#but it hurts god it hurts so much if i am idle all of it comes back

[s-cxups]

rant ahead please ignore

i can't do this. it's all of my fault for getting attached. i feel guilty for ending all three friendships at once but none of these people know how i have been dealing with all these friendships not meeting my emotional needs. okay one of them i have had a feeling that we're not close so it doesn't hurt much because i already accepted it long ago.

but with both who call me their close friend? and one of them implying i am their best friend (at least i hope, otherwise i have been a fool since last few years). if you call someone special, doesn't it mean you are allowing them to have some expectations from you. not all, i am not crazy person who wants their time like a partner but .

it's not like i am not busy, i am busy too

[joelmillers-whore]

The Only Thing I Did Right

summary: after a patrol gone wrong, joel races to get you back to jackson. while the doctor tries to save you, he wrestles with the guilt of letting you down.

pairing: joel miller x reader 

word count: 2.6K

series or one-shot

warnings: mature, language, joel x female!reader, no mention of Y/N, canon timeline (sort of), jackson era, post-outbreak, soft joel, hurt/comfort, minor descriptions of blood, joel thinking everything is his fault, tommy is there briefly, mentions of drinking and/or alcohol dependence, happy ending don’t worry, angst if you squint

A/N: i meant for this to be a short drabble because my creativity has been waning lately and i’m a little burned out to be honest, but i got carried away, but what else is new. anywho, enjoy this lil fic. let me know if ya’ll would like to see another part of this or maybe an interconnected one-shot series, i would be down. i really enjoyed writing this. also, i am still trying to power through this sickness i have suddenly, and i don’t think i’ll be able to post hard light chapter two this week.

I've Got Nothing Left To Hide

“Where’s it hurt?”, Joel asked, in a low, almost inaudible voice. He tried to keep his tone calm, trying to keep you calm, but his mind was flustered, and he was on edge, and he was pretty sure that you could see right through his charade. 

He swallowed thickly, past a lump that was stuck in his throat. His eyes darted all over you, tracking every movement, every laboured breath, and wince.

It had been decades since he had felt like this; the constricting of his chest, the shallow and unsure breaths that he was letting out, and the staggering way his heart clenched, a silent prayer on his lips, asking any God who would listen to spare you. 

It all felt so overwhelming and a little too familiar. Images of Sarah flashed through his mind, dredging up demons and emotions he had thought he had left in the past.

He had never been so afraid of losing someone he loved, not since Sarah, but here he was now, feeling like he was about to collapse at any minute, terrified of making the wrong move and losing you.

He swallowed again, harsher as he concentrated on his breathing. 

He hadn’t let his mind drift to thoughts of his daughter in a long time, his chest burning in that familiar way each time that he did, squeezing to the point of pain.

He let an idle hand drift to his chest, right above his heart, and gripped it, trying to will it subconsciously to slow down. But it was no use. 

There were very few things in the world that made Joel feel as if the ground was collapsing underneath him, and thinking of Sarah was definitely one of them.

Whenever he found himself thinking of her, thinking of how he couldn’t save her, the breath from his lungs evaporated, and guilt slammed into him with enough force to destabilize him.

But seeing you like this, the woman that he had promised Tommy that he would watch over and protect, writhe in pain as blood pooled under your shirt, that was another thing that he couldn’t bear to witness. 

You looked so helpless, lying in his arms, looking up at him with droopy lids, a faraway look in your eyes.

He cursed under his breath, knowing that you were injured because of him, because of his carelessness.

You were going to be another person he couldn’t protect and he didn’t know how much more of that he could take. 

“‘M fine”, you said, weakly, your breath coming out in stunted gasps. 

Joel shook his head, tempered anger coursing through his veins, “Don’t pull that brave shit with me”, he bit out, harsher than he intended. He gripped you tighter in his arms, holding onto you for dear life. “I know it hurts, so just tell me”. 

He watched as tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, you tried to blink them but the motion only made them fall, coating your cheeks.

Joel lifted a hand, wiping them away. He hated to see you cry, he couldn’t stand it, it broke his heart.

He left his thumb on the apple of your cheek, thinking that maybe the sensation would bring you some comfort, thinking that maybe it would bring him some comfort. 

“Am I going to die, Joel?”, you asked, a slight tremble in your voice. 

Joel shook his head, adamantly, “Not if I can help it”. 

You faded in and out of consciousness as Joel debated his next move, trying to figure out how he was going to get you back to Jackson.

He clutched the hem of your shirt, the material sticking to your stomach as he peeled it from you.

He visibly cringed as he eyed your wound, the punctured flesh dispelling crimson red at a rapid and borderline concerning rate. 

He couldn’t wait around any longer, couldn’t wait for the next round of patrol to find them, if they even came out this far. So, he took matters into his own hands, his muted internal clock ticking down the more he looked at you pale in his arms.

He scooped up your limb body, pressing you flush to his body, determination and adrenaline pumping through him, the driving force propelling him into action.

There was only one thought in his head; get you back to Jackson, by whatever means. 

As he stepped out of the small cabin, Joel noticed that the sun was slowly starting to dip beneath the horizon, the pop of blistering orange making him anxious.

Night would come quicker than either of you wanted and then the real challenge would begin, trying to navigate through the dense forest and get back to the community in the dark.

You were trembling in his arms, shaking so violently, from either the bitter cold or the loss of blood, that he thought that he was the one who was hurting you. 

“Can you ride?”, he asked, urgency in his voice. 

“Dunno”. 

Joel couldn't risk injuring you further, but he also couldn’t waste any more time, so he made an executive decision. He had been making a lot of those on your behalf today, and his most recent had gotten you in this position in the first place, it was his fault.

If anything happened to you, he wouldn’t ever forgive himself. 

He placed you tentatively on the ground, his arm sneaking around your waist to stabilize you as he untied his horse from the post. 

“Alright”, he bent slightly, grabbing your foot and placing it in his hand, “Nice ‘n easy now”. 

He could see the strain on your face, the pellets of sweat sticking to your hairline as you used as much strength as you could, hoisting yourself up and onto the horse. You’d let out a strangled groan as you got situated.

Once he knew that you were on, he hopped up, grabbing the reins and digging his heels into Shimmer’s body, spurring her into a run, his motivation to get back to Jackson making his heart race. 

The only solace that Joel took from not being able to see you from the position he was in, was that he could feel you gripping him from behind, your arms latching around his waist, your cheek flush with his back.

He could feel your chest rising and falling against him and his pulse softened, knowing that you were still fighting, still holding on for him. 

He had pushed Shimmer to her limits, getting you both back to Jackson in record time. The sequence of events that followed had been a blur to him.

The gates had opened immediately, the guards recognizing him even in the dusk.

He remembered screaming his throat raw, begging someone for help as he carried you into town and to the doctor.

He’d watched on, helplessly, as they quickly began working on you. Blood and cloth blurred his vision, making his stomach twist with queasiness.

He had to leave the room, too overcome with emotion and nausea to be of any help to you. 

When he stepped outside of the small makeshift clinic, the frigid air pierced his lungs, drawing out a long and aching breath, striking him so sharply that he stumbled forward.

He had gripped a wooden post for support, digging his palms into it for purchase, closing his eyes.

He tried to get a handle on his breathing, but it was no use. He felt the bile creeping higher in his throat, until he couldn’t hold back anymore.

It poured out of him, leaving his mouth dry and his head spinning. It was a visceral reaction, his worry over you, over what he had let happen. 

He cursed Tommy for entrusting him with you, something so precious. He knew things could have turned out worse, and he was glad that they hadn’t been, but he couldn’t get over how bad they were right now.

How shaken to his core he was that he had allowed this to happen at all.

Joel couldn’t stand to be there anymore, just on the other side of the door that led to you, powerless while the doctor patched you up. So, he did the one thing he had always been good at, he left. 

Snow crunched underneath his boots, growing louder in his ears as he walked away from the clinic. He thought that a drink might help calm his nerves.

A part of his brain wanted to forget that this day had ever happened, and another part told him that no amount of alcohol would repair the guilt that was nestled snuggly in his gut. But he could try. 

Joel didn’t know how long he had been at the Tipsy Bison, he had lost track of time after the third or fourth whiskey. He blew out a shaky breath, letting a hand drift over his haggard features.

He had been running on adrenaline the whole day and now he was crashing, feeling the exhaustion settle deep in his bones.

But he couldn’t rest, he didn’t deserve to, not when he didn’t know if you had made it or not. 

A jolt of horror shot through his body, making his stomach twist in knots. What if you hadn’t made it? He licked his dry lips, closing his eyes as he felt a prick form behind his eyes. 

Joel was startled by a firm hand on his shoulder. He twisted slightly to see who it was, his face dropping further when he saw that it was Tommy.

He didn’t have to look at his brother for long to get a read on his expression. What he was thinking.

He was pissed and rightfully so. He had failed you and now he was waiting for Tommy to lay into him, chastise him for being so fucking stupid. 

“She’s askin’ for ya”, Tommy said, keeping his voice soft. 

Joel turned around in his seat fully to look at Tommy, surprised that he had gotten to his feet so fast. He snorted out a laugh, seeing the fucking relief that was surely on Joel’s face.

Tommy clapped his shoulder again, almost to stabilize him. Joel couldn’t look his brother in the eye, guilt bubbling and breaking the surface, making his skin sting. 

“‘M sorry”, he mumbled, “I should’ve been there, I should’ve gotten to her quicker, I shoulda done something”. 

Tommy shook his head, “You couldn’t’ve known that would happen, Joel. So stop blaming yourself”. 

Joel scratched at his facial hair, running his hand along his jaw, pondering Tommy’s words. 

He continued, “You protected her with your life, brother. I couldn’t ask for more than that”. 

Joel felt emotion clog his throat. Tommy wasn’t angry with him like he suspected he would be, he was grateful even. Something unfamiliar unfurled in his stomach, something that felt like acceptance. 

A long beat stretched between them, “Go see her”, Tommy finally said, a smile pulling at his lips. 

He led Joel out of the bar, leading him back to the clinic to go see you. Tommy stopped short of the door, motioning for him to continue without him. Joel nodded curtly, slipping past and entering the small, single-room cabin. 

Tentatively, Joel inched closer to the bed that you were in, walking on the balls of his feet, uncertain if you were awake or not. You were lying down, stretched out with your back to him, He sat on the edge of the bed, seeing you turn toward him, a grin on your face as you looked at him. Joel’s face heated under your gaze.

He didn’t deserve that smile, he thought, but he would take it anyway, if you were willing to give it to a man like him. He reached out, stroking your face softly with the back of his fingers. 

“Hey, darlin’, how ya feelin’?”, his voice was throaty, raw. 

His heart hammered below the surface as your eyes locked with his, pining him to where he sat. He didn’t want to breathe too loudly or make any sudden movements, too afraid that he would break the spell. 

“Better now”, you croaked. 

Everything collapsed at once inside of him; his resolve, his strength, his pride. He couldn’t fight it any longer, how fucking happy he was that you were still here, still with him. 

“What’re you smiling at, hm?”, you asked, arching a brow. 

Joel shook his head, his explanation dying on his tongue. He had never been one to lose his words but right now, being so close to you, he wasn’t sure he knew how to speak anymore.

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back to the moment. Your hand was freezing as it touched his skin but he didn’t mind. 

His smile disappeared as your eyes scanned his face, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry—”, he started, but you shook your head. 

“It was my fault, Joel. Don’t you dare apologize for my fucking mistake. I won’t hear it”, you said, your tone firm. 

Joel wanted to argue, to tell you that it was his fault but he didn’t have the heart, not when you were only just beginning to heal up, still looking weak and pale.

He could wait for another day to have it out with you. He just nodded instead, and you hummed, content with him seemingly letting it go for now. 

Your hand was still on his wrist and he felt a strange sense of calm. 

“Come ‘er”, you whispered, tugging on his wrist lightly. 

He wasn’t sure what was happening until your lips were on his, soft, pliant, and full. The kiss was sweet but it only lasted a minute. He pulled back, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Thank you”, you said, eyes shining as the light hit them, making them more beautiful than he thought was possible. 

He nodded quickly, head still spinning from kissing you. It had been a thank-you kiss and he shouldn’t think more of it.

But goddamn it, he wanted more. He wasn’t mad or upset that you had kissed him, honestly, he had been meaning to do it for months now.

If a kiss filled with gratitude for saving your life was all that he could get, he would accept that, he didn’t want to push his luck. 

You noticed the uneasy look on his face, shifting in the bed and using your dwindling strength to sit up.

Now you were the one with creased brows, your eyes darting over his face, trying to find your answer. Realization struck your features. 

“If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry, Joel. I just didn’t know how else to say it”. 

Joel felt like a jackass, that wasn’t what he meant at all. 

“That’s not— that’s not it, darlin’. I just didn’t think you’d want to kiss an old man like me”. 

His chuckle was thick with depreciation, but you just shook your head, eyes gleaming with something he didn’t recognize. You chewed your lower lip and Joel couldn’t help but stare. 

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while actually”, you admitted. 

Joel’s head snapped up, searching your eyes. You were sincere and he knew it. That was the confirmation that he needed, the hope that lit a flame in his chest. You wanted him too. 

A deep chortle escaped Joel’s throat, his face neutral as he leaned in closer to yours. “Then I guess we better make up for lost time then”. 

Joel pressed his lips into yours, moulding to the shape of them as he gripped your face in his large hands, letting a groan slip into your mouth. You pulled back with a giggle, fisting the hair at the base of his head.

Your smile was a thousand watts and Joel couldn’t look away. His grip on your face tightened a little more, making sure that this was really happening to him. 

He couldn’t believe it but he dove back in regardless, wanting to soak in as much of your love and light that you were willing to give to him.

[lillaydee]

The Arrangement Epilogue

Pioneer! Joel Miller / Reader

Your life crumbled to nothing during a migration to Jackson, forcing you to agree to an arrangement just to survive.

NOTE: Possible inaccuracies in baby developments, food intake and inheritance or ownership laws coming. I really know nothing, but I needed to put some stuff in for the sake of the story line, so please forgive me and take everything in the spirit of storytelling yeah?

WARNINGS: Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel Bonding (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Frontier Joel, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Virgin Joel, Virgin Reader, Minor Character Death, Period-typical Misogyny, Marriage of Convenience

SERIES MASTERLIST

Part 11

OK SO I HAVE ZERO SELF CONTROL SO IMMA JUST UPLOAD THE EPILOGUE TODAY TOO. HOPE YOU LIKE IT. TQ SO MUCH FOR READING! 🥰🥰🥰

---

Joel locked his front door, a bit grumpy that he had to be up this early. Ever since he started working with his father when he turned 16 last week, he had been given the very unwanted task of feeding the animals first thing in the morning, which, as far as ranch life was concerned, was the God-awful five in the morning. He felt as if he had just fallen asleep, and here he was, walking over to the family ranch with his eyes hardly opened.

The family had stayed up late last night, and he didn’t want to leave early just to catch his unfortunate, usual bedtime. It was a special event, after all.

Fifty years. That’s how long his namesake, his Pops and beloved Nana had been together. And it was hard not to feel jealous of them. They were still so very much in love. For as long as he remembered, it was rare to see one of them without the other. Pops was never an idle man, always working on something or other, and Nana was always right there, keeping him company, a project always in her hands for the grandchildren or the business. They were always talking and laughing, hands on each other at all times, giggling like teenagers in love. How a couple could go fifty years without running out of things to talk about, he never knew. But he would love to find out one day.

Considering the amount of times he heard Pops tell the same story over and over again, he was shocked to find out that he had never told anyone the story of how he and Nana had met and married in the first place. He was saving this story for their fiftieth anniversary, he had told everyone during his speech last night, the room filled with the original Millers, children and grandchildren, and family friends.

Everyone listened intently, this old man telling his family how he came to meet the love of his life, his very reason for living, his eyes full of love for her, full of nostalgia and happy memories with her.

“Thank you for a wonderful fifty years, darling, I am the luckiest man alive. My heart beats only for you, my dear. I love you so much.” He then took Nana by the hand and kissed her lovingly.

The whole room was silent. There was not a dry eye in the room. Great Uncles Will, Tommy and Benny and Great Aunts Liv, Maria and Diana were the only ones who knew the story, and even they were teary. Shockingly, not even Great Uncle Max and Great Aunt Tess knew this, despite the fact that they had all been friends for fifty years. Heck, they were the unofficial Millers.

Aunt Ellie, despite knowing she was adopted and was there from the beginning, apparently didn’t know this either. She and Aunt Sarah were inconsolable, sitting in their brother, his father’s arms while the story was being told. His father was wiping tears off his cheek, touched by his parents’ love story. The siblings went over and hugged their parents, crying into their shoulders, thanking them for being the greatest parents anyone could hope for.

If he was ever lucky enough to fall in love one day, Joel hoped he would have a story like that to tell too. And that, in his mind, was a tough one to beat.

