#does this ship even have a name???? is this a thing???? i doubt it

[vxsellie]

‧₊˚┊simple living things﹗

a hunger games!au ellie williams fanfiction.⌇ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭 𝔦𝔦

summary. to give a final goodbye to someone you love is generally the last thing anyone would ever wish to do. though, when being shipped off to your death, it's the equivalent to being given a final meal whilst on death row.

content warnings. abuse, mentions of death, implications of murder, and (the worst of all) a lesbian breakup

total wc. 5,225

notes!! here she is! i wrote this in one sitting on the night before christmas, literally up until two am bc my thoughts wouldn't stop flowing (ive had writers block for the past few months so you couldn't pry my keyboard from my cold dead hands). anyway here she is! once again, reminder that it's better read on ao3!

𝜗𝜚 series masterlist ⸝⸝ playlist ⸝⸝ ao3 𝜗𝜚

14:45.

DISTRICT SEVEN.

“What were you thinking?” 

Despite how loud Marlene’s voice is, it sounds rather muffled. Ellie’s thoughts all jumble together into a plethora of unintelligible abstraction. This results in outside noises becoming equally as cryptic.

After the Reaping, both tributes were escorted into the Justice Building and forced into separate rooms. Having grown up amid the Games, Ellie’s aware that this is the part where she’s supposed to say her final goodbyes to her loved ones — an hour of time allotted to these farewells. And, despite knowing that all twenty-three other tributes are going through the same thing, Ellie couldn’t feel more alone. There’s a sickening sense of finality to this. Like she’s cattle bred and born to await death. Like there’s nothing more to her life aside from this — being Reaped to never return.

And, with the time given, Marlene has opted to use the entirety of her visit reprimanding Ellie for how she’d acted on stage. Not that she doesn’t deserve to be chastised, she knows she does, but it’s still fucked up.

See, after her name had been drawn, Ellie’s entire world fell out from under her feet. She knew there was a possibility of her name being drawn, she’d be a fool not to at least acknowledge that fact. But to look that fate in the eye and have no way of revoking it? That’s an entirely different pill to swallow. As she stood atop that stage, the escort’s piping voice ringing through her ears, Ellie simply could not seem to comprehend it. But then she felt a weight in her hand, a warmth. She turned to see Riley, her jaw set and her eyes darkened. She grabbed Ellie’s hand and hoisted it into the air.

To Ellie, it was a rather odd thing to do. But, as Marlene is pointing out presently, it was an act of defiance against the Capitol itself. Ellie had no idea. Not that she doubts it, what with Riley’s outward distaste for the government, but it just hadn’t dawned on her that the mere act of holding a friend’s hand would piss off the Capitol. It’s kinda funny.

“What could you possibly be laughing at?” Marlene groans, her pacing coming to a halt as she whips around to face Ellie. Her expression isn’t one of rage, as initially expected. Instead, it’s one of genuine panic. Well shit, apparently holding hands really is treason.

Ellie doesn’t respond, her face dropping instantly. She pins her gaze to the floor, staring at the same rusted nail she’s been looking at for the past ten minutes. In fact, she’d been so zoned out that she hadn’t picked up a single thing that Marlene was trying to say. Usually, this would amuse her. But now, with her impending doom so leering, she can’t help but feel ashamed. She may never see Marlene again. And then what? Her last memory of the girl she’d raised from infantry would be of her zoned out whilst curled into a ball on a dilapidated sofa. That’s rather pathetic, is it not?

She shudders, pulling her knees even closer to her chest at the thought. She doesn’t yet know who was Reaped from the other Districts, but she’s sure they aren’t all pouting on their couches like children. Still, she can’t seem to remove herself from this position — one of self comfort. 

Something touches her knee and she flinches, tearing her gaze from the floor. She looks up to see Marlene sitting beside her on the couch, her gaze softened. Ellie hadn’t even noticed her approach. Fuck. See, this is the exact thing she’s worried about. If she were to zone out like this in the arena, she'd be dead within minutes.

“You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?” Marlene asks with a sigh. A wave of guilt washes over Ellie’s body before she nods, admittedly having heard nothing. “I was saying I’m sorry. I don’t mean to shout at you like this, especially considering the situation. I’m only lecturing you because I’m worried. I’ve seen the Capitol kill people for less than holding hands.”

Ellie shakes her head, though the act is faraway. “The Capitol can’t kill us now that we’re tributes. To do so would only result in more defiance from the viewers. They’re anticipating a show, to kill off the characters would be antiprogressive.”

“No, but they can surely make your time in the arena worse.” Marlene points out. 

Ellie thins her lips at this, but ultimately says nothing. This is not what she wants to hear right before being sent to her death. She wants consolation and comfort, not reminders of how little control she has in her own life. But that’s just how Marlene is — she gets stressed and rambles. Most of the time, it's a harmless habit. Right now, though, it’s proving to be rather taxing.

“Look,” She sighs, “I’m not good at this whole thing, talking. Everyone knows that. It’s– Well, it’s the entire reason I never had any kids of my own.” She sighs again trying desperately to make sense of her thoughts and word them in a way that doesn’t sound like an insult. “I never wanted children, but raising you was the best thing that ever could have happened to me. Losing you would thereby be the worst thing to ever happen to me. I only shouted at you because your safety means everything. But— you’re strong, Ellie, and so very brave. If you put your mind to it, you can make it out of that arena. I believe in you. All you have to do is believe in yourself.”

Ellie is certain that’s the most Marlene has ever spoken in one go without shouting or giving up halfway through. And for that, she’s grateful. Ellie swallows harshly, her throat suddenly feeling too big for her neck. She leans forward.

She doesn’t hug Marlene, not necessarily. She simply flops into her, thumping her forehead onto her shoulder. Her body is stiff and her jaw is clenched tight, but the act of the touch still carries a sense of sentimentality to it. Especially considering she and Marlene never hug. In fact, she thinks she only ever hugged her once in her whole life. Again, it’s not anything to pity her for, it’s just their relationship. A fact of life. Some people are touchy, others aren't. And Marlene is definitely among those who are not.

She rubs a hand up and down Ellie’s back, though it’s more so to do something with her hands rather than to comfort her. 

They remain like that for a long time, sitting in silence because neither of them are skilled at voicing their emotions. Ellie’s mind continues to move at a million thoughts per second, though it slows a little in the absence of Marlene’s shouting.

Roughly twenty minutes go by before Marlene pulls away. She has a hand on each of Ellie’s shoulders, a foot between their faces. She stares at her, brown eyes flicking across each one of her features, as though to memorize her before departure. Ellie mimics her, taking in the sight of the woman who raised her — from the slope of her nose to the arc of her brows. Afterall, this might be her last time to do so. No matter how hard she believes in herself.

“I ought to go visit Riley.” Marlene says with an awkward cough, standing from the couch. “She doesn’t have any family aside from you and I.”

It’s true. Riley’s family is rather complicated seeing as she doesn’t have any. It took seven years of being Riley’s friend before she confided in Ellie about her past. And, after hearing it, she couldn’t blame her for her hesitance. 

Her father was a rebel. He hated the Capitol and everything related to it. He wasn’t married to Riley’s mother when she got pregnant, hadn’t even been dating. They simply had a fling and moved on — hence his oblivion to the fact that she’d been a Peacekeeper. Riley’s dad lived a life of tranquil solitude, aside from frequent whippings as punishment for opposing the Capitol so vocally. Truly, he’d been lucky to not be assassinated on the spot for his insubordination. The entirety of Seven knew him for his rebellious nature.

So, when Riley’s mother came forth with an infant in her arms, he was shocked. He couldn’t believe that she’d gotten pregnant. Though, more importantly, he couldn’t believe she was a fucking Peacekeeper. He tried to keep his calm, civilly agreeing to partial custody over their daughter. 

But, when Riley was about four years old, their refined consensus came to an abrupt end. They got into an argument. And a bad one, at that. Nobody knows the exact details to its origin or entailments, but it’s widely known how it ended — Riley’s mother dead and her father as an Avox for the Capitol. His punishment for her murder.

Riley subsequently grew up in an orphanage, though she inherited her father’s rebellious nature and oftentimes escaped over the fence. She’d spent more time in the woods than she had in the decelit building — chopping wood and climbing trees and visiting the Hob. She’d grown rather skilled at it, the illegality of escaping. She met Ellie in elementary. She’d been scaling the fence, intending to flee the school. Ellie had caught her and insisted she teach her how to do it. Begrudgingly, Riley agreed. From there, with many details gone unmentioned, they became friends. Now look at them Reaped for the Hunger Games together. Ugly ending to a beautiful story.

“Yeah.” Ellie agrees curtly to Marlene’s suggestion. “Yeah, she’d appreciate that, I think.”

Marlene nods in agreement prior to turning on her heel and exiting the room.

Ellie sits alone for a few minutes, returning to her humiliating fetal position. She hugs her legs to her chest, dirty shoes on the cushion of the couch. Though the sofa isn’t in the best shape considering the prodding springs and frayed stuffing. She rests her chin on her knee, staring at the rusty nail she’s grown so fond of.

She’s not sure how long she sits like that before a knock is heard at the door. She groggily tells them to enter, causing the door to creak on its hinges. A face pokes inside prior to the body attached. Cat.

Her black hair is done up, pinned into a purposefully messy bun, bangs cut shorter than usual. It looks put together, but in that I-woke-up-like-this way. Her eyelids are colored in a shiny crimson, her lips in the same glossy tint. Her skin looks inhumanly smooth, her eyebrows impossibly thin. She’s wearing a strapless baby pink dress that’s uncomfortably close to the shade of her skin, coming to her midthigh. Her shoes are the same red as her eyes and lips, clicking against the wooden floor as she walks. She looks like a Capitolite in the way her features are accentuated, though human enough for Ellie to still find her attractive

She instantly straightens, confused. “Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be on a train to the Capitol?”

“Well,” Cat begins, shutting the door softly behind her as she walks over to the couch Ellie is curled atop. She sits down beside her, the cushion dipping under her weight, which instinctively pulls Ellie toward her. “I caused a bit of a scene, insisting I had to see you. And, considering it’s a hassle to find another stylist so late into the Games, I simply dared them to fire me. They didn’t, of course, and instead opted to just give me time to see you, albeit minimal.”

Ellie laughs, though the sound is hollow. This draws a tight expression from Cat as she takes in the sight of the girl before her. Ellie suddenly feels self conscious, wearing a wrinkled linen shirt while Cat looks like a literal fucking deity. Not to mention the pathetic way she’s presenting herself — small and weak. She sits upright, swallowing as she runs her hands down her shirt in a futile attempt at flattening it.

Cat stops her, placing a hand on her wrist. Ellie looks at the place where she touches her, taking in the sight of her perfectly done nails. Baby pink with crimson colored accents. God, every single detail of her is altered for the Capitol’s preference.

“I got you something.” Cat whispers, removing her hand from her wrist to reach into the purse Ellie hadn’t even noticed she carried with her. She holds out her hand, a small piece of metal resting in the center of her palm. A ring, in the shape of a moth. The body is the centerpiece, the wings made to wrap around the finger. “Here,” Cat grabs Ellie’s hand, pulling it forward before slipping the ring onto her index. 

“I love it,” Ellie breathes, holding her hand out in front of her to admire the ring.

“I made it myself.” Cat says. Ellie should have guessed. She knew Cat enjoyed making jewelry, using spoons and other random hunks of metal to concoct something ugly into something pretty. She’s spoken of the hobby before, though she’s never revealed any of the end products. This is Ellie’s first time seeing one of them.

She suddenly recalls the rule that tributes are permitted to bring one token into the arena from home. One thing to remind them of their identities — which are sure to be lost in the Games. Ellie had completely forgotten about the rule, it never having crossed her mind. But looking at this ring now, she’s certain this is the perfect thing to bring. A reminder of home. Not of a place, but of a person. Of Cat.

“I love it.” Ellie repeats more furtively, turning to kiss her.

However, before their mouths are able to touch, Cat lifts her hand to Ellie’s chest. She pushes her away. And, though the act is as gentle as possible, Ellie still feels as though she’d been shoved. She leans back. Cat’s expression is pained, not at all matching the cheerful makeup she wears.

She shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut. “I love you, Ellie. Truly. A part of me likely forever will. But– to be in love with you would only end in causing us both an insurmountable quantity of pain. I can’t consciously do that to you. Even our current relationship is deteriorating your mental health. You’re too dependent on what we have, too afraid to lose it. To allow you to continue down this road would be wrong of me. To even have begun it was wrong. And now that you’re going into the arena, I just– adding yet another burden to your shoulder would be wholly immoral.”

Ellie doesn’t know when, but amid that confession, she’d begun crying. Not just due to the breakup, though, if she could even consider it that. But due to everything. Riley distancing herself recently, the Reaping, Marlene’s shouting, Marlene’s halfhearted farewell, and now this? On top of it all?

“So you’re breaking up with me to ease your own fucking conscience?” Ellie snaps. She doesn't mean to say it. She doesn’t. It’s just all become so much for her to carry. And it’s so easy to drop it on Cat after what she’d just done.

“No.” She insists, nigh pleading in her denial. “Ellie, no, you know that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then why even give me this?” She asks, holding out her hand with the ring on it. “For me to bring a reminder of your absence into the arena?”

“No, no.” Cat continues to deny Ellie’s accusations. “Not to remind you that I left, but to remind you why I left.”

Ellie scoffs, “Now you’re just saying shit. You’re not even trying to make sense.”

“Moths, Ellie.” She says, grabbing her hand in desperation for her to just fucking listen. “They’re attracted to the light. No matter where they go or– or what environment they’re placed in, they find a light. Something to always keep them going. Something to fight for. Something to reach. I’m holding you back, don’t you see? I don’t want you to fight to get home. I want you to fight because you know you’re worth it. You’re worth living for, even without me or Riley or Marlene. For you. Be your own moth, your own light.”

Ellie wipes roughly at her face, fists scrubbing at her eyes painfully. She wishes she had something clever to say. Something smart that would make Cat rethink everything. But all she can muster is a mumbled, “Moths are fucking ugly.”

14:45.

DISTRICT FOUR.

Your ears are ringing, a loud chiming sound that makes your head swim. Despite this, you keep your chin high as your mother shouts orders at you. You’ve long since tuned her out, which is something you’d never had dared to do prior to the Reaping. But you’re being sent to the arena — you’ll either die in there and never see her again, or you’ll come back a victor and thereby be of higher status than her. Whatever you do now matters naught.

She’s rambling on about something regarding orders to return home. Not because she cares for your wellbeing, but because it’d shame the entire family if you were to die on live television. 

She’s standing across the room from you, her pale blue dress somehow perfectly cleaned despite the journey she made across the grassy courtyard to the Justice Building. Her wrinkled face is contorted into an unreadable expression, the illegibility irritating you. Her golden cane is perched under her clasped hands. God, the woman is the embodiment of power despite having earned none. 

“I get it.” You cut her off, tone just as sharpened as hers, almost as though you’d spent years honing it into a blade serrated enough to challenge her. “I’ll come back. If not, you’ll be embarrassed. Poor you, right?”

The expression of shock on her face is almost worth the punishment — which ends up being hit by the end of her cane. Had it been the usual wood, the pain would be tolerable. But it’s pure gold, causing your mouth to fill with blood. You spit onto the floor and she begins to reprimand you for doing that, deeming it to be improper. You ignore her, massaging your newly bruised face.

The punishment for your statement would likely have been far more severe if you weren’t destined to be put on camera for the country to gawk at. A wound on your face would be shameful. A bruise, though? Your prep team can surely cover that up with a bit of makeup.

She finishes her castigation, seeming to have worn herself out. She then turns and storms out of the room. You almost didn’t notice her swift exit, as she’d made no effort to say goodbye or wish you luck. Just ten minutes of shouting prior to causing a splitting headache and a bruise to the jaw, uncaring to hear you utter a single syllable. Best mom ever.

