a man. A broken, damaged man who no longer fulfills a purpose beyond being the First Mate of the Revenge.

But the duties of First Mate have expanded. No longer is First Mate about guiding the ship, running a tight schedule and navigating and keeping order; it is about forming a wall between the god that commands the Revenge and the mortals beneath.

There's just one problem: Izzy's not sure how much longer he can survive this. He is just a human. Humans are not meant to withstand the wrath of gods for long periods of time. 

Izzy can barely walk anymore. What parts of his feet are not numb are on fire, with knives driving into the uncalloused area, the amputated stumps.

Izzy descends into the brig after a particularly bad raid, after Blackbeard has declared that other ships' offerings to the sea god are not enough, that they are to be pitched in favor of some new ghost ship's shiny offerings to a cruel god.

The crew begins to blaspheme, to say that Blackbeard is wrong, and Izzy can't take it. Not anymore.

Izzy begins to swear, to scream, and Fang catches him in his arms. Frenchie takes Izzy's hand in his as tears burn the corners of Izzy's eyes, leaking across his salt-encrusted cheeks for the first time in years. Jim, the assassin, offers up kind words. Archie bites her lip and tries her best to comfort from afar with plain words of practical reassurance.

And all Izzy can think is-

If Blackbeard knew who else was down here, there would be a graveyard on this ship.

---

Lucius Spriggs was not meant to survive. 

When a god casts you from heaven or even from purgatory, you are supposed to die. You are supposed to fall and never climb back up again.

If it hadn't been for a piece of rope that Lucius managed to grab onto on the way down, there would be no way that he'd still be alive today.

He'd clung to that rope until nearly the morning. He'd nearly lost feeling in his limbs by that point, had been just about to let go of the rope-

But then Frenchie had happened to look over the side of the ship, and somehow, Lucius isn't dead.

Lucius still doesn't know how Frenchie saw him. The sky was still dark. Lucius was so cold, he couldn't make a sound. Lucius will never be able to forget the way it felt to be soaked to the bone, the cold chattering his bones.

But somehow, Lucius ended up here, in a trunk, alive but not safe. Never safe.

Lucius was locked in a trunk by Jim for a single day; he has been living out of the trunk at the bottom of the lowest storage room for months.

But no matter how many raids the crew goes on, no matter how much treasure they bring back, Lucius' trunk has never been uncovered or thrown away. The crew has kept him safe, their greatest secret, their greatest treasure.

Lucius wants to get out. He wants to escape Blackbeard's hold, wants to find Pete, wants to kiss him and hold him and never let him go again, wants to see the fucking sun and taste more than just gruel and the occasional orange slice to avoid getting scurvy-

But he knows the moment he makes his way out of the brig, even if it's only to the deck, he's going to be killed finally, swept away like some pest in the brig.

He's seen what Blackbeard has done to Izzy. He's seen the way the crew comes back, hollow-eyed, after having to kill entire ships worth of people for just more treasure that's going to be pitched overboard.

Blackbeard would have no trouble shooting Lucius. He would have no trouble finishing Lucius' murder as he failed to do the first time.

Lucius cannot risk leaving this hold, or even making enough sounds to attract attention here. He cannot speak, or write, or do anything but breathe quietly.

The crew is doing their best, Lucius knows, and he doesn't blame them for it. Whenever one of them can make their way to his side, they sneak him gruel and hardtack and the occasional precious piece of citrus.

Lucius' stomach never stops growling. He is wasting away down in this hold, his limbs growing skinnier and skinnier, his beard growing out, his body starting to shake more and more. His infected finger is nothing compared to the bouts of fever that pass through like waves, the dehydration that squeezes his head and sends trembles through his limbs.

Some day, if it wasn't for the shakes of his limbs and the growls of his stomach, Lucius wouldn't be sure that he existed. Some days, when he can barely feel his body, he thinks about dragging his body up onto the deck and letting Blackbeard take care of his wretched existence.

It is only the crew that stays his hand. They care enough to keep him alive, and update him on the marooning and the raids, and keep him just on this side of sanity. He cannot put their efforts to waste.

(Alright, that's not quite all of it. In the moments that Lucius manages to get some amount of fitful sleep, Lucius dreams of Pete. The crew has let him know about the marooning, let him know that there's a possibility that Pete might not be alive, but Lucius, for his own sanity, has to believe that Pete is alive out somewhere. That he can dream of their one day reunion, and of scraping his wooden finger across the back of Pete's neck, and being able to hold him and never let him go.)

---

It is months in- Lucius is unable to count the days any longer- that Lucius' bleary eyes open to a cool hand against his forehead and Frenchie's expression unabashedly concerned above him.

"You and Izzy are both dying," Frenchie says, eyes wide, frightened, "We have to do something. We can't stick around any longer."