He walked quickly in the early spring morning, wanting to get the job done as quickly as possible. Nana had promised him breakfast today. And he was never going to say no to that. He walked past the office and workshop for the tailoring business that Nana and Great Aunt Maria started, Miller Tailoring, which Aunt Sarah and Aunt Lucy, along with Aunt Ellie’s partner, Aunt Dina, now ran. Right next door was Miller’s Constructions, the business his Pops and Great Uncles started. Aunt Ellie ran it now, some of his male cousins working under her. To no one’s surprise, she was the only child from the first generation of the original Millers who had taken to carpentry and building, despite everyone being roped in for the work in the beginning. She really was her Papa’s daughter.

Joel had the option of working for either business, as everyone in the family did, but he knew squat about tailoring, taking almost ten minutes to thread a needle, and successfully crushed his thumb the first time he tried to hammer a nail in place. So here he was, headed for the ranch, which his father and Uncle Danny ran together at this ungodly hour to earn his place in the family business. Everyone starts from the bottom of the barrel, Pops had said, even family. 

Pops, Nana and the great aunts and uncles were all retired now, reaping the benefits of their hard work during their youth. Apparently, the lands began as a combined less than half an acre between the four families. They had expanded to over 70, and there were talks of expanding further.

Joel hurried, the morning chill that still came with early spring starting to get to him. He quickly did his tasks, some of the ranch hands already there, making sure he performed them up to standards. By the time he finished, the sun was up, and he quickly ran to his Pops and Nana’s to get that promised breakfast, always a treat. He needed it for the rest of his work day, after all.

He and his cousins loved their grandparents. Loved the advantage of living in close quarters with everyone. Pops and Nana’s house was basically sanctuary. No one could be harmed if they were there. Hugs from Nana were the best, her beef and vegetable stew even better.

Aunt Ellie, Aunt Sarah and his Mama all learned how to make that stew, but none of them could quite get it to taste exactly like Nanas. If he was lucky, he could have whatever’s left of that delicious stew she made for Pops last night for breakfast, that is, if Pops hadn’t devoured all of it himself after everyone left. It was his favourite meal, despite the unfortunate event that was the stew’s first try, which left everyone howling last night. Pops claimed it was delicious, to which Great Aunt Maria answered with a quick “Heck no it wasn’t,” to a roar of laughter from everyone. Pops then told everyone that he would eat it every day if it meant staying married to Nana, earning him a kiss from her. She still blushed every time they kissed. It really was the sweetest thing to behold.

Sometimes, they stayed over just to hear Nana read to Pops, his head in her lap, her hand scratching his head absentmindedly. He knew Pops could read. He distinctly remembered him reading contracts and newspapers. Apparently he could not read very well when they first married, and the habit of listening to her read to him stuck. And after all these years, they still kept that tradition alive, even if the grandchildren joined in. But Pops always had one restriction for these sessions - her lap was for his use only, much to his grandchildren’s chagrin. Greedy, greedy, greedy.

When he approached, the house was still dark. He knocked on the front door, placing the jars of fresh milk he had brought for them on the bench that supposedly no one was allowed to use ever, it was their special bench, that and the swing overlooking the land. Aunt Ellie, Aunt Sarah and his father had often complained that their only times spent on that swing were back when they still couldn’t form memory, how unfair!

Weird, Joel and his cousins used to think – he and his cousins played on that swing all the time, Pops and Nana watching them happily. Maybe it’s true, parents and grandparents had different rules and standards, even if they were the exact same people.

There was no answer. He knocked again, harder this time, just for good measure. The grandchildren had always been warned again and again by their parents to knock when visiting Pops and Nana. You never knew what those two were up to behind closed doors. Apparently, the three siblings found out the hard way. What they saw still haunted them to this day.

There was still no answer, so Joel used the key everyone seemed to have and unlocked the front door. The house was quiet. It was almost seven, it was quite unthinkable that they were still asleep, even with last night’s festivities. Early birds get the worms, Pops always said.

He didn’t know why, but standing there in that familiar room, there was an unease in his heart. He ran up the stairs and frantically knocked on their bedroom door. Nothing. He knocked again, yelling for his Pops and Nana, his heart beating fast. He opened the door and rushed in.

There they were, still in bed, the framed old kerchief and lace hankerchief with their initials in the corners on the wall above their head. They were facing each other, looking so peaceful and in love. Pops holding Nana close to his chest with his right arm, his left holding her right hand between their bodies, fingers entwined, legs tangled, his lips on her forehead.

They looked like they were sleeping, but his heart was telling him otherwise.

Joel nervously went over and tried to wake his Nana, his hand jerking back as soon as he noticed how cold her skin was, as was his Pops’, his cheek wet with drying tears.

He ran out, gunning it towards the other houses, screaming for his parents, his siblings, his cousins, his aunts and uncles, great aunts and great uncles, for everyone. Everyone came out, still dressed in pyjamas, getting their housecoats to go over. Joel was inconsolable, begging for someone to help his Pops and Nana. His Uncle Marcus, the family doctor, ran ahead to their house.

Their bedroom was soon filled with heartbroken sobs. Aunts Ellie and Sarah laid on the bed with their parents, his father sitting at Pops’s feet, tears flowing out of their eyes.

Nana had left first, peacefully, in her sleep, Uncle Marcus later told everyone. Pops must have woken up to his lifeless wife, and held her close, mourning her, before his own heart gave out. His body was warmer than hers when Marcus got there, the tears on his face still drying.

“He died of a broken heart,” Aunt Sarah had tearily whispered.

No one could find reason to disagree with her.

Pops wasn’t exaggerating after all. His heart really did beat for her.

**********

They buried the beloved lovebirds in a single casket, the great uncles coming out of retirement to build their brother and sister a special one to fit them both. Aunt Ellie, Aunt Sarah and his father helped prepare their parents for burial, leaving their fingers entwined. They chose the spot where the swing stood. The one Pops had built for Nana. The two would sit there for hours in each other’s arms, looking at the view, the land it covered now part of their legacy.

Aunt Ellie played the guitar, tearfully singing the lullaby her beloved Mama used to sing for her and her siblings, and later her nieces and nephews to sleep.

The family stood in silence for a long time after the burial, remembering this couple who had devoted their lives to each other for fifty happy years, so in love with each other that they couldn’t bear to part from one another, even in death.

Their love for each other was the definition of romance. Their love story was one of fairy tales and dreams. One that was all-consuming. A love that inspires love stories, poems and songs for generations to come.

And to think it all began as a marriage of convenience.

Just an arrangement.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Ruhn x Reader drabble

a friend of my mine is not feeling so well, so this story is for her. this is not edited or anything, I basically wrote this in fifteen minutes, so please ignore all mistakes, grammar and spelling....@callmeblaire I am sending you so many hugs and love, you are amazing, never forget this🫂

"Hm?" Ruhn's voice is soft and calm, his fingers dancing over your back in idle circles. You bury your face further in his chest, his skin so soft and warm. The index finger of your right hand plays with piercing of his right nipple—something to keep you a little distracted and Ruhn loves it. For hours you have been lying in bed curled up together, the starborn-prince holding you tightly.

Most of the tears have dried on your cheeks and also his chest. He did not care that you were sobbing into his chest for hours. He wants you to let it all out, for you to get it all of your chest. He knows you needed it and he will be there for you, always, every step of the way, in good and bad times, and until the very last day of your immortal life.

"I know you will be fine. You just have to be strong now, I now this is not easy, but you, my love, can do this. You are so strong. You are my little fighter, and this is another battle you can and will win."

Your lips kiss his chest before you place your chin there and look up to him, your gaze meeting his. Slowly you nod, the deep violet of his eyes filled with hurt but also hope. It pains him to see you hurt, but he has hope—he knows things will be fine soon, this stage right now just wasn’t that easy.

You like how he sucks his lower lip and his lip ring between his teeth, nibbling, and silently regards you. A habit of his, you’ve noticed, something he always does when he is deep in thought.

"What?" you question, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Nothing," Ruhn says and smiles. "You are very so beautiful."

His hand falls to your thigh, and he pulls you closer and makes you curl your leg over his waist. His hand lingers on your butt for a moment before brushing up your body, caressing your skin and burying his hand in the hair at the nape of your neck. He loves your hair, how soft they are, how lovely they smell. Gods, he loves you so much and seeing you hurt breaks his heart. 

"I love you. Don’t forget that." Ruhn softly kisses the top if your head.

"I would never," you answer, tipping your head back further. "I love you."

You tip your head back and pout your lips and Ruhn immediately gets the memo. He leans in and kisses you. "My wonderful mate."

[standfucker]

Engravings

inspired by the following comment on my last SH fic:

Couldn't stop thinking about it, which eventually led to this.

Characters: Sanji

Reader: GN, they/them

Word Count: 6.2k

CW: Hurt/Comfort, SH, SH scars, auditory hallucinations, PTSD, mental institution-related trauma. No shipping, ace-friendly

Summary: It’s Sanji. You’re immediately, wholeheartedly certain. It’s Sanji, and he knows.

AO3 Link

"I’m listening to everything / please, tell me everything"

Nothing’s happened.

The sea is calm, the sun is shining, and the breeze is strong. All in all, a great day for sailing.

Nothing’s happened…

No recent squabbles among the crew, no surprises from sea beasts, no battles with pirates or Marines.

There’s no reason to feel the way you do. No trigger or logic to it. But you feel it anyway.

It’s like there’s an invisible filter over everything. Nothing looks different. Things sound different, though. The sounds of the waves and wind, the snapping of sailcloth and rope, the din of the crew’s voices. All of it wavers, like someone has their hand on a universal volume dial, yanking it back and forth at random. Sometimes the sounds are piercingly loud, like they’re right next to your ears, making you resist the urge to cover them. Sometimes the sounds blend into the background of everything else in a low, dull hum–so distorted that you have to focus to parse what’s being said to you.

The sound issue is your second tip-off that you’re having that kind of day. The first is the sense that the Sunny feels too small. And, crushingly, overwhelmingly, it feels like your fault. Irrational, but you can’t shake it. Really, it’s stupid: On the outside, it just looks like you’re hanging out next to your crewmates, making idle conversation. Inwardly, there’s such a deep feeling of guilt for just being there that you’re ready to throw yourself overboard.

You try to cope. You really do. You make an effort, mentally talking yourself through it.

I am allowed to take up space. I am allowed to exist.

You want to cry. You want to get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness. It doesn’t make sense, and there’s no cause you can identify. You feel like you’re going to throw up.

No one notices. How could they? Your mask is calm smiles and practiced eye contact, formed with easy jokes and interest in what the others say. Your mask is years in the making, thick with each layer you’ve added to seal in the cracks. It’s heavy and ugly, but it keeps you safe.

I am allowed to exist.

There’s no danger. You can’t explain why your fight-or-flight response is going off. There’s something wrong with you, and no one can see it because the problem is deep in the wiring. You can’t even see it. But you can feel it, and it feels so god-awful you don’t know how to endure it.

You feel yourself shaking from head to toe, so much so that it’s hard to keep your balance. But when you look down, your body is completely still. The noise around you blends together and buzzes like static, harsh on your ears. Then it gets louder.

I am allowed to exist.

You want to crawl in a hole and hide.

I am…

You excuse yourself–casually, collectedly–and head for the ship’s interior. You know what you’re going to do before you even start moving, like the decision’s already been made for you. A certainty that settles in your system, something to hold onto. The background noise grows even louder.

You stumble into the bathroom. As soon as you shut the door, all sound cuts out. 

You can’t hear anything. Not even the sea, nor the creaking wood of the ship. The room shifts, draws away from you until you have tunnel vision. Your vision warps, then focuses on the cabinet above the sink until you can see nothing else. Just like before.

It’s been a few weeks since the last time.

The background noise slowly picks up, but it’s distant, like you’re hearing it coming from a different ship. You reach for the cabinet.

What are you doing?

You open the cabinet. It’s organized so each crewmate’s stuff is clustered together, with the common items at the bottom. Your gaze passes over your deodorant, your nail clippers, your toothbrush, and settles on your straight razor.

Aren’t you too old for this?

You take your razor. From the common items, you take a bottle of alcohol. You fold up some tissue paper.

What would the crew think?

It’s hard to ignore the thoughts. But like any bully, they usually go away if you don’t give them energy. Usually.

The razor’s weight in your hand is comforting. It shouldn’t be, but it is. You unfold it, wipe down the blade with some alcohol. Then you lift up your sleeve and slide it over your shoulder.

This stretch of sea has been balmy. With the pleasant weather, you’ve worn a t-shirt, the short sleeves going just less than halfway down your arm. Underneath them, high up on your shoulder, are the scars. Faint and healed, a few shades lighter than your skin tone. Noticeable in the light, but that’s why you don’t participate in the group baths.

The background noise gets louder again. You think you hear shouting, faintly, but that’s normal for the crew. It barely registers over your heartbeat. 

Your heart is beating harder than before, dull thumps in your chest that seem to echo. Anticipating, ready.

Everything is going to be okay.

Finally. Finally. A hurt you can make sense of. Small, controlled. Yours.

There’s supposed to be a rush, you’ve heard. You don’t feel one. But there is a difference. The tunnel vision stops, the filter lifts. The world snaps back into place, the sound goes back to normal.

That’s when you really notice the shouting, no longer muffled by brain static. Something’s off. You focus. It doesn’t sound argumentative, like Zoro and Sanji. Nor is it playful, like Luffy or Franky’s might be. It’s startled and panicky, immediately grabbing your attention and making your adrenaline surge.

A second later, you hear an echoing BOOM, followed by an ear-splitting crunching of wood. It’s a sound you recognize, one you’ve heard before–a cannonball tearing into the ship.

You’re under attack.

For just a moment, you stare at your equipment, caught off guard. Then you pull yourself together–take your feelings and compartmentalize them for later dealing with–and tear out of the bathroom, dropping the tissue in the process. Your pistols are in their case, in the sleeping quarters. You need to get to them before you can join the fight…

The enemy pirates are strong–for a New World crew. Unfortunately for them, they’re completely outclassed by Luffy alone, much less the combined strength of the Straw Hats. Still, the numbers favor the enemy, and the battle is tiring enough to be distracting. Enough so that you forgot about what you were doing before it started. It’s only an hour into helping Franky patch up the ship, when you feel your shirt sleeve catch on your scabs, that you remember.

Then you realize you left your equipment out in the bathroom.

The razor. The alcohol. The bloody tissue paper.

Panic floods your system. You drop your tools and jump up as if electrocuted, all but flying to the bathroom. Has anyone used it since the fight?

Please no, please please please be wrong.

You kick the door open. It bangs harshly against the wall.

The equipment is gone. Your stomach sinks.

No no no no no.

You open the cabinet. Everything’s been returned to its place. Your straight razor has been folded and put away, as has the alcohol. The used tissue paper is gone. Not in the trash, either. Whoever it was must have discarded it in the toilet.

No no no no no!

Who? 

Who was it? You run through the possibilities in your head. Zoro? No, he wouldn’t clean up after someone else’s mess. Neither would Nami. At least, not for free. And what about the rest of the crew?

Whoever it was, would they even know what they saw? Surely they’d just think you cut yourself shaving. That was the only explanation, right? Even if the patterns on the tissue paper were distinct, the stains shaped into blurry, beaded lines–unless they had done it before, there’s no way they’d know. Right?

This time, when you shiver, it’s for real, not just a figment of your imagination. What would happen if you were found out? At best you’d be kicked out of the crew. At worst…

I’ll get locked up again.

You feel ill. Dizzy and nauseated with the prospect. You try not to spiral, try to get a grip before panic can take hold. The best you can do is to close the door behind you, sit on the floor, and take deep breaths.

You’re not sure how long you’re there–minutes, hours–but you don’t get up until someone knocks on the door.

“You almost done?” Usopp calls from the other side.

Swallowing hard, you find your voice. “Yeah. Just a sec.”

Usopp doesn’t so much as give you a second glance when you pass him. It’s not him.

You’re hypervigilant the rest of the day, scrutinizing every action, every word from your crewmates. Nothing seems different, but that only makes you more paranoid.

Nami offers you a tangerine. The simple action sets off a cascade of racing thoughts: Is she trying to make you feel better? Because she knows? Did she tell anyone? Did she tell Chopper? Luffy?

Every interaction is like that–an innocuous action that makes you flip out internally.

Franky gives you a gift: A cute little wind-up frog toy, made from scrap metal. He says it's to thank you for helping with repairs. You scan his face, but he’s only grinning proudly. Not Franky, either. 

Zoro invites you to drink with him. Brook plays a song you like. Robin hands you a book she’s just finished, saying it might suit your tastes. Nothing unusual, but enough to make you second guess everything. Each time, you cling to your mask, holding it so tightly to your face that you can barely breathe.

The next day, Sanji cooks your favorite meal for dinner. That wouldn’t be too weird, except you know for a fact that your favorite involves pricy ingredients that he prefers to save. You know this because he mentioned it, years ago, when he was teaching you how to make the dish.

You and Sanji had joined the Straw Hats at the same time. Two weeks before Luffy had shown up, you had tried and failed to dine-and-dash from Baratie. Zeff forced you to work to pay it off, plus an extra week to “teach you a lesson.” That was when you got to know Sanji. Unlike the rest of the chefs, he wasn’t mad at you for what you did. He even taught you some of the basics of cooking. As the only soft presence on the floating restaurant, you grew attached, and that feeling of reliance never really left since then. You were drawn to his air of confidence and self-assuredness, but mostly to the fact that he never hid who he was, even when who he was could be straight-up idiotic at times. But you still respected that about him.