See, most people deem this event as emotional — an hour allotted to parting ways with your loved ones. But your mother doesn't see this as a parting. She expects to irrefutably see you again. And very shortly, at that.

You’re alone in the room for only a few seconds before a shy knock is heard at the door. You’re confused by this, unsure of who else could be here to see you. “Come in.” You call out, moving to stand over the stain of blood you’d left on the shiny hardwood floor. Thankfully, your dress is long enough that the skirts cover up the space beneath you.

The door opens and a wrinkly old man pops inside. Your lips part at the sight of mister Alden entering the room. You rush forward, offering your aid in his walking. He takes it, looping his arm around the crease of yours.

There’s a small couch with two cushions in the corner of the room. You walk him over to it, easing him onto the sofa before sitting next to him. You cross your legs, “What are you doing here? I know it’s a far journey from where you live.”

He sighs, “You’re like a daughter to me, Y/n. And, though neither of us are willing to address that aloud, we’re both well aware of it. I’ve known you since you were three years old and just learning how to walk. In fact, I can vividly recall the very day I’d met you — you were asleep on your brother’s back, clinging to him like a sloth as he made the trek down to the docks. You were such a small thing, then. Chubby little face and a diaper that didn’t fit.” He smiles fondly, looking at you as though he still views you that way, a baby. “The point is, to not visit you would be cruel. And I’m not a cruel man.”

Your eyes burn as you listen to him. He’s right. You both know it. You and Ruben are like children to him. And he is definitely not a cruel man. You wonder if he’d visited Ruben when he was Reaped. Probably. But you don’t dare ask, not wanting to speak of your brother any more than necessary.

“Oh!” He jolts as though he’d just remembered something vitally important. 

You watch as mister Alden reaches into the pocket of his coat and pulls out a dainty necklace. A white pearl resides in the center, acting as a pendant to the thin silver chain. Your gaze softens as you look at it hanging between his shaky fingers.

“It’s beautiful.” You tell him.

“I want you to have it, to take it into the arena.” He says. “You remember my granddaughter, the one who was facing her first Reaping today? She made it for herself, and planned to wear it into the arena had her name been drawn. She spent weeks searching for the perfect pearl, then another few weeks saving up money to buy the chain.”

Your chest twists at hearing this. You could easily buy something like this from a small shop down by the beaches. It wouldn’t even cost you a day’s allowance. You shake your head. “I can’t take this from her. It’s too special.”

“I insist.” Says he. “When she heard your name called, she instantly turned to me, slipped the necklace into my pocket, and demanded that I bring it to you.” He lets out a light chuckle. “Her ferocity reminds me of you, actually. I don’t even remember telling her about my visits to your house. No shock she found out, though, she’s so bright for her age.”

With a grunt, he pushes to his feet. You rush to do the same, standing beside him in case he needs assistance. Instead of asking for aid, he tells you to turn around. Without hesitation, you oblige. You then feel something cold wrap around your neck. You look down to see the thin necklace now placed across your collarbones. It’s absolutely stunning. Mister Alden fumbles with the clasp, his shaky hands struggling to work the tiny thing.

When he finally gets it on, you turn around to see that he has tears in his eyes. He takes in the sight of the pearl necklace paired with the navy dress, the silver chain matching the silver diamonds adorning it. He nods, wiping roughly at his eyes. “You’ve grown into such a lovely young woman.”

You swallow the lump in your throat before pulling him into a hug, having to hunch over a bit due to his lack of height. He hugs you back, sniffling. It’s rather telling that the random stranger that you buy your seafood from is more caring than anyone in your family. But he’s not a stranger, is he?

After a few minutes of sentimental embrace, he finally parts from you and leaves. On the way out, you catch a glimpse of a tear rolling down his cheek, the droplet catching the light for a split second.

Alone in the room with about ten minutes remaining, you walk over to the window. You look at your reflection in the shined glass, taking in the sight of the necklace. Knowing how long it’d taken to create only adds to its beauty. The dresses your mother has fitted for you are paltry; replaceable. But this? Nobody could recreate the months spent making it, nor could they recreate the small hands that did so.

The sound of footsteps entering the room draws you from your thoughts. You catch his reflection in the window before he’s even fully through the door. Your entire body tenses, something shifting in the air at his presence. Something deep, deep inside you. Like the atoms that make up your very being have been furtively yearning for this moment. For his proximity.

You turn to face him fully.

Ruben.

You’ve seen him around, of course. You’d seen him less than an hour ago. Everyone has seen him, what with the Capitol flashing him around nigh as much as the country’s flag. He’s their brightest diamond and their largest star — the abnormal mixture of UY Scuti with Sirius, creating something impossible to tear one's eyes away from.

You two have spoken as well, albeit in short increments and only when mandatory. So, truly, you’re not sure if it counts in terms of conversation.

He shuts the door slowly, facing you with an unreadable expression. No– that can’t be right. You could always read him, you could always understand him. But right now, not a single word comes to mind as you look at him. He’s a closed book that you’d once memorized every page of.

He stares at you for a moment, gaze lingering on the bruise forming on your cheek. You wonder if you should hide it or not. But he likely knows exactly how it was induced — knowing the feel of your mother’s cane all too well, as he’d grown up taking hits for you daily. It takes a few minutes, but he eventually tears his eyes from your face and looks around the room, looking at the intricate ceiling or the swaying chandelier.

“Been a while, huh?” He huffs a laugh, though it’s dry and lacking any scrap of genuine humor.

You think about this, about what he said. It’s been a while. The world’s biggest understatement, that is. You’re suddenly filled with an immeasurable amount of rage. It’s been eleven fucking years. And he has the nerve to say it’s been a while?

Eleven years since he was Reaped. Eleven years since he was the one in this room. Eleven years since you came to visit him, sobbing and begging him not to go to the arena. Eleven years since Ruben returned from the arena. Eleven years since your brother never returned. Eleven years since the boy who raised you, who protected you, who taught you to walk and talk and eat, vanished.

You say nothing to him, not trusting yourself to speak without either screaming or crying. Or, most likely, both. So, insead, you remain silent.

Ruben sighs, leaning back against the wall with crossed arms. Something about that action makes you visibly wince. He’s so confident. The Ruben you knew was an awkward young boy, made complete with lanky limbs and oversized eyes. Strange little habits — like the way he didn’t ever know what to do with his arms, or the way he always tapped his left foot when he was nervous — made him human. But not anymore. He now knows exactly what to do with his arms and he wouldn’t dare show when he’s nervous. His humanity is just another thing the Capitol stripped him of.

“You don’t have to say anything, just listen.” Says Ruben. He then inhales deeply, his jaw set and eyes piercing; a Capitolite in all but name. “This is the last time we won’t be monitored. After leaving this room, everything will be tracked and recorded and analyzed — the train, the center, the arena. From here, you’re never alone. Even in the bathrooms, privacy doesn’t exist.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “So you’re saying you need to tell me something the Capitol can’t hear?”

“Yeah,” He breathes, “Exactly.”

“Okay, so what is?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. Of course that’s what he’s here for. Not to wish you well or say goodbye — though he likely also expects you to win; he was raised by the same monsters, after all — but, instead, to warn you. To make sure you survive the arena so as to not penetrate the family name.  

“Something is wrong with this year’s Reapings.” He explains. “Districts Two and Three both had a pair of siblings Reaped – Lev and Yara from Two, Sam and Henry from Three. Then, if that weren’t enough proof as is, Districts Five and Seven both Reaped a set of best friends — Selene Jones and Ariande Evans from Five, Riley Abel and Ellie Williams from Seven. Not to mention the pair of lovers that were Reaped from Six — Roland Jennings and Archie Bardot.”

You take in what Ruben is saying, thinking hard about it. You were Reaped alongside a small child, a little boy who you’d never seen before in your life. That doesn't seem rigged, but there ought to be some kind of intentional malice behind it.

“How do you know all of this?” You ask, though you know the answer. “The Reapings haven’t aired yet.”

“I know people.” He says rather ashamedly, as though he’s already aware of the kind of reaction this will draw from you. 

Anger sparks up once more at the mention of his ties to the Capitol. Not only is he using the Capitol to help you in the games — a perk no other tribute has — but he’s managed to fucking memorize every name name of importance. You don’t want to be treated as some sort of celebrity. You were Reaped with equally poor luck as Lev, Henry, or Ellie; or whatever their names were. You should therefore be held to the same expectations, not given hints into the Games. Which, by the way, is highly illegal. Not like Ruben would be punished. He could probably murder a Peacekeeper on stage and manage to get away with it. 

It makes you sick.

“Okay, great.” You bite. “You told me what you needed, you can leave now.” “No, Y/n, you’re not understanding.” He insists, taking a step forward. You take one backward, almost on instinct. A pained expression crosses his face, though it vanishes just as quick as it’d appeared. He sighs, running a hand down his face. “These tributes won’t be killing for the sake of winning, they’ll be killing to save themselves alongside their loved ones. Had you and I been in the arena together, our strength would have doubled. Just imagine that. For at least five other Districts, their wills to live are multiplied. And the—”

His words are cut off as the door slams open and Peacekeepers come filing into the room to rudely announce that your time is up. It’s time to board the train to the Capitol. To the Games.

[post] notes!! don't really have any (for once), i'm just so so so so excited for u guys to read this bc i write things way prior to posting bc i like to proofread like 50 time before releasing it. anyway yeah, u guys barely know abt this bad boy while im typing this

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[nereidprinc3ss]

baby names

in which spencer comforts you after you wake from a good dream about becoming a mother

fluff! warnings/tags: fem!reader, reader sort of wants to be a mom sort of doesn't, they discuss having a child in the future, talk of pregnancy stuff, I think that's it! a/n: another short sweet fluff piece that is by no means going to get me a pulitzer but is cute nonetheless!! love u!!! let me know if u enjoyed!!

Spencer wasn’t in the room when you fell asleep into an impromptu nap, induced by the pattering rain, the low light of your bedside lamp, the warmth of your favorite throw blanket—but he is when you wake up. Home from work, sprawled on the bed next to you, long legs crossed and as close as he thought he could get without disturbing your slumber. 

“You came home,” you whisper groggily, curling into his side and letting your sleepy eyes flutter shut again. 

He pulls you closer against him, rubbing your arm. “I always do.” A low, affectionate chuckle that buzzes from his chest and dizzies you. “You tired?”

You hum a distant affirmation. Visions of diaphanous pink, of sweet cooing, of a haloed Spencer doused in warm light and smiling down at a some blanket-bundled creature in his arms, still burn behind your eyelids, fading with every passing second. The gentle classical music you’d been playing earlier now blends with the sound of evening rain tapping ceaselessly against the window. Spencer is warm next to you, scent familiar and comforting and only contributing to your drowsiness—but a lingering sort of sadness still claws at your stomach. Emptiness. It bites like a shock of icy water. It’s just a small thing. You feel silly for being upset, but you are upset, and you want to tell him. 

“I had weird dreams.”

Spencer offers a hum of his own (perhaps a habit you’d picked up from him) and you open your eyes, watching him watch the rain. The stark angle of his jaw, the sweet slope of his nose. Any baby he had a hand in creating would be absolutely cherubic. “You know, Carl Jung said dreams are hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul.”

You fiddle with the knit of his sweater, and he covers your hand with his own, looking back down at you, deep eyes full of easy contentment. Like as long as you’re together, he can’t imagine a thing to be worried about. 

“Wait—the dreams are the door? Where does the door go?”

His brows pinch slightly as he recalls what is no doubt an exact quotation. 

“Uh—he said they led to a primeval cosmic night, that is soul long before there was conscious ego, and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach.”

You frown, sleepy head aching as you twist your brain into knots trying to decode the ornate language. “Was he the weird incest-y one?”

Spencer chuckles again. “Nope. That was Freud. Jung was essentially saying that there is something primal and instinctual about our dreams. He said they were our way of accessing the unconscious, which can process things the conscious psyche can’t, and our consciousness was a ship on the great sea of unconsciousness.”

“You’re losing me, Dr. Reid.”

The corner of his mouth flickers up. 

“He just meant they offered us an unbiased look at our lives. Our desires, our needs, unburdened by conscious ego.”

Our desires. Our needs. 

You chew your lip. 

“What does dreaming about having a baby mean?”

You say it because Spencer is your closest friend as well as your partner and you trust him completely with every thought in your head—but the way his hand pauses on your arm makes you nervous. 

He takes a moment to dissect your answer, digging for a hidden meaning like a precious gem, and then, once he decides there are no landmines, proceeds cautiously. 

“Well… some people say that a baby in your dream is a representation of you. It could indicate a desire to nurture, or a need to be nurtured.” Again you make a noise of vague acknowledgement. His hand starts back up again on your arm, and he delves gently deeper. “Why? Did you dream about having a baby?”

For a moment, you can only nod. Suddenly you’re choked up, releasing an exhaled, “Yeah,” as tears cloud your vision. He gives you a moment, just holding you as you try to find the words to continue. “It felt really real. I mean—I think I knew it wasn’t, but I was so happy that I didn’t care. I—she—” You laugh tearfully. “I’m being ridiculous, I know, I just… I miss her. Is that crazy?”

“That’s not crazy,” he says quietly. A stretch of silence follows, and the brief deluge of tears fades to trickling stop. Spencer is probably used to you enough so that he’s not surprised when you huff dramatically, trying to dispel your melancholia with a hefty dose of drama. 

“I wanna have a baby!”

Your boyfriend releases a surprised laugh as you bury your head against his chest, but it only takes him half a second to root his hand in your hair and hold you there. 

“Because of your dream?”

“Yes!” You sniffle into his sweater. “She was so perfect, ’nd sweet. I wanna have a baby so much.”

“With who?”

You look up at him tearfully and visibly frustrated. His eyes betray only fondness. “You, Spencer! Who else?”

“No one! No one else.”

You collapse again, satisfied with his answer. 

“You were such a good dad. It was—oh my god, you were so happy. You were holding her, and smiling at her, and—can we please have a baby?”

“Oh, sweet girl,” he coos, half chuckle, voice tinged with pity. His hand sweeps over and over your hair in a soothing pattern. 

You pout, hiding even further away against him. “That’s not an answer.”

“We can’t have a baby right this second, if that’s what you’re asking me.”

“Why not?”

He hums, pretending to consider the question, hand still carding gently through your locks, detangling. 

“You’re not pregnant, for one thing.”

“I might be.”

“I doubt it.”

“I could be.”

He angles your head up, smiling. Those warm brown eyes of his are full to the brim with sparkly affection. “Do you have something to tell me?”

“No, I’m saying, we could have a baby.”

The curve of his mouth lessens though doesn’t entirely dissipate, and the subtle lines next to his eyes soften as he regards you. There are a thousand reasons you shouldn’t have a baby right now, but Spencer knows you know that, and it’s still not what you want to hear right this second. 

“We could.”

He’s not being serious, but your heart flutters anyway. 

“Really?”

“Sure. Sounds like you have it all figured out.”

“Spencer. I’m not joking. You’re not taking me seriously.”

Spencer pulls you closer, and though you’re mildly annoyed, you allow it with a huff. 

“I am taking you seriously. Like the plague.”

“I know you want kids.”

“I do.”

“We can have kids.”

“Angel. We have time. I believe that you want a baby, and I’m overjoyed that you want one with me. And you know we’d need more time to talk about it.”

Of course, you probably will change your mind tomorrow, and again the next day, and Spencer will love you then and every time you change your mind thereafter. 

“Do you love me?” You ask softly, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your hand and not looking at him. Just to make sure. His eyes are liquid adoration on you. 

“More than anything in the whole world.” And maybe, you think, you’re okay with keeping it that way. For just a bit longer, at least. Spencer squeezes your arm. “I do think you’ll get to meet her again one day. I’ll get to meet her.”

You smile to yourself, imagining your little dreamy baby girl back in your arms. “One day.”

He kisses the top of your head. 

“Did we name her in your dream?”

“Elizabeth. But only because in my dream your mom’s name was Elizabeth, for some reason? I don’t… I can’t explain that.”

