#but yeah trying my hand at their dynamic

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[raayllum]

—two.bees.poetry

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[ahalliance]

qantoine’s coping mechanism to feeling left behind being both self-isolating and becoming possesive of those he cares for is so juicy as a concept . like yeah you go you funky creachure, manifest those complicated and sometimes contradictory emotions

[crystalistrappedintheinternet]

adding tme to my bio bc while on one hand announcing my birth sex makes me dysphoric on the other hand. some of you are misogynists

[dairyfreenugget]

(Going insane boinkinh one AU in my head)

Hey hey hey

May I interest you in

(Slowly slides my FaaF AU towards you but void just Disappears without a trace one day before the accolade)

Teehee

[cultivating-wildflowers]

today a friend at church asked if I or my brother was older and I said my brother, and then my mom threw in “but she’s the oldest”, to which I further clarified that our middle sister is actually the big sister of the sibling group

the youngest maintains her title of “baby of the family”

[averlym]

May I req soft parrlyn please

thank you for the req, here they are <3

[truethes]

“go to hell” is basic. “i hope you have the opportunity to write a romatically dense character in a situation where even you can see the other characters romantic sense” is smart. it’s possible. it’s terrifying

[thatscarletflycatcher]

I'm trying to articulate a thought: while a moral reading of a text is necessary and I'd say unavoidable, a judgement of a text cannot begin and end in its value as a didactic piece for teaching morality to the reader (or reinforcing their sense of moral selves).

This doesn't mean people should read books that make apology of things the person finds morally or psychologically repulsive, just because there's some artistic value in them anyways.

But I have seen people for whom reading (and engaging with media in general) becomes a moral race in which their enjoyment of literature must be thoroughly justified by the -often only superficially ascertained- moral value of the themes and lessons of the text, and for whom the things they read are a letter of presentation of the moral principles they spouse.

In other words, instead of the moral principles of the person delineating the framework through which they approach the text, it is a checklist of things the text must explicitly contain in order to be seen as having any worth at all.

Which is a rather sad and superficial way to engage with things.

[lesbiansanemi]

*through gritted teeth* ppl can ship whatever they want and it’s fine it doesn’t affect you ppl can ship whatever they want and it’s fine it doesn’t affect you ppl can ship whatever they want and it’s fine it doesn’t affect you people can—

[sleevebuscemii]

tmi

[fellhellion]

This is literally nothing that I wasn’t trying to draw connection between in that one web weave post but god. Perceiving the threads connecting these characters.

Gwen for whom fatherhood and authority figure was conflated into one man, a man who at first chooses the role of authority over father. Miguel who fulfils the role of authority figure after this / “I tried to wear [this mask] the way you would want me to. And I didn’t!” <- paraphrased. Miguel who protects Gwen from her father’s choice to prioritise his role as an authority, only to fail to uphold the responsibility he has to her as an adult and mentor by reasserting his power as an authority, grappling for control over himself and how helpless he feels. Gwen’s father knowing what is asked of him as an authority is inherently incompatible with what is asked of him as a father, and upon reflection, unreservedly choosing fatherhood.

[bobzora]

yeah femc has some really solid romance routes but i just cannot be assed to care too much because there are some crazy level yuri goings on in this game

[koushirouizumi]

{D I G I M O N} ~ KIZUNA x + T H E . B E G I N N I N G + S T E V E {Jewish-American Chosen} x Koushiro {KouSteve} / {SteveKou} / {KouSteveKou}

Edit by @izzyizumi / koushirouizumi

{Do Not R E P O S T} {Do Not R E P R O D U C E My Edits + My Works Under Any Circumstances}

(Details of this A.U. under the 'read more'!) {Not too spoilery for "The Beginning", but some light references are made regarding the timeline!}

For Autism Awareness Month {April in U.S.+World} {Autistic!Koushiro Headcanon} + Jewish-American Heritage Month {May in U.S.}