You always liked to hang out around the cook, helping him prepare meals with what you learned at Baratie. You both fought well together, having each others’ backs in battle despite your different fighting styles. It was safe to say that he was your favorite crewmate, and though you weren’t sure what he thought of you, you viewed him as your closest friend.

So you really, really don’t want it to be Sanji.

You appraise his expression, his movement, his actions. It all seems normal, on the surface. And yet, it feels off somehow, but you can’t tell if that’s just the paranoia speaking.

“How is it?” Sanji inquires.

You stare for a second. It’s not a question he usually asks–he knows it’s your favorite and he knows you think it’s amazing. Maybe it’s just your imagination, but the smile doesn’t seem to reach his eyes.

“Delicious, as always,” you say. Your own smile lights up your face, the way you’ve carefully practiced. “What’s the occasion?”

He pauses, rubs the back of his neck. “No reason, really. I just thought that it’s been a while since we’ve had it.”

That evening, you’re alone at the port side of the ship, leaning against the railing and looking out at the night sea. Sometimes it helps with your racing thoughts. This time, it does nothing. Nothing keeps you from fixating on the situation. You feel like you’re hanging by a thread, like at any moment you’ll get kicked off the crew, and then your whole world will unravel. And it’s entirely your fault.

The questions won’t stop repeating themselves: Who was it? Did they know?

Behind you, someone clears their throat. You whirl around a bit too quickly and steady yourself with a hand on the railing. Sanji’s standing there with his hands in his pockets. Something about his posture sets alarm bells off in your head. He’s too stiff, trying too hard to appear composed.

“Hey, Y/n,” Sanji says gently, “can I talk to you about something?”

It’s Sanji. 

You’re immediately, wholeheartedly certain. It’s Sanji, and he knows.

You gape at him for a moment, then collect yourself. The mask comes back on.

“Actually, I’m pretty tired. Gonna turn in for the night. Tomorrow, okay?” you dismiss, and go to walk past him.

“Wait a second, Y/n,” he reaches to grab your wrist, but you yank it away before he can.

“Don’t!” you snap, stepping back, then quickly correct yourself. “I mean–don’t surprise me like that! We’ll talk tomorrow. I really should sleep...”

Sanji frowns, hand slowly lowering, and you make a hasty retreat.

The rest of the week is torture. You’re constantly avoiding Sanji wherever possible. He doesn’t strike up conversation when the others are around, which only makes you more certain that he knows. You ensure that you’re never alone with him, and if he does approach you by himself, you make yourself scarce. It becomes harder and harder to hide that you’re avoiding him. The crew takes notice–it’s not difficult considering you and Sanji are normally close.

Zoro’s the first to say something.

“Oi, Y/n. Did you have a fight with the cook or something?” he asks bluntly.

“No, we didn’t,” you reply.

Zoro’s eyes narrow slightly. “Well, you’re both acting weird.”

Some of the others are looking your way, now. Anxiety sours your stomach. You hold your mask steady as he continues.

“You’ve been kind of flighty lately. And he’s oddly subdued,” Zoro says, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, since he’s finally quiet for once, but it’s annoying. Would you just talk to him?”

“Uh…yeah, sure thing.”

Obviously, you don’t talk to Sanji. You keep evading him at every turn, only growing more distressed with each passing day. You know you can’t dodge the issue forever, but the moment you stop is the moment you’ll get kicked off the crew or worse, and that thought makes you want to die.

But the Sunny is only so large, and eventually, Sanji manages to corner you one night at the bow of the ship. You have your back to the figurehead, throat dry as you face him. Brook is up in the crow’s nest, keeping watch. Everyone else is asleep. It’s just you two, and you know you’ve run out of luck.

“We need to talk, Y/n,” Sanji says firmly.

Your throat goes dry. “Now?”

“Right now. No more running,” he says, taking a few steps closer. “I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer honestly.”

There’s no getting out of it anymore. “...Alright.” you say. Your heart pounds harder, palms growing damp.

Sanji takes a long drag off his cigarette, then stubs it out–that’s when your adrenaline really spikes, when you know you’re in for it. He looks you in the eye.

“Should you have access to firearms?”

The question hits you like a brick, stunning you into wide-eyed silence. You open your mouth, then close it, unable to respond for a second.

“...What are you talking about?” you try.

“Given how you’ve been avoiding me,” he says coolly, “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I’m–I’m not following.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Y/n!” he snaps, and you cringe. “Of everything you’re hiding, this is the one thing I’m going to find out. I’m not asking. You’re going to tell me or I’m going to tell Chopper. So answer me, right now: Are you safe around guns?”

You can’t take another step back, but you instinctively try anyway, your heel scraping the wood of the ship. But there’s nothing you can do. The mask crumbles, years and years of desperate crafting turning to dust in an instant.

“God, Sanji,” you respond, “what am I supposed to say to that?”

“The truth,” he says.

“And if you didn’t like my answer, what would you do? Take them away from me?”

“Yes.” His tone is unyielding, his eyes hard.

Yours start to sting at the corners. “And what after that? You’ll have me–” you bite your tongue to keep the tears from forming, “–you’ll have me kicked off the crew?”

“I never said that,” he says stiffly, “you don’t get it–”

“You don’t get it!” you bite back, voice rising. You lower it before continuing, “you don’t know anything.”

“I know you’re cutting.”

You flinch. The words sting. It’s not a pleasant sting this time. You turn your head, unable to look him in the eye.

“It’s just…” Sanji says, and there’s a touch of hurt in his voice, “after everything we’ve been through, I thought you trusted me.”

“I do,” you say automatically.

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

That stings even deeper. You shake your head. “I do, Sanji, but this is different.”

“Why?”

“It’s none of your business!” you bite. Bile rises in your throat at your venom; you hate being callous.

“My friend’s hurting themselves,” Sanji replies thinly, “that makes it my business.”

“That isn’t how this works!” you argue. “You don’t get to know everything about me just because you don’t like this!”

“Don’t I?”

“No!”

“You don’t feel safe with me.”

That one’s like a punch to the gut. You can’t tell what’s worse, the words themselves or the way he’s looking at you. That one hurts the most, because it’s true.

“...No,” you say after a moment, then steel yourself. “You’re right. I don’t. I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Sanji, please.”

“Don’t you plead now,” Sanji says, his tone hardening. “Don’t you put me in this position, Y/n.”

“I don’t have a choice, Sanji. I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Why?”

“Sanji!”

“Why?!”

“Because last time I trusted someone with this, I lost everything!” you blurt out. “I was institutionalized, okay?! Locked up! Is that what you wanted to know? Are you satisfied now?”

Your words echo in the silence that follows. He stares, jaw dropped slightly. You’re shaking, for real this time, and the words pour from you like a dam unblocked.

“You don’t know how humiliating it is, Sanji, to have the strings on all your clothes cut off, to be given only felt tip pens to write with, to not have doors, to have a scheduled bed time. To have all your choices taken away.” Your vision blurs as you continue. “I couldn’t do anything. It was like a prison. The other patients didn’t give a shit. The staff definitely didn’t give a shit. And all the while, they drained me of all my savings, until I didn’t have a single berri to my name. Then they kicked me to the curb. The one who reported me didn’t want to be associated with a crazy person. Neither did the rest of my friends. I was homeless. I had no one and nothing! That’s why I fled my home island, and that’s why I tried to dine and dash at Baratie.”

Sanji looks taken aback. He blinks quickly, then stares down at the deck. “What would you have me do, then?”

“This is supposed to be private!” You cover your face, fighting back tears. “You need–you need to keep your mouth shut and mind your business! I don't want anyone’s ‘support.’ You were never supposed to know.” You take a shaky breath and lower your hands. “If you really care, you’ll keep it to yourself, you’ll forget what you saw, and if you tell anyone…I won’t stick around to make the same mistake twice.”

Despite what you say, you already know it’s too late. There’s no going back, and now that he knows, it’s only a matter of time until you’re left behind. You bite your tongue to keep from crying at the thought, but you have to bite harder this time. The tears keep threatening to spill anyway, until you’re tasting iron.

Sanji is quiet. He pulls out his cigarettes and lights one, not speaking until after he takes a drag. “…Do you regret joining the crew?”

“Joining the Straw Hats was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you say honestly. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“But you aren’t happy, are you?”

“Multiply something by zero and you get zero, right?” You look away, guilt eating at you. Experience tells you that no one wants to hear this. “I’m not trying to sound dramatic. I just… I don’t work right.”

“I don’t think you’re being dramatic.”

For some reason, that, more than anything else, breaks you. The first tears slip past your defense. You say nothing, lower lip trembling.

Sanji takes another slow drag of his cig and exhales away from your direction. “I don’t know how I missed it.”

“I do,” you say. “At the hospital, they…” the words die in your throat as the memories surge forward. “They…they…” You can’t finish, but tears begin streaming down your cheeks. You shake your head. “Let’s just say, after that, I learned not to ever give anything away. Never again.”

“They did something to you.”

You barely nod. Already you feel yourself slipping into a flashback, feel the nurses holding you down and the needle jabbing into your flesh.

“I’m sorry,” Sanji says, taking a step toward you, and then another, until he can reach out and gently touch your forearm. The touch brings you back, grounding you so that you’re back in the present. But the gentle action, and Sanji’s soft expression, only makes the tears flow faster, makes your nose run. You shrug.

“It must have been scary.”

Slowly, you nod again.

“Will you answer my question, Y/n? Please?” Sanji asks. “Please, I need to know you’re safe around guns. Will you at least tell me that much?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and wipe your face. When you answer, you look him in the eye so he knows you’re telling the truth. “Yeah. I’m… Yeah.”

Sanji sighs, his shoulders sagging with relief. “Thank goodness. Okay. Can I ask you something else?” At your nod, he goes on. “How long have you been feeling like this? Before the hospital, I mean.”

“...Since I was young,” you sniff. “I’ve been ‘coping’ on and off for years.”

Sanji sticks his hands in his pockets. “Okay. Can I see?”

“What?” The question catches you so off-guard that you stop crying. “I’m–I’m sorry?”

“You’re not going to show Chopper, right?” Sanji says. “So–”

“You’re not gonna tell him?” you cut him off, surprised.

“I haven't decided yet,” he admits. “I don’t want to go against your wishes, Y/n. But I don’t know the extent of the damage. Just… Just, let me see?”

“No.” You’re shocked at his audacity. What’s he thinking? Of course you can’t do that.

“I won’t judge. I swear, I just want to know you’re okay,” Sanji says.

“You can say that, but…” you rub your arm. “Be real. You’ll never look at me the same way again.”

“It won’t change how I think of you.”

“It will!” you shout, then lower your voice. “It will, forever. There’s no going back once that line is crossed and you see me for what I really am.”

He frowns. “Which is?”

“A freak!” 

Neither of you say anything for a moment. Then you shake your head again. “I’m sorry, Sanji. But a guy like you–strong, handsome, confident–you wouldn’t understand.”

Sanji gets a weird look on his face, one you’ve never seen in all the years you’ve sailed with him. He looks to the side, then down, then up. His drags on his cigarette become long and harsh, finishing it in three breaths. He lights another, making a face. Then he nods to himself, like he’s decided something.

“Okay,” Sanji says. “There’s something I want you to see.”

You frown. When Sanji puts his hands on the hem of his pants, you frown deeper. He pauses.

“Um. Just trust me, okay? I promise I’m not doing anything weird–just wait a sec.”

He slides down his pants, and you have no idea what’s going through his head until his pale upper thighs are exposed. Then, finally, you understand, and you cover your mouth in shock.

Both of his upper thighs are covered in a myriad of scars. There must be over a hundred, clustered just above where shorts would hide them. Most of them are big, inches long and criss-crossed with each other. A few are keloid scars, thick and raised above the skin.

Your stare could burn a hole through his flesh. Slowly, you look up at him. Sanji has a faint blush on his face, looking sheepish.

“Guys like me can be freaks too,” he says simply.

You’re in complete disbelief. You keep looking back from the scars to his face. It’s too much to process–where would you even begin? Sanji, of everyone on the crew–Sanji’s like you? Brave, unwavering, gallant Sanji? Of everyone? When you don’t respond, he speaks again.

“See, Y/n? You’re not alone.”

Tears sting the corners of your eyes again. You find your voice. “Yours are old.”

“Yeah. I got lucky. Had someone’s support.” Sanji smiles slightly, in a way that he only does when thinking of…

���Zeff?”

“Yeah. He eventually found out.” Sanji laughs nervously. “At first he freaked out. Thought I was using kitchen knives. After he calmed down, he told me…he told me he wouldn’t abandon me over that, because what kind of parent would that make him?” His expression wavers like he’s trying not to cry.

You, on the other hand, start crying again the moment you hear the word “abandoned.” You realize that’s precisely how you felt back then.

Sanji grabs your shoulders so you look up at him. “You’re not getting kicked off of the crew.”

“...I’m not?” you ask, voice small and pathetic.

“No. I promise.” Sanji squeezes your shoulders reassuringly. “No one else needs to know. But, Y/n, I’m not going to leave you to deal with this alone. So, will you show me?”

“...You won’t tell anyone?”

“I won’t. I swear on my honor. This stays between us.” He lowers his arms.

You bite your lip, sniffing. You shut your eyes, mustering up your courage, and nod. Sanji waits patiently as you breathe slowly to steady yourself. You hesitate before peeling back your sleeve, exposing your upper arm.

He’s quiet as he inspects the damage. Unlike his old scars, yours have yet to finish healing, still in the scabbing stage. A ladder of thin, dark red lines decorate your upper arm and shoulder. You look between your cuts and his scars. Yours aren’t as deep as what Sanji had done, which you feel weirdly ashamed about.

Sanji’s hand comes up, hovering over your cuts like he’s going to touch them, but then he rests it on your forearm instead. Despite the clear evidence that he won’t judge you, you’re still self-conscious, so you break the silence.

“The scabs catch on my sleeves,” you say awkwardly.

Sanji nods. “I had to bandage my thigh so it wouldn’t bleed through while I was working. It always felt so…”

“Stupid,” you both say. Then you both smile at the unexpected camaraderie. 

“What’s really stupid is how long I went thinking I was the only one,” you say, “and all this time, you…” You gesture vaguely.

“Can you do something for me?” Sanji asks. “Whatever you’re using–I’m not going to take anything from you. But in exchange, I want you to talk to me. We can talk in the galley, when it’s just us two.”

“I don’t know how to talk about it.”

How could you, after what had been done to you? After everyone you used to trust turned their backs? Knowing that Sanji understood you couldn’t fix the mental scars left behind by others. You could try to rationalize it, but just thinking about discussing the past made your throat dry up.

“If I told you about mine first, would it make you more comfortable?” Sanji offers.

You balk. “You–you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind, if it means helping you.” Sanji says earnestly. “You can tell me anything. I won’t judge. How could I? We’re the same.”

Something broken inside you changes right then. Deep engravings fill with gold like broken pottery, sealing some of the cracks in your soul. Unmasked and exposed, Sanji sees into you, and he doesn’t waver or turn. He smiles, gently and softly and lovingly. Your eyes fill with fresh tears.

Sanji holds out his pinky finger. “Freaks?”

You smile from ear to ear, even as the tears start flowing again, and lock pinkies with him. “Freaks.”

So caught up in the moment are the two of you that neither one notices when Zoro appears until it’s too late.

He’s further down the deck, but standing right under one of the ship’s lights, so you can see him smile. “Hey, you guys are–” he starts, then notices Sanji’s pants. His smile instantly turns to a look of indignation, then rage. “What the hell?!”

Sanji scrambles to pull up his pants as Zoro charges.

“What the hell are you doing to Y/n, you creep?!” Zoro yells.

You hurriedly pull down your sleeve and move in front of Sanji, holding your arms up. “Wait a sec, Zoro!” 

“I-It’s not what it looks like!” Sanji cries.

Zoro screeches to a halt right in front of you, but then stretches over your shoulder to snarl at Sanji. “You better have a good explanation for this, shitty cook!”

You grab Zoro’s arms to hold him back. Not that you could ever hope to overpower him, but you know he’s too brotherly toward you to push you out of the way. “Zoro!”

“What?” Zoro turns his focus on you, “what did he do? I’ll kick his ass for you, Y/n.”

“No, that’s–”

Sanji interjects, “I didn’t–”

“We were…”

Zoro relaxes somewhat, now frowning and looking at both of you weirdly. “What exactly were you guys doing?”

Really, being in the middle of the night, it’s not a good look. You and Sanji are both caught off guard. Fumbling hard, you both speak at once.

“I was looking at a fungal infection!” you say.

“They were removing a tick!” Sanji says at the same time.

Both of you glance at each other.

“Tick,” you correct.

“Fungal,” Sanji says.

Zoro blinks. “A fungal tick?”

You both just nod.

Zoro stares between you two, then relaxes. “Oh... Okay. Good of you to not wake Chopper.” He nods and turns, leaving the two of you to it.

So flooded with relief are you that it’s staggering. You mentally thank the stars that Zoro is a simple and straightforward type of guy.