“Hm... I love my mom, but I don't know if I'd want to name my baby Diana. Feels too prophetic.”

“Hold on, I have like, a hundred baby name ideas. Can you hand me my phone? I’m gonna tell you all of them. First and middle name combinations.”

Spencer reaches for your phone on the side table. “Boy and girl?”

You scoff, settling into the crook of his arm, head on his shoulder, so he can see your phone screen. 

“We’re not having a boy, Spencer.”

“Oh. My mistake.”

You smile and tangle your legs with his, searching through your notes app with your non-dominant hand for your list of ridiculous baby names. 

“I can’t believe you would even suggest that. You're obviously going to be a girl dad.”

“Am I?”

“Yes! Oh my god, I’m so glad I'm not pregnant because you’re clearly not ready. You have a lot to learn. Okay, how does Artemisia Valencia October Reid sound to you?”

You’re lucky he loves you so much.

[radio-fmm]

You must live

What if Luffy and reader got out of Marineford with Ace?

Ace x reader

2.1k words, gn reader, SFW fluffy at the end

Depictions of war and injuries, happy ending!!! Idc idc, the most plot accurate thing I’ve ever written I guess if you haven’t catched up to marineford then don’t read, or do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I ain’t the boss of ya’

War

It had creeped up on you like a nightmare from which you cannot wake up, your heart thrumming in your chest as you repeat to yourself that nothing’s real, that it’ll past— But it doesn’t

You still remember how you got here, the fear after seeing Ace stomping out the deck just about to jump to his striker as he argued with your dad because you knew there was not stopping him, yet you plead

“Don’t do it” now you stood between his sizzling anger and the edge of the ship, arms immediately grabbing his as a cry for help

“I have to do this, you know I do… I can’t let that bastard step on my dad’s name” as you looked right into his gaze you could just feel there was something else, something he was trying to prove not to your dad, not to the crew or you but to himself— Like he had to be of use to deserve his place

“Then I’m going with you” never in your life you had spoken with such conviction; you run to the side of the deck to gather a backpack and quickly tossing some food that was left laying around before everyone had stopped to convince your stubborn lover and failed miserably

“NO!” in all your time with Ace you had never heard him raise his voice at you, but you gave it no mind, quickly scrabbling anything useful for the journey at your arms reach

“Yes” everyone stood frozen knowing better than to speak up, you and Ace were so painfully similar, stubbornness one of the qualities on that list

“I have to do this myself, I want you here where you’re safe” he tried to quickly reach for the backpack now all full and packed but to not avail since you were quicker to toss it on your shoulders and walked straight to his striker

“I can handle myself just fine. I am going because I want to, I am making that decision,”- the silence that followed your statement was seasoned with desperation from the man that was onto your toes -“If you think I’m letting you go by yourself you’re out of your mind Portgas”

His last name leaving your lips had him groaning, a warning to not question you since you had in fact already made your mind and there was not changing it— so stubborn

So you followed him, through the hot desserts of Alabasta, dangerous Marine base’s and infested seas; you would’ve followed him to the end of the world

Maybe that’s were you find yourself now— the love of your life chained about to be executed like his death had something to proof; his blood not one he choose but now being punished for it, the world had failed him even before he was born and it pains you that you didn’t know, that he didn’t tell you about all the self doubt, insecurities and regrets that blinded him, a lot of things now making sense as you recall some of his behavior even before you began to build your relationship— his search for a life worth living that now you and him wonder if he’ll ever get to taste. But you don’t hold it against him, how could you?

By your side stands his brother, a pirate you had met in your lovers journey that had doomed yourselves, a bright and brave pirate that now gives his life away for his big brother, even if there’s no more he can give he does. And you? The pain that aches your heart also aches your bones, one more hit and you’ll probably be gone but you don’t care, as Ace’s voice rattles trough the dead and screams of pain it gives you all the energy and all the will to continue

“Why is it now that my brother, my dad, the love of my life and my crew fight for me, is that I find myself wanting to live?”

His words are drowned by his tears and your own but you feel them to the core, clenching your fists as you make your way through the war unfolding. Marines, pirates and family all fight for the future, you? You just want Ace to live, then you’ll give yourself the luxury of thinking about the future— A future where he is in

You scream his name at the top of your lungs making his head jolt up looking for you from high above, even though a battle cry, your voice soothes him but it also terrifies him. He fears for your life, and if you may want to keep him in it now that you know his biggest secret— what do you think of him now?

His fears quickly fade as you scream once more

“YOU HAVE TO LIVE ACE”

He doesn’t deserve you- he thinks. You had stood by him through thick and thin. even now you could turn away from this war and start anew, yet you fight for him, body scarred, bullets and punches flying above your head but your eyes look for his, your voice chooses to call for his name and reassure him even amongst the chaos— He feels your love as it expands through his tired form, combusting

“I LOVE YOU ACE, WE ALL DO, THAT’S WHY YOU HAVE TO LIVE BECAUSE YOURE WORTH IT”

Luffy glances back at you, the widest smile you’ve ever seen painted on his features, he calls your name while one of his hands holds your shoulder in a tight grip as if trying to keep you on the here and now “We are getting Ace out of here I promise”

That is the last thing you hear before everything becomes a blur, but you hold the promise close because you know it was made with a honest and pure heart. The Marines desperate to win the war and execute your lover pounce over you like a wild animal thirsty for what they call justice, but this is just a masacre. You hold onto the idea that this may pass too, like everything does

Somehow you pull trough, how? You still can’t comprehend, probably out of your resilience alone. Helping Luffy up to uncuff Ace’s restraints knowing he’s the only one capable enough to set him free, and he lives up to his name shocking everyone as both brothers decent making the war hold its breath.

That’s when Ace finally can really see you, your face clear and your presence heavy in his heart— it’s like the first time he ever saw you, love is the only thing stirring around his stomach even in the middle of his own demise as you stand in front of him, there’s nothing more he wants than to kiss you senseless right now, cry as you hold him tight grateful you’re here

But this is not over

It might never be

Your feet move at the speed of light, Ace’s hand wrapped around yours in the tightest grip as if grounding him, while also keeping you safe and sound. You must’ve been thrilled, the love of your life free and by your side now, yet, this cruel world seemed to just hate him- forever cursed by the blood running through his veins

It dawns on you very quickly how getting out of this hell wouldn’t be easy, that you will have to leave people behind just to be free, and it pains you both to have to turn your backs on your captain, your dad. You see the distress trough Ace’s face as he escapes, his heart thrumming louder and louder but apparently not loud enough as he catches the voice of Akainu- one of the Marines admiral’s calling his dad weak, even as he dies for you all

He stops, so do you and as you turn to look for his gaze you catch that same glint that was the reason of this nightmare. Ace was angry, it bubbles on his being like it has done so many times before and you know there’s not changing the course of this— you feel hopeless

You stand terrified in the presence of the admiral, a ruthless man that kills in the name of justice but he’s no different to even the most evil criminals he has wiped from the seas. You are not a believer in any means, but you find yourself prying to anyone above that you’re not next on his list

Ace bites back, Akainu lures him as he continues to spit venom on the ones he loves, the symbol tattooed on Ace’s back nothing but reminding you of how far he can go- and he will now

Because he would never turn his back on the people he loves

It all happened so fast yet so slow; your lover hits the ground, red crimson puddle staining the hard floor as you panic. You turn to all directions as if looking for an answer, a miracle that would get you out of here alive

Then you see it, bright and burning at the heat of the sun— Akainu’s punch flies as it tries to burn Luffy like icarus.

The rubber boy that had flew too close to the sun trying to protect the person he loves most

And of course Ace is rushing to protect him

It’s selfish really, the way you’re only thinking about how to get yourself out of this. You want to run away from the war harmless, untouched; alongside the ones you love standing by your side with a future to think about the next morning. It fuels you; all the grief, pain and anger rises and you don’t know how or why— maybe it was the entity up above that heard your desperate pleas and pulled on the strings of destiny

But… You punch Ace

You punch him harder than you have ever punched before, launching both of your hurt bodies to the other side of the battlefield. Akainu’s fist wavers, enough to miss his actual target, his little brother who holds Ace’s life between his fingertips while it sets alight once again

Everything stills, even as you hit the floor hard, you must’ve passed out after all this torturous time fighting, but you hold onto the little sanity and energy you can

Ace is looking at you incredulous— a million emotions tug at him as he looks back between you and his brother. Is he relieved? Angry? Scared?. For a moment his strong morals crumble as his gaze meets yours; you’re tired, so so tired yet hopeful as you plead for him to change his ways eve if it is for just this once, because you’re a selfish bastard

You can’t really make up what he’s saying to you now, you don’t really care as you use all in you to muster

“You must live Ace”

Your body shuts down, limp crashing on Ace’s naked top half as he holds you desperately, both of you may still lay on the battlefield but you feel safe because you know he’ll listen to you— you know he’ll live

And he would never let you down

It’s cold, you can make out a continuous beep that follows the rhythm of your slow heartbeat. You try to adjust the uncomfortable position in which you lay on your back, but your body doesn’t respond not even your eyelids as you beg them to show you where you are— Were you dead? Safe? At the bottom of the sea?

Air slowly enters your lungs, allowing your tired body to settle, you open your eyes a little hesitant now, a gray metal ceiling greets you

Another breath gives you the courage to move, you don’t recognize any of the coroners that your eyes land on, the bed creeks making the cowboy hat by your bed that was still in the corner of your eye jolt up

There they were, those eyes you adored more than anything… and that you thought you’ll never see again. They are different now, puddled with grief yet softer

It was reliving how after your ears had ringed for so long, to listen to your name spoken so softly, so lovingly

“You’re here” Ace can’t even bring himself to touch you, afraid you may shatter and there was just so much he wanted to say, to do, yet he only thanks you

He sobs now, allowing his walls to fall right at your feet because who else could’ve done it if not you

Your scarred hands cup his freckled face tenderly “Ace… you lived”

What a silly thing to say, of course he lived

Why wouldn’t he live?

Masterlist

I just finished Marineford and omg I just had this looping in my mind, Ace is my favorite character I see a lot of myself in him. This was written in 3 sittings so I may consider writing a corrected/longer version of it if people are interested because I am a huge nerd and love writing takes on arcs and stuff. Anyway Portgas D Ace you would always be famous

[skania]

Final Akane + AquaKane Thoughts

There are so many things to say that I don't even know how to start organizing my thoughts lol I'll also be including my final thoughts about the "love triangle" while I'm at it, so this is probably going to get long!

I've written quite a bit about Aqua/Akane this past year, so I won't be going into detail into any of the things I've already discussed up to now. Instead, I'll just focus on my thoughts on this final set of chapters, as well as my overall thoughts now that the manga is over.

I'll start with the (few) things I liked:

The Good

I mentioned before that I'm a sucker for parallels, and that Aqua/Akane having so many is one of the reasons why I couldn't help but ship them. We somehow got some very good ones in these last few chapters. We even got a scene at the Aqua/Akane bridge, the one where Akane's relationship with Aqua began and ended.

Aqua saved her life at that bridge, without any ulterior motives. And it's that very bridge that is pictured as Akane says that she has decided to live on. The imagery is poignant and pays its respects to not only Akane's arc as a character, but also to the Aqua/Akane relationship.

More than that, the parallels we got confirm things that Akane and Aqua/Akane fans like me have been saying all along:

Through it all, Akane saw him as he is and embraced the broken him. Each time, she willingly chose to get closer to him. When Aqua tells Akane that he has been saved ever since he met her, I get it. I have no doubt that for Aqua, who has been desperately fighting alone for so long, being seen and understood and loved despite all his self-perceived flaws and the darkness in him must have felt like salvation.

Akane is the one who knows Aqua the best, the one who knows him the most, the one who sees him exactly as he is and who loves all of him. Akane doesn't romanticize Aqua's flaws and his self-sacrificial nature, and neither does she idealize his virtues. She just accepts him and does her best to support and understand him through it all.

Akane being the only one who can see through Aqua's plan is enough to prove this, but it's actually not the most meaningful way in which Aka confirmed it. The most meaningful way was actually this:

Usually, whenever Akane thinks about Aqua, she calls him Aqua-kun. However, throughout her entire monologue in the last three chapters, Akane never addresses him by name. She just calls him "You". The same "You" (君) that Aka emphasized in Chapter 63.

The "You" that encapsulates everything Aqua Hoshino was: both the Goro and the Aqua.

This was a very, very deliberate narrative choice that tells you that throughout the manga, Akane was the one who loved Aqua Hoshino exactly as he was.

Aka also uses another parallel to confirm that Akane was indeed lying to Kana when she claimed that she was over Aqua.

When she finally breaks down, Aka allows Akane to be honest about her feelings, and the parallel to the Aqua/Akane break-up tells us everything we need to know.

Akane never stopped loving Aqua. She has been in love with him all along.

Ever since they broke up, Akane has been sacrificing her feelings for Aqua in order to do what she thinks is best for him. Akane's priority has always been to see Aqua happy. She is willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish that. Back when she thought that Aqua needed to kill Kamiki, Akane was willing to shoulder that sin with him just so he wouldn't have to carry it on his own. When she realized that what Aqua truly wanted was to be free from his revenge, Akane was ready to deal with Kamiki on her own just so that Aqua wouldn't get his hands dirty. Then, when Aqua pushes Akane away, Akane becomes determined to stop him from killing Kamiki because she knows revenge is not what Aqua truly wants or needs.

But that's not all there is to it. Akane wants to be with Aqua, because she loves him. And it's precisely because she loves him, and because she thinks her love failed to save him, that she keeps her feelings to herself and is even willing to help another girl get close to him in her place.

So this chapter confirmed that the one who has been making the sacrificial play, the one who truly loved Aqua, was Akane. It is, essentially, the counterpart to Chapters 148 and 149.

It's no wonder, then, that Akane's feelings and her grief are the ones we follow immediately after Aqua's death. She goes to mourn him in the place he actually died, and when she's around his family, she keeps her pain to herself in order to not worsen their burden. We see her piece together what happened, we see her break, and then we see Akane put herself together and find some solace in knowing that Aqua kept her away to protect her.

Aqua is gone, and Akane is the only one to know Aqua's truth.

A lot of people spent the entire manga trying to downplay Aqua's relationship with Akane; claiming that it was a lie, a manipulation, or what-have-you. Now that the manga is over, we can say those claims were never proven.

At the contrary, until the very end, Aqua's thoughts & actions in regard to Akane were shown to back-up everything he said about her during their relationship.

Aqua could've lived if he had asked Akane for help in killing Kamiki, but he didn't want Akane to get her hands dirty for him. He broke up with her to not bring her down to hell with him, and when the options were to either die alone or make Akane bear the weight of a sin with him, the choice was quickly made.

At the end, he's even shown wanting the same thing Akane wanted: an equal relationship with her.

Unlike his thoughts about Kana (more on that later), which are just a 'might', this is something Aqua is purposeful about. It's something he is sure he wants. It's even the last thing he thinks of before wanting to see Ruby at the dome, which we all know was his dearest wish.

This also fits the panels chosen to be shown in the "romance" part of Aqua's montage: the moment he doesn't catch Kana's ball (symbolizing that their feelings don't connect) vs the moment where he chooses to kiss and date Akane for real.

Which brings us back to the moment they broke up. That chapter was titled "Going Astray" and we now saw where that wrong turn led Aqua: to his death.

So chapter 98, the Aqua/Akane break-up, is pretty much officially the chapter that leads us to the ending we got.

Which means that what I said back in this post still applies. If Aqua and Akane had been honest with each other during that phone-call in Chapter 97, things could've been different. But truth is, it's nearly pointless to think about it, because what this all comes down to is that Aka wanted this ending and he wanted it at all costs.

So nothing could have happened any other way, because Aka didn't want Aqua to be saved. He wanted Aqua to die so he could have his forced "bittersweet" ending.

This is why Aqua and Akane had to break up, it's why Akane is practically not allowed to interact with Aqua again after their break-up, and it's also why Akane never found out about Aqua being Goro's reincarnation.