"Izzy's dying?" Lucius rasps. It shouldn't be his first response, his first priority, but he's heard plenty about what the First Mate is putting himself through to keep the others as far out of Blackbeard's line of fire as possible. It doesn't match the man that tried so hard to take out Stede Bonnet, the man who seems more in favor of the traditional idea of a pirate than any other, but it has been impossible to see Izzy as anything less than the world's most monstrous guardian angel for a long time now.

"We have to mutiny," Frenchie says, gently pushing back Lucius' sweaty hair, "We have no other option. Blackbeard shot Izzy in the leg. You're dying without proper food or medicine."

"How to you overthrow a god?" Lucius asks, and he doesn't know if he's delirious or not.

He suspects he's not when Frenchie swallows and juts out his jaw.

"You kill him," Frenchie says. "We just have to find the right time to do it."

Lucius has never thought of Frenchie as a hero. He has never thought of him as particularly brave.

But right now, every one of the crew members who faces Blackbeard every day has some measure of bravery in them.

Lucius can only hope they continue these Herculean acts of bravery long enough to save the ship.

---

A gun goes off. A cannonball smashes down.

Izzy Hands limps out of a storm and down into the hold to dry off from the storm, his crew descending with him. The body of a god stays up on the deck. No one is quite sure if he is alive or dead, but he's not going to be captaining the ship any time soon and that's all they care about.

Fang grabs extra food from what's left in the mess. Frenchie grabs a blanket. Jim grabs bandages from their makeshift medical set-up. Archie grabs the keys.

Lucius Spriggs' miracle descends into the storage hold and unlocks his prison.

"You can get out now," Fang says, kindly as can be.

Lucius blinks owlishly up at him, at the whole crew assembled before him, covered in black kohl and grime and blood and rainwater. Izzy leans heavily against Frenchie, one leg a stump. Seemingly the only thing keeping him from toppling to the ground is Frenchie's hand in his. Jim and Archie are covered in wet gunpowder and blood. They are all bedraggled and exhausted and injured.

But relief is slumping their shoulders, and small, tired smiles curl at some of their lips.

Blackbeard the god must be destroyed.

"You guys killed god?" Lucius asks, and to his shock, it's Izzy that barks out a laugh.

"Yeah," he says, in that clipped voice of his, "We vanquished a god."

Lucius has spent so long in this trunk that the very idea of emerging seems deadly. If he reaches up a hand, places a leg outside of the box, Blackbeard could descend. The world could end.

And yet-

They vanquished a god. They killed the Kraken.

If Lucius can stand, if he can leave, he can find Pete. He can eat and sketch and flirt and try to be more than just a not-corpse. He can become a human again, instead of just some slug that the crew is keeping in a cold, dark hold. 

If he can just find the strength to reach out-

The hand with his wooden finger reaches up, towards his crewmates, his saviors, his friends, his saints. Jim lurches forward and their hands connect. Jim pulls, cautiously but firmly.

Lucius' limbs are wobbly from being locked in this trunk for so long. He stumbles forward as he gets out, his jelly legs nearly collapsing beneath him, but Archie and Fang lunge forward on either side to steady him.

"C'mon, Lucy," Frankie says with a crooked smile, "You can do this."

Soon, Lucius will find Black Pete. He will reunite with him, and kiss that bald, sweet man, and never let them be parted again.

But for now, Lucius does what he can in the moment. He stands on his own two feet, and he smiles at his fellow freemen (and freewoman, and free-folk), and he becomes human again.

[biscuits-of-bagend]

DnDoc, Artificial Intelligence #5 - The Doctor Is Here

Part 1 Part 4

Previous stories: DnDoc, Coming Home DnDoc, Space Band DnDoc, A Man's a Man DnDoc, The God of Rock 'n' Roll DnDoc, The Loch o' the Lowes DnDoc, The Mushroom Planet DnDoc, The Flowers We'll Remember

CW: Mild injury description. This was actually a lot more grisly before I was reminded the TARDIS can do magic 😂

---

When Rogue got up to the sickbay, he found Ruby on one of those futons she and the Doctor had led him to that first day he'd got back from the barren dimension. On the table in between the two futons was the blank screen from the Cybermen's lair and the three cubic units attached via wires. The Doctor was perched on Ruby's futon, his hands fluttering around the bottom of her jeans, where a nasty burn had seared right through to her skin.

   "Shit," murmured Rogue, sitting down on the other futon.

   "Ruby, I'm gonna need you to sit so still," said the Doctor, reaching to his left to stroke her hair. "The TARDIS can deal with this, but her job will be so much easier if she doesn't have to recalibrate your position. Do you think you can do that for me?"

   Ruby nodded and grabbed his hand, squeezing his sleeve tight in her balled up fists.

   "Do you want the jumper to hold? I can give it to you," said the Doctor. "It might help you hold still."