You and Sanji watch Zoro walk away. Once he’s out of earshot, you both look at each other.

Then you both burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, clutching your chest.

Sanji wipes away a tear. “That was close, huh?”

The laughter dies down into giggles before you calm yourselves, grinning at each other. Then you’re both throwing your arms around the other in a tight embrace, squeezing like you’ve never been hugged before in your lives. You bury your face in Sanji’s chest, he rests his head on yours. Your fingers dig into the other’s clothing, soaking in the warmth and the comfort that you could only get from someone who truly understood. You stay like that for a few minutes, quiet, close, and held.

“Are you sure?” you whisper after a minute. “That you want to deal with this? With me? What if I never get better?”

“Nothing’s set in stone but the poneglyphs,” Sanji replies, running a hand over your head so you look up at him. “Our future hasn’t been determined.”

“Our future?”

“You and me and the rest of the crew. There’s still time to grow, and to change.” He holds the back of your head tenderly.

“When does that time run out?” you ask, uncertain.

“It doesn’t.” Sanji smiles down at you. “As long as we’re alive, there’s another chance. That opportunity is always there.”

You smile back, then press your face into his chest again. Sanji squeezes you tighter.

“Tomorrow,” you mumble into his shirt. “Let’s talk tomorrow. I’m tired.”

“I bet.”

“I never want to hide from you again.”

You feel Sanji kiss the top of your head. “And I never want to make you cry again.”

“I want to tell you everything.”

“I’ll listen.”

You both stay like that for a while longer, each second spent there healing something within yourselves.

It will take weeks to figure out how to talk about your troubles. When you’re up for it, you talk in the galley as Sanji cooks, you helping him out as usual with prep and cleanup. It’s even longer before Sanji learns everything. In the interim, you become the only Straw Hat to learn of Sanji’s past before he ever gets a wedding invite.

Like worn muscles rebuilding, like bone regrowing stronger, the scars you’ve revealed to each other, both physical and mental, strengthen your bond more than anything else ever could.

"let it out, let me in, take a hold of my hand / there's nothing like another soul that's been cut up the same" -Handwritten, The Gaslight Anthem

[prettyboyjohnny]

NANCY VOICE LINE TRANSCRIPT 🥩

I did it again. Based on this [x] video.

>Johnny's voicelines<

Notes:

• The game subtitles suck. I used them as a guide for some lines, but otherwise disregarded them.

• The line about about pregnancy has yet to activate for me in game. I think a few of these lines may be switched off.

• I collected the execution lines myself. They are not present in the linked video.

Thanks!

VOICELINES

Encounter start

How dare you attack me like this!

You little shit! How dare you!

Don't you touch me!

Get your filthy hands off my clean clothes!

[Grunts] You're gonna pay... Dearly for this.

Exit interaction

Ain't gonna be no escapin' today.

Just like a damn stranger. No respect for other people's property.

...There. That's better.

This will keep them from scurrying around.

I wish y'all would stop messin' with our damn belongin's. This damn thing's as old as dirt.

Grandpa fed

This house ran much better when you was runnin' things.

I always did like you.

You ain't lookin' too bad these days!

I could use some of this myself.

Next time I'll cook you a nice, proper meal.

Hidden victim found

Now what are you doin' in there?

[Laughs] Now this is just plain damn silly... Come on outta there.

We ain't playin' no hide and seek, you hear me?

What exactly is it you think you're doin' in there?

[Laughs] Oh, child, I'm snappier than you think.

Victim hit

This will slow you down!

[Laughs]

Does that. Hurt. Sweetie?!

Idle

Don't you think I know what you come here lookin' for?

My Harold always said: "If you can't do something right, don't do it at all." Now come get your punishment!

Just in case you was thinkin' a' doin' so, I'd stay out of my secret room if I was you.

It didn't have to be this way, ya know... You just had to come looking for that floozy of yours, didn'tcha?

My goodness... This is gettin' old real fast.

Lose Victim (first)

You ever been down to Devil's River? Oh, It's real nice... Maybe I'll show it to ya.

This type a' behavior tends to occur when you go moseying' around other people's homes!

Nobody ever said life was fair.

You ever hear the sayin' "murder starts in the heart"? I think my Johnny liked that girl.

I was pregnant six times, you know? I wanted a little baby so bad... Then God delivered Johnny. My own little angel.

Lose victim (sub)

Hard times is good for people. I know how to raise 'em... Just look at my Johnny!

I am a suitable mother! Don't you judge me!

Don't you EVER use that tone with me! Do you have any notion who you're talkin' to?

Your little friend had it coming... Looking at my Johnny that way. He's a sweet boy!

Do you know what happens to bodies when you plant 'em? [Laughs] They help the flowers real good!

Lose victim (long)

I haven't had a chase like this in some time.

Squirmin' li'l bastards! Where did you go?!

Just come on out now... Ain't no use in delayin' things.

I have all day, darlin'... You'll mess up soon enough.

Match start

[Sighs] We ain't big on unannounced guests. I ain't gonna take kindly to this trespassin'.

Don't worry, Johnny. I'll help you clean this mess up.

Oh, will you look at that... I didn't know we had visitors.

This is unacceptable behavior.

I ain't never seen such disrespectful behavior in all my life.

Cook seen

You are a damn fool! Always have been!

I thought you had this situation under control! This is unacceptable!

Will you tell them boys of yours to do somethin' already?

Don't you tell me how to raise my boy. Just do your job!

Would you make yourself useful already? ...My Lord!

Hitchhiker seen

You was raised better than this! Will you please go look after Grandpa?! Help him!

I hope you know our well-bein' ain't looking too promising right now?!

You better hope for your sake we get this sorted out!

Damn it, boy... I wish you would use that head of yours already... FIND. THEM.

Would you settle the hell down and help us already?

Johnny seen

Aw, Johnny, my sweet... Don't you worry about all this. We'll fix it... I promise.

Listen to me, Johnny. It's time to do what I taught you to do, okay? Can you do that? For me?

We gotta find them, sweetie. We can't let them leave. Do you understand me?

Just be patient, Johnny. We'll find 'em.

Remember them folks from Tulsa, Johnny? This is just like that. Just spread out and keep huntin'.

Leatherface seen

Well, don't just stand there! Let's see what that saw can do, boy!

You're doin' fine, sweetie.

Just keep lookin'. This will be over soon!

Don't worry about the others, now. Just keep doin' your job. Everything's fine.

Imma need you to find those kids right quick, okay? You can do this.

Grandma would be SO proud of you. Such a strong, handsome boy!

Sissy seen

How dare you use that tone with me, you little heathen!

Things were better off when you was gone. You shoulda kept it that way.

Don't you speak to me like that. You have no idea the things I've done for this family!

Don't you dare talk about my husbands like that. Devil girl.

I'd keep that poison away from me if I were you. You hear me, young lady?

See blood trail

Oh, my... Somebody's hurtin' real bad... Hmm.

Well look at that... Somebody's not doing so good.

THAT is a lot of blood... They gotta be around here somewhere.

[Chuckles]... Looks like we got you now. Let's see where this goes.

Aww, you ain't gonna last much longer, darlin'. I can see you ain't doin' so well.

Victim seen (first)

Oh hey there, sweet child. I can help ya. Just come over here.

Oh, don't leave! You're just in time for supper!

They gon' find that pretty little face of yours under my floorboard if you ain't careful.

You better stay outta my garden.

You will not disrespect our home like this, you hear me?

Now where are you squirmin' off to?

Victim seen (sub)

There's things in this house I just can't let you see, darlin'.

Aw, I am sorry to tell you this, but ain't none of y'all getting outta here alive.

This constant runnin' around is gettin' a little tiresome now.

Where is it exactly you think you're goin'?

Family member seen

You just gonna stand there with that stupid look on your face? Do somethin' already!

If it ain't too much to ask, WOULD YOU MIND HELPIN' ME OUT HERE?

FIND THEM ALREADY! I swear, it's like playin' cards with my brother's kids!

Under NO circumstance would it be acceptable for these kids to leave here! So spread out and search, please!

You know what needs to be done... So do it!

See trapped victim

All this pain could've been avoided, you know.

Oh, are you hurt? Come let Nancy take a look at it.

Looks like you peaked, child. You ain't gonna last much longer.

Poor thing... It's better if you just get this over quick-like. No use in struggling'.

Phew... Not quite my tempo. Glad to see that slowed you down.

See victim escape

Dear lord... This can't be happening. No!

Oh, damn it! I need to catch 'em... Think... THINK!

Oh, Lord, we are in the fire now! How did this happen?!

Ability use denied

[Sighs] Not now... This is simply too much to handle...

I can't... Not quite yet.

[Grunts] I can't do that right this minute.

Ugh, this isn't working!

Use ability

I'll find you... I promise.

Now where... Did... You... Go?

They couldn't've gone too far.

I know they're here... Somewhere...

Set trap

This oughta stop 'em.

Trap successful

Oh, I done got you now.

Got one.

There you are!

Well, I'll be. Look at what we have here.

Gotcha!

Execution

[Groans] We get what we deserve!

Now look what you've gotten yourself into! [Breathes heavily]

I told ya! Stay away from my Johnny! [Breathes heavily]

[Groans and breathes heavily]

[Last updated March 2024]

[nightcolorz]

loveee the armand music discussions i feel the need to talk about some of my most armand songs of all time (no mitski this time as we’ve already discussed that ^^)

- notre dame by Paris Paloma (literally any paris paloma song tbh esp the fruits and labour but notre dame isn’t appreciated nearly enough) Very very religious guilt armand, angel symbolism heavy, also very cult era armand in paris. I would put lyrics here but oh its the whole song. its the entire song.

- Abstract (Psychopomp) by Hozier. again impossible to put specific lyrics but the song being about painful memories, getting past traumas with new loves, and heavy symbolism of a hurt animal in the road and the singer feeling kinship with it is just so SO armand imo its impossible to explain. i always think of a deer being the “poor thing in the road” in the song though it is left to interpretation, and armand’s doe eyes very much come to mind with that.

- Spellbound by Siouxsie and the Banshees (Following the footsteps of a rag doll dance, we are entranced, spellbound) Both these lyrics and the intense sound of the song bring to mind Armand’s heavy use of and skill with the spell gift, especially in TVL (for books) and s2ep5 (the show) You do feel entranced by his spells even if you don’t realise it and this song captures it perfectly (also i think S&TB are very armand overall so honourable mentions to Cities in Dust, Arabian Knights and Melt which are all sooo armand as well i just didn’t want to make this so Siouxsie-centric)

- Devils Don’t Fly by Natalia Kills (Angels were never meant to fall, and you were the loveliest of all) This song reminds me so much of 2018 YouTube but oh the lyrics are so very armand. Always called an angel, even referred to it as shorthand, but so torn religiously that he could never be holy, never be more than a demon with what he is and has been through. But being made so young and so beautiful, its very fallen angel of him.

- speaking of angels, Not Strong Enough by boygenuis (Always an angel, never a God, I don’t know why I am the way I am) I don’t feel like i need to explain this one it just Is

- Teen Idle by Marina (I want back my virginity so I can feel infinity, I want to drink until I ache, I want to make a big mistake, I want blood guts and angel cake) & (Adolescence didn’t make sense, a little loss of innocence, the ugly years of being a fool, ain’t youth meant to be beautiful?) Just something about Armand finding his worth through his beauty and physical desire, not to mention the utter horror of having to be a teenager forever, seen as that same sort of obscene beauty forever. The line about drinking and making mistakes feels very Venice-era as well, with Amadeo’s main coping mechanisms being getting blackout drunk on the daily and sleeping with people he knows he shouldn’t because he doesn’t feel like he’s good for anything else or even able to do anything else (which of course also leads to his death eventually)

- Jolene by Dolly Parton (Your beauty is beyond compare, with flaming locks of auburn hair) Definitely sillier but reminds me a lot about how people in the books (especially lestat) wax poetic about how beautiful Armand is and fear it somewhat in a mix of jealousy and insecurity.

- Dominion / Mother Russia by Sisters of Mercy. this one is much more vibe based that lyrical but there is the detail of armand being described as russian in the books and also the lyrics being very repetitive and prayer like (as well as the ‘some say prayers’ line) very much remind me of his repetitive prayers both when young and in the cult

- Swan Upon Leda by Hozier (One more sweet boy to be butchered by men, But the gateway to the world is still outside the reach of them, Would never belong to angels, Had never belonged to men) This song is overall about sexual violence and reproductive rights, but these lyrics deeply remind me of Amadeo’s abuse as a child and young man, and of men feeling a right to him and his body because they found him beautiful, angelic.

I have about a million more but I won’t go on too much. Hope you like my choices and give them a listen if you’re unfamiliar with any (to anyone reading this <3)

AHHHHHHH THANK U FOR THIS IM OBSESSED!!!! GONNA ADD THE ONES THAT ARENT ALREADY ON MY PLAYLIST RNN!!! (I already have got not strong enough, Jolene, devils don’t fly, teen idle, and Notre Dame, we r the same person). U get Armand like no one else mutual kittenbradensgf. Devils don’t fly made me laugh because it’s also on my Armand playlist because 2018 AMV YouTube songs r always so Armand to me 😭 !!! Ur so right the lyrics r so him. angel of darkness is on mine and I can’t stay it’s entirely ironic, lmao. Ugh this is my favorite I’m gonna run in a room and listen to these forever, ur analysis is so good

[jedifarmerr]

Chapter 6

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader/OFC (no y/n or physical descriptions)

Rating: E (18+ blog)

Word Count: over 4k

Chapter Warnings: language, smut, very very light dom/sub undertones, pregnancy, anxiety, nightmares, discussions of parent death. (let me know if I missed anything)

Series Masterlist

Javier watched her eyes light up as she walked into the nursery. Her hand slid across the smooth white wood, clearly surprised to come home to this. She had only been gone a couple hours. Prenatal yoga, dinner afterwards with some ladies in the same class. 

All the while, Javier’s Saturday night was spent hunched over vague directions. His knees ached. He’d squinted so much that it made his crow’s feet hurt. Clearly, the print was made with someone a decade younger than him in mind. 

Instead of a regular standard crib, she had wanted something different – complicated. Circular cribs. He’d gotten tangled up in a flowy dual of sheer canopies. She’d thought they would be whimsical, fitting the theme: sweet dreams. 

“Javi. I told you I would help.” 

Javier rolled his eyes at her. Even if both his arms were broken, he would never let that happen.

At seven months pregnant, she was already uncomfortable enough without sitting on the hard ground for hours.

“I wanted to do it,” he assured her. Javier was never someone that liked to be bone-idle. For him, he needed to feel like he was actually doing something. This felt like the only way he could contribute. 

They had moved in a month ago, and really this was the only room left to finish. So, he’d personally taken it on as his own project. 

Last weekend, he painted over the custard yellow. A sage-y color; Granite Grey according to Benjamin Moore. Joe and him had lugged the changing table and dresser up the stairs. Luckily, those came practically assembled. Now, it was down to the little details. 

Coming up behind her, Javier grasped her by the arc of her hips and pulled her flat against his chest. It was the only position that allowed him to get this close to her anymore. 

He sighed as he nuzzled his nose into her neck, and inhaled. “Smell good,” he groaned. 

“There’s no way. I’m all sweaty,” she protested, but that didn’t matter when he liked all her smells. 

“So? I am too.” He kissed the nape of her neck then licked his lips. Salty. God – something was wrong with him. 

His hands roamed across her belly as he perched his chin on her shoulder. Her belly button poked out from her shirt. Her beach-ball stomach was firm and swollen. He was weirdly obsessed with it. Slightly possessive about it. 

His. His. His. Swirling around his mind.

“How’re they doing today?” 

The babies responded to him with little kicks against his palm. Javier wouldn’t pretend to know the logistics of what was going on in there, but he liked to think somehow, someway they could recognize him. They always reacted to his voice. That couldn’t be purely coincidental. 

Soon, the tiny kicks became a strong double wriggle. She winced at a particularly forceful one. Despite his primal instinct to hold on, he gave her space and let her go.

Still, his gaze stayed latched onto her. It seemed to be her shoulders, down to her lower back that was bothering her. 

“Anything I can do?” He asked, wiggling his fingers into a loose fist at his side. 

“Become a seahorse.” Her voice sounded like it came out of a clogged up pipe. She shut her eyes and paced around the room, working herself through the discomfort. Her yoga class had taught her helpful breathing techniques, calming exercises for times like this. 

The tension drained from Javier’s shoulder when it finally seemed to pass. 

“They’ve been really active today,” she explained, and Javier didn’t argue with her. If it was anything serious, he hoped she would tell him. She waddled to the door. “Have you eaten?” 

He shrugged noncommittally. “I had a little something.”

Somehow she seemed to know that was code for a handful of chips around 6. She clicked her tongue at him. “Well, it’s a good thing I brought you back something then.” 

A traitorous growl tore through his stomach. Theresa’s was some of the best Mexican food in Austin. It reminded him of his favorite spot in central Laredo. A hole-in-the-wall with top-tier mole. 

“You’re too good to me,” he cooed at her, and she scoffed. 

“You’re one to talk.” She swirled her finger around the room. “Now, go eat. I’ll be down after I shower.” 