Aqua was never meant to be saved, and Akane more than anyone could have saved him. So, of course, Aka couldn't allow her to do so. It's forced writing at its finest.

This is also why Akane isn't involved in Aqua's fatidic confrontation with Kamiki. While there is Aka's typical contrived writing involved in Akane leaving Aqua to his own devices at the most crucial moment, I do think it makes sense.

I've mentioned before that from the very beginning, Aqua and Akane's relationship has been based on trust and on choices.

Aqua once gave Akane a choice, trusting that she'd be able to choose what was best for herself. After Akane made her choice, Aqua did everything in his power to help her accomplish her goal.

Ever since, Akane has been trying to do the same for Aqua.

Akane wants Aqua to choose what's right for himself. She will always respect whatever it is that he chooses, as long as it is a true reflection of what he wants and needs. This is why Akane was eager to stop his plan to kill Kamiki, she could tell that Aqua was ready to sacrifice his own future to accomplish it.

That's why, once Aqua chooses to let Kamiki live, Akane is reassured.

Something has changed in Aqua. Akane notices this and believes that Aqua has, finally, chosen to not throw his life away just to deal with Kamiki. She trusts that he has.

Personally, I'd like to believe that Akane was right. Problem was that once Aqua knew for sure that Kamiki couldn't be saved, he switched back to his original plan. Something Akane couldn't have foreseen without knowing that Aqua was the reincarnation of a dude whose issues made him suicidal... which is yet another reason why Aka could have never let Akane find out about the whole reincarnation business.

So all in all, Aqua/Akane-wise, this is all well and good. On paper.

When it comes to the execution however, it leaves a lot to be desired, because Aqua/Akane is sadly majorly brought down by the spectacular way in which Aqua's character was (mis)handled during the second half of the manga.

The Bad

Goro has always been someone who thinks his life has no worth, and this belief is deeply ingrained into Aqua. That's why I could tell that his revenge plan likely involved killing himself and making it look like Kamiki did it.

I just didn't think that he would actually succeed, because it kind of goes without saying that the suicidal character getting to kill himself is far from being a satisfying ending. Even less so when said character has shown time and time again that he actually wants to live, he is just too broken by his guilt complex to believe he has that right.

For a while there, it even looks like Aqua will make it. That he has once again started to embrace that this is a life that he wants to live.

Sadly, once Aqua realizes that Kamiki can't be saved and that he poses a danger to Ruby, all of that flies off the window and "Goro" takes over. And by "Goro" I don't mean Goro the character, I mean all the bad habits that Aqua has due to his guilt-complex and survivor's guilt.

So Aqua goes and executes his original plan, killing himself instead of looking for a better solution. Which means he started off like this:

Only to end the manga pretty much the same way, except you can switch "If Ai's gone, this world isn't-" for "As long as Ruby can live on in this world."

Though, actually, it's even worse than that, because Aqua realizes that he was wrong — dying would bother him — only when it's too late.

It leaves a bad taste in my mouth because it's like Aqua had no development through the entire manga. Cut everything after his break-up with Akane and nearly nothing changes, except the motive behind Aqua throwing his life away: protecting Ruby (Sarina) instead of revenge.

It all feels even more pointless because Aqua's death rings hollow due to how badly his character was mishandled in the second half of the manga. After the break-up, Aqua becomes a "..." bot. His character isn't allowed to grow and neither is he allowed to explore his feelings in any meaningful way, to the point that he dies confused and not knowing who he was.

Pardon my bluntness, but how pathetic is this? 160+ chapters and literally none of this guy's issues were ever solved. His character goes nowhere, only so he can be sacrificed to make the ending bittersweet for Ruby. Though for me it wasn't even bittersweet; the ending fell flat on its face precisely because Aqua's character never goes anywhere, so it's hard to feel anything other than vague frustration and disbelief at how forced the writing is.

Even the Kami/Ai - Aqua/Akane parallels were wasted because both ships ended up in the exact same way: Akane and Ai both unable to save Aqua and Kamiki. I wouldn't even be surprised if those parallels are something Aka came up with on the spot while writing the Ai DVD.

I'm sure some Aqua/Akane truthers will say "all Aqua and Kamiki needed to be saved was to be with Akane and Ai, and Akane and Ai didn't realize that" and leaving aside my issues with that kind of co-dependency, once again, that's all well and good — on paper.

Sure, those of us who ship Aqua and Akane could see it that way if we wanted to, but... did Aka make a point of clearly stating this? No, he left it to the reader's imagination, which means it's just another blank to be filled with headcanon.

Personally, I'm pretty tired of doing that, because everything there is to like about the manga may as well just be the headcanons we have filled all those blanks with.

I always say that I prefer showing and not telling, but there's a limit to everything. Truth of the matter is, if this was supposed to be the case — and especially if it was supposed to be important — then showing isn't enough. Because the majority of readers aren't going to spend hours breaking down every single Aqua/Akane interaction to draw those parallels and reach that conclusion.

Aqua dying soothed by a song by his favorite idol (Ruby/Sarina) doesn't really do it any favors either, because fact of the matter is that people who were never invested in the Aqua/Akane relationship will just assume Aqua never loved Akane back. They'll be more distracted by Kana's tropey, shallow shoujo romance, and this is something Aka allowed in his manga right up to the very end.

Aqua and Akane were the only relationship in the entire manga that got mutual, gradual, organic, continuous development. But this all came to a halt when they broke up, so at the end of the day, they're mostly left up to interpretation.

It's underwhelming.

Most of all, if you ask me, it was a terrible move, because Aqua and Akane could've been the heart of this manga. If their feelings had been properly explored after their break up, if Aqua had been allowed to think of Akane in his last moments, if all this blank-filling had been actual text, they'd have been a tragic love-story for the ages.

But Aka didn't want it to be the heart of the manga, because he had already decided from the beginning that role should go to Aqua and Ruby. Alas, he completely failed at developing that, too, because to the very end there's only Goro and Sarina. That is the entire basis of the Aqua/Ruby relationship and dynamic, and it gets one single chapter where it's explored beyond that, only to immediately focus back on Goro and Sarina as Aqua lies dying.

Goro couldn't save Sarina in his first life, so he wastes his second to do it. He jumped at the chance to free himself of the burden of that guilt without even bothering to think of how much his death would hurt the very person he wanted to protect.

Which takes me to...

The Ugly

Turns out Kana was pretty much just a mixture between Fujiwara and Maki, after all. Except that unlike Maki, she never grows (Aqua literally has to die for her to do so) and unlike Fujiwara, she's overused instead of underused.

Aqua and Kana are portrayed as shallow to the end, and I'd even go as far as saying that the narrative pokes fun at Kana for it. Even during the funeral, she puts on a hat that's reserved for family members and it literally falls off her head when Miyako slaps her lmao

Since this is a manga and not real life, the way Kana's outburst was handled in that chapter is likely meant to be contrasted with the way Akane's own grief was handled, because it pretty much embodies all the differences between both of their relationships with Aqua through the manga.

Kana is focused on herself and on her pain. She thinks Aqua was murdered, but she still irrationally blames him for it, too blinded by her own pain. Aqua was murdered, but not being able to confess to him properly is still at the top of her list of grievances. She is also shown overplaying that one conversation she had with Aqua about Aqua having a death-wish, as if Aqua somehow agreeing to not say that he wants to die was some vital promise that he broke.

Meanwhile, Akane focuses on Aqua. On what Aqua felt, on why he did what he did, and on what he would have wanted. Even her wish to be by Aqua's side is expressed through Akane saying that she'd have been willing to shoulder his burdens with him, no matter where that led them. It is also Akane's understanding of Aqua that helps her to find some solace and to overcome his death.

Kana always looked at Aqua from the outside-in, idealizing and romanticizing him, while Akane was Aqua's partner in every sense of the word. That's why Akane gets all the insightful narration about Aqua while Kana just gets to make a fool of herself at his funeral.

So to the very end, the dichotomy between "Ai" and "Koi" does perfectly illustrates the contrast between the two sides of the Aqua love triangle.

Kana was infatuated with the Aqua that she built up in her head, and focused on what she wanted Aqua to do for her (support her unconditionally), and what she wanted to be for him (his only idol), rather than on Aqua himself as a person.

As for Aqua, during his last moments, most Aqua can say about Kana is that it might be good to respond to her feelings. Might. He spends the entire story knowing Kana is at his beck and call, he even makes fun of her for it (you're so easy to manipulate, yadda yadda), yet when the opportunity to date her presents itself, most he can say is essentially "it could be cool I guess." He even pictures her pulling on his arm to get his attention, while with Akane, he pictures himself facing her and looking straight at her.

So to Aqua, Kana was at most a teenage crush. His feelings for her weren't deep or relevant enough to have any sort of impact on his character, while he outright called the year he spent dating Akane his happy days. An entire year that he spent without Kana even being in his life, mind you. Meanwhile Kana was out there living an entire shoujo where she's the heroine and Aqua is the male lead 😂

That said, I still think Aqua, who I'm sure must've broken a record at being bad at understanding his own feelings, was likely mistaking admiration for romantic attraction, and that he would've realized this pretty early into dating Kana.

The anime is even clearer about this because Aqua's reactions to Kana are paralleled to Akane's who is, quite literally, a fan of Kana.

But even if he wasn't, it doesn't really matter, because it's shown very clearly that Aqua deeply values being understood (to him, it feels like salvation) and that Kana doesn't really understand him. So had they dated, Aqua would've had fun at first, sure, but his emotional needs wouldn't have been met; instead his job would've been to meet Kana's. It just would've never worked in the long term.

Now that the dust has settled, I can say for certain that if Aqua had been allowed to have a happy ending, it'd have been with Akane.

So once more, this is all fine on paper. The problem is that Aka takes it too far. The whole Kana business takes too much panel time for no discernible reason other than to... bait readers? I've even seen some say that Aka intended to mock them.

But even if that were the case, considering that those same readers are likely going to walk out of the story thinking Aqua and Kana are a tragic ship that loved each other because of all the bait, who's really the butt of the joke? Them or Aka himself?

Conclusion

I've always been pretty clear about being an Akane fan first and foremost. Despite all my Aqua/Akane meta, I had no emotional investment in whether she ended up with Aqua or not, as long as she got a satisfying ending. That said, by principle, I most definitely didn't want Aqua to end up with Kana, because that'd be like rewarding Kana for all her crying and whining when she never even tried to understand who Aqua was as a person and I've already gone through that in Naruto, thank you very much.

So the two silver-linings about this ending are that Akane stayed amazing to the end, and that Kana didn't have Aqua handed to her on a silver platter. But considering just how much panel time Kana's meaningless crush takes up in the narrative and how side-lined Akane got after the break-up, it feels like a pyrrhic victory lol

Akane is still the best thing about the manga, and I'd say that she got by far the best ending of the bunch. I'm not sure if I'd call it satisfying, because Akane's one goal was always to save Aqua and she didn't get to accomplish that. But at the very least, she got a good ending, all things considered. She got to protect what Aqua entrusted to her, and she got to show just how emotionally strong she is.

As for Aqua and Akane, AquaKane could've been incredible if only Aka had done them justice, but he didn't. I joked before that the Aqua/Akane development was so good that it's like it wrote itself, and I actually think that's exactly what happened. Aka made things up as he went along, and he allowed Aqua and Akane to develop together in ways he didn't necessarily plan nor foresee. But as soon as he started strong-arming the manga towards the ending he envisioned, he dropped the ship, likely because he had already established everything that would be relevant about them by then (he knew the ship would literally go nowhere because Aqua needed to die), and then proceed to leave a lot of it to the discretion of the readers.

While I'm sure that'll be enough for some, I'm afraid it's not really enough for me. If you were to ask me if I'm satisfied with the way they were handled, my answer would be: not really, but it certainly could've been worse lol

In my opinion, they're the biggest wasted potential in the manga (which is saying something, because the entire manga is wasted potential), and their potential was wasted simply because they're the ones who could've actually led us to a happy ending.

Aka didn't want that ending, though. He cared for his vision more than about his characters, and his vision was literally just an ending where poor Ruby would be a star that shines brighter "the darkest things get". Nothing else mattered. LMAO. As if Ruby hadn't already gone through enough!

Oh well, at least we're finally free!

[nyxi-pixie]

okayyyy ive been meaning to talk about this moment forever because i think the way i see it differs from a lot of general fandom opinion.

for context, this is from the dhc section of the dead apple manga. skk are talking about an executive who just died and dazai makes a joke about it, prompting chuuya to deck him in the face and say nobody could believe dazais human. (believe, very importantly. not that he Isnt, just that its unbelievable).

humanity is a key theme to all of bsd, but its Very explicitly central to the skk dynamic. chuuya is an intensely human character in the way that he acts and thinks, and yet! between his ability and ofc the history in the lab, it still gets called into question.

(its pretty solid that our chuuyas the real one, but thats not the point here. sb being an exploration of what it means to be human and whether Actually Being One is all that important to what you are and do, through a Distinctly human character- Thats the point. How you are being more important than what you are.)

then we have dazai on the other hand, where what he is doesnt come into question at all. Even his ability, despite its name, isnt dehumanising to an outside eye, compared to chuuyas corruption or atsushis tiger for example that can take away from their control of themselves. its the how he is, in contrast to chuuya, that comes into question with dazai. he very consistently holds himself outside of humanity both implicitly (through self isolation - shipping container being an extreme example) and explicitly (dead apple dazai talking about humanity as an Outside Observer. he is Not including himself as one of them).

When we are encouraged to doubt his humanity, its dazai Telling us to. he deliberately poses himself as inhuman because he FEELS it. and the dhc moment to me has always felt like chuuya seeing through it and calling his bullshit. Dazais making light of a death to be a dick, to push chuuyas buttons, but also because hes got this constant need to present the worst possible version of himself.

actually if you look at the panels of him when hes talking about the guy being dead, just before he gets dramatic ridiculous exaggerated dazai about it, he doesnt seem to think of it so lightly

(smthn smthn dazai imposter syndrome. the need to deny any of his more human qualities because he feels they dont Fit him. and the links w his questions to atsushi at the beginning and end, his bs 'do i really seem like the type of guy to do x thing'.)

chuuya says hes acting inhuman, that his humanity isnt something people will believe because of the way he ACTS. and then chuuya does an example of his own Chuuya Humanity Act, an act of service for the people he cares about in the form of going to solve the situation himself. AND. ultimately, dazai ends up planning around this later to lead chuuya straight to him so the two of them can deal with it together.

skk pretty consistently ground eo to humanity. dazai through nullification/corruption, but outside of their abilities too (its the thought of dazai - more specifically, not thinking like him - that stops chuuya from killing N in stormbringer and denying verlaines assertion that he shouldnt have been born). and on the flipside, chuuya is part of the reason dazai doesnt khs during or after fifteen. dazais protecting people thing really starts out with chuuya. and again, chuuya makes it his business to call dazai on his shit. (even right the way back in chapter 31 of the main manga, we have that interaction over Q, with dazai saying he spared them only for self serving logical reasons, and chuuya saying he doesnt buy it).

this to me has always felt like part of that. its not 'youre not human', its 'the way you act makes it unbelievable that you are'. its an invitation to prove he is by doing something Real, something worth more than sleeping there til he dies.

and dazai does.

[optimisticgardenhologram]

Not to be some sort giant simp, but because it's his birthday I wanted to write something nice and complimentary for him. But also genuinely and objectively as possible I think Mello is actually a fair bit more humane (or maybe the better term is "less cold-blooded") than he gets credit for?

The evidence:

1. He was very genuinely upset when they are informed of L's death, and doesn't even think about the matter of the successor-ship until Near speaks up alluding to it.

2. After Sayu was rescued/traded from the mafia she's asked to help in the investigation by providing any details of her experience. However she can't because she says she neither saw nor spoke much to her kidnappers. This indicates Mello (as the mastermind of all things related to this project) told the mafia members that they were to stay away from her and generally left her alone. She's a tool to him to achieve his ends but he takes no pleasure in using her this way nor has intention to cause her any additional harm, fear, suffering than is already an unavoidable part of being kidnapped and held hostage across the world.