   "Okay," said Ruby, tears falling down the sides of her face. It was as if by squeezing so tight she was wringing them out of herself, because she'd definitely been trying to hold them in.

   The Doctor pulled off the jumper and tucked it into her arms. As she wrapped herself around it, she screwed her eyes tight shut. Rogue had been in pain like this before, knew the screaming that was raging in her head. All she could do was try to drown it out with the effort of holding tight.

   "What do we do, Doctor?" asked Rogue.

   The Doctor handed him a really quite enormous pair of scissors. "We are going to cut at the jeans so that most of the material around the burn is gone and there's just the bit that's stuck left. Then, the TARDIS is going to lock onto that matter and transport it to somewhere else within the interior - this room, the console room, the lounge, who knows. Then we're going to cool the burn and wash it out, then wrap it. Okay?"

   Rogue nodded, imprinting each step of the plan onto his memory.

   Once they had cut most of the denim away, there was only a tiny strip still stuck there, maybe ten centimetres by three (at the widest) but it was more than enough to strike down poor Ruby. Rogue quickly glanced at her face before getting out the way of the TARDIS's matter locator.

   At first, Rogue thought he'd just gotten a headrush as he'd stood up, but then he realised that the silvery particles in the air were the matter locator, and their settling on the piece of denim was probably a good sign. They covered it completely, turning the battered blue fabric into a dazzling flick of a painter's glittery brush. As Rogue watched it started to get less corporeal, in fact even more like it was simply an artist's impression. Then he blinked, and it was gone.

   The Doctor stepped forward immediately with a damp cloth. "Ruby, I love you. This is going to hurt."

   "Do it," Ruby said, muffled by the jumper. Rogue glanced at her and saw that she'd buried her face in the knitwear, blocking out all the light.

   The Doctor carefully applied the cloth, wiping out any remaining dirt. Then he wrapped it in what looked like ordinary cling film but which shone with just a little yellow healing energy of some sort. Rogue stepped up to the head of the futon to see how Ruby was doing, and found her biting her lip behind the loose shield of the jumper.

   "Hey, you can rest now, if you like," said Rogue. "Should be okay for you to toss and turn at this point. Right, Doctor?"

   "Yeah," said the Doctor, joining Rogue at the head end. He stood on the other side, wiping Ruby's hair out of her face. "Cybermen are probably just set to waiting since they can't get any closer to us right now, so in a way, we're not in a rush."

   Ruby nodded slightly and let her eyes close more gently, drifting off, away from the nightmare they'd all found themselves in.

🖥🖥🖥

   Needing a rest themselves, the Doctor and Rogue had squeezed themselves onto the other futon, taking it in turns to sleep and keep watch. After a while, when they'd both got enough shut-eye, they lay in the low light of the sickbay and talked through the problem.

   "I don’t even know what to feel," Rogue murmured, stroking his hand up and down the Doctor's side.

   "Fear…?" suggested the Doctor.

   "But that's the thing." Rogue leaned up on one elbow and looked down into the Doctor's eyes. "Of course I'm scared. We saw what those things did to Ruby's leg and that was just a graze. But that's kind of lower down the list for me."

   "What's at the top?"

   Rogue stared into the dimness for a moment, not sure he even wanted to share this. But then he looked back down into those warm brown eyes and said, "Joy. I felt a sick joy at being able to talk to 'Art.'"

   The Doctor sat up a little too and held Rogue's arm, just below the shoulder. "Hey, who says it's sick?"

   "Well, it wasn't really Art, was it? It was an imposter," said Rogue. "Feeling joy about that makes no sense."

   "Mortals make no sense," said the Doctor, using the hand on Rogue's arm to pull himself closer. They were close enough that their breath made one invisible cloud around them both.

   "Hey, Time Lords can be pretty confusing too," said Rogue, though a smile flickered slightly on his lips. His gaze danced around the Doctor's face.

   "I know," said the Doctor. "We'd both drive the Cybermen mad with our responses to the world. All of humanity does. That's why they convert them. And then yeah, there's me. I've been a mess of emotions ever since the bi-generation. I don't know what to do with them half the time, and sometimes they directly contradict each other. Like you, with your fear and your joy." The Doctor nuzzled his nose against Rogue's. "Despair and hope."

   Rogue opened his mouth and locked his lips against the Doctor's. He tasted the salt of tears, but he didn't flinch.

   Before they could get too far, Ruby cleared her throat.

   The Doctor grinned and pulled away from Rogue, his dazzling white teeth catching what little light there was.

   "So you're awake are you, babes?" said the Doctor.

   Ruby's voice was low, and a little scratchy, but they were all close enough together to hear it clearly. "I am. And I just want to add that I feel angry. I've never hated anything more than the Cybermen."