Javier did as he was told. Inside the styrofoam box was his order exactly how he liked it. She’d even remembered an extra thing of sauce on the side. 

After scarfing down his food, they curled up on the couch and watched reruns of America’s Funniest Home Videos for the rest of night. 

Showering before bed, Javier scrubbed a towel through his damp hair. “What’re you reading there?” He asked. 

She showed off a bubblegum pink cover. The Ultimate Baby Name Book. Surprise, surprise. That seemed to be all she read nowadays. 

Javier threw his towel in the hamper, turned on his bedside lamp, then joined her on top of the covers. 

She tapped on the page. “What do you think of Eva?” 

Eva Peña. He shrugged. Not too bad. 

“Yeah. If you like it.” 

That must have been the wrong answer since she clasped the book shut, her hands stacked over the cover. “Your opinion matters just as much as mine,” she reminded him. 

“Does it?” He asked, but she didn’t laugh. Her expression cinched, and he supposed it was best to agree with her. “Alright. Eva’s fine, but let’s hear another.” 

She licked her thumb and flipped through the book. Each page was marked up. Names he must’ve blown off were crossed out, very few were highlighted, even less of them starred. 

“Okay. Gabriela?” 

“No.” Fuck no. 

“Good. Definitive. I like that. What about….Mia?” 

Javier hesitated, and made a low, drawn out thinking noise. “I knew a lot of Mia’s growing up.” 

“I get that,” she said, and her face suddenly contorted into a tight grimace.

Every muscle in his body went rigid, until he realized it was her shoulders – again. He'd caught her messing with them all night. He wouldn’t let her suffer any longer. 

He didn’t give her a choice, and plucked the book from her, throwing it on the nightstand. Once the pillows were adjusted, his legs spread out, he patted the space between his thighs. 

“Come here.” 

She usually would put up a tiny fight – assure him she was fine. But not tonight. She simply crawled over without a word. 

His hands scooped underneath the flimsy straps of her nightgown, and immediately set to work. Slow and steady. With the flat of his palm, he started chiseling away at the tension in her shoulders. She let out a low sound of relief, her head drooped forward like an over-loved stuffed animal. 

“Oh, right there,” she moaned when he hit a particularly sensitive spot between her shoulder blades. 

Laser-focused, his thumbs kneaded at the tight band of muscle, drawing little noises and sweet little whimpers. Each one burned hotter in the pit of his belly. 

“Let me get your lower back. Lean forward a little for me, baby.” 

He didn’t expect his cock to twitch when she let him guide her into position. His hand on the center of her back ran along the curve of her spine, admiring the shiny satin that stuck to her skin like spilled sangria. Pliant. So soft. If he wasn’t careful it could easily go to his head – both heads. 

Her lower back was especially aggravated. A web of knots had spun themselves around her tailbone that even the tiniest bit of pressure made her pretty lips part, panting.

Her breath hitched, tensed as he began to uncoil one embedded deep underneath the surface.  

“Relax. Let me take care of you.” His voice was low and tainted by his swelling arousal. Luckily, she seemed too lost in his dutiful hands to notice. 

“Oh, Javi,” she choked out, digging her nails into his thighs. His quads flexed under her palms. 

Desire was now swirling in his gut, and when he glanced down, his cock was tenting the baby blue cotton. But he kept ignoring it, and continued his ministrations until not an inch of her back went untouched. 

“What hurts the most?” His breath fanned over her ear, and goosebumps erupted across her skin. 

He wondered if she was as affected by this as he was. He was starting to think he would find her soaked underneath the hem of her sinfully teeny nightgown with how long it took for her to respond:

“Shoulders.” 

He discreetly tucked his cock into his waistband before urging her to lay back. She sank into his body instantly. Her head lulled around the shadow of his collarbone. When his gaze dipped to her chest, he licked his lips as her swollen breasts strained the fabric with each heavy breath.

As he kneaded the tops of her shoulders, her legs unconsciously inched apart until her feet tangled up with his. 

“Feel good?” He skimmed his lips over the sensitive spot, just behind her ear.

That seemed to make her brain fizzle out. She went to speak, but unable to form a coherent word, she simply whimpered. It stroked something primal deep inside him to have her like this.

Daring himself to go further, he snuck one hand around her and rested it on her thigh. Just below the hem, her hips automatically bucked. 

Her skin burned against his palm, but he didn’t move his hand, only his thumb in slow, maddening circles. He intended to take his time, to draw this out. He wanted to make her so desperate, so needy that she begged for it. 

He brushed his fingertips across her shoulder. Like a feather, sliding along the column of her neck. “Javi,” she said – breathless. Whiny. God – she was so sensitive. So responsive to him. It was driving him insane.

“What is it, baby?” Her neck bent to his whim as his fingers danced along her jaw. “Tell me.” He thumbed the hem of her dress.

She didn’t answer, only squirmed around. Her ass was mere inches from his cock when he tsked his tongue, gripped her thigh. 

Even though she stopped, it didn’t come without a whine. “Javiiiii.” 

Her lips formed a pout, which he traced with his thumb. She opened up like a flower, let him feed one finger, then two into her eager mouth. 

Fuck – she was a vision. 

He applied pressure to the flat of her tongue, slowly dragging his fingers up and down the length.

“Suck,” he ordered, and her lips instantly formed a tight seal around his knuckles. Her cheeks hollowed out, and the throaty, wet moan she gave hummed through his veins. She looked absolutely depraved. “Fuck - look at you. So greedy. You like this, don’t you?” 

Hooded eyes – long, fluttery lashes. She nodded, pushing his fingers deeper into her warm wet mouth. She used to get so embarrassed when she would get like this. She would try and hide from him, but not anymore. He’d snuffed out the voices, until it was only his own.

Javier made a strangled, growling noise when she nearly choked on his fingers, taking him up into the point that she was drooling. A trail of spit dripping onto the tops of her breasts.

“Your damn mouth is fucking heaven.” She mewled at his praise. Grinding her hips into the thin air, the mattress squeaked under her hips. Vaguely, he wondered if he could make her come just like this. If he weren’t so aroused, he probably would have waited to see.

His hand roamed further up her thigh, and “Fuck,” he hissed, finding her thighs sticky and wet. He gathered what he could on his fingertips. “I haven’t even touched your pussy and look at that.” 

Her slick glistened in the low lamp light. Gorgeous. 

“I bet your panties are ruined, aren’t they?” He taunted her, and his fingers left her swollen lips with a pop. He smeared the excess spit all across her lips. “Should we see?” 

She dumbly nodded, and angled her gaze to watch him slowly reveal herself to him. The dark spot on her cotton-candy pink panties made his cock throb painfully, his pants felt like a cage.

“Holy shit. You’re soaked.” He clasped her tighter to him, burrowed his face into her neck as he teased the lacey elastic band. 

Her chest expanded with a cry of his name. It echoed in the safe-keeping of their bedroom. He had to keep one hand on her hip to keep her still when his fingers formed into a V and rasped across the cotton. The dips between his fingers just barely missed her clit with each stroke. Every time her body would tense, then shudder in disappointment – desperation. 

The tip of his nose nuzzled into her plush cheek. “Want me to touch you?” 

She swallowed, insistently nodding. He swore he heard her croak - yes. 

“Then beg,” he forced the word through gritted teeth. “Beg and I’ll give it to you.” 

“Oh fuck. Javi.” She cried out. “Please baby. God. I need it - I need you. Oh, please! Please.” 

She kept babbling until he hooked his thumbs into her waistband, and she helped shimmy them off.“Hold your dress and spread your legs. Let me see you.” 

There was no hesitation. She displayed herself for him, then peered up with a glazed, glossy look in her eyes. “Please,” she whimpered, and that was it.

He sealed his lips against her temple and started to gently circle her puffy clit. Her whole body convulsed, twitched. Even with a gossamer touch, she still moaned.

Months ago, he would have kept her like this for hours. Bring her to the edge over and over until she withered into sheets and prayed for release. One time, she swore she blacked out from her orgasm. It was one of his proudest accomplishments.

“Do you want more?” He asked, continuing to tease her clit, softly swirling the swollen bud.

She opened her mouth, but all that came out was nonsense. So, instead she bobbed her head.

“You want my fingers?” She nodded even faster. “Can you be good and keep still? Let me do the work - let me take care of you?” 

She must have known he would want a verbal response because she swallowed. “I - I’ll try.” 

“That’s all I ask,” he hummed, then without any resistance, slid a single finger inside her. Her walls clamped around him, and he growled, wanting to feel her wrapped around his cock.

Soon.

After only a few moments, she was already begging for more. “I can take it. Please, Javi. I need it.”

“Yeah?” His deep chuckle rumbled around his chest. He didn’t wait for a response, and sunk two fingers into her, curling until he hit that sweet, spongy spot.

Her legs twitched, fighting to keep still as he sped up. The wet squelch was nearly enough to send him over the edge, and when he stretched her out with a third, he was about to burst. He could feel his cock leaking with each thrust, smearing around his skin and shorts as she trembled for more.

“Fuck, you’re so good. So good, baby.” He slowed down, but kept a steady pace. “You gonna let me use your pretty pussy? Wanna cum around my cock?” 

“Oh shit - Javi. Please. Please. God - I wanna cum. Wanna - fuck.” 

“Hands and knees or on top?” 

She didn’t answer verbally, but crawled to the middle of the bed instead. She yanked off her dress before presenting herself. Ass up. 

“Goddamn,” he grumbled under his breath, ripping off his shorts. He glanced down and he was way too fucking hard. His cock bobbed heavily against his stomach. The tip swollen and red as jasper. 

He squeezed the base of his cock. His fingers biting into her ass as he spread her apart. Everything was wet and swollen and all his.

“Fucking beautiful.” 

He teased his cock along her slippery slit. The fat head bumped against her clit, and she scrambled to fist the sheets. His jaw went slack, watching her cunt drip and clench around nothing.

“Shit - Javi.” She rocked back to try and catch even just the tip of him inside her. He snatched her by the hips, and held her in place. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“Your cock,” she whined. “God, I want you to fuck me. Pleaseeee Javi!”

He praised her while lining himself up, then slowly buried himself inside her. He stared down as his cock completely disappeared. She was completely at his mercy. The thought made his cock twitch, and her pussy spasmed around him. 

Throwing his head back, he squeezed his eyes shut until his own release receded. He withdrew, taking a second to admire the ring of slick around his dick before thrusting back in.

“Holy shit. So fuck - fucking good.” She purposely clenched and it was way too tight; his stomach swooped. “Oh shit. Baby, don’t do that.” 

She gave a girlish little giggle. What a fucking menace. 

“That funny to you?” He asked, snagging the blunt head of his cock against her g-spot. Her only reply came in moan muffled by the sheets. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

With a firm grasp on her hips, he fucked her with long, deep strokes that always hit the spot. Her walls spasmed with every rock of his hips. She sobbed from being right on the edge.

He knew exactly what she needed, but couldn’t give it to her. At least, not at this angle.

“Come here, baby.” He helped haul her upwards. Her tacky skin sealed against his chest. His fingers skated across her breasts, circled her neglected nipples. He wished he could play with them, bite them, suck them, tease them, but most of the time they were too sensitive for anything but a feathery touch. The line between pain and pleasure was razor-thin and too blurry. 

Even now, the tiniest brush made her breath catch in her throat. 

Finally, Javier started to toy with her clit. With his cock grinding up into her warm, wet pussy and his lips frantically mouthing at the column of her throat, the first touch made her nearly buckle. Her walls squeezed him even tighter, and he swore this was heaven.

Javier wet his lips. “Kiss me, come on. I need it, baby.” He didn’t care how desperate he sounded. He didn’t care about the awkward angle or how messy it was when her tongue lapped against his. She tangled her fingers into his hair and gave a sharp tug. Every nerve and cell in his body fired at the same time, and he knew this wasn’t gonna last much longer.

He drove his cock as deep as it could go. Their skin slapped together and she was leaking everywhere, down his thighs, dripping onto the sheets.

“Perfect pussy,” he growled, and pinched her clit, rolling it between his fingers. “Fuck. I can feel it. So tight. Oh, come on. Fuck.” 

“Shit - Javi!” Her walls fluttered around him, and he clasped her against him right before her legs gave out.

She pulled away from his mouth, just enough to look into his eyes as he continued to split her open. The hand in his hair came to rest on his jaw; her thumb caressed over his cheek and it hooked on something deep in his chest.

He suddenly felt exposed. Vulnerable. Her eyes bore into his and he swore she could see inside him. She could see every crack and broken piece of him, and despite it - she still looked at him like that. 

She still loved him. 

There was a split-second where he felt like he couldn’t breathe. All of it became too much. All too much. His release licked across his skin, and swelled up inside him.

He made a low, punched out sound and buried his face into her neck. Lavender soap and soft skin. His own release took hold of him. 

“That’s it baby,” her voice seeped in through the dull ringing in his ears. “Fill me up, Javi.” His hips stuttered, and he didn’t recognize the noises that came out of him. Grunts. A near sob without any tears.

He swore he’d never cum so hard in his life.

Finally, his lips started to move across her throat, along the nape of her neck. Soft, sleepy kisses like the ones she would give his fingertips before bed. 

There was a strange part of him that felt like he should apologize, but he didn’t know for what exactly. 

“Was that okay?” He asked before the guilt could fester and turn into an ugly, black mold inside him. His voice sounded weak – meager. Maybe it could pass as breathless.

“Javi.” He still didn’t look at her, didn’t even move. His cock was still inside her, softening. “Javier.” 

That got his attention, and he drew back to find her eyes searching his. She seemed worried. “If it wasn’t okay, I would let you know. Alright?” She petted his cheek, “You always make me feel so good.”

“Now, you’re exaggerating.” 

His cum spilled down her legs once he pulled out of her. He groaned as he plopped onto his back, palming the space between his brows. 

She curled up beside him. “I’m serious, Javi. I liked it - a lot in fact.” 

“Okay.”

She scooped up the strands of hair stuck to his forehead. “Did you like it?” 

He hooked his arm around her, and kissed her on the nose. “Of course.” 

They laid like that for a minute, her body enfolded on him. Even with her clasped against him, he couldn’t shake himself out of this. It only seemed to make the uncomfortable feeling settle deeper into his chest.

Terminal. A sense of finality. 

He tugged her even closer, and tried to lose himself in the scent of her shampoo.

He told himself he was just tired. That was all this was.

---

Javier didn’t know what time it was, but it had to be well past midnight as the city was completely still, quiet aside from the recently awakened bugs. 

There was a storm rolling in. Flashes of white lit up the dark sky as he inhaled another drag of his cigarette. Smoke smoldered in his throat, burning his lungs like a cheap glass of whiskey.

This was exactly what he needed. Fresh air. The sweet shallowness of a nicotine buzz.

For the most part he stuck to nicorette gum, but sometimes that shit didn’t cut it. He kept a carton of Marlboros stashed in his glove boxes for moments such as this.

The nightmares didn’t happen nearly as often as they once did. He supposed, in a way, he’d grown used to the torrent memories. The flashbacks. Colombia. 

But tonight, it hadn’t been the sound of machine guns or war-torn streets that woke him up in a cold sweat. 

It was her. All his dreams lately had been about her. 

He was about half-way through his second cigarette when the sliding door opened. She was standing underneath the porch light, her satin robe shimmering. There was something so ethereal about her. 

“Thought I might find you out here,” she said. 

He gave a light chuckle; a trail of smoke wisped from the sides of his mouth, and he squished out the orange bulb. She knew about his smoking. She also knew what it meant when he did. 

She insisted on joining him on the porch step. Even though it took her a minute to get down. The silence settled comfortably around them. She seemed content to just sit there until he was ready. 

“It was just a bad dream,” he said, after a long moment. 

“Was it about me?” 

He didn’t answer, and instead stared out at the freshly-cut lawn. He’d assumed she had figured it out by now. There was no hiding anything from her. She could read him as easily as her go-to comfort book. The pages tabbed and torn, all marked up, but she cherished it nonetheless. 

He couldn’t lose her.

Each doctor’s appointment set him on edge. Complications. High-risk. It reminded him of his mom and the bullshit medical jargon they used. They gave her two years and it took her in eight months. 

Javier didn’t know how his dad did it. How he just continued to go on. How he lived in their house. If something happened to her, Javier couldn’t come back here. He didn’t even know how to live with an empty side of the bed anymore. 

“Javi.” Her soft voice beckoned him back to her. Her eyes bore into him. The warmth of her body pressed against him. “I won’t promise anything I can’t keep. But, Javi I promise, I feel fine. I feel good. And if I ever think something is wrong, I’ll tell you. Okay?” 

Javier cradled her face in his hands, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. “Promise?” 

“I swear. I swear, I will.” 

Abruptly, he crushed his lips against her forehead, then slotted her right beside him. With his fingers rooted on her hip, she stayed curled up against him. 

The air had turned sticky and the sky had begun to rumble by the time Javier looked her in the eyes. “What if we name one after my mom?” Caught off guard, her jaw went slack, and he knew it was because he rarely brought his mom up. 

He supposed he was scared too. He’d always neatly boxed away his grief. Every loss in his life was stuffed in the same tiny closet. Now, if he opened it up something else was bound to topple out, and whatever it was – it was going to hurt. 