3. When Soichiro confronts him with the Death Note by announcing Mello's real name and then actually starts writing, Mello could have killed him on the spot faster than Soichiro could write. He had access to the gun next to him in the open desk drawer. You can tell that even in this case he doesn't want to shoot Soichiro, and though Mello's hand hovers over the gun ready to grab it, he does his best to talk Soichiro down instead. Then he apologizes to Soichiro and thinks about how he never intended for Soichiro to die but at the same time he shouldn't have joined up with Kira. There is an important difference here between the anime and the manga; in the anime he tells this to Soichiro aloud which might be interpreted as a way to distract Soichiro while Jose prepares to fire, but in the manga because it's unspoken we know it wasn't meant as a distraction, but genuine regret and remorse.

4. When Mello crashed the SPK, Lidner wasn't really a hostage. She'd already been helping him secretly for a while and continues to do so afterwards; and she -wanted- Mello and Near to work together and was trying to help them do that - meaning she'd have gladly brought them together regardless. But they role-played her like one to cover for her in front of her colleagues, make it seem like she was being forced into it rather than reveal the truth that she was a double-agent.

5. While Mello frequently brandishes his gun as a threat and for coercion, he never actually fires it. Still no one ever doubts that he would use it if needed. Despite fanon often portraying him as a trigger happy nut-job, the canon demonstrates how controlled and coldly resolved he truly is.

6. A pretty commonly repeated sentiment on social media discussions is that unlike Near, Mello doesn't work well with others because he's too much of a lone-wolf and too insecure to work in a team because he would make everything about dominance and power struggle.

I really don't think this is right. Despite stubbornly refusing to work with Near, the evidence shows he's pretty good at getting along and working with other people. Like in the mafia he seems perfectly happy to let Rod Ross be top-dog; he doesn't appear to have any interest in being a big shot and throwing his weight outside of matters directly involving the notebook. Rod Ross is the one to give orders, dole out discipline, and is generally in charge, and he trusts Mello because Mello's proven his value as a loyal team member over time.

He also works well with Halle and Matt who both appear to be there by choice, neither are in the least afraid of or deferential to him and they seemingly work on equal terms together as opposed to a hierarchical boss/subordinate relationship, which for example so prominently characterizes Near's interactions with his group.

With Matt in particular he's way more patient than is even reasonable to expect, given how it seems like Matt spends a lot of time whining, slacking off, and messing up - no shade meant on Matt (love him dearly) but going by the manga that is what we see. But Mello never scolds him or gets angry or snappy. Mello's internal monologue does show that he's annoyed but he doesn't externalize it, doesn't lash out and is patiently long-suffering when it comes to Matt's shortcomings. He basically just accepts the situation being what it is and moves on. And of course is regretful and sad when Matt dies.

We don't see much of Halle and Mello's interactions as they mostly take place offscreen/off-page but from what there is they seem very casual and comfortable with each other and Halle was very clearly emotionally affected by his death and speaks up for him in 104, believing he sacrificed himself intentionally. Basically, Mello's issues and anti-social behavior stemming from his inferiority complex is SPECIFICALLY centered on and triggered by Near. With everyone else he was able to work very effectively, and they hold him in high regard and can maintain good relationships with him.

7. He seems to have sympathy for Misa and is judgmental about the way Light weaponizes her trauma and idolization.

8. Although she's on his enemy's team, he felt enough pity for Takada provide her a blanket when he orders her to undress, which directly contributes to his own demise. I believe he knew (intended as part of his plan) that X-Kira would kill her to stop her from talking, so it was a small gesture that is practical in that it could make her more willing to quickly cooperate, but also give some small comfort during the short remaining time of her life.

None of this makes him not-evil or villainous, but I do think he's genuinely a more compassionate person than he's typically cast as. Certainly the least villainous of Death Note's wide cast of villains. As it's noted in the Japanese wording of Volume 13 he's "not pure evil" and he "has a pure heart and acts mean to get the attention of the person he likes" (scream). I don't think Ohba intended any of the Wammy's characters to be either pure good or irredeemably evil.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 17: Blade x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 4368

Warnings: Afab!reader, size difference, age difference, camgirl, voyeur, caught watching, sex toy (dildo), masturbation, spanking as punishment, a little hint of (forced) age play, infantilization, passing mention of pacifiers, cock warming (in mouth), Blade being a strict yet also perverted grandpa

A/N: Very excited about this one, personally 🤭 This is a little gift I wanted to do for a friend, you know who you are ❤️ and I hope you enjoy the fic!

⭐

It is in a rare moment of clarity that the man currently known as Blade finds himself wandering down the winding corridor of the ship. Elio’s ship. No, that wasn’t quite right. This is the Stellaron Hunters ship. 

Even if it technically belonged to their largely elusive leader, this was still a neutral safehaven for everyone in their merry little band of wanted criminals and the vast majority of it was considered communal property. He had every right to be here just as any of them did even if the only things he owned in it were the clothes on his back and his sword. 

Except — glancing up from his thoughts, Blade abruptly realizes he’s made his way into the hallway where the girls’ rooms were located. In all actuality he shouldn’t have been here. Not because of any rules or regulations, or even because any one of them had told him not to, but due to his personal boundaries and respect for their space. His own hardly used room was on the opposite side of the ship for a reason, and something he’d insisted on so as not to intrude on the daily routines or general comfortability of the fairer sex. 

Silver Wolf thought him old fashioned for it and called him names he didn’t fully understand the meaning of. 

Kafka had found it rather amusing, laughing that slow, drawling chuckle she does when something has managed to tickle her funny bone in earnest. 

Firefly even told him once that it was sweet of him to show them such consideration, though he knew not how that made any sense. It was only customary for men to give women their privacy, wasn’t it? 

And you … 

Slowing to a halt in the middle of the hallway, just a few paces down from your door, Blade abruptly realizes that that was what he was doing on this side of the hull. 

He’d felt compelled to see you and at this time of night it seemed likely he’d have better luck looking for you here than anywhere else. Clearly he hadn’t thought that through all the way though, otherwise he wouldn’t have suddenly found himself standing between Silver Wolf’s room and Kafka’s like some sort of creeping midnight wraith. If one of them caught him skulking around like this would they be upset with him? Would they look at him with suspicion and question his motives for being out in what was by all accounts their hallway at this late hour? 

Feeling a self conscious prickle start up at the base of his spine, Blade begins to turn so he can creep back the way he’d come from but a frustrated groan behind Silver Wolf’s door stops him in his tracks. He hesitates a moment before shuffling closer to just bring his ear up to listen. It’s badly muffled through the barrier and he can’t quite make out what it is she’s saying, but he could surmise that she must have been laying into someone rather colorfully through her headset. Gaming, no doubt. 

Straightening back up, the man currently known as Blade carefully considers the situation laid out before him. Young Silver Wolf was clearly much too preoccupied to notice his presence and Kafka was in all likelihood probably asleep by now, wearing her favorite eye mask to ensure she got a good night's rest. And if he recalled correctly, Firefly was off at the moment doing something at Elio’s request which only left … 

Silently turning on his heel again, he continues his onward trek past the line up of doors until he reaches yours down by the end of the corridor. His hand comes up to deliver a curt knock but this, too, gives him pause. If you were trying to sleep he didn’t want to disturb your rest or potentially frighten you, having someone unexpectedly rapping their knuckles at your door like that. So he murmurs your name instead, speaking only as loud as he thinks he needs to for you to hear him. 

For a long stretch of seconds he gets no response whatsoever and he soon decides that you must be tucked into bed already. Breathing out a terse sigh through his nose, he once again starts to turn and retrace his steps only for an odd little noise filtering through the door to give him pause. A quiet mewl that rises in pitch at the tail end before fading out with a threadbare rattle, by the sounds of it. How odd. Were you in pain? 

He stands there for another moment longer, just listening, until he at last catches that same breathy exhale again. Although he isn’t quite sure what to make of it, his thoughts meandering through a variety of possibilities that seem increasingly unlikely to him, he still ultimately decides that this warranted further investigation. After all, if you were in some sort of distress it would be wrong for him to ignore it. 

It’s not exactly curiosity that urges him closer to your door nor is it for entirely selfless reasons of magnanimity either. The insistent tug he feels in his chest to see you in one of his fleeting moments of cognizance is much more pressing than anything else, the rest just a convenient excuse as he turns his ear to listen. He says your name again, no louder than before, and still you do not respond. 

Carefully, Blade reaches for your doorknob and just tests its give. It almost registers as surprising when he finds it unlocked but he doesn’t stop long enough to question it. Barely turning it enough to ease the inner latch open, he pushes in only so far as to create a hair's breadth sliver of a crack which is where he bends his head to once again listen. 

A soft but insistent rustling noise. Another throaty sound. The soft click of something wet and warm, and welcoming that sends a dull spark of recognition racing through his mind. 

He doesn’t outright understand what it is he’s hearing but it’s as if some long dormant, primal part of his brain that is more beast than man recognizes it for what it is. His pulse quickens ever so slightly underneath his collar and he slowly works the door further open until he can peek around the edge of it. 

At first all he can make out is your empty bed and the resounding darkness that shrouds this side of the room. The other half is faintly lit by a dull glow that flickers just ever so slightly around the edges. He almost doesn’t do it, fully aware that it was not only rude but also highly inappropriate for a man to intrude on a woman’s private space in such a way, and yet he can’t quite seem to fight the compulsion to inch his way in to stand just inside your room, peering over at the corner and the source of that incandescent light. 

To his mild pang of surprise, you’ve got a small desk set up along the far wall with a custom built laptop open that looks to be of Silver Wolf’s creation, if he had to guess. The screen emits enough light for him to make out the immaterial shapes of all the bits and baubles you’ve collected over the years lined up in apparent disarray around the computer. Odd little cartoon cat figures which he knew Firefly to be equally enamored with, an old Clockie stuffed toy, various good luck charms and bracelets, a girlish jewelry stand, a stack of magazines and a small collection of perfume bottles lined up in some semblance of order. 

It does not leave him with an impression of someone who is on the IPC’s most wanted list, but rather it reminds him that despite everything else you were still just a girl. 

His girl. 

No. A girl who reminded him a bit too much of another girl he’d known several lifetimes ago for him to pretend like he didn’t see the similarities. 

And in front of all that clutter and the evidence of the person you are when you weren’t chasing down Stellaron’s with them, you’re sitting in a cushiony, pink fur lined chair with both feet propped up on the table, bracketing the softly humming laptop. For an extended moment Blade has no reasonable idea what you’re doing, registering only that your socks were mismatched, the rest of your legs bare and that your arm was restlessly moving in the space between your thighs. 

But then his gaze focuses in on the glowing screen and all at once he understands what’s happening. 

You’ve got the computer's webcam aimed at you in such a way that it records a close up shot of your lower half while the rest of you was largely obscured by the creeping darkness around you, effectively veiling your face from any clear identification. The feedback shows your pussy spread open around a thick, phallus shaped toy that heavily slides in and out of you in time with the flex of your hand. Those noises he’d heard suddenly make complete and total sense, as do the breathy little sounds you’re quietly making, and he feels suddenly warm with that knowledge. 

He knows he really shouldn’t be violating your privacy like this, like some kind of shameless voyeur, but … his attention shifts to the sidebar of the screen where a fast moving series of messages seemed to be coming in, one right after another. Were you streaming this for the entire cosmos to see? 

Something about that manages to truly shock him, and his chest expands with the sharp little breath he sucks in. It’s a small miracle that you don’t hear it and catch him red handed, but you’re evidently much too focused on working that toy inside you to be aware of much of anything else at the moment. And for a harrowingly long stretch of moments, the man currently known as Blade just stands there and watches you in transfixed disbelief. 

It’s hard to say if it’s just his age showing, great as it was especially when compared to yours, or if it’s the instinctive draw he felt towards you, that deeply rooted urge to protect even when you didn’t conceivably need to be protected, but he feels somehow angry about this. Not because of any potential security threats posed by your actions when he knew Silver Wolf would have taken care to ensure the computer and its signals couldn’t be easily traced. Nor is it even because of the fact you seem to be taking a great deal of pleasure in exposing yourself like this and getting off to a rapt audience of strangers, although that does bother him too a little bit. 

More than anything he finds that it’s the very notion, simple as it was, that other men were looking at you in such a vulnerable and exposed state of undress. That they were watching you, talking to you, making dirty comments at you and fisting their damned cocks while thinking about you. It was illogical that this should cause such a violent sense of unrest in his body when you weren’t actually his no matter how much he looked at you as if you were, but he can’t seem to wrangle it back under control now that it was swelling within him. 

He wasn’t exactly mad, at least not at you. Ticked off was probably the more accurate description and he doesn’t even attempt to hide it as he side steps further into the room so he can swing the door shut with an attention grabbing bang. 

You jolt so hard your chair seems in danger of tipping over when you bolt upright to twist around, looking over your shoulder at him with wide, startled eyes. For a moment you don’t seem to know how to react or even fully process the fact he’s standing there, but then your expression ever so slowly morphs into one of great confusion. 

“Blade? What are you doing in here?” 

“I came to see you but you didn’t answer when I called. I thought you were sleeping, not … this.” 

Here you start to look a little peeved. “So you just let yourself in? How long have you been standing there? I didn’t think I needed to lock my door at this time of - -“ 

“Turn it off.” 

“What?”

“I said,” He intones, stepping across the room in only a few short strides to loom over you. Leaning down to brace one bandaged hand across the back of your chair, he reaches out with the other to grab the top of the laptop and forcefully slam it shut hard enough to make you jump. “Turn it off.” 

Just sitting there in frozen stillness with your bare thighs weakly pressed together, you warily peer up at him from your lower vantage point before at last rousing yourself. “The webcam is still going. You need to turn off the actual stream first.” 

“I don’t care. I’ll smash the whole thing if that’s what it takes.”

A puzzled look crosses your face. “Why are you so upset about this? I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Oh, you’re doing plenty wrong, little Rabbit.” He says, intentionally keeping his tone low and even, watching your expression darken slightly at the use of your old code name. 

Blade knew you didn’t like it when he or any of the others called you that, but there were a great number of other things you didn’t like either. He was aware you didn’t like green vegetables very much, for example, even though he’d attempted to chide you into eating them on occasion. But you didn’t listen to him, just as you weren’t listening to him now. You also didn’t like when he would try to baby you as he so often felt compelled to do. It was frustrating and more than a little confusing when he himself was so often out of sorts due to his condition, and yet … 

It suddenly occurs to him as he’s looking down into your upturned face that this was the reason for his current upset. He wanted to dote on you and coddle you, protect that girlish side of you that he perceived as innocent, but good girls who got babied didn’t show their pussy to every corner of the universe. A lesson had to be taught here if he wanted to get through to you. This couldn’t be like the broccoli and the green peppers where he just let it slide, because this wasn’t half as harmless in his eyes. 

Slowly straightening at the idea that comes into his head, Blade cooly peers down at you from his elevated height. “You said it’s still recording?” 

A stilted, grumpy little nod. Such a brat. “Streaming, but yeah. It’s still going.” 

“Good. If you want to show off so much then let’s let the world see what happens to bad girls who don’t keep their legs closed.” 

Your head snaps up at that, genuine shock registering in your expression. But before you can recover enough to react he brings the hand on the back of your chair down to grab a biting fistful of your hair, giving it a subdued tug to keep you in place when you try to jerk away from him. He isn’t violent with you nor is he really even all that rough about it, just firm and unrelenting while he holds you there. 

Listening to you seethe and hiss like an incensed cat, he bends at the waist again to reach between your legs. You let out a startled squawk, socked feet sliding uselessly against the smooth top of the desk as you try to keep them closed to shut him out but it’s an effort in futility. He easily bullies his hand into the tight, warm space despite all of your desperate wriggling so he can grapple the toy from your hand and ease it out of your cunt. 