   "Well, we try not to encourage hate in this TARDIS, but that's maybe fair if you've just been shot in the leg," said the Doctor.

   "They're just such hypocrites," Ruby said, her voice starting to strain. "That day in New Milan, everything was perfect. The outfits, the theatre, the snacks, everything was exactly as it should be, then they came in and ruined everything. And now they talk about optimisation. There's no optimisation in the destruction of joy!"

   "Wow, that's quite the speech for someone who just got shot," said the Doctor. "I'd have been proud of that one."

   Ruby paused. "I might have been crafting it for a couple of minutes."

   A sudden pinprick of embarrassment added itself to Rogue's list of emotions. "You uh, you heard all that?"

   "I'm really sorry," said Ruby. "I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on important emotional stuff. I just wasn't ready to talk yet."

   Rogue shook his head. "Oh, overhearing the emotions is fine. I mean hey, at this point I'm ready to be best friends if you are. No, I meant all the kissing noises."

   Ruby laughed, which caused her to instinctively shift her posture. She winced in pain as her injured leg bumped against her other leg.

   Once she'd indicated she was okay, Rogue sighed and said something he'd been thinking since they'd got back into the TARDIS. "Hey, I'm just stating the obvious here but… They will let you two go if they get me. If they're striving for efficiency, they're not going to waste time on people not on their Agents list."

   The Doctor cuffed him over the ear. "Absolutely not."

---

Part 6

@off-traveling-in-the-stars @casavanse @monster-donut @randomwholocker (let me know at any point if you no longer wish to be tagged in each post)

[warishaaa]

For me, Love remains trapped in nostalgia-A little distance it covered from being captured in photographs.

It, in its bitter-sweet demeanor, would always be a familiar face I've searched and found and lost on a loop.I've found love brimming between the gaps of my fingers every time I held hands with someone.For me It's still stuck in those bus tickets my dad handed me as I liked collecting them and in those radios of small shops clinging to old songs.

I like winters because I like the way the blanket weighs me down. Sometimes love can feel like that, comforting yet binding and you would rather want to freeze then accept the warmth. You would accept the way the cold crushes your spirit then wake up the next morning in the same comfort that stops feeling comforting anymore. It's like it hasn't lost its ability to provide but you somehow have lost your ability to accept.

As a kid watching trains fascinated me when I didn't have to board one, and I think loving sometimes can be like watching those trains pass.You don't know if you would ever board that train but you still like to watch them pass one after another, just like you don't know if you will ever love again but you love watching people around falling in love, knowing someday you'll be on board, but not today.

Twelve years ago my mother would bring me balloon and tie it around my tiny fingers which eventually would get loose and escape into the sky before I could catch so I watched it fly and my eyes followed it as far as they could. I wondered where it would go, and hoped it wouldn't pop. In my belief it never popped, it landed somewhere safe before it took off again and it's still flying somewhere perfectly fine and love sometimes can feel like that. A fading memory that chooses to go no matter how much u try to hold. So, you just follow it till it's lost hoping it stays safe, even if it isn't yours anymore.

I was a lousy painter and most of the time I ended up playing with the brush and the watercolor palette mixing various colors and making random strokes on the paper. Everyone around me was better at it, meanwhile, I just had fun and came back. I think love sometimes is like that. You don't have to be good at it, you just have to be happy in it.It was like that bowl of water that kept on changing colors until it turned dark, love can fill your life with them until one day,it all just turns dark.

I was a chaotic kid who loved cutting papers and curtains, breaking toys, painting bedsheets, and scribbling walls, and was never trusted with anything expensive because of my tendency of losing and destroying things. Now I don't trust myself with love because even before I find it I somehow end up harming it.

Love sometimes resembles playing in a pile of sand dumped during nearby construction. Whenever I returned home playing in it, my mother would clean my hair and yet find crystals stuck the next day and it took so long for it to completely disappear. Soon all the sand would be used and I would be left there with those particles still stuck in my hair. Growing up I've seen love do that. It comes and goes but attaches parts of it that take so long to get off.

I was taught love would cover miles for you, but it turns out that sometimes it chooses the way away so to stabilize my restless heartbeats I would walk the extra mile.

Love always felt like past that even in its presence would find a way to merge itself with everything I've ever been.

-/Of all the things love ever could be, it chose to be a memory./

[sarayoon]

If they had been meeting under different circumstances, Sara would probably be clinging to her giant best friend, as she had always been the clingy type, so maybe that was something the dirty blonde had also picked up on when mentioning that she'd been keeping a secret from him. The fact of the matter was that Sara could handle being judged by others. It might hurt her, it might bruise her, but she was fearing being judged by Jesse. Not that he would... but if he did, it would truly break her.