He wished he could talk about her more. It felt like his wife barely knew anything about her. His mom deserved better than to be a silent memory. She deserved recognition. 

“Are you thinking María or Dolores?” She asked.

Javier snorted. “Neither.” 

His mom didn’t really like her name. María Dolores. She always said it made her sound too old. No one that really knew her ever called her by either. 

“I’m thinking Lola. Pops called her Dolly, but to everyone else - she was Lola.” 

“Lola,” she repeated, and rubbed her belly. “I like that. Lola Peña. Now, we just need to figure out the second.”

She squeezed his hand, and then; it started to rain.

[detectivereads]

Batman: Wayne Family Adventures chapter #119 ARG!

Ok this might have spoilers so be careful if you haven’t read the chapter yet.

I won’t do these kind of post to often but when reading this chapter urgh.

Hi everyone,

Sorry I am late to the game so here are my thoughts on the latest chapter. ^.^

Un-constructive thoughts:

ARRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! This chapter, Oh My God!!!!!!!!! So much drama!!!!!! (*cries of anguish*)

I can already tell that the next few chapters are going to have my heart smashed!!!!!

First of all, yay Duke is ok (he is still alive) but good grief he is hurting bad!

But I want to redirect to the main issue here: Bruce…. let the kids and Barbara help!!! Even if it’s recon on finding the location of Joker!!!!!

Kids! Don’t do anything crazy!!

Jason!!! Don’t do anything crazy!!!! I know you’re the loose cannon and that doesn’t follow the rules, but don’t go off by yourself!!!!! Especially with Joker running around!!!!

Now more constructive thoughts:

These are idle thoughts that immediately came to mind when I read the chapter so I can be wrong, and this is me trying to organize my thoughts. I can be wrong about this, so please don't take this too seriously please.

One thing that Tim brought up, how the frick did Joker escape Arkham without setting off the alarms? Joker’s MO is normally a parade of chaos out the front door. He wants Bats to know he is out, and chaos is raining down upon Gotham. Joker is not a quiet villain.

A few thoughts have come to mind:

Joker had a inside man letting him loose.

This was a planned escape by an outside 3 party to distract Batman

This may be a fake or decoy Joker.

These are just a few thoughts that have come to mind, I have been watching videos of Joker lately and one of the clips I’ve seen that Joker has his own sidekick that is going to take the mantle of Joker (I am talking about Batman the Brave and the Bold).

We haven’t seen the design of Joker in this series, so I am leaning more on 1. He had an inside man to get him out of there quietly.

This could be a henchman, or he could have something on one of the doctors or guards.

[library-seraph]

Griddlehark Playlist

What the title says, primarily about their relationship although there are a few individualized songs

(very heavily Harrow the ninth biased, which is the most romantic book despite or because of one member of the couple not being to able to remember the other)

Liner notes below cut, also, this is a perpetual WIP like all my playlists

Lioness- The World Is a Beautiful Place and I am Not Afraid to Die

When I was with you we were an estuary I don’t know if I come from the river or the sea All I know is you are both my opposite and my reflection

We were two bodies Running out of room in this world We carved space in ourselves for the other to borrow, for the other to burrow I wake up sometimes with ghost traces of your lips on my bones

Cosmia- Joanna Newsom (Joanna Newsom isn't on Spotify, track these down elsewhere)

Water were your limbs And the fire was your hair — And then the moonlight caught your eye And you rose through the air Well, if you've seen true light Then this is my prayer:

Will you call me, when you get there?

And I miss your precious heart;

NFWMB- Hozier

Give your heart and soul to charity 'Cause the rest of you The best of you Honey, belongs to me

If I was born as a blackthorn tree I'd wanna be felled by you Held by you Fuel the pyre of your enemies

Daughter of God- Phemiec

Doubt’s an elastic that snaps where you grasp it With idle hands clasped on your wrist just as sharp as A kiss on the scar where you carved out her name Or a line that is straight and confined to your fate You’re resigned to be damned by your hand in her hand She will hold you as soft as a feather on water You float on her fingers, she pulls you apart It’s not hard, it won't hurt, it’s not right for a daughter of god

There is a Light that Never Goes Out- Dum Dum Girls (cover)

And in the darkened underpass I thought oh, God, my chance has come at last But then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask

And if a double-decker bus Crashes into us To die by your side Is such a heavenly way to die

Take Me to Church- Hozier (I'm allowed two screamingly obvious songs)

We were born sick, you heard them say it My church offers no absolutes She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom" The only heaven I'll be sent to Is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well

Never Let Me Go- Florence+ the Machine (This is the other one)

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me And all this devotion was rushing out of me And the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me But the arms of the ocean delivered me

The Only Thing- Sufjan Stevens

Do I care if I survive this? Bury the dead where they’re found In a veil of great surprises, I wonder did you love me at all?

Should I tear my eyes out now? Everything I see returns to you, somehow Should I tear my heart out now? Everything I feel returns to you, somehow I want to save you from your sorrow

Los Ageless (Piano Version)- St. Vincent

How can anybody have you? How can anybody have you and lose you? How can anybody have you and lose you And not lose their mind too?

I guess that's just me, honey, I guess that's how I'm built I try to tell you I love you but it comes out all sick I guess that's just me, honey, I guess that's how I'm built I try to write you a love song but it comes out a lament

Running up that Hill- Kate Bush (Okay, three)

You don't wanna hurt me But see how deep the bullet lies Unaware, I'm tearin' you asunder Oh, there is thunder in our hearts Is there so much hate for the ones we love? Oh, tell me, we both matter, don't we?

New Ceremony- Dry the River

I waited by your bedside And couldn't close my eyes all night I named you like a prayer It's anybody's guess how The angel of doubt came down And crept into your bed But after we danced to the shipping forecast The words escaped your mouth: "I know it's gotta stop, love, but I don't know how."

Now the stairs forget your shoes And the gate don't creak for want of you But the jury's out on me We're wise beyond our years But we're good at bad ideas, my love Or so it seems to be

OH ANNA- The Microphones

Oh Anna, take me in with water arms surround me, blow your breezy charms around me Oh Anna, you're a house of many rooms and all the secrets deep entombed within you I know a few

Oh Anna, take me to your eerie heights above, paint white letters "I you love" Oh Anna, drop me off a cliff I fall

Weights and Measures- Dry the River

I was prepared to love you And never expect anything of you There's no patron saint of silent restraint Baby there ain't no sword in our lake Just a funeral wake

Just because we're beasts of blame by nature Doesn't mean that you should carry it again It's a question of needs and not rosary beads in the end

No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross- Sufjan Stevens

Drag me to hell in the valley of The Dalles Like my mother Give wings to a stone It’s only the shadow of a cross

I slept on my back in the shade of the meadowlark Like a champion Get drunk to get laid I take one more hit when you depart

The Bomb- Florence+ the Machine (This is "Kiriona Gaia has been abandoned by everybody except two of the worst people in canon and everything except being a warcrimes corpse puppet and she's TOTALLY FINE with that, honest")

But if I was free to love you You wouldn't want me, would you? Unavailability is the only thing that turns you on Come here, baby, tell me that I'm wrong

I've blown apart my life for you And bodies hit the floor for you And break me, shake me, devastate me Come here, baby, tell me that I'm wrong I don't love you, I just love the bomb (Oh, oh, oh) I let it burn, but it just had to be done (Oh, oh, oh) And I'm in ruins, but is it what I wanted all along? Sometimes, you get the girl, sometimes, you get the song

Francesca- Hozier

Do you think I'd give up? That this might've shook the love from me Or that I was on the brink? How could you think, darlin', I'd scare so easily? Now that it's done There's not one thing that I would change My life was a storm since I was born How could I fear any hurricane?

If someone asked me at the end I'd tell them, "Put me back in it" (Da-ah, darlin') I would do it again (Ah-ah, ah-ah) If I could hold you for a minute (Da-ah, darlin') I'd go through it again (Ah-ah, ah-ah)

In a Sweater Poorly Knit- mewithoutYou

You're a door-without-a-key, a field-without-a-fence You made a holy fool of me and I've thanked you ever since And if she comes circling back we'll end where we'd begun Like two pennies on the train track the train crushed into one But if I'm a crown without a king, if I'm a broken open seed If I come without a thing, then I come with all I need No boat out in the blue, no place to rest your head The trap I set for you seems to have caught my leg instead

Kept Woman- Fleet Foxes (Tbh this is probably the soundtrack to the ideal stigmata fisting/heart regrowing scene)

God above saw, ever in the mind Blue and white irises in a line Under your nameless shame I left you in frame, and you rose to be ossified As a Rose of the Oceanside

Can you be slow for a little while? Widow your soul for another mile? I'm just the same as when You saw me back then And we're bound to be reconciled We're bound to be reconciled

The Chain- Fleetwood Mac

And if you don't love me now You will never love me again I can still hear you sayin' You would never break the chain (Never break the chain) And if you don't love me now (You don't love me now) You will never love me again I can still hear you sayin' (Still hear you saying) You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)

Time as a Symptom- Joanna Newsom

So it would seem to be true: When cruel birth debases, we forget When cruel death debases We believe it erases all the rest That precedes

In the nullifying, defeating, negating, repeating Joy of life; The nullifying, defeating, negating, repeating Joy of life

[mothergold]

Pairing: Rhinedottir x Gn!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Dark Content, Rhinedottir uses She/Her Pronouns, Reader uses No Pronouns, Abusive Relationship, Abuse/Assault, Rhinedottir is a bitch (affectionate), Gender Neutral Reader, Human Experimentation, Manipulation, Less than 1k idk i wrote this in tumblr drafts lmao.

A/n: Okay, so I am writing a longer Rhine thing but for now I needed to get this out of my brain and into the wild. A quick forewarning, Rhine in this is very much made with my personal headcanons in mind so just please be aware of that. I know she hasn't made an official appearance but with how much we've heard about her in lore i cannot stop myself from being obsessed. Please, make sure you read all the warnings before reading. Thanks!

Tagging: @auphelia

Impatient. Chatty. Annoying. These are just some of the words Rhine would use to describe you. There were no buts, just Rhine and her disgust which permeated the walls of her lab. She looked over her notes again, and again, until she’d concluded that she was indeed dissatisfied with the work you both had done. Well, her work, but you were willing enough. Sadly as much as she loathed the idea of rethinking her strategy, she had no other choice.

In the meantime Rhine had no option but to map out what needed to be done and with what. As she thought it out in her mind, connecting dots that others would find irrelevant, her ears grew warm from the surrounding buzz of the room. The lack of sound often seemed the loudest at times to some. Although Rhine would disagree. The empty air was needed, a necessary measure. While others found comfort in idle chit chat she saw it nothing more than a distraction. Talking often got in the way of more important things, such as moments like this.

The silence was nice, forgiving even, but of course, you had to open that trap of yours. She nearly lost her composure listening to your mindless chatter sometimes. Of course her best test subject would be the most troublesome of them all. At times she wished she’d make a mistake—an impossible yet comforting thought—and “accidentally” end the experiment early. Never mind how utterly unlikely that would be. It’s that thought which was ripped from her upon hearing you ask another loud and idiotic question.

“What are you doing, Miss.Rhine?” Your voice is sweet with an ugly aftertaste.

She ignores you but her eye twitches.

Absolutely frustrating.

You press further, asking why she’s ignoring you, and it isn’t long before she’s letting out a growl.

She drops her clipboard and lunges a hand towards your face, forcing your gaze at hers. Her long, dirty nails dig into your cheeks causing them to hurt just enough to shut you up.

“I will cut out your tongue if you do not silence it.” She snapped.

Silence finally thickened the surrounding air, staining a reminder into your throat as you swallowed hard. Rhine was usually patient, something she had to force herself to be after many years with you, but you had a way of testing her limits. Your voice was just one of her many irritants. She scoffed and let go of your face roughly, recklessly throwing back your head till it hit the surface behind you. Finally, she could get back to the task at hand, she thought to herself.

Sadly, she made the mistake of glancing over at your teary eyed face. You averted your eyes the instant hers locked onto yours. You sniffled and flinched as she moved her hand to pinch her nose. God, you were so fucking insufferable. It was always something with you. Well, she very well couldn't continue her work if she didn't have a proper subject.

Reluctantly she stood up and scooped you up into her arms and sighed loudly. "Stop crying."

You began to cry harder and she groaned out loud. Rocking you in her arms she stood still aside from the very mechanical rocking movements. Rhine had better things to do than coddle you, she couldn't let herself get into the habit of spoiling you. No, that would be most troublesome. It was only a few moments before you were a puddle in her arms, quiet and reserved. She could finally get back to the job at hand. Just as she started reading over her notes, again, she caught herself scowling down at you.

She tightened her jaw, grinding down on her teeth. Had she gone soft? Weak in the knees for some nobody. The mere idea left a sour taste in her mouth. Had Rhine finally fallen from grace? No, such things she reassured herself. Besides, much work was to be done and she very well couldn't be bothered to dwell on useless worries such as that. For now she supposed it was alright, it was keeping you quiet, after all. I suppose. She was not motherly by any means, but she could at least pretend long enough to shut you up.

[shmowder]

Whoa, you did amazing on your first run of P2! I made it through but like half the town died so I definitely enjoyed getting all the dialogue I missed the first time around. And just being able to spend a little more time appreciating the environment was nice, too.

You definitely make the first game sound interesting! And I would finally find out what everyone sees in Daniil 🤔

I also wanted to ask, do you have a favorite kid character? Sticky is mine.

Daniil, in the first game is... absolutely something. I love him, but god, I'm just in the first day of his route, and I can't stand his dialogue choices. He just keeps talking! he never stops. He has so much to say about everything and everyone at all times. He will fluff up the sentences with filler words and pleasantries.

Interacting with him as Artemy was fun because he was that silly dramatic guy from the Capital and you're only subjected to his theatrics once every two to four business days, plus the occasional letter he loves sending at the stroke of midnight, making you wonder if this is the time he inevitably went mad and is sharing the news with you as you open it.

BUT BEING DANIIL DANKOVSKY IS AN INSUFFERABLE EXPERIENCE.

I keep mansplaining everything to anyone who shows the slightest interest in me. Eva is flirting with me, and all I can do is abruptly change the conversation topic to be about death, very smooth Danill, I'm sure imagining her invetiable demise reeled her in.

...Am I describing myself? Is this what I'm doing right now?

Anyway, my favourite kid! My favourite child! this is gonna be a very long essay because I adore all the little rascals in Pathologic.

We're starting with Sticky <3

When I was playing P2, it was definitely Sticky. You mentioned him being your favourite!

With sticky, he is the first kid to actually give you a chance as Artemy. Sometimes, it feels like he adopted himself into your life and not the other way around. He just shows up and is immediately ride or die with you for life.

He steals for us! Breaks the law just to help us because he knows we are short on money! He doesn't have any medical knowledge but he tries his best to learn from watching you and the occasional questions.

He is endlessly curious and thirsty for knowledge. You can witness it each time you mention a medical term he doesn't know like serum or panacea, and he tries his best to understand what you're saying. Even if it doesn't make sense, he takes your words with blind trust. He wants to be just like you and it's so endearing.

I also adore how they gave him a personality that isn't just a docile student who agrees with everything you say.

No, Sticky will argue with you at times, insult you at others even. Especially his idle spoken dialogue where he keeps saying "How can people protect themselves from the infection? You're a doctor, you should know!"

It's the "You should know!" part that always gets me. He is upset that you don't know something! That's how much he secretly looks up to you and puts you on a pedestal. That when faced with the reality that you're not all-knowing and struggling to invent a cure, he's hurt and angry. Like you betrayed him by not being his superhero.

STICKY I'M SORRY MY SON I WILL DO BETTER I WILL GET 1000 COLLEGE DEGREES THAT WILL PUT THE BACHELOR TO SHAME PLEASE COME BACK!

His other idle spoken dialogue lines are also priceless. They tell a complete story on their own.

"I'll learn how to cure this plague myself. I'm a master of many skills!"

"I know the Lines, too. How else could I find my way around all the attics, and the cellars, and those twisty yards?"

He's trying to copy Artemy, to copy you the player and your effort to cure the plague. He's so small in this big world and can only effect so little in the grand scheme of the universe but he refuses to acknowledge that! He refuses that fate of being a helpless kid for you to save, he wants to be more and goddammit he will be more.

But he can't. He won't. At the end of the day, he is just a kid not matter how many tantrums he throws. He wants you to take him seriously and treat him with the same familiarity as other adults which is why insults you and jokes with you.

He wants Artemy to joke insult him too like he does with Stakh, he wants Artemy to confide in him and share theories like he does with Daniil.

HE WANTS HIS DAD TO BE PROUD OF HIM MY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT.

"You don't look so happy. Musta come from the hospital"

He notices your mood, he studied your reaction and knows your routine by heart. He can tell the difference between Artemy's upset face and his normal resting scary ripper face.

Sticky tries to sympathise. But he has never seen a hospital before in his life, all he knew about them was what he read in picture books as a toddler while learning the alphabet and someone put Hospital under the letter H.