-A.U. {Alternate Universe} where Koushiro and Steve have notably more {visible to "Viewer"/"Reader"}; One-on-one interaction between "Our War Game" (and most {eventual} International Chosen discovering "The Network" and Koushiro's involvements in helping + observing it + keep the Inter-national Chosen connected) and "The Beginning";

-In "The Beginning", as the U.S. Chosen are gathered, while it's not outright stated, it's not unreasonable to assume they were keeping an eye on Network updates made by Miyako earlier on to the Network, also often related via Koushiro, {+related by 02 Chosen}. (The pattern in my A.U.s overall likely goes, Koushiro -> Miyako + 02 Chosen {+Iori}; then, 02 Chosen -> back to Koushiro when involving 02 team's extended efforts, who actively helps analyze any info they send, then shares it + any theorizing to the Network)

-In this A.U., Steve, who as a Jew doesn't particularly 'enjoy' being kept in the 'dark' about Whats Happening to the Self when it's impacting Steve's {religious} (+daily) life, ends up reaching out to Koushiro earlier on to try and get to know the Chosen in Odaiba better, and also show solidarity with Koushiro's group's efforts. In the end, it's likely because of Koushiro's extended earlier efforts, as well as getting to know the U.S. Chosen better in Steve's own time, that Steve succeeds in remaining semi-active as a main member of the U . S. Chosen, and semi-active in acting as support that can easily be called upon, like most International Chosen.

-Koushiro and Steve in this A.U. share a friendship and communication style that TRANSCENDS what most may think of as "friendship" or "good" styles of ""communication"" - both know (Steve especially also knowing thanks to own culture) that no matter how far apart they are, they can always rely on each other to be there when needed (or wanted), even if it's difficult to "physically" meet up in off-line life.

-As stated in this scene, Steve wasn't necessarily first 'Chosen' in 1991, or at least not 'exactly' in the same timeframe as Michael. (I also headcanon Steve being some months older than Michael, who I consider to be around the same age/Japanese school year as Koushiro and Mimi, so Steve would possibly be on the older end of year, for the most part, if not born the same year/timeframe as Taichi, just Chosen a little later.)

[hypnagogics]

You should definitely write for Vi bc oml she’s so fine 😮‍💨

DO U EVEN KNOW THE WAY IM TWEAKIN OVER HER like omfg. my poor moots getting bombarded with fucking piles of edits upon edits of her and my thirsty comments...yeah...i gotchu, you don't needa ask me twice ♡ tbh feel like this is one of the better short smutty thingies i've written, lol. it was really fun.

nsfw drabble—dom!vi + spit kink. originally i was gonna make this three smaller blurbs, but decided to just smash em all into one longer drabble situation. cw: praise, bossy vi, finger sucking (r! receiving), oral (v! receiving), vi bush mention RAHHHH, yapping... yk how it is by now. + 1.1k wc.

you were gazing up at her with watery eyes, kneeling by vi's seated form, trying your hardest to ignore the deafening ache between your thighs.

vi is loving, and she knows how to treat you well. she always provides you with tons of care and happiness, however—she also possesses a dirty side to her.

a bandaged hand swipes at the bottom of your chin, her thumb prodding at your pursed lips. there was a smirk playing on her scarred lips, her powder-blue eyes twinkling with pure lust at the scenario playing out before her.

“open.” she says roughly, and who are you to deny her? you were willing to take anything she'd give you, so you obediently part your lips, allowing her to fully push her digit inside your hot mouth.

almost instinctively, your puffy lips wrap around her thumb and you begin to suck, your eyes rolling ever so slightly at the taste of her salted skin. she hums, “atta girl—keep going. just like that, until i say you can stop, alright?” you open your eyes and nod in approval, wishing to commit her expression to memory.

see, vi wasn't one of those mean, degrading doms with an icy exterior who get off on hurting you an excessive amount, and in moments like this where she's got you in a position of submission under her, her natural “switchiness” peeks through. you see it in the way her throat bobs as she swallows, her unsteady, shallow breathing coming out in rasps, and the distinct furrow in her flaming brows while she struggles to maintain eye contact. regardless, you both enjoy toying around with various dynamics, she makes it fun.