Why are you screwing something who broke your heart into a bajillion pieces? She could hear his voice echoing in the back of her mind... but maybe she had been judging herself for too long and was now projecting that onto her best friend, because his reaction to her confession, caused Sara's shoulders to relax a little bit. As if the rip of the band-aid's pain had passed and now there was only a minor discomfort remaining.

Yes, he knew her like the palm of his hand. Besides, there was also his policeman instinct. He had been trained to small trouble from a distance, hadn't he?

"I don't think that love would be the right word to describe what I feel for him." The petite brunette shook her head as she moved towards the oven to check in on the food, then, made her way towards where Jesse was seated. "Lust, maybe." With that, she took one of his arms and raised it, so she could sneak in under his embrace, wrapping her arms around his middle. "But all the love I once had for him was definitely lost in the years that followed our divorce." Otherwise, Sara was certain she would have lost her mind.

For a moment after their divorce, she was certain that she did. Lose her mind, that was. Night spent awake wondering what she could have done to push Hyun Woo away, days wondering why he had left her or why he had tricked her into thinking he really had feelings for her. It was cruel. It had been cruel to her and their unborn child.

And then there was Hanbin... sweet little Hanbin stuck in the middle of this mess he had no idea of, nor had asked for. It made Sara groan into Jesse's warm chest, arms now moving up his back and pressing against his shoulder blades as she kept on trying to hide her face from him.

Or maybe... was it from herself?

"Would you be mad at me if I said yes?" From her spot against his chest, Sara hesitated a moment, before leaning up to rest her chin against him so she could look into those deep blue hues.

His following words, however, made it seem like a heavy weight had been lifted from her chest. It made her feel like she could breathe again. Don't beat yourself up. His deep, warm voice drilled those words inside her brain, causing Sara to tighten her grip around him, scared that if she let him go, this whole conversation would have been produced by her imagination and she would be left being judged again. It's not weird that you sought comfort.

She drew in a breath, taking in the scent of Jesse's burnt cigarettes mixed with the cologne he often were. It managed to calm her down a little. It made her feel less pathetic for letting her ex-husband crawl back in between her legs. It made her feel less judged.

"Thank you." The petite brunette finally said, leaning back as if to watch his expressions for a moment. "For not judging me." Again, she could handle most people's judgement... but not his. It would break her. "For listening." He hands moved up to cup his face, his light stubble prickling against her palms and thumbs as she brushed the latter gentle against his cheeks. "For being here." She then brought Jesse's face downward to plant a kiss on his forehead, just in time to hear the light ding of the oven, announcing that the lasagna she'd made for them was ready.

Slowly, but surely, Sara finally let go of her best friend. The kitchen was filled with that delicious scent of home. Of Boston. And having Jesse there it only relived more happy memories. "Ah... as for your question, Hanbinnie is with his friends, yes." She nodded from her spot at the oven as she pulled out the hot plate and placed it on the steel trivet on the dining table. "So if you have anything to get off your chest without fearing a six-year-old might overhear, tonight's your lucky night." She tried making a joke out of it, but her smile was still slightly sad. "Come. Dinner's served." / @jesseelmassalamy

"You know I would never," he claimed as his feet carried him into the kitchen, following not too far behind Sara. With his hands in his pockets, he took in just how petite she was as she held onto the bouquet he'd gifted her. No matter where he went it always took him a moment to let himself acclimate and feel at home, at least in the event he was somewhere familiar.

Once she'd set the water in front of him, Jesse took a sip after he thanked her, then moved to find a vase for the flowers. "Gotta love how you always remind me of my place," he jested as he freed the blooms and began to arrange them in the glass display. "How is Binnie?" Ocean eyes had the barista's head turning this way and that as though the boy would come waltzing into the room any moment. "He off with friends?"

The smells filling Sara's kitchen were incredible. When it came to home cooked meals and care, Jesse only received this treatment whenever he was at her place or her dads'. He relished these times.

If it weren't for her reaction then the Boston native might not have zeroed in so much on what he had been reading off the young woman he'd grown up with and considered more family than his own biological sister. His brow lifted at Sara nearly choking on her water and soon a small smile followed. "Unfortunately, I think I simply know you too well and I'm an observant man."

Whatever it was, Jesse was seeing the anxiety and nerves shake her, not allowing her stillness or peace. He watched as she fidgeted and tapped her fingers and wondered would could have the power to twist her up so much. Something told him it wasn't the most negative thing in the world, her behavior would be different if she were hurting.

What he wouldn't have guessed was what eventually came out of her mouth.

Eyes widened in a bit of surprise and his own hands stilled for a moment as he digested the confession along with the name. Her sex life was none of the barista's business and he stayed out of it unless Sara wanted to talk to him about it.

Perhaps his own reaction beyond the initial surprise was to be even more unexpected. Jesse shrugged his thick shoulders.