The makeshift Theatre-turned-hosptial could never compare to a real one. I've spent time in hospital and my doctor brother told me about the absolute horrors of the emergency care and surgery sections. The many peoples of which will die in front of your own eyes and there is nothing you can do to save them.

All of his world view is extremely limited. Artemy is the lense in which he views the world with, in an attempt to decipher and understand it. You've became his teacher since the moment the first ever question slipped from his mouth and you answered it with sincerity.

"My path was called In Defiance. I almost tracked down that weird creature, but then I found a better goal. I'm going to become a real doctor. "

In the marble nest, when Artemy's dead, Sticky attempts to still follow his fate and seeks the Bachelor. He confesses his dream of still wanting to be a doctor but Daniil is dismissive and only directs him towards the academic path.

It's clearly not the same, it clearly eats up at Sticky to have his old mentor die in order, a second time, to invent a cure and now he can't mourn because he has to convince the only other doctor in town to take him under his wing.

Artemy allowed him a chance, took him seriously, looked past his lack of education and taught him the same way his own father used to teach him. Because Artemy genuinely relates and understands Sticky's situation, he grew up in this town.

Daniil who lives in the capital where every child is handed a bright future and guaranteed education could never relate to the kids of the town who grew up without a single school. He feels bad for them yes but he can't see Sticky as capable of anything besides staying out of trouble and letting the real doctors do their job.

Daniil lives in his concept of a utopia where children are always protected and never put in dangerous situations while capable adults handle everything. A world where he closes a grocery to not spread infection because that's what's right and necessary, without caring about how the families will feed themselves now.

Artemy lives in the grim reality of orphans trading bullets and razors just to get enough food to stay alive, of them risking getting infected just to acquire plague maps for him to purchase, in the world where he helped a kid steal from a store for his own sake because he knew he couldn't afford saying no in these dire circumstances.

Sticky does a lot of work behind the curtains. He keeps the lair clean and takes care of Murky. It's a shame we don't get to see him doing these things in-game, besides his model changing spots depending on the time of day.

This interaction happens on the third (or second?) day! The kid barely knows us, and he is already looking for our approval and doing chores around the house. I mentioned before how the Haruspex's lair floors are constantly wet-looking in a different post, and that detail is probably due to Sticky constantly moping the floors and keeping things tidy.

I wish Artemy was more gentle with him, I wish he spoke softer to him like he does with Murky. I know he treats her like that because she is younger and more gaurded but god Sticky deserves to be told good job too!

Sticky absolutely adores Murky. He makes her candy with melted sugar and tries to cheer her up. But he also tends to idolise Isidor a little too much. They end up in fights a lot because he always defends Isidor and his actions no matter what anyone says.

In p1, Sticky absolutely did not get along with any of the kids. Notkin invited him to join his gang, and Sticky refused, Khan wanted him to do a favour too, and Sticky declined. He doesn't play with other kids, he doesn't engage with them, and he is mostly alone.

It doesn't seem like that changed much in P2, sure the others don't mention him by name but also you don't ever see him wandering to the hubs the other kids are so fond of.

So for him to be kind and befriend Murky despite all the alienation he has suffered all his life from other kids, it really must have been a challenging step for him to take. He immediately accepts her as his sister and doesn't ask any questions.

In his free time, before becoming a student, he used to uncover mysteries and perform experiments detective conan style. Camping at the steppe at night to witness one of those clay vampire creatures despite no one believing him, attempting to get to the bottom of remours.

He's clearly very fascinated by the kin folktales and mystical creatures beyond just fantasy. What others dismissed as childish beliefs, he looked at with rationality and attempted to make sense of. The same burning curiosity reared its head when Artemy shared stories about the kin with him.

Even his idle dialogue shows his lingering fascination with the supernatural world, with the miracles of the kin. He doesn't fear them, he wants to witness them despite the consequences.

"The murderer is a steppe demon! A shabnak-adyg! I just know it!"

"A long neck and a fat body. And hooves for feet—so it's an Albino. And people say it wasn't the earth that made it!"

"Have you seen a pale, glimmering man walking around at night?"

Just imagine Artemy passing down all of the kin tales to Sticky, the ones his father used to tell him, the ones he learned from the herb brides, the ones Oyun used to whisper to him, the ones Aspity shared during their brief interactions.

Isidor's death greatly affected him. He never speaks about him or shows it, but the fear of abandonment has already taken root. It's apparent in the endgame dialogue when he's refusing any idea of you leaving, even ten years from now, when he is a full 20-something adult.

Just the mention of leaving has him terrfied and panicking, he doesn't want to experience the loss of another father so soon. He clings to you like gum throughout all of the game and doesn't leave your lair out of fear you won't be there when he comes back.

He sits in that broken chair and watches over Artemy as he sleeps, that kid needs a hug and reassurance so badly.

Suddenly, he has a sister to take care of, a father who loves him and is willing to teach him, a house with his own room, a future ahead as a Menkhu doctor. He has his dream coming true, and he won't survive having it taken from him.

The devs leave a lot of room for you to influence Artemy's choices and reactions throughout the game, even when it's just flavour plot texts and I love that. In my version of events, Artemy rejected all the proposals and job offers from Young Vlad, General Block, Yulia and the rest to be their assistants or travel with them.

Instead he remains home to be a Menkhu, watching over his town and helping whatever remains of the kin to survive. He accepts Lara's offer to help him take care of Sticky and Murky as co-parenting and friends. He raises both of them to be wonderful amazing adults who listen to their hearts and follow their own dreams.

Maybe add Aglaya survives and they have a long distance romance and the kids are intrigued by her terrifying aura-

ANYWAY.

Honourable mentions, Murky, Taya and Notkin.

Murky because of EVERYTHING SHE IS. I will surrender my own life to see her happy.

THIS MOMENT MADE ME CRY. ACTUALLY FUCKING FULL ON WEEP IRL.

Do you remember her words to us? to Artemy?

"What is there about you to love? Nothing. So I don't."

"I don't need you. Nuh-uh. Things were great without you. Great."

"Why did you come here? I don't need you. Nobody here needs you. We're not friends with her anymore, anyway."

"Why should I love you? I don't need to love you at all. I can stop loving you whenever I want."

She keeps repeating how she doesn't love us, how there is nothing to love, how she doesn't need you, she doesn't need anyone....She can stop loving us whenever she wants, she can stop if she wants to she is so sure of it...

And she knows she is lying the whole time.

She loved Artemy since the first moment she saw him.

Which was when he murdered those three people after getting off of the train. She saw a murderer, a ripper, and loved him as daughter loves her father.

Covered in blood in our worst, Murky looked at us and saw a gentle heart and a nurturing soul.

Sticky is scared of being abandoned again so he clings to us, Murky is scared of loving us so she clings to a lie. She wants a dad, she wants a brother, she only has her doll and a broken train car to call her own.

The only thing left from her parents, her lonely doll. And it was your father whom caused their death and orphaned her, what cruel fate to make her love you as a father.

The son of her parents killer.

Not a gradual love that we work for, No. She loved is since the single moment she saw us. How terrifying is that for a kid who has known no love or warmth in this life.

-

For Notkin, he always seemed like the most willing out of the bound kids to be your friend, not counting your own two adopted kids. By the end of the game, he asks to join the kin and says you're already one of his guys, you have a half soul too and it's massive and so cool.

He blatantly states how much he likes you, how much you've grown on him and stood by his gang's side through the game. He shares with you his dream of opening a warehouse in the future, describing something very similar to what Grief currently has minus the crime.

How poetic it is! Grief and Artemy being childhood friends only for Notkin aka mini-Grief version to end up liking grown Artemy too and wanting to be his friend.

Murky does remind of Lara now that we mention it. In one of the items descriptions, Artemy mentions how Lara knitted him the blue sweater that he's wearing ingame under the surgical grab and when he asked her why blue, she said because it's the colour of idiots and never knitted him anything again.

Murky and her are absolutely kind and selfless to a fault, both treating Artemy with apparent hostility and sharp words when in reality they care for him more than anything.

Notkin and Grief putting an air of being dangerous so Artemy wouldn't get any ideas, but eventually warming up to him and entrusting him with their sincere emotions in rare moments of vulnerability. Both are trying to be good leaders for people under their care, both appreciate his help in dire situations and give him back when they can. Grief is the first to hand you items to get you started ingame, and in Notkins warehouse, a kid gives you bread and milk, later they give you the first plague map for free.

In a way, it feels like Sticky adores Artemy in the same way Rubin must have idolised Isidor.

Jfwifjwkd Artemy straight up adopted the kids equivalent of his childhood friends that is so peotic.

-

Finally, there is Taya!

For her, I feel more of a personal connection rather than any bond she may have with Artemy. She reminds me of myself as a kid in a way. She looks spoiled but in reality she is very isolated and only have interacted with adults all her life who keep reminding her of her responsibility.

She wants to be a kid so desperately but she is forced to play the mother superior role. And despite all her lack of emotional development at that age, she does her best to sincerely play that role. To be wise and study the responsibility handed to her.

In P1, she mentions nonchalantly how her father, the previous leader of the kin, was killed by the kin in her place, he died to protect her from being killed. She mentions that if you choose to sacrifice big vlad in place of young vlad.

Saying how the father should always pay for the sins of his children.

Isidor died so Artemy may live

Her father died so she may be spared

Big Vlad died in place of his son getting killed.

Taya is very childish at times in a way that I wish she was allowed to express more. Just look at these scenes.

SHE JUST WANTS CHOCOLATE AND SWEETS, BUT HAS TO PLAY THE ROLE OF A HOLY LEADER TO A WHOLE COMMUNITY OF PEOPLE WITH CULTURE OLDER THAN THAN THE WORLD. SHE IS TRYING HER BEST OKAY.

God it's like she's holding the weight of the world on her shoulders but laughing and smiling despite of it as she dreams of strawberries.

STRAWBERRIES! THAT'S LITERALLY HER BIGGEST DREAM.

Ugh she is so tiny too! LOOK AT HER. You can put her in you pocket but she might get lost between the loose change!!

SHE IS 4 GRASS BLADES TALL!!! FOUR! SHE IS PROBABLY 5 APPLES TALL LIKE HELLO KITTY! SHE IS JUST A LITTLE GIRL AAAAAAAAA

LET ME ADOPT HER GAME!! LET ME HAVE HER LIVE IN ARTEMY'S HOUSE WITH STICKY AND MURKY AS HER OLDER SIBLINGS! PLEASE I NEED IT! BRING NOTKIN TOO!

The remaining kids, Capella, Khan, Grace and even Taya herself, don't seem that fond or attached to Artemy. Their fates cross a lot and some of them clearly saw Isidor as a father figure but it's never the same with Artemy.

Taya only cares for him as Menkhu, she is mother superior and he is one of her "children" like any other person from the kin.

Capella sees him as a business partner in a way, she asks for favours and promises to repay tenfolds when she becomes a mistress. Her goals and Artemy's allign so they are partners in planning.

Sometimes, I wonder if Artemy was supposed to be born much later. Because Capella describes a future where he is included with these kids when it comes to rebuilding the town. The fact his own mother died during childbirth makes me consider that theory a bit more, maybe his parents rushed into having a second kid when his older brother passed away which caused health problems to his mother.

So Artemy was supposed to be born much later alongside these kids and play his role in rebuilding the town. But it's just a theory.

A GAME THEOR-

-

Thank you so much for the praise about finishing the game! I want to lie and say it was effortless. But.It.Was.Not. 500 reloads. But I loved every minute, I would hate going to sleep because it meant I had to stop play and would open the game first thing after waking up. It was literally and addiction and I couldn't remember my own name and life event but I for sure had the list of items best to trade to which town npcs memorised.

I want to replay it after finishing it P1. It is fun but it can be boring at times which is why I'm moving at a slugs pace in Daniil's route. Part of me is also dreading finishing it since I will only have Clara's route to play by then....and its over like that.

Maybe by stalling, I'm hoping that P2 Bachelor's route will come out sooner.

I definitely enjoyed this conversation <3 I love talking and talking loves me, I have a million opinions on everything and so much to say about pathologic. If you ever get curious about a certain subject, character or concept, shoot me an ask since I will have so much fun writing out the essay.

I hope you had fun reading this! I try to sprinkle in jokes so it's not just a big dump of information but eh, I love mansplaining guilty as charged.

Take care anon! I hope your day is wonderful. Also wanna be called Sticky anon if you're going to be a frequent quest on here?

[edgarbright]

Ikemen Vampire Main Route // Charles chapter 23 thoughts

tl;dr Charles and his story are driving me insane and I love it so much

CHARLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Holy shi-- That scene in the church was SO GOOD, FULL COURSE MEAL, PERFECT BAD-END TYPE OF CONTENT, I GOT TEARS IN MY EYES.

I was ready to murder Vlad if it turned out to JUST be a dream lol (MC's reaction and response at the end were so on point so thank you, girl.) I hadn't completely forgotten that moment two chapters ago between MC and Vlad before she suddenly woke up in the mansion (I am an Ikerev Loki gal, after all, so this isn't my first fake reality rodeo) but the church scene was so good it kind of pushed that moment to the back of my mind.

Because at the same time, I remembered the preview trailer where they showed Charles's CG of him bleeding out in the church while the voice over had him apologizing for his crimes and for being born. I thought this was going to be the moment.

So the MC and I were both in denial that he was dead while she feels his body going cold in her arms :')

And all the while MC is talking about the things Charles wasn't able to experience, like seeing the sunrise over the ocean, and that she needed to keep her promise with him. She asks Le Comte to bring Charles back.

Cue me nodding my head and getting intrigued at the idea of Charles being freed from the Cult of Vlad (affectionate) and getting to live the idle, wealthy lifestyle of one of le Comte's collection.

Except le Comte says he can't, he can't, because he can't sense any desire to live coming from Charles. (And the way le Comte said it breaks my heart because you could tell he regretted being unable to help.)

At last, after trying so hard, Charles had truly and utterly given up on everything. And he did it in the most horribly perfect way: as the God of Death, as a man who had experience executing thousands of people with both axe and guillotine, he killed himself with one perfect strike.

(And while I greatly appreciate the fact Cybird acknowledged his expertise to let him die with such quick precision, insert a hundred more pictures of the crying hamster here because my heart is broken!!!)

Fun fact: between Ikevamp and Ikevil, this is the third route in a row that I've read that has dealt with a suicidal Love Interest (which, hello, Cybird, that is a wild stat??? why do you have so many LI like this??) At this point in the story, however, I feel like Charles has the route that has best handled the topic in a narrative-rich and nuanced way.

Charles is so incredibly tragic and real that he's looking for hope to the point of endangering himself. He's sweet and funny and wildly friendly. He's also drowning in his tragedy and so he clings to people who might save him, such as Vlad, someone he even calls a God, someone who promises him a better world, a world where he doesn't have to experience the things that hurt him, a world where he can be happy and loved and accepted. I was thoroughly entranced in the scene where MC gets kidnapped (at last lol) and she sees how easily Charles defaults his will away to Vlad. Even though Charles asks questions several times which show his hesitancy and doubts, it becomes clear he isn't seeking truth. What he really wants are reassurances that this is right, that this is OK, that he's not making a mistake.

(He is an executioner through and through: someone else makes the choice for him. It's not his place to judge or decide.)

But in this way, Charles is just so wildly victim-coded to me in that I can clearly see him accepting abuse if it were called by any other name. When he speaks of his house calls, when he offers to let MC do anything--anything!--she wants to him, when we witness the group of men he lets beat him up (because he could have kept his truth without letting them abuse him), I dread to think what violence has been done to him in the dark streets of Paris that he has accepted in the past under the guise of the word love.

So the fact chapter 22 and 23 showed Charles realizing the solution to all his moral and ethical and emotional turmoil is to stop struggling and die, and that the story actually lets him succeed--albeit in a "highly possible future" scenario that Vlad reinforces will surely come to pass again at some point--hurt me in the best kind of way and I'm looking forward to how this route ends.

But Charles's highly probable suicide also brings up the question of why did Vlad pick Charles, of all people, to bring back as a vampire? Was Charles simply an ideal follower? Because the the key promise Vlad makes with Charles seems to make Charles somewhat useless for his plans: Charles won't have to kill anyone. What use is a perfect executioner who refuses to raise the sword?

The dynamic of Vlad, Faust, and Charles is wonderful though and I hope Vlad gives us a straight answer for the reason of his original experiment of MC teaching Charles love.

(Maybe helping Charles was Vlad's true experiment all along.)

[projectbluearcadia]

About Our Date Tomorrow...

???: Make a wish. Of anything you desire, I will grant it. 

Annelie: Anything? 

???: Anything. I am a god, after all.  

Annelie: Why? 

???: Well, it’s interesting, don’t you think? For you, a person who has wasted away in a boring, idle, lonely life—

Annelie: You don’t have to insult me for being a self-sufficient working adult. 

???: Am I wrong?

Annelie: My life isn’t worthless. 

???: I never said such a thing. But... you have become listless, haven’t you?

Annelie: ...

???: As I thought. Then, how about it? What do you desire most, out of everything in this world?

Annelie: ...connection, I guess. I’ve never really felt truly “attached” to anyone before, and it’s... well, it’s lonely. I want to know what it’s like to enjoy being around someone so much that you don’t notice how much time is passing. But it’s not like you can really give something like that to me; I’m just not a good person. 