you get lost in a daydream while staring into her eyes, but are startled out of it when she strongly presses down on your wet tongue, and pushes her thumb further inward until you gag.

it surprises you, but you know she would never overdo things. tears well up in your eyes, their presence only widening her voracious grin.

then she soothes, her now-soft voice caressing your ears, “exactly, just like that. good job, baby. you're so perfect f'me—yeahhh.” she continues rolling her thumb around your wet muscle, every so often dragging the pad of her finger over the ridges of your teeth, then pushing experimentally up against the roof of your mouth.

saliva has been gathering all this time, and she hasn't given you a moment to swallow it, so it dribbles out of your mouth and down your chin, decorating your chest as it slides down your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps along its path.

her face gets impossibly redder as she observes the sight, still while playing with—rather, using—your mouth. her movements speed up a touch, and she triggers your gag reflex once more before abruptly stopping. she pulls her hand out of your mouth with a pop, and throws her head back as she tries to steady her breathing. “you're so fuckin’ hot, god—i can't.”

you smile up at her, reveling in her break of character and being pleased with yourself. she's panting, and examines her hand; it's shiny and dripping with your spit, she's mesmerized by the sparkle it emits in the low light. her periwinkle eyes gloss over and suddenly there's a flash of fabric flying by, and you realize she has undressed herself in one fluid motion, throwing everything on her bottom half across the room. she’s so desperate, you can’t help but sneer at her horny distress, even though technically you were the one being overpowered.

your eyes drop, meeting a wild tangle of vermillion and crimson, her muscular thighs separating east and west to make space for you.

she leans back and gently nudges your head towards her tender, drooling core, her chest heaving at the way you're just melting under her touch. turning to jelly, you let her guide you where she wants. needs.

vi groans quietly, her breath hitching, “c'mon angel, you know what to do.” and you very much did. with her assistance, you advance and bury your face in her center, tongue finding her scarlet pearl—twitching and ready for you to obliterate.

you flick, you suck, and you moan at the heavenly taste of her essence, revel in the noises she's producing above you. she pulls you further in, bucking her hips frantically to chase your skilled mouth. you push your tongue inside her quivering hole as far as it'll go, taking as much of her in your mouth as you can, and ignoring the lack of oxygen you're experiencing—you would be more than pleased if you were lucky enough to die this way.

she's watching you intently through half-lidded eyes, chewing on her rosy lips. when you meet her gaze from in between her legs, her face contorts and she releases a guttural whine, more slick leaking from her and filling your hard-at-work mouth.

her grip on your hair tightens and her abs tense, providing you with an image that's worthy of a climax just on its own. her head falls back, her lips parting to allow for pretty, high pitched and pathetic pleas to grace your ears. “ple—please baby, just like that. you're so fuckin' good, don't you dare stop—ah!”

without any warning she makes a vulgar mess of your face, the vice grip on your crown causing you to wince, but just as she requests, you don't dare move.

you tilt your head to get a better angle, practically making out with her swollen pussy. you drink up her cum, the near-sickly sweetness clouding your mind, coating your thoughts in a drunken haze.

the high is rippling through her at such an intensity her loud moans are replaced with pornographic whimpers, the sensations utterly ruining her. she squirms and arches, caging your head between her thighs until she gasps.

"hah—okay, okay, oh—fuck.” she stutters while she pushes you away, the tremor in her body evident. you sit back and examine your work, feeling proud of yourself, her fucked-out condition proving you did a good job.

she's sprawled on the bed like a starfish, still trying to slow her racing heart but manages to chuckle, basking in the aftershocks of a mind-melting session.

her words are slurred, yet satisfied. “did so good, that was so good…love your mouth s'much babe.”

you guffaw, and throw at her through chuckles, “i know, i am the best.” that sends her into a fit of giggles as well, and once she's calmed down she confirms.

“yeah, you really are.”

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