"He was your husband at one point and—" There was a thick swallow just before he went for his glass of water and swallowed down his own personal experiences. "The love doesn't just stop." Not that he was sure his friend was still in love with Hyun Woo, he was only certain that relationships and emotions and needs were a hell of a lot more complicated than people gave room to.

"Are you still seeing him?" The man's rasp was without judgement as he leaned forward into his palms as the heels rested against the edge of the marble island.

"Don't beat yourself up. You've been lonely, there was alcohol, and it was New Years. It's not weird that you sought comfort. Especially not from someone so familiar to you." / @sarayoon

[kirascottage]

hey! could you write a fluff fic of lip gallagher x reader? maybe something where he’s protective? love your writing! - nina <3

always choosing you

lip gallagher x f. reader

summary: lip saves you while at a party.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: soft and protective lip all in one, swearing, alcohol, mentions of trauma, non-consensual touching (just the waist), mentions of violence, kissing, mentions of sex (1x)

join my taglist here !

“Babe, this tastes disgusting.” You scowled while referring to the red solo cup in your hand. At your distasteful words, Lip’s head had whipped over to your twisted face, studying your wry grimace then looking at the poorly made drink most likely whipped up by a Sophomore that had no idea how to mix alcohol.

“Here, take mine.” Without a second thought, he quickly swapped the drink in your hand with his own, Vodka Cranberry. The drink he voluntarily handed you was a translucent shade of dull red and it fizzed at the top. Taking a sip, your brow arched in a consensus of the pleasant-tasting beverage.

To a family like the Gallagher’s, it was portrayed as a psychedelic for Lip Gallagher to be seen as a caring individual rather than a belligerent boy without any anger control. (especially to someone like Fiona) His emotional trauma merely enabling him to hide his concealed emotions from others, but like any other person, it took tremendous work that you were willing to put in.

“Hey, you wanna go soon?” His eyes naturally drifted around the party as he questioned you with a gentle hand sitting comfortably at your waist, his thumb moving slowly over the material of your shirt. “Sure, lower-class man parties are always a bummer.” You mutually agreed, glimpsing as to how his eyes travel across the room to a familiar redhead.

“I’m gonna go tell Ian, you good here?” His thumb pointed in a backwards direction as he walked the same way, you nodded in approval before he was off with his shoes tapping in sync to the music as he proceeded to the Kitchen while you stood in the living room against a wall.

It wasn’t usual for Lip to willingly leave you alone, especially in social situations like this one with intoxicated teenagers at your every corner. He once claimed a wannabe Tristan Dugray from Gilmore Girls would sweep you off your feet and carry you off to the sunset but you declared that would be spurious.

You picked at your nails for the first few minutes, growing bored as you waited, your fingers following the curvature of the cup along with the slight indentations and lines as your patience grew thin. Most likely Ian was stuck in a conversation with long-haired Milkovich, and he wouldn’t wanna leave just yet, his usual stall techniques including whining to his eldest brother.

Your evident impatience had swallowed you whole, eventually abandoning the remains of the drink at a battered table so your arms could cross in front of your chest and your foot tapped insanely quick against the floor. Now that tapping would've bothered anyone as the music vibrated through the drywall and the neighbours were nearing annoyance with the deliberation of filing a noise complaint.

As you were just about to set off to the kitchen, slender fingers gripped at your belt loops hauling you closer to the point your rear had struck the male stranger's chest.

“Hey! What the fu—“

“What’re you doing here all alone?” You attempted to harshly to move away at the poor tone of male seduction but the firm grip on your denim loops was restricting you from such.

“You see, I'm not alone so if you’d—“ You gestured impatiently to his hand with a curt glint in your tone whilst looking back at him; but, he cut you off with a brisk ���S’alright, baby. I’ll take care of you.’ And no intention of letting you go.

You huffed with a squirm as his disengaged hand grasped at your waist where the emptiness of Lip’s hand had formerly been. “I have a fucking boyfriend—“ You inevitably began to yell over the music at the boy you could recognize as Clint Eastwood from your English class with a drunken smirk plastered onto his features.

This time it wasn’t his slurred voice cutting you off once again, it was a familiar rage-ridden Gallagher. “Get your hands off my fucking girlfriend.” Lip’s baritone became hoarser by the word as his hands hastily gripped at the boy's collared shirt whilst you stumbled by Ian who had briskly caught your arm hoisting you upright.

“Sorry! Dude, I didn’t know she—“

“Really? I clearly fucking heard her say she had a boyfriend,” His scowling brows drew together tightly and his lips pursed at the boy's face trembling in justified fear; as the scene grew larger with frequent yells occurring from Lip, most attendees of the party queued in on the scene.

“I guess idiots like you don’t know how to take a fucking hint.” Lip would’ve severely beaten his face in till Clint was due a trip to the ER but your magnifying grip at the back of his torso was enough to subdue his nerves and release the male off to the side and make his way to the car while gripping your hand the silent way there as the music grew fainter.