???: Oh, contraire, my good lady! I said that I would grant any wish of yours, and I will stay true to my word. 

Annelie flinches in her sleep as a pair of hands cup her face, the unknown entity leaning close to her ear. 

???: For a price, that is. 

Annelie: What kind of price?

???: I’m not certain just yet. But I am certain that I will decide soon enough. 

Annelie: I don’t like the sound of that. 

???: Really? Well, you’ve already told me what you want... so...

Annelie screams as the entity plunges a set of metallic, claw-like nails into her chest, and a bright flash of stark, white light fills the room. 

???: Let’s have some fun. 

---

Annelie gasps, jolting up from her bed, heaving and sweating. She looks around furiously and blinks in the darkness as she rests her hand on the black mark on her chest. 

Lucifer: Zzz... zzz...

Annelie glances down at Lucifer’s face, and she brushes her hand against his cheek, ruffling her fingers through his hair. 

Is that what really happened...?

She digs her nails into her blackened skin before she shakes her head and pulls the covers off her body. 

I need to go for a walk. I can’t sleep with that nightmare fresh in my mind.

Annelie leaves the bed, and Lucifer groans, reaching towards the space where she was, and she pauses. 

God, he’s cute. 

Annelie: I’ll be back in a little bit, honey. 

She giggles a little as she bundles a pillow into his arms and kisses his cheek. 

I’m such a dork sometimes. Good thing he’s still asleep. 

Annelie leaves Lucifer’s room and starts wandering through the House of Lamentation. 

There’s that stairwell Lucifer told me not to go up...

Annelie pauses in front of it. 

Nah. Not today. Running into that enormous hellhound he calls a pet was bad enough. I swear Lucifer is worse than Hagrid. Maybe that cat Satan was feeding is still around...

Annelie makes her way outside, glancing around for the cat. She grins at the sight of a white feline sitting a few meters away, currently licking its paws, and she cautiously approaches. 

Annelie: Oh my god, you’re so cute, I just want to squish you...!

The cat yawns at her and doesn’t move as she continues closer and closer, even letting out a slow, rumbling purr when she reaches her hand out to pet it. 

Score! Thank you Satan! 

She strokes the cat’s jaw, scratching around its ears while softly chuckling at it purrs louder.

The Cat: I see you’ve adjusted well. 

Annelie stops cold. 

My...heart hurts...

Annelie clutches at her chest, falling to the ground, even as the cat comes to sit next to her writhing form, watching her while licking its paws. 

The Cat: But... I’ve come to collect what I’ve promised. You won’t mind, will you?

Monologue

That day, as the face of a stranger peered down at me, I realized that I had come face to face with the person who had first screwed me over. There wasn’t a drop of malice or even a nasty tone to his voice—instead, he was playful, like a mischievous cat spilling ink all over a manuscript. An almost innocent evil, I would say, basking in the grey area of knowingly and unknowingly doing something wrong.

I knew as he looked at me that I was not about to die, but I felt a deep-seated regret that I had not said the words “I think I love you” to Lucifer’s sleeping form. 

It didn’t matter to me that he could never have heard me say them. Not then, and certainly not now. That connection I was looking for... I wonder, would I have still made that wish if I had known it would be ripped away as I began to truly recognize and comprehend it?

[judjira]

Can we know anything more about parenting au? Or really any of the aus you posted the other day. Every one of them sounds great.

Also, I love apartment au. Thank you for that Misamo fill!

u asked for this anon get ready for a dump (also i know u asked for parenting au details but i just wanted an excuse to ramble hehe)

also take note, these are just the aus that are in progress, not the idle ones that are still in my head and require more fleshing out

if u see one u like, feel free to ask for more details ! who knows, it might give me more inspiration to write it ! i am taking requests, but only if it's from this list below ! i dont mind writing short drabbles on some of these that further flesh out the details and story ! also probably that pressures me to write the full thing so HAHA

nada dul cielo (magical realism au)

dayeon

this one's pretty interesting, it's based on a filipino short story called "kite of stars". basically nayeon, a young rich noble, falls in love with mina, an astronomer who only looks at the stars. to get mina to fall in love with her, nayeon enlists the help of dahyun, a butcher's girl, to create a kite that can reach the stars. this one is mostly fantasy, coming of age, and angst ! i love angst so much

across the (gentrified) stars (space bakery au)

saida, side jeongtzu, mimo, jichaeng

this one is based off a request my friend gave me, literally just "i want a baker au" but i thought that was too boring ! in a hypercapitalist society, sana works as a baker in a mass-produced bakery on a distant moon. when a ship with a foreign model crash lands on the moon, sana meets dahyun, a traveler from a time long past. (loosely based off of outer worlds !)

the last wish (genie au)

dahmo

this one's a sad one. basically dahyun's a genie, and momo's the girl who found her. however, as soon as momo makes her last wish, dahyun will disappear forever. very angsty and very sad i believe.

mosaic (band au)

dahyun/3mix

literally "getting the band back together" the au. basically 3mix and dahyun are a band, but due to an argument they've broken up, and it tells the story of dahyun fixing everything and getting everyone back together. this one starts out angsty but ends fluffy :)

lost in translation (amnesiac au)

dahyun/3mix

this one is a confusing one, i'm not sure where to take it. basically dahyun has amnesia and 3mix try to win her favor as her admirers. now this could go one of many ways, either dramatic, or humorous, or fluffy, or angsty,,,i rly dont know how to go about this one

under revision (writer au)

mihyun, side jeongsa, namo, jitzu

this one's already on ao3 (the first chapter at least) kind of based off of inkheart, dahyun's a writer of a medieval fantasy novel, and writes the main character of her story into existence and promptly falls in love with her. mostly fluff with dashes of hurt and comfort !

office au

dahyo, side ships undecided

this one is rly just indulgent fluff, basically jihyo and dahyun are coworkers, and everyone around them thinks they're dating :)

cheating au

saidahmo, side ships undecided

yknow i gotta save my painful aus for saidahmo hue. i actually want to keep this one a lil secret but all u need to know is that sana and momo have a broken relationship and dahyun is momo's new neighbor :) i'll let u guys guess the rest

god au

dahyo, minayeon, jeongmo, chaetzu

this one is actually a set of oneshots! all of them are gods of specific domains, and all of the oneshots explore the different dynamics between the pairs (who mostly have opposite domains !)

break up au

dahminayeon

still unsure about this one, but basically dahyun comes back from a trip to find that her two best friends, mina and nayeon, have broken up. so she endeavors to parent trap them, while trying to ignore her feelings for both of them, mostly a humorous and fluffy fic despite the premise !

road trip au

mimohyun

this one's a ride (hehe) also ive elaborated on this already, but momo and mina are estranged childhood friends who search for dahyun, their missing best friend. this one explores mina and momo's relationship with each other, while going into their relationship with dahyun in flashbacks !

parenting au

dajeonghyo

already posted the prologue to this ! dahyun's been kicked out of the house for being pregnant, and jihyo and jeongyeon take her in. this one is mostly angst, hurt, and comfort, while exploring themes of religious homophobia so pretty intense !

online dating au

dahmichaeng

also talked abt this one before ! after a few months of a long distance relationship between dahyun, mina, and chaeyoung, they finally get the chance to meet in person ! just pure unadulterated fluff while exploring romance in the pandemic !

roommates au

jidatzu

low on money, dahyun moves into a three person apartment with cheap rent, alongside jihyo, who's just moved into the city, and tzuyu, who's lived in the apartment for as long as she can remember. together, they are all awkward lesbians who are attracted to each other.

revolutionary au

dayeon, side mimo, jeonghyo, sachaeng

this one's pretty cool ! a noble with a talent for painting, nayeon's perception of the world is rendered invalid when she meets dahyun, a member of the revolutionary army whose task is tagging graffiti.

magic school au

danatzu, mochaeng, jeongmisa

another big au with multiple oneshots planned ! ive already written a little bit abt this, but they're all just students in a magic school, exploring love :) mostly fluff, little bit of angst

other aus (not yet written):

hogwarts au, whiplash au, pacific rim au, idol au, nightlife au

[merxthewizard]

I am a passenger in her car.

I am sitting in the backseat

I did this. This is my fault.

The trees zip by like bullets

The signal on gps phases in and out

This is stressing me out

This is stressing her out

She gazes back at me, her eye filled with what feels like hatred, maybe disappointment, maybe panic

I turn and look out the window, guardrails and road speed past me fast and faster

“I TOOK A WRONG DIRECTION”

Signal is out

Dread sets in as the hail beats down

We dodge and swerve and duck as the car shakes violently and jerks harder than a man possessed

She cries as our ears explode

Time ticks slowly as things race on by

Out of the forest, not out of the woods

Tears roll faster than the roads

An eerie quiet sets in slowly

Soft purr of pavement beneath

And the general sounds of the car

Things arnt going as fast now, still going

Still going, going on as the hills crawl

Slow down to a stop

Gas station

Shotgun

By that I mean

passenger

Steps out to use the restroom.

I’m left here. Alone. Not quite.

But alone.

I am a passenger in her car.

I’m left with the sounds of us two breathing

And the clicks and buzzes of the car idle

He’s back, we should talk, “I don’t want to”

It’s not safe to drive “I don’t care”

Get out and sit in the passenger “I’m driving.”

Fine. “Fine” “lets just sit here for a few minutes”

I softly mention. She’s mad at me. He’s just here.

We’re back on the road now, slowly heading home. I apologize. The roads start speeding up.

Faster and faster until reaching a more steady rate. She has a long drive, I have a long time.

She doesn’t want to talk. That’s fine. That’s fine.

I am a passenger in her car.

I get sharp gazes back at me mixed with sadness as she goes to the road. He’s messaging me on the phone what to say, I stay quiet. Better to let her just do her thing. I put on

Her music. Try and help her feel better.

We drive through what feel like ghost towns.

Occasional truck drives past

I am a passenger in her car.

I had a nice time at the park.

It was a serene sort of quiet.

Fitting for a place out in the hills.

We talked of magic and wonder in the world

We had a lunch of sorts and wandered in the woods. Somewhere in there I hurt her. Words I said? Probably. She got tired as we walked as I

Got lost. Not literally, there was a trail. Objectively we all were fine. She wanted the trip to be about her, I feel, I don’t say that, at least not immediately. Chilly spring day turns dark.

We all head back to the car. I hop in the back so long legs isn’t as uncomfy much to his argument and amusement. She’s not having fun. I don’t think shes had a nice time at all. All I’m getting are looks. We drive out of the park and then I say the spark that ignited this fire, in a set up of me trying to find the words and express my feelings I drop the one word that lit all of this ablaze

“Selfish.”

She does not like that.

I am a passenger in her car.

The Music becomes white noise along with the roads. Still fast and beating, but constant.

I think we all still settled down a bit more.

Signal is working again. One of her fave songs is playing. I don’t understand a thing. Both in lyric and seemingly in general. I keep my mouth quiet

Let this unroll and destress as the roads slowly become. Out of the forest not out of woods.

The roads here are awful, bumpy, tons of twist and turns, rocky and practically hazardous at times. She’s driving carefully.

Occasional truck drives past.

I am a passenger in her car.

I need to breathe a bit. My eyes fade in and out. Time passes. Tensions ease I feel. Just the sound of her music. Darkness slowly sets in, nights coming soon. My phone signal picks up and I get a small assault of messages. Nothing serious. “Does she want me to devote all I do and all of my time to her?” I say in my head. God knows what would happen if I said that out loud. “I don’t mean that do I?” Glad I’m keeping my mouth shut for once. Her album is done. I Politely offer some choices for next. She doesn’t care. I picked something comedic, I don’t think she found it funny.

I am a passenger in her car.

I make a few jokes to him, I don’t think he found them funny. Back to silence, besides of course the comedy album. I see a glimpse of her smile. She says skip the track with the damn sock puppet. I say I love you. She says I love you back, still upset. I’m glad things are calmer now.

Out of the forest, not out of the woods. Good enough. Hail turns to rain. She looks at me

I am a passenger in her car.

Jesus fucking Christ. I guess I never learn.

Lyrics of the song. Not much unlike my situation i guess. It’s getting colder, both the situation and the temperature. Rains beating pretty hard. Almost inaudible though due to music. White noise. Comedy record helped a bit, not much, but a bit. Good enough.

I am a passenger in her car.

That funny feeling comes on. The three of us sit in silence and just listen as she drives on. Rain beats slower. It’s cold. It’s quiet. It’s getting dark. Only sounds being that of music playing and white noise. “Hey what can ya say? But we were overdue, but it’ll over soon, you wait” just great. I look out the windows at the dilapidated buildings, damned, on one side of the road and glistening golf courses on the other, both fading in and out of twisted trees. Lights in the distance. Fellow people in cars and farms lights alike. Something else occasionally floating in the fields, might just be me.

I am a passenger in her car.

Album ends. Change to just whatever. Nevermind, change to something she likes. She smiles a bit. I don’t understand a thing, this time mostly in lyrics, having gained a bit of understanding. We’re nearing home. Apocalypse towers stand in the distance. Far from the hills. Bright lights of suburbia assault the way. The roads are steady, calm, paved decently, at least for this part of town.

We drive to get our friend home, after that we’ll see where we go.

Likely home.

I am a passenger in her car.

Music is off on the final stretch.

An eerie quiet sets in slowly

Soft purr of pavement beneath

And the general sounds of the car

Night has fully settled in, rain stops.

The stars are choked out by pollution.

Occasional truck drives past.

I am a passenger in her car.

We drop him off. He gets home safe.

“Do you want to talk about it or I just be quiet for now?” “There’s nothing to talk about”

She says as her tears roll more than the roads did.

quiet again. I look out the window. Just silhouettes contrasted against a dreary dark sky. Lights in the distance. Fellow people in cars and farms lights alike. Something else occasionally floating in the fields, might just be me. Stop sign. Everything stops seemingly, sound, lights, movement, even the cells in my body. Then at once it comes back. Just a weird stop in Ohio.

I am the passenger in her car.

We drive though a downtown of perpetual Halloween, blink and you’ll miss it, we pass the ymca that’s never called me back about a job, we pass a gas station with a boiled peanuts sign, we’re getting closer to home. We pass the train tracks, and the ice cream place, and the crossroads we both nearly died at years ago. We’re almost home. Feel the bump of the curb beat the car as it all comes to a stop. We’re home.

I am no longer a passenger In her car.

A bit more than a year passes by (the epilogue)

like trucks on the road what seems like ages ago.

I am a passenger in her car.

Her and I are no longer together.

Torn apart by time and a person so vile thinking about them, and the horrors I didn’t know they committed when I asked them to be a roommate, make me sick.

I should mention, not my friend from before. we’re still good friends, but that’s besides the point.

We’re going through the process of washing my hands of those two and the mess us three are in.

I’ll be fine, like always eventually. Still have feeling for her, always have, always will, but this is for the best for both of us.

She picked me up from where I moved to after being kicked out. I see the place we called ours for so long, I see roads we walked together and enjoyed the time. I see that bastard roommates car with a new large dent in it.

Not my fault, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a bit cathartic.

I am a passenger in her car.

I will admit, and have admitted, that I was loud and mean, which can be scary considering someone my size, but in the end all bark, no bite.

She was neglectful at best, abusive at worst. Nothing unforgivable, nothing horrible. We both just need more help than we were getting. I hope we get it

The roommate, she’s a piece of work. arguably the most petty, manipulative, piece of shit, waste of oxygen, dog abusing, maybe baby killing, no good cancer of a human being I have ever met.

I’m saying that well aware dear family, friends, and friends of friends of mine have had cancer. That bad and infectious of a person, no other way to put it.

It’s hard dealing with anger and hurt like this, especially after so much that’s gone on. Easy to reflect on it though, particularly when one is waiting to get to the destination.

My exes music plays in the car as I see storage units and apartments pass by. Her mom, I, and her, all joke and laugh and catch up a bit in the time we have. Gives one hope a bit

I am a passenger in her car.

We get to where we were going, we do what we need to do, we get answers and questions, but ultimately a way to go.

Goes well.

Her and I talk a bit, I take this once chance I had to fully, truly, apologize for the mess we’re in, maybe talk about how her and I can go forward into a brighter later. Get a maybe, she asks for time. I’ll take those. Those are good comparatively.

More days pass, more answers, less questions, and more of the roommates rot seeping and oozing. I’m doing what I can to just be kind to my ex who’s clearly being manipulated.

It’s sad to see.

It’s hard to see.

I miss her . I hope she gets better, I hope she finds better, I hope she learns better and kicks the roommate to the curb.

My sleep is disrupted every night, getting less so, but hasn’t stopped so far, of my mind wandering and fearing what could happen. good, bad, or horrible.

I hate sleeping alone. I wish I had someone here, maybe her, but anyone will do just to help. A human antibiotic to help with the pain, get rid of the infection left in me slowly.

I’ll figure it out. I’ll move as the trucks did what seems like so long ago. I’ll keep on as the rain on that night. I’ll keep driving as she did.

I’ll always miss her just as I loved her. Now Despite it all,

I wish I was the passenger in her car

And that we rode into the sunset together.