You issue a low, faltering sound as it slips away to a sticky wet little click, shuddering rather stiffly as you watch him set it aside on the cluttered table. Even with the only light source now coming from around the edges of the closed laptop he can still clearly make out the fine sheen of arousal coating the silicone when it glistens faintly in the dull glow. It’s enough to make him click his tongue in disappointment before redirecting his fingers to nudge at your feet where they’re still awkwardly braced on top of the desk. 

One yellow sock and one purple? Was he going to have to start dressing you too? 

“Down. Feet don’t belong on the furniture, Rabbit.” 

Shooting him a quick, heated glare, you grudgingly comply, curling your legs inward so that you can work them underneath the table in the awkward position you’re sitting in. You probably would have had an easier time of it if he’d let go of your hair, but he didn’t want you thinking about running off to escape your punishment. Besides, this wouldn’t even be happening right now if you hadn’t had your cunt shoved up in front of the camera to begin with. 

Stopping just long enough to flip the top of the computer back up and allow a bit more light so he can better see what he’s doing, Blade sternly nudges your head around to indicate what he wanted you to do. “Turn around. Kneel on the chair for me.” 

You grumble under your breath the whole time yet comply with this as well, slowly twisting around to get your legs under you before going up to clutch the backrest, facing out now. He follows you around throughout the process, using his hold to guide you into place, until he ends up standing directly in front of you. A quick look at the screen behind you confirms his suspicions. This was a perfect angle of your ass. 

“Dammit, Blade,” You seethe, clutching the chair so tightly it creaks under the pressure when he reaches down with his free hand to tug his belt loose. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Isn’t this what you wanted? The way you were fucking yourself with that toy, I thought for sure you wanted a cock to play with.” 

A sharp, rattling gasp catches in your chest, peering up at him with a deeply flustered look. “Wh - I didn’t even think you knew those kinds of words … you’re so old fashioned about everything it almost feels wrong somehow.” 

He quirks a single brow at that, setting in to work at the front placket of his pants now. “I may be old, especially compared to you, but I am still a man. You would do well not to underestimate us of the opposite sex.” 

“I can see that.” 

Allowing you that final bitter grumble, Blade stiffly shoves his open pants down far enough for him to fish his cock out. He’s only half hard but rapidly filling out, and he takes himself in hand to pointedly nudge it at you, dragging the fleshy tip across your lips when you try to turn your face away. You were certainly stubborn but unfortunately for you he had nothing but patience and time to waste. 

“Open your mouth, little Rabbit. Let’s put it to better use than sassing your elders, hm?” 

Groaning a quiet sound when he tugs on your hair again, you glare daggers up at him from under the fall of your lashes. He gives you no chance to truly fight it though when his hold on you was as good as iron and his other hand was crowding insistently close to your face with his expectant cock. A cursory struggle is all you ultimately manage before he works your mouth open enough to slip it in, and you noise a muffled sound of protest at the abrupt sensation of spongy flesh on your tongue. 

“Do not bite.” He warns, allowing just enough of an edge to creep into his voice to indicate he was serious about that. “What’s wrong? You look upset. Isn't it customary to give little ones something to suck on in order to soothe them? Think of this then like a pacifier substitute. Something tells me you’ll appreciate it here in a moment.”

You noise a confused sound at that, keeping your eyes rolled up to suspiciously watch him. He says nothing further though, holding your head firmly in place with his hand while he leans forward to reach over you. 

Placing his opposite palm along your lower back, right under the raised hem of the fluffy hooded top you’ve got on, he drags it lower to feel along the feminine curve of your waist and then your hips. He realizes in a vague, distant sort of way that he’s seen you wearing this before. It was a two piece set, if he wasn’t mistaken, and the matching shorts were probably somewhere on the floor underneath the desk where you’d slipped them off before the fun started. It was astounding to him how shameless you were behind closed doors. 

But he plans to correct that, and as he heavily smooths his gloved fingers across the swell of your ass cheeks he takes a great deal of satisfaction in the way you shudder for him. It was likely that you were starting to guess at what he planned to do, and you whimper a sweet little sound that’s thoroughly muffled by his cock in your mouth. You don’t try to spit him out or test your luck with your teeth though, and that pleases him as well. 

It’s clear enough to him that you can be good, if you want to be, and he’s perfectly willing to give you that incentive, lifting his hand and then bringing it back down with a sharp clap across the fattest part of one cheek. You jolt so hard you almost seem to choke on the saliva gathering along your tongue as much as you do at the girth of him stretching your lips open. Still, you don’t fight him, so he quickly does the same to the opposite cheek. 

“Do you think this is what they wanted to see?” He murmurs, giving your fleshy backside a tight, pinching squeeze to make you squirm. “A bad girl getting spanked with another man’s cock in her mouth? I’m sure they're all quite disappointed in tonight’s show.” 

The only response you give is a plaintive little whine into his coarse thatch of pubic hair, struggling to ease your head back when his length slowly grows and fills out more. He keeps you held right where you are though, feeling himself start to tickle at the back of your throat now, and he groans a quiet sound as he brings his hand down on the first cheek again. 

“They’ll be even more disappointed when they find out this is the last time they’ll ever see you. Bent over, getting your behind smacked like a child. There will be no more of this nonsense, do you understand me?” 

You attempt to speak around him only to come up short, stiffly nodding your head instead. And he gives you no time to adjust or ease into the sting that’s no doubt settling over your ass the more he spanks you, peppering his hand back and forth between both cheeks to show them an equal amount of attention. Even in the faint glow of the laptop screen he can see your skin gradually darkening where he strikes you, the extra bite of his glove no doubt adding to the burn. And below that, in the feedback of the webcam, he can look at your poor, neglected little pussy where it’s peeking out from between your thighs. You really were a cute thing, and to this end he understood to an extent why you might enjoy showing off for strangers and being on the receiving end of their amorous gazes. 

But it wasn’t proper nor was it appropriate for a young lady such as yourself, and he just keeps spanking you until he can feel you shuddering with the sobbing, tiny cries that make your shoulders defensively bunch up. Only then does he pause to give you a short break while he lifts his hand to his mouth so he can bite the finger of the glove between his teeth and slide it off. 

When he reaches for you next, he’s struck by the stark contrast between his skin and yours. Where his fingers were battle hardened and littered with numerous scars, you were conversely smooth and nearly entirely blemish free. The size of his hand against your back also registers as pleasing, easily spanning almost the entire width of your waist despite the femininely wide set of your hips. He seems to dwarf you in every way, and he takes a moment to savoringly slide his calloused palm over your abused cheeks to really rub the hurt in and listen to you seethe. 

“Are you sorry, little Rabbit?” 

Sucking in a thick, wetly faltering breath, you give your head a plaintive nod as you noise an incomprehensible sound around his now stiffly rigid cock. 

He delivers another sharp swat to your ass, watching the meat of you jiggle from the force. His bare hand must hurt worse without the glove in the way, because you positively writhe against him, squealing helplessly while he grabs a tight handful of your throbbing skin to give it a squeeze. 

“Are you going to do it again?” 

You shake your head this time, restlessly shifting on your knees where you’re knelt for him. It’s almost enough to sway him, to make him feel enough pity for you to stay his hand, but he persists, knowing you wouldn’t learn your lesson if he wasn’t strict with you. Lifting his hand, he brings it back down on the other cheek to make you woundedly lurch against him with a smothered wail. 

“Good. I don’t want to have this talk with you again.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[flowersforjude]

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | A night in a beautiful meadow and an innocent question leads to a startling confession.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1,422

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Literally none. Just an oblivious reader and nervous Din. Fluff rised to the max.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Guy’s, this made me weep with how cute it is. So, just fair warning I guess?

masterlist

Like most things, it started with a simple question.

“Cyar’ika, can you hand me that wrench?”

You were helping Din with some repairs on the Crest when you heard that word for the hundredth time.

As you picked up the tool, your mind wrestled with the wandering thoughts of what that word meant. Din called you that all the time. He’d throw some others in the mix every once in a while.

Mesh’la.

Cyar.

Cyar’ika was the most common, though. You didn’t speak a bit of Mando’a, so you had no clue what he was calling you. He could be calling you the worst thing ever, and you wouldn’t even know. But even with his rough exterior, you highly doubted that he was referring to you as anything too horrible.

With every cyar, mesh’la, or cyar’ika your curiosity grew. But you didn’t voice your questions out of fear that you’d overstep some invisible boundary. You and Din were close—well, as close as the Mandalorian would let himself get to you. He’d told you his true name, so you counted that as progress. He still had so many secrets, though. So you didn’t want to push him to reveal stuff he wasn’t ready for. You would take whatever he’d give you. You would have him, however you could.

But sometimes your interest was almost too much.

Like at daybreak when he would touch your shoulder oh so gently and say, “Good morning, cyar.” In that deep, velvety cadence his voice had in the mornings.

Or when you’d just had a close call on a mission and he would rush to you, frantic, and place his hands on your cheeks. “Are you alright, cyar’ika? Are you hurt?” The words would leave his lips in a hurry and sometimes jumble together. You knew what he was saying nonetheless.

It was those moments when he showed you gentleness, concern, and care that you found it hard not to blurt out everything on your mind.

“What does cyar’ika mean?”

“What does cyar and mesh’la mean?”

“Do you know what it does to me when you touch me?”

“Do you love me as much as I love you?”

But you kept quiet and let the thoughts mingle in your mind. You were just going to leave well enough alone. Hoping that possibly ignoring your curiosity would make it, and your developing feelings fade away. That proved to require arduous effort, which you found yourself lacking day by day. And eventually, your efforts proved to be in vain.

The night it happened, the Crest had landed on some forest planet. Din had just wrapped up a difficult hunt, so he perched the ship on the first globe he could. You and the kid had been cooped up inside for days now, so as soon as the hatch opened, you were both bounding down from the cockpit.

The kid ran into the tall grass of the field, chasing frogs and crickets with the moonlight guiding his expedition. You stood close to the ship, just watching him with a loving smile. Din came to stand beside you, quite as ever, but his presence was a comfort you relished in far too much.

The first blink of light had you curious. The second and third and fourth flashes had you in awe.

The serene meadow was set ablaze with glittering brightness. Fireflies floated high and low, strung about the tall grass like hundreds of flawless silvery stars. They blanketed the grassland far and wide, down to the glimmering lake in the distance.

“Oh wow,” you breathed. You ventured farther out into the plain, turning in a slow circle, absolutely awestruck.

You could hear the child’s gurgling laughter from nearby. You couldn’t help the giggle that erupted from your throat. The dazzling excitement from the whole experience makes you somewhat astounded. You've never seen anything like this before. Something so beautiful.

You face Din, still standing guard at the front of the ship. “Isn’t this spectacular?” You questioned.

You could hear the airy chuckle get past his vocoder. “It’s certainly something.”

You rolled your eyes in a very childish manner and tilted your head in confusion. “How could you think this is anything but…what’s the word for beautiful in Mando’a?”

You’ve caught his full attention now, seemingly catching him off guard. He appears stunned beyond words. Beyond thoughts as well perhaps. You don’t understand why. It was just a simple question, but it seemed to have knocked any rational notion from him.

What you don’t know is that while you look at him with such sincerity in your eyes and you wait slightly nervous for his response, his brain is nothing short of a mess.

“Din,” you begin. “If I’ve crossed a line somehow-”

“The word is mesh’la.”

That stops you short. Your heart thudded to a halt for several seconds as you took in the sudden confession.

“Mesh’la,” you repeat softly.

You have no idea that his knees almost buckle at the sound of your voice speaking in his mother tongue.

Your face heats at the implication. Mesh’la means beautiful. Din calls you Mesh’la. Din calls you beautiful. He thinks you're beautiful? Or was it meant as something like a courtesy? Was he just being a flirt? No, Din wasn’t the type. So he must think it if he calls you it.

“Y/N.”

You speak up before he can get another word out. “You think I’m beautiful?”

He nods. “Yes.”

A grin tugs your lips up ever so slightly. Realization dawns on you as your mind recalls all the affectionate exchanges that you fooled yourself into thinking were merely friendly.

A coo from below takes your attention for a moment. The kid is at your feet with his arms stretched up for you. You hold him in the crook of your elbow as you close the distance between you and Din. When you stop in front of him, a radiant smile is permanently placed upon your lips.

“And uh, cyar’ika,” you whisper. “What does that mean…?” You’re a little hesitant to let all your questions come to light. A small part of you still worried you’re reading too much into it.

He takes a deep breath, and you try to ignore the anxiety coursing through you. “Cyar’ika…” He’s never sounded this breathless before. “It means sweetheart.”

The blood rushes to your cheeks with a new fury, painting your skin scarlet. It terrifies you a little that you can’t see his face, that you can’t read the expressions he is wearing right now. You think you know where this is going, but not being able to sense the situation from the other person makes it hard to be sure. You can see that he’s tense, possibly waiting for you to tell him that you were uncomfortable. But you weren't; you were a nervous wreck, but you were not uncomfortable with this knew information in the slightest. You were trying to figure out how to move forward with this without seeming like a lovesick fool.

After waiting an eternity trying to get a hold of yourself, you make a decision. You slowly bring your hands up to him, gently gliding along his arms until they reach the broad expanse of his shoulders, and then the cool surface of his helmet.

You can feel his panic, but you softly sush him. Eventually, your hands still on the side of his helmet, where you imagine his cheeks would be. You picture them flushed like yours. Even through the impenetrable beskar, you feel like the heat of his skin is melting into yours. You imagine how it would actually feel to be skin to skin with him. If you ever had the privilege to experience that, you were sure you could die happy.

What happens next is a surprise. Din clutches your hands in his and brings them down between you both. He then slowly touches his forehead to yours. The shock of cold metal draws a gasp from your lips.

“Ni ganar hid ner kar'taylir darasuum teh gar par chaaj'yc too munit, cyar’ika.” A whispered admission comes from him.

You can’t help but laugh as you have no clue what he said. “What?”

He chuckles along with you. “I said that I have hidden my love from you for far too long, sweetheart.”

Your heart cracks open with so many emotions that it’s overwhelming. It aches inside you, but the pain is welcome because you’d rather have this, him, than the uncertainty you lived in for so long.

I poured over this for days, and I still feel like something isn't right. But oh well, maybe it'll come to me later. 🤷‍♀️

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Femme fatale" - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[suggestive themes but nothing explicit]

SUMMARY: When you reveal how you won the suspiciously heavy bag of coins, Nikolai is overwhelmed with anger at the thought of you being intimate with another man. The thing is, he's never told you how he feels about you... until now.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.7k

<I cried on national TV today, I am anything but fine lmao>

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

The bag thuds loudly as you drop it on the nautical maps scattered on Sturmhond’s desk. Tolya, Tamar and the privateer in question suddenly fall silent, their excited chattering put to a halt. Three pairs of eyes glance once at you, once at the big leather pouch.

“Did you rob a bank on your way here?” Nikolai asks. Although framed as a joke, his voice reveals that he’s not exactly discarding this possibility.

“I know that look.” Tolya gives you a half-smile, crossing his arms on his chest. Even if he wasn’t a Heartrender, he’d still be proficient at reading people. “She ripped someone off.”

You shrug and wave your hand in dismissal. “Some whaler, roughly the size of a small elephant, was very eager to spend the night with me. At first I wanted to rip his face off but then I realized that I saw a ship docking around the same time we did, so the whalers must have just gotten their wages. I offered the man that if he can win against me in cards, I’ll let him do whatever he wants to me. He got so excited he didn’t notice the stack of aces up my sleeve.”

Tamar nods her head in acknowledgement. The small smile on her lips betrays a sense of proudness. “Beat him at his own game. I respect that.” It was your and Tamar’s thing - the whole crew probably knows that most commonly known methods of cheating were invented by either of you.

“Thank you very much,” you say as you take back the bag. “But I doubt this is anywhere near close enough to get Hyram to take the nightwatch for me, so I’ll be off.”

“Come on, sister,” Tolya taps Tamar’s arm, “we have things to do as well.”