The car ride was silent, Lip’s hands gripped the wheel hard enough for distinctive marks to melt into the leather of the disk-shaped circle. He was well indeed sober, the only drink he had consumed was the one he had given to you and mostly full when it came into your possession.

When the car paused in the Gallagher driveway, wordlessly, Ian had left the car to give the both of you a moment, cautiously entering the chaotic household where most of his siblings had been asleep; Fiona being the only one awake where she had been watching a movie with V as Debbie laid on her lap. Yet, Lip hadn’t even moved his hands from the ignition; he had barely even blinked or twitched.

“Lip,” Your voice whispered, filling in the empty void of the vehicle. He silently looked over with his head slumped against the head seat, “What’s wrong?” Another whisper, your fingers rested comfortably on his knee.

“I just—“ He sighed, “—I don’t like the way he was touching you. Nobody should touch you like that.” He paused thoughtfully amid his heated sentence, clearly hesitant. Though, you remained silent as you were taciturnly aware that he was nowhere near finished.

“What if he wasn’t a creep and it was some guy that could offer you so much better than I could. I don’t want you to get hurt, but I also don’t want to hurt you.” His cerulean optics drifted over to his knee where you had been drawing circles over the denim, his anxious eyes remaining focused before you spoke up and his attention had diverted back to you.

“So don’t.” You offered a faint smile, “You’re not your parents, Lip. Take it one day at a time, if you don’t want to hurt me then you’re not going to.” You shook your head as you spoke.

“You could’ve knocked that guy into oblivion but you didn’t, and I know why you didn’t. I’m not gonna push you; Just take it day by day with me, okay?” He lethargically nodded in response, drinking in your words slowly as they enveloped his brain in a tight squeeze. Your monologue clinging to his mind as he would require those words later on.

Silently, you drifted your eyes back to the house, your eyes retaining on the Gallagher residence as he spoke. “Stay the night?”

You returned your head back to him and grinned in response, pecking his lips a few times before hopping out of the car as he followed. Trudging towards the wrought gate as he gripped at your hand, gently leading you through his house but pausing once to wave at Fiona which she reciprocated with a gleeful nod and a wave.

You had thought you entered his shared room rather quietly, changing into a shrunken pair of basketball shorts and a navy blue sweater both of which had belonged to your boyfriend. As you climbed the bunk, an adolescent boy had begun speaking with sleep lacing his words, “You better not be having sex, I'm trying to sleep.” Carl finished with a snore as he shuffled.

You both hastily muffled your laughs whilst cautiously climbing into the top bunk where his sheets laid messily due to him not making his bed the morning prior. You took very little time situating yourselves, the tip of your chin laying on his shoulder, and you were laid on your stomach. Meanwhile, his arm curled around your back and his stomach had faced the texturized ceiling.

You both laid there silently for a few minutes, maybe even a half-hour. Most likely Ian had passed out on the couch, and Carl’s snores had filled the room so it was a guarantee that it was safe to speak without any eavesdropping.

“I’ll always choose you.”

For a moment you thought he was asleep as well by how still he remained, till his face had carefully turned millimeters from yours. “I don’t care if it’s an Italian mafia man or some belligerent idiot from English class. I’ll always choose you, Philip Gallagher.” You muttered into his shoulder, a tinge of minor embarrassment creeping stealthily up your neck at the sappy confession.

“I’ll always choose you, too.” He whispered back, he wasn’t much for words but he could always muster up a considerable fraction of what you meant to him. Kissing the tip of your nose, he whispered again whilst placing his chin on your forehead. “Now go to sleep, or you’ll be bitchy in the morning.”

taglist: @miiamour @bugswrld @zzzfour @black-rose-29 @sprucewoodlover @bloodyrockwork @myalupinblack

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

(Splatoon 3 spoilers ahead)

I can't stop thinking about it, I just keep finding more and more reasons to love the final fight against Mr Grizz, and honestly so much of that is because of the music! (3mix is amazing but I'm talking about the bit before it, when you're on the rocket.) The quieter earlier phases serve as the perfect build-up to what is the most epic and badass version of Happy Little Workers I have ever heard -- the final phase has a real superhero vibe to it, similar to some of the levels in the Alterna missions, like the zipcaster ones, which is so cool!

But what really gets me is the voices in the background that are singing Happy Little Workers. They don't sound like marine creatures, they sound human! It's like Grizz is clinging onto the remains of the last mammals he knew! Even though humanity is long-gone, they left such a lasting impact on everyone who came after them, in culture, in appearance, everything, and hearing their voices, like ghosts, just... it makes me feel some kind of way I can't explain.