When your hand pushes down the door handle, you hear Nikiolai calling out your name in a rush. “Stay for a moment,” he asks in a strangely anxious voice. You give the twins a questioning look but they only shrug in response - their previous conversation with their captain never once involved even a mere mention of you.

The door closes with a thud behind Tolya and Tamar. What used to be a lighthearted, friendly atmosphere suddenly turns absolutely uncomfortable and tense. You furrow your eyebrows studying Nikolai’s expression. He looks… angry. Slowly, you stroll towards his desk again but the closer you are to him, the more uneasy you’re feeling. Standing maybe a meter or two away from the table, you suddenly find yourself unable to move forwards as though some force is separating you two.

Nikolai sighs. He shakes his head and looks at you with a fiery glint to his eye. "Are you out of your mind?!"

The sudden loss of composure renders you speechless. "I beg your pardon?" Part of you realizes that this conversation is not going to end quickly, so you drop the bag on the floor next to your leg. Besides, the pouch filled with coins does weigh quite a lot.

"What if you lost?” His voice cuts the tense air like treacherous blades. Those bright eyes aren’t any softer. This outburst is already surprising but considering the details of his appearance, this is already a tempered version of the fury residing in his viscera. “Have you any idea what…” he cuts himself off and sighs again. Nikolai closes his eyes, rubs his face and only then resumes talking. “What could have happened to you?"

"What's up, boss?" you nod upwards at him with furrowed eyebrows. "This isn't the first time I'm conning people out of their money through frankly reckless wagers."

"This is different,” he drones his words.

"How so?” you bite back. His inexplicable irritation is rubbing off on you. “I knew I was going to win. Even if I didn't, by some chance, I would have fought them."

"By yourself?” his voice raises again. You’ve never seen him like this before, only further convincing you that something serious must have broken his patience. But considering your history of relatively legal enrichment, it seems unlikely that it’s this little bet that had set him off. “With whalers that make Tolya look like a spud?”

It’s like dancing. Except he’s clumsy for a man of his agility and keeps stepping on your toes. And just like guests do on weddings, the two of you are pirouetting around the main attraction, naively thinking that the other person will miraculously be enlightened. The orchestra is playing the music and yet the dancing guests refuse to tell each other the name of the song.

"Come on, talk to me,” you coax him impatiently. This… dancing is tiring and there’s still quite a few things you need to do before the crew goes to sleep. “Say the quiet part out loud."

Nikolai hangs his head. You see his shoulders slowly raise and fall - he’s taking a deep breath, calming himself down. He walks around the desk and sits on its edge, leveling his eyes with yours. Something about his expression is changed like Nikolai has discarded the anger in place of defeat or compliance; like the steam that urged him to fight simply run out, returning the level-headed captain to you.

His eyes meticulously study the right-hand side of the room, along with the leather pouch, before he looks at you. "Can I be embarrassingly honest with you?"

You vaguely open your arms in a welcoming manner. "I'm all ears, captain."

Nikolai stares at you with a newfound intensity. The words almost escape him but he forces them back down his throat when he presses his lips tightly together. You see his hands grip the edge of the desk he’s sitting on as though he’s looking for something to ground him or just an outlet for his clearly turbulent emotions. Finally, Nikolai speaks but his voice is uncharacteristically low and somber: "The thought of another man having you makes me want to break this ship into pieces."

A strange tightness in your chest and throat; suffocating warmth sets your tired muscles on fire, its flames temptingly brushing against your starved skin. Then, a moment of defiance and doubt - how can you know he’s serious? That he’s not just saying this to keep you close in case he grows bored or frustrated one day? Privateers, pirates, corsairs, you’re all cut from the same cloth; hungry, money-grabbing, opportunist cloth.

"Another?" you ask. Hopefully Nikolai remains oblivious to the effect his words had on you. "You're making it sound like there's already a man I should be spending my nights with."

"There certainly is a man foolish enough to give everything away for the chance at your affection."

"If he's so desperate,” you begin thoughtfully, your voice low, “why has he never said a word?"

"I'm afraid he might just lose his sanity if you tell him no."

Perhaps it’s your own corporeality or the undisputable vulnerability in his words that makes you forget the distrust and defiance you felt towards this consuming notion. Suddenly, the tension that prevented you from coming closer has disappeared if not shifted to be located behind you, dissuading you from leaving the room. The nervous, thrilling atmosphere is nudging you forward, towards the man sitting a mere meter or two away from you, his eyes boring into you with anticipation. Some devious voice in the back of your head notices the romance in the dim candlelight and steady rocking of the boat traveling the seas.

Your legs, betraying your will, push you towards Nikolai. He straightens his back noticing you walking in his direction, suddenly his muscles flexing and creating tension. No matter how one wishes to look at it, he appears ready, prepared to take action.

"Well,” you shrug slightly, “unless he asks, how can he know it's going to be a no?"

"Better safe than sorry, I suppose,” he answers quietly as though the lack of space between the two of you is pushing down his chest, squashing juvenile vitality out of him.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips. You shake your head in amusement at the atypical uncertainty. "Said the famous privateer Sturmhond, known for his utter lack of bravado."

Then, like you had lifted a curse that clouded the blue sky above his head, Nikolai furrows his eyebrows in a confused expression. "Yes, that doesn't really sound like me, does it?"

"Not in the slightest.” You answer. His lips curve into a smile and you find yourself wallowing in relief at the familiarity of his easy-going, up-beat attitude. “This makes me think that the mysterious admirer simply can not be you."

"When did you become a detective?” he jokes. Whether it’s your lack of straightforward rejection or the fact that you’re steadily getting closer to him, Nikolai’s humor is only improving. “Amuse me. What would I have done?"

"I think…” your voice trails off as you fiddle with the hem of his frock coat, “that you would say something smooth and suave, then have me however you want. And I’d come crawling back every night."

In a quite unprofessional manner, if either of you even thought about that aspect at the moment, his hands slide up your thighs and hips only to rest on the curve of your waist. Then, Nikolai forcibly pulls you closer to him. First you yelp in surprise but soon you hear yourself gasping as his leg brushes against your groin.

A low chuckle leaves his mouth. "That sounds like a yes to me."

You can’t stop yourself from cradling his face, threading your eager fingers through his golden locks. Nikolai’s hot, ragged breath grazes your cheeks when you lean in. His lips are slightly apart, silently begging you to let him indulge in the sweet release of carnal desire. You lean closer to his ear, your voice comes out nearly as a growl:

"I'd say yes even if it's going to be the last thing I'm going to say."

His lips feverishly kiss your jaw and neck. A stifled moan escapes your lips and you swear you can hear Nikolai snickering.

[h50europe]

BUCK / TOMMY - HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A FANDOM SCORNED!

I did some thinking. Never good, but my brain can't wrap around the breakup that came out of the left field.

Recently, it was announced that a spin-off of "9-1-1" is in the works. While no locations have been finalized, Hawaii and Las Vegas have been suggested as potential settings. The showrunner is already working on the project, with filming set to begin in March 2025.

However, one of my biggest fears has come true: the focus of the showrunners is being diverted from the current show to concentrate on this new spin-off. All the energy runs in the new project. Also, at this point, we don't know if the mothership will be renewed. Without an early renewal, we must wait until May for the announcement. That is another reason why they are focusing on the new show. I wonder if this is why the plots feel rushed and repetitive. It's nice to revisit the past, but not ad nauseam. 9-1-1 does it too often lately. What's the point in bringing back Gerard and turning him into the butt end of a joke? What's the point in digging out Abby's Tommy and hanging it around Tommy Kinard's neck when nothing was ever mentioned in the past. The focus is clearly not on the current show. It feels like Tim abandoned the ship to board a new one. It's fresh, it's crisp, it leaves room for a lot of things. Even if the breakup was meant as a shocker. If your focus is somewhere else, you don't see it. Right now, the mothership is leaking and starting to sink. If Tim keeps his focus on the new project and isn't invested in the current show, the lights will go out sooner rather than later.

Bringing in an established character was probably the biggest mistake Tim could have made if he wasn't meant to stick around. Bring in Mary Sue or Marty Stu to be a LI but not a character with a history that connects to so many people on the show. You can't sideline them forever. Especially as Buck's bi-arc was announced as something big. And it was big. A bit too big to be treated the way it was. The fanbase that had built around TEVAN, or BUCKTOMMY, within weeks, was massive. It drew so many members of the queer community into the show. Suddenly, many of them felt seen. Tommy and Buck were different from the other queer characters out there. Different from what was represented on any other show. People were willing to watch to get the slightest glimpse of them. Because they felt real. Their chemistry shot into the stratosphere.

And then you go and end it on such a horrible note? I don't care if the haters call Tommy a plot device. Everyone on the show is one at some point—even Christopher, Eddie, or anyone else from the main or recurrent cast, Karen, for instance, the Wilson kids. You name it. Tommy Kinard came, saw and conquered. So why not give him more room? They did it with Taylor (yes, I know JLH was pregnant then, but that's reason enough? I doubt it). As I said in my other long post, you could cut in a sequence of 5 minutes and show a summary of Tommy's and Buck's life.

Tim makes the same mistake as many showrunners do. Cramming a shitload of plots into 42 minutes of airtime. Is it really necessary to tell that many stories in such a short amount of time? That feels like speed dating. You blink, and you miss an important scene. Every episode, you jump from plot A to B to A to C to B. We didn't have this fast pacing in season 1 or 2. Stop it. Make Quality plots over quantity stuff.

In Tommy's voice: And for God's sake, clean up that mess you created with that shitty breakup, or the audience will wither away.

I'm sorry. I could write a book about what is happening in my head. You'd get Super Brownie points if you made it here.

[dangermousie]

People complaining about the Argan plot on my TL. I'm indifferent to it because it does follow the novel and it's not one of those novel things that don't adapt well for TV.

But I can see the complaints about it being in the last episode. I'd rather it be in the penultimate episode and then have the last episode dedicated to them rebuilding their new life. Like choosing the Yu-yeon name.

Overall, I didn't hate the last episode. The leads carried the episodes. I think the ending with the SLs was pointless. I get that anything happens in a time jump, but we've seen no progression really of their relationship. It's like a quick way to wrap up their storylines. But SFL literally had no storyline or purpose. SML at least had a storyline, and he had a purpose in the first half (to indirectly help our couple be a couple).

That's the only choice I question, the need for the SFL (and SML). The SFL was especially a mess that even the writers clearly didn't know what to do. One minute she's fangirling over ML and gets excited and acts like she has a date with the married ML (which she knows he's married), then after that, nothing. She suddenly stops fangirling and acts normal and this is before she learns about HJ as his wife.

People like to complain, it’s human nature.

I liked the Argan thing because it was in the novel and also because I was already a kdrama fan 15 years ago when so many dramas liked to send their OTPs to exotic war torn locations for make outs and torture (see Swallow the Sun, IRIS and Lobbyist among others. Side note - STS had a secondary OTP of a mercenary and suicidal stripper that was very matter of fact and they got a happy ending to boot; when people say nowadays kdramas are so more frank about things - well no they are not.) So that was yet another delicious throwback about this drama.

Anyone who complains (as I saw) about this being unbelievable or too OTT has clearly not been paying attention to the genre - this was a crack melo from ep 1. It stayed in genre until the end. I totally get if it’s not someone’s thing but it didn’t really pull a genre rug on anyone.

I was quite happy with the amount of post-plot fluff we got. We got half an ep and seeing that dramas have a long tradition of giving us 1 minute before the end in terms of happy stuff, that felt downright luxurious (even in the novel, the bulk of post-plot fluff is in the extras not the novel proper.) To be fair though, I am not really a fluff person and don’t have much interest in watching fluffy happy dating moments of even my favorite OTPs unless it’s narratively done in the middle as we we watch in knowledge the hammer of doom is coming. So this take is informed by that. (Shen Li remains close to unique for me in loving the fact that the entire last ep is dedicated to their cottagecore bliss post the plot resolution. But Shen Li is an outlier for me in many respects - when something hits well enough even my normal preferences melt away. I mean I love Suppli and that’s an office drama.)

As to second ML and second FL agree they weren’t as developed as they could have been (esp SFL) but I am just happy they weren’t ship interlopers. I rarely care much for SML/SFL unless they have their own interesting narrative not revolving a love a square so my expectations are usually low.

Ultimate while I did have some niggles (where is my naming scene, where?!?), Phone ended up my favorite kdrama of 2024 by a large margin, over even Lovely Runner, Black Out and Goryeo Khitan War.

I hope its success makes kdramas make more of those type of old school, intense, romance melos but I have my doubts.

[leavingsunsets]

I heard you wanted a request?

So i will request!

Could you write some fluff for ryusui from dr stone please?

Could you please write about ryusui trying to catch an oblivious crush attention?

Thank you!

Yes! Omg I got a request 🥺🥺🥺. I should re edit my acc to be open kehehe. Anyways, since there's no specified gender, it's an automatic gender neutral, okay?

"ᴅᴇꜱɪʀᴇᴅ, ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ."

(GN! reader x Ryusui Nanami)

Extravagant, bold. Two definitive terms that quite describe the heir of the Nanami conglomerate. He wasn't Ryusui without that, was he?

He does not shy away from stating what he wants, nor does he wither from encouraging anyone from doing the same. A person who knows himself. Direct, precise.

Yet, he somehow starts to doubt those very same facts the moment when it comes to you.

With how much Ryusui talked about desire more than the average person, it was easy to get used to how he worded his wants and his passionate pursuit of it. In fact, you nearly choked when he yelled out what you thought was a confession.

"I desire you!" was what he said, leaving you to awkwardly stand with your hand out to shake his. Luckily, this misunderstanding was quickly cleared, and your hesitance faded out the more time you've grown used to his presence.

And so, it seemed that same desensitization was like a curse for him.

As you were part of the power team, he always made sure to meet with you at the end of the day. Walking with you from the field back to where the others were.

"[name]! Great work today! Any plans for tonight?"

"Mhm! I have to go help out Kaseki. He asked me and Kohaku to help him out in carrying some woodworks after dinner."

Then, the time where you were both on the ship. As you both stood out on the deck, overlooking the sea.

"You know, [name], this view is even more beautiful, now that the person I desire most, is right here with me."

"Haha! I just saw a turtle!"

It was frustrating, but also gave a thrill, to which he didn't mind playing along with. The pursuit of passion, how far would he go, for this? Finally, one a little bolder, when the perfect opportunity comes as you're both one of the last ones by the dining.

Here, you both sit across from each other. The sound of the sea outside are faint, and gives the perfect ambience to the silence.

Swirling the wine in his glass, he takes a small sip. "When it comes to desire, I believe that there is nothing that should be worth stopping you from obtaining it."

You nod along, just as tipsy. The wine in your glass sways along. "So true, king."

He rests his elbow on the table, leaning on his fist. His other hand holding the wine glass, points at you. "Your ignorance may know no bounds, but so does my desire. And I'll let you know, that I've never denied myself of anything I've truly longed for."

Groggily, you nod. "You said a lot of fancy words, but whatever you say, king."

Ryusui watches you blink in a daze. Yeah. He's no quitter. Downing the rest of his glass, he decides to just go for it.

"[name], I desire your heart. I desire you." he goes quiet after this, staring intently. His expression is unreadable, and you would tell if you weren't still a little tipsy.

"I'm afraid I still need it, sorry." Your eyes get droopy, and you put your glass on the table. "Not... not a registered donor." you mumble.

Ryusui sighs, putting down his own glass. Nevermind. "I think it's best you go to bed now." Grabbing your arm, he throws it over your shoulder, hauling you up. Drowsily, you only nod. "Yessir.."

Luckily, you weren't that far gone, and could walk properly. So, it was no problem getting you to your room. But before he could leave you by the doorway, you suddenly reach out, surprising him.

"Hey, Ryu." you mutter, leaning on the door. He looks at you curiously, listening. "Yes?"

"I like you." you sway your head, a little sleepy. "It's fun every time I'm with you."