Especially because Grizz's actions come from a place of trauma. To be stuck in space for thousands of years, conscious, aware, finally making it back to your home only to realise that everything is different now, and everyone you once knew is dead! When you realise that the humans who were on the spaceship with Grizz were probably the final remnants of humanity, the very last ones to go extinct, many thousands of years after the rest of the mammals died out! And Grizz was with them! The humans whose experiments gave him knowledge, who took him with them on the Ark Polaris and tried to save him once the wars on Earth were too far gone! And he was the only one who survived! It's clear he's in such deep grief over all of this, he feels he has to do something, it's not even a sense of malice against marine life like Tartar had, it's genuine trauma from being the sole survivor of a mass extinction on the level of dinosaurs. He is the last mammal standing. is Judd a joke to you, Grizz?

Even when he loses, once you've beaten him, he accepts his fate -- and he accepts the world as it is, too. It's like deep down he knew he was wrong for what he was doing, but he was driven by such intense emotions based on what he had experienced that he pushed it down, trying desperately to find a way to make the pain stop, that pain of having lost everyone and not being able to fit into this new world, not being able to adjust to his home having changed so drastically. He's a lost soul, hurting, grieving.

God, I wish I could give him a hug. I don't know if he's dead at the end or not, but regardless, he's an immensely tragic character and a fantastic villain. I think I'm going to go listen to his boss music a few hundred times more. I like to believe that the human voices are those of the humans on the Ark Polaris, their spirits watching over the bear they took with them who managed to survive when none of the rest could. And then Calamari Inkantation 3Mix starts to play, and it's a sign that the era of mammals truly has come to a close, and it's marine life's turn to be dominant on the Earth's surface, and Mr Grizz accepts it as he drifts off into space...

[just-wublrful]

on loss, grief, and praying to the stars for absolution

The Hand Has Twenty-Seven Bones—: These Hands If Not Gods, Natalie Diaz | And What Good Will Your Vanity be When the Rapture Comes, Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib | Saying Names, Richard Siken | Falling Stars, Franz von Stuck | On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous, Ocean Vuong | Salvage, Ada Limon | Snow And Dirty Rain, Richard Siken | Mural, Mahmoud Darwish | Snow And Dirty Rain, Richard Siken |  Rihanna – Birthday Cake, Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib | Sound of the War, Vincente Aleixandre | Tsunami’s Debris, Lee Ann Roripaugh | Reasons for Staying, Ocean Vuong | Stardust Hands, Danielle Buetti | All the Wrong Colors, Yrsa Daley-Ward

[ID: An assortment of quotes and images from various sources.

1. Those lovers are mostly gone. My hands remain —: like altars.

2. like I will never touch a beautiful thing again and the man / looks me in the eyes and he points me to the blue-orange vault / over heaven’s gates and he says the face of everyone you miss / is up there and I know I know I can’t see them but I know

3. a sound. The waters of the dead, a clear road, / every lover in the form of stars, the road / blocked. All night I stretched my arms across

4. A painting of two people sitting and looking up at a star-filled night sky. The person on the left has dark hair and wears a white dress, the person on the right wears black clothes and has their back to the viewer. They are sitting on a green hill, with another green hill and a river in the background. Two lines streak across the sky, indicating shooting stars.

5. When does a war end? When can I say / your name and have it mean only your / name and not what you left behind?

6. Staring / at the tree for a long time now,  I am reminded / of the righteousness I had before the scorch / of time. I miss who I was. I miss who we all were, / before we were this: half alive to the brightening sky, / half dead already. I place my hand on the unscarred / bark that is cool and unsullied, and because I cannot / apologize to the tree, to my own self I say, I am sorry. / I am sorry I have been so reckless with your life.

7. We’ve read / the back of the book, we know what’s going to happen. / The field’s burnt, the land destroyed, the lovers left / broken in the brown dirt. And then it’s gone.

8. I haven’t said goodbye to the ruins yet.

9. Makes you sad. All of your friends are gone. Good-bye / Goodbye. No more tears. I would like to meet you all / in Heaven. But there’s a litany of dreams that happens / Somewhere in the middle. Moonlight spilling

10. In truth, I only remember closing my eyes. In truth, I believe you were all there / because I knew that in a dream, I could keep all of you safe. In truth, // I woke still afraid. In truth, all of my teeth were aching when I crawled / from underneath the covers.

11. I’m lying down and all I can see is the stars. / The hole in my chest breathes / like a stupid mistake.

12. what belongs to you / doesn’t // in the shattered absence / of an unraveling cosmos // what tiny bits of debris will you / unexpectedly ache for? // what small particles will you / cling to / as if you actually could?

13. Because this mess I made I made with love.

14.  A picture of two hands on a black background. The hands are colored and lit blue and hold onto a cluster of star-like white dots. The white dots overlap at the center, creating a white sphere, and flake out from there.

15. What else can my hands / do with the blood? Pray? End ID.]