Ryusui stills for a moment. You yawn, letting go of him. "Well, g'night, Ryu." is the last thing you say before entering, closing the door behind you.

A beat, and one more, before, a tint of pink dusts his cheeks.

It wasn't much, but it was progress. He went straight to bed after that, eyes curving with a little more mirth that night.

[paleroze]

Blade Imagines

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Crossing paths with the person you've sworn to move on to, you stand in disbelief and despair as memories flood your mind.

"General, what a surprise to see you here." You smiled at his greeting while you stand gazing through the sky, endless possibilities crossed your mind as you prepare to embark on your journey.

"To be able to bid my farewell, I think I should meet you for the last time before you take on the sky." You laugh, "How... Delightful." Jing Yuan smiles at you, his eyes turn to the stars.

To think that you will not depart without someone saying their last words to you, this place will serve only as a memory the moment you step on the ship, you will be across the universe where you will meet different species, new people, see new places.

"Should I send you a signal if.. he returns?" You can tell Jing Yuan hesitates to mention the man, and to avoid wounding your fragile heart any longer. Yet, the price was too good for you and him that this conversation couldn't be avoided even if you yourself will disappear to the cosmos.

Your weakness is him, your strength, your life, your suffering..

"There's no need. I doubt they will even reach me."

As you take the ship, Jing Yuan waves to the craft you are maneuvering out the Xianzhou Luofu, his words did not reach you.

"Him or the message?"

The universe does not spare the weak, nor the unlucky ones.

Whichever planet you try to reside, he would find you. You will face him, now different than what you used to see him. He changed, but you remain as ever the same as how he loves you.

"How should I call you," You asked, pinned on the wall in his grasp. "Yingxing?" You test the waters. You can tell that he flinched as you uttered his name in whisper how you used to under the sheets with him. The grip on your shoulders tightened.

"Must I be a part of your vengeance, Blade?"

He never raised his weapon at you, but you still end up wounded, hurtfully inside, your heart churns as you turn to look at him. His silver hair gone to be in a shade of navy blue, the tip fades into red. His eyes that used to shine like the sea have turned scarlet that you're now a stranger to.

He will never be the person you fell in love with. That man died a long time ago..

Blade despises that he is but now an immortal being, and that suffering he also has to endure is to not be able to die with you.

"Must you torture me this way? All these years I try to run away from you, yet you show up every time. In what planet must I hide in for you not to track me down?" You screamed, anger evident in your words.

Blade will never let you escape from his grasp, not anymore he will let another person he cares about disappear, especially you. You may get angry, kill him, yell at him, but you don't get to disappear.

This never-ending chase gets tiring, but you never give up. Just to get away from him.

He's not Yingxing. He will never be Yingxing.

"No matter how many times you run, I will come to you. You're.." everything to me. The only thing that keeps me sane. His co-worker's words be damned, when he remembers your face and name, the demons within him crumble into dust, his mara that torment his life dissipates when he thinks of you.

Besides, no matter how many times he has found you, even if you shout words that flew right past his head, one thing he will never ignore is..

You never say you don't love him anymore.

[deafmangoes]

I'm not a shipper by nature, just putting that out there. But, uh, Dungeon Meshi does things to me.

Anyway, I've shared my Farcille thoughts, so now to blabber about a different popular ship: Labru. The Hot Mess. The Disaster Couple.

Firstly let's talk about the -bru part of the ship. Kabru is a neurotic little twink with PTSD and anxiety. I don't think that's in any sort of doubt. He exudes an entirely false confidence to hide his crippling self-hatred and survivor's guilt. For some reason, this makes him incredibly attractive to nearly everyone he encounters. Rin has the traditional tsundere crush, his whole party firmly believes in him (more than reflects his actual abilities), the ninjas blush when he smiles at them, even dead-hearted Mithrun warms up to him over time. The omakes take this even further: his landlord cleans his room for him, Dia's fiancé breaks down in tears when talking to him, and Holm's sister clearly wants to get it.

Kabru's not blind to any of this. He weaponises it, really. He's manipulative to an artform! Then he meets Laios. The Monsterfucker.

Laios' sexuality is not immediately clear from the manga. He definitely has a little flame for Marcille - between his awkwardness over touching her, his succubus taking her form, his illusion memory of her focusing on her power and strength - it's not love, I don't think it's even a crush, it's just that "boy sits across the table and stares intently at you" sort of feeling.

He doesn't show any direct interest in men but dearly desires their companionship. He practically kidnaps Shuro and - even though he struggles with Kabru's name at first - takes a liking to him instantly.

So do they make a good ship? Hell no, they're fucking awful together, but it works. Kabru just natually slithers in as advisor, and Laios is more than happy to have someone take all that off his plate. If there's anything there, I think it's one-sided from Kabru, and whatever feelings he has for Laios are based in his total confusion over how Laios just... survives. He finds him fascinating. Intriguing. Possibly sexually. If everyone else is an open book, Laios is the eldritch tome he cannot decipher and will burn him if he touches it. You can see why this ship seems to naturally arise from the canon.

But from Laios' point of view, I think he's... sort of homoerotic asexual? His feelings towards Marcille are more like a fascination with the exotic and monstrous (because she's Not A Tall-Man, and he doesn't want to be one), but his interactions with male companions are much more open and affectionate, even if he's a bit oblivious about it. I think he'd openly appreciate Kabru but wouldn't realise they were in a relationship until literally at the altar.

As another user put it: Laios is a human fascinated with monsters and wants to be one. Kabru sees himself as a monster and is fascinated with humans. They definitely compelement eachother.

[nvuy]

just thinking about argenti who has so much love to give to the whole universe, who is on a neverending journey of spreading the beauty across the cosmos faithfully, unwaveringly; argenti, who is never capable of receiving that kind of love back. because he cannot stop. because he cannot stray from the path of the aeon that hasn't answered to his prayers even once in his lifetime. because if he dares devote himself to anyone other than idrila, that person is going to have to wait for him all alone, thousands of light years away. lol

warnings for dark themes, angst, argenti backstory references so he’s insane and weird, and argenti literally murdering you, i guess.

i have this in my inbox as well. i liked the link, so now you WILL hear my thoughts.

i had so many thoughts for this prompt initially, but i just couldn’t string it into anything that was actually coherent.

somebody actually came into my inbox and said the interpretation of argenti’s story is wrong and i’m wrong and he didn’t actually kill his friends and SHUT UP i do what i want, and it’s just that: an interpretation. i like putting tragedy into my characters. it’s like adding salt to a bland meal.

anyway.

the worst part about this prompt, and yours, is in his inability to stop his pursuit of finding idrila, he meets you, and he does fall in love despite his promise to venture the stars alone on his journey.

argenti finds falling in love is beautiful at first. you’re supportive, even if he leaves you for extended voyages. he always brings back trinkets, gifts, leaves you one thousand messages a day that read more like love letters than normal texts, and the love he showers you in is endless.

you don’t doubt him for a second.

and then, things change. you tell him it’s difficult to love a person that’s gone for so long.

argenti does truly feel sorry, and he pities you, but this is who he is.

and you’re hurt. his devotion to idrila aside, you tell him that he’s crossed galaxies to find an aeon that does not care for him, nor the other fellow knights of beauty. they are not emanators bestowed with idrila’s power, nor has idrila been sighted by anyone for eons.

to you, it feels like he’s pining for someone else. you are in love with his undying loyalty, and his unshakeable faith. but, it hurts to be away from him for so long while he chases after a being well above you.

argenti cannot stray from the path he wanders. he insists he will do better, but when you thank him, and apologise because you feel selfish, he can’t help but notice your nails have grown to the size of curled claws.

the relationship grows worse from there. he slowly sees less of you, and more of something else. an otherworldly creature that morphs to the shape of you to keep him trapped here and away from his endeavours.

he finds himself growing to learn that the person, you, whom he’s loved with all his heart, was never a person, but a monster wearing your skin.

you break the relationship off some time later.

he finds himself relieved. not because you’re leaving—his heart shatters, actually—but because he knows, somewhere deep down in his stomach, if you stay any longer, he’ll hurt you.

argenti apologises, but you find he cannot look you in the eyes. so, you part ways. maybe you go back home, maybe you set up somewhere else by yourself. it hurts because you felt he was everything you’d ever wanted, and he was, but you know it’s better this way.

in the ideas i was writing for this prompt, i imagined you set up in belobog and work in that floral shop—i cannot remember if it has a name.

it’s been months, and you grow okay with yourself again, and everything is fine. you make bouquets, trim the stems of flowers as will, tend to the pots outside the shop, and all is well.

maybe argenti comes to the shop. he doesn’t know you work here, and he’s only come in because he’s stopped on belobog for his ship needs a repair and the red roses growing outside the window catch his eye. they’re just barely blooming, and spring looms just around the corner.

he doesn’t even realise the shop is open because it looks dark through the glass.

curiously, he opens the door to the shop, and the bell above the door tolls. a cute little shop, and bright colours encircle the walls. daisies, frangipanis, dahlias, petunias, he knows them all from your incessant ramblings when you would walk through gardens together, and he would hold onto every word.

you bound from the back room after hearing the bell, and you both just freeze up. you’re in shock he’s here—but why wouldn’t he be here? he travels planet to planet in search of his aeon—and he only sees something grotesque, and ugly, and a mockery of you. this isn’t you. it’s a mimicry. blasphemy of righteousness, of pure beauty, of one of idrila’s very creations they pulled from their gentle heart and offered to him so graciously.

he knows deep down he’s wrong. he knows, he knows, he trusts himself he knows, but he can’t win over his twitching fingers.

you greet him softly, gently pushing the work in progress bouquet and the garden pliers to the side of the front desk. there’s a multitude of thorns on the bench, and the roses in the bouquet, not yet bloomed, are picked free of their thorns.

there’s only one in the bouquet, one red shimmering rose, that has fully opened its petals.

“haven’t seen you in a while,” you say to him. there’s a hint of that customer service-y tone; because he’s not your lover anymore. “how are you?”

argenti swallows. “just the same.” he turns to the flowers on the wall. “you have a beautiful shop.”

“thanks.” you glance down at the bouquet on the bench. “did the roses outside catch your eye?”

you hear him laugh merrily. “you know me too well.” his fingers graze along the petals of a large assortment of pink amaryllis hanging over a plantar pot. he cannot look at you. he cannot, he cannot, he cannot–

“hey.”

and there’s that tone that twists his stomach. he wants to look, he wants to see you, you, and not that hideous beast that resides beneath your skin.

he feels you stop just beside him. he dares to glance.

amidst your claws and the veiny lines of your once soft and delicate hands that he always would press his lips to the back of, was a single red rose that you twirled between your fingers.

you hand it to him gently. “this one’s special.” when argenti did not move to take it, you tuck it securely behind his ear, indulging in how soft his hair was along your skin. “it’s stayed alive for a lot longer than i thought. it’s been around for about two years now, give or take.” you step back. “it reminded of you.”

and it did. undying strength, and despite all odds of belobog’s weather being unfit for roses, as all of the others had wilted over time, this particular one had stayed.

“i know things didnt end well, but…” you glance out the window. “but, you’re always welcome back here.” and, you still love him. you omit that part. “i’m sorry for whatever happened, or if i wasn’t good enough, or if there was somebody else–”

even now, he laughs. it’s weak. “there was nobody else.”

you nod once. “well. still. i’m sorry.”

argenti knew it had been all his fault, but you, ever gracious and kind as you were, felt burden on your shoulders.

his hand draws back from the amaryllis to graze over the rose behind his ear. the petals were fresh, a light smell of dewdrops in the morning on this cold planet.

he wishes now, he never turned to look at you. he wished he had just spun on his heel and left the shop, and never returned to you. you didn’t deserve this; you had always been so kind, so careful, so gentle with him.

but he did turn, because he had fooled himself into thinking it was truly you standing there, and not some masked fool, or a hideous shapeshifter that was showing its true colours. he sees those claws again, and pulled aged skin that reminds him of trees as old as time, horrible teeth, twisted limbs that crack and bend—

to make matters worse, you notice his distress, and as you always did when you were together, you pull him gently towards you and wrap your arms around him.

argenti, mistakenly, returns the warm embrace, and unbeknownst to you, one of his hands brushes against the garden shears you’d left on the desk next to the bouquet.

he thinks against it for a moment when he hears you apologise for what he had done wrong, and bury your face in the plated shoulder of his silver armour.

despite how he holds the writhing creature in his arms, he knows it’s you. and it is you, but he doesn’t see you, nor does he see any semblance of you left when he turns his head to stare out of the window. he catches a reflection of the creature twitching.

he murmurs an apology as well.

and then, he drives the shears into a particular spot in your spine. you gasp, and you become dead weight in his arms as the feeling of your legs fall away.

cold snaps up your chest and you cry out in pain. it’s just pain, and pain, and pain as hot blood dribbles from your neck.

and then there’s nothing. there’s no feeling. you can’t even breathe. your arms and legs feel as though they’ve just disappeared, and just as he hoped, you don’t feel his spear drive directly through your chest.

he kills you then, as quickly as he can, because as the monster cries and screams, he still knows it’s you in his arms, and he wouldn’t live with himself if you suffered in your final moments.

he sees you, finally, when he lays you down gently on the floor. he tries his best to clean you of the tear stains, and the blood smears that had crept around the front of your neck. you’re still beautiful, even in death, but he finds it impossible to leave the rose you’d gifted him.

so, he takes it—and that rose probably becomes the rose he carries in all his little animations in game. he traverses with guilt, and it’s probably a little wink nudge nudge to you when he says he owes his next battle to ‘a solitary rose.’

[rocksibblingsau]

so you have the whole no offical cannon ships in your story but do you have any fun soulmate aus that you like? or want to play with?

for example the whole red string of fate au. where the person you're destined to be is on the other end. the color could change based on genre, or the color changes if they mix (a lot of purple string ;) lol)

I actually have a Brynth soulmate AU that I'd like to share with you.

Canon Branch timeline in an AU where the things you write on your body can be seen by your soulmate. One thing however is you can't write names, descriptions or places. They vanish. You're supposed to meet organically, not go "Hi my name is Branch and I live at-"

However there's something else. Being grey severs your end of the connection. You can receive messages, but nothing you write will be sent to your soulmate.

When Branch and Synth are young, they can't communicate much since they're still learning how to write, but Branch is confused by Synth's talk of water all the time and what a 'beat drop' is. After his brothers leave, however, Branch starts to wonder if your soulmate can reject you. After the death of his grandma, Branch couldn't even reply to Synth even if he wanted to. He doesn't (He's lying).

Branch reads everything Synth says, but he keeps his arms covered in public.

After Chef comes, Branch tries for the first time to reach Synth. He tries to write out "Are you safe, were you taken, are you alive?" but since he's grey, it doesn't work.

After Branch gets his colors back, he finally contacts Synth for the first time, and Synth is just happy to have Branch back. Synth asks why Branch didn't message him back and he's content with the answer "I couldn't. I wanted to, but I couldn't."

After talking a bit, Synth has sort of deduced that Branch is from another tribe, but Branch has no clue about the tribes so he thinks Synth is just someone who left the tree or Pop Village at some point.

When World Tour happens, Synth tries to warn Branch, but due to the rule about locations, Branch gets a fragmented message:

"Attacked. Coming for you next. Run. Hide. Protect string. Love you."

Shortly after that, Debbie shows up and Peppy explains the tribes situation. Branch realizes then his soulmate is from another tribe and that Barb must have been the one to attack them.

Branch confides in Poppy, but she doesn't listen, though she does start to have some doubts sooner about Barb's intentions.

Branch keeps trying to check in with Synth, but Synth doesn't have anything to write with so he can't answer. Branch tries to keep Synth's spirits up by sending him funny messages. "----- threw away my comprehensive manual and my sticks. I whittled those for hours. You would love my whittling, wish you were here instead."

The rest goes as normal, but after Just Sing, Branch gets tackled by a Techno Troll. Synth knew right away that was his soulmate who threw that book.