#i can very much relate to the Torment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deepdarkdelights · 5 months ago

Text

Predator (Jungkook x Reader) Part II - Prey

Pairing: Vampire Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Series: Predator Universe

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Vampire Jungkook, Obsession, Manipulation, Forced Relationships, Blood (So much of it), Fear (Copious amounts), Panic/Anxiety Attacks, Mind Games, Tormenting the MCs, Discussions about dead bodies, Jungkook and his unblinking stare, Self Injury (Non Mental Health Related), Forced Feeding, Isolation

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.

Preview: The worst part was that you never tried to run. Jungkook never tied you down to anything or bound your wrists or feet. He simply knew that you would never try. It would be idiotic for you to try and run, you knew he was a talented tracker - he would be able to find you within minutes of your escape. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide from him, he would always be able to find you.

A/N: I am alive! This was entirely inspired by an ask that was sent to me so the entire reason this exists is because of the wonderful anons who have asked be about what has happened since the end of Predator and who have asked to see what a more lucid Jungkook would look like. I haven't had this much fun writing in such a long time. I'm sorry it's so short, I hope you can forgive me 💜

READ PART I - PREDATOR

_______

It was dark and quiet, the only sound being the steady, slow, drip of water hitting the dusty floorboards and the harsh chatter of your teeth as they clashed together.

You were freezing, your body trembling despite your best attempts to collect yourself. It was no use, no matter what you did you were never able to warm up anymore. You knew it wasn’t all that cold outside, but that didn’t really matter. Despite the chills that wracked your body there was a fine sheen of sweat that coated your skin.

You were unsure as to how much time had really passed since you had found yourself here. All of the days had begun to blend together like some horrible fever dream you simply couldn’t wake up from. The only constant in your life has become him.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was trying to kill you.

What was truly likely, was that this was a side effect of his treatment of you. It was very likely that he just didn’t know how to take care of a human. And despite your incessant pleading, he had told you that he would not kill you. So really, it was his own ineptitude that had you knocking on death’s door.

Your skin felt grimey, not entirely from lack of hygiene, but from the film of blood that coated your skin. It was all over you but it mostly dominated your cheeks, lips, throat, chest, and fingers. He was not violent when he claimed his feeds, but he was not necessarily gentle either. You hadn’t looked in a mirror for quite some time, but you were certain no amount of vampire blood would be able to seal your wounds with how often they were readily reopened.

This wasn’t a life, it was a slow and painful trek to the afterlife.

Your trembling increased as the front porch creaked, he was already back. Your head lolled backwards and hit the wall behind you in defeat. You couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t give him another part of yourself - this time you were certain that it would kill you.

Every time he fed from you, there was a horrible, delightful, exhilarating rush that followed. Whatever it was that he was doing to you, it was forcing you to enjoy the very thing that was killing you. It was perverse. It was disgusting. It was addicting.

It was hard to hate him in the throes of ecstasy, there was this horrible thrill that came the second before his fangs pierced his limb of choice as you knew you would be rewarded with bliss in the moments that followed. It was easier to hate him when he wasn’t there, his lack of presence giving your mind the briefest of reprieves to remind yourself of the horrible situation you were truly in.

The distance, however, didn’t seem to allow him the same clarity. If anything, it made him grow more needy, more irritated, and more clingy.

The door creaked open, and your time to yourself disappeared. Your body shook tenfold as his presence filled the room. He still looked the same as he did the first time you had come face to face with him. His clothes were worse for wear, even more blood stained and shredded than they had been before. There was a permanent coppery scent that surrounded him, the dried blood being the prime suspect.

You were certain that you didn’t smell that much better. Although, to a vampire, you probably would smell all that more enticing.

His gaze was immediately drawn to you, your eyes locking with one another, bridging the fifteen foot gap between you. His eyes often fluctuated in vibrancy depending on how hungry he was. The days where they were near black were the most difficult for you, but today they were a bright crimson red. He had fed on someone, someone who luckily wasn’t you.

“Hello little mouse,” He greeted, his voice low and surprisingly soft, devoid of the almost manic tone you had been familiar with for the longest time.

He began to close the distance between the two of you, his gait smooth as he approached you. The way he moved was unnaturally perfect, the silent power of a predator imbued in every muscle of his body.

He wordlessly dropped a bag in your lap as he sank down to the ground beside you, his wide, red, unblinking eyes staring at you, waiting for you to make a move. No matter how much time you have spent with him, his stare was still unnerving.

It took you longer than it should have to open it, your fingers trembling beyond your control. But Jungkook was patient, he has all of the time in the world to wait.

The scent of food hit your nose, your mouth watering and your stomach growling eagerly in response. From the color of his eyes and what he had brought you, you assumed he had decided to have his fill of a hiker instead of you.

Jungkook didn’t know how to take care of a human, that much was obvious. He had, however, been keenly aware of how much blood he was draining from your body on a daily basis. You had become so weak, anything but sitting felt like a herculean task nowadays. And the lack of consistent meals was weighing heavy on your body.

You didn’t care that he was watching you eat, your mannerisms ravenous and most likely off putting. But you no longer complained when he took his fill of you, and for some reason he remained silent and returned that courtesy.

You had noticed a shift in his behavior when that other vampire had found the two of you not that long ago. He knew Jungkook, from the way they spoke it appeared he knew him very well. This other vampire, despite how he appeared more human than Jungkook, frightened you just as much. You could tell from the curl of his smile to his confident gait that he was just as bad, if not worse, as Jungkook.

You had nearly fainted on the spot when he suggested the two of them share you, you were already tapped out as it was, Jungkook had fed on you that morning. The two of them, together, would kill you for sure.

To your surprise, Jungkook had not responded enthusiastically. He responded like an animal defending its territory - baring his fangs and growling in just barely contained rage. And that reaction had set off the other vampire and before you knew it they were a blur of limbs.

They moved so fast your human eyes could barely keep up with them. You were only able to focus when one of them threw the other giving you just enough time to watch them separate before they came back together again. The sound their bodies made when they clashed together was like thunder from what you could only assume was the pure force and strength they possessed. And, much like animals, they ripped and tore into one another with their teeth and nails.

By the time the two of them had finally separated for good, it was because of how much they had injured one another. The both of them were covered in wounds oozing black blood, some of which was their own, and some belonging to the other.

The other vampire, whom you had briefly heard Jungkook address as Hoseok, was tired but still enraged.

“Are you fucking serious? All of this for what, a pathetic little human?!” He yelled, his nostrils flaring in anger. “It’s food, Jungkook! I’m your brother!”

Your body flinched out of habit at the snarl that left Jungkook.

“With the rate that you’re going you’ll kill her anyways! Why does it even matter?!”

“She’s my human,” Jungkook replied, his voice low with warning.

“This isn’t even supposed to be about her! She’s nothing! Namjoon sent me to come and find you but you know what, I think I’ll let you deal with the consequences of your actions. It’s only a matter of time before he comes for you and when that happens, you're on your own!”

He disappeared quickly after that, it was like he was there one moment and then vanished the next. Once he was gone, Jungkook’s once sturdy stance softened, his shoulders bending forward from the strain of his own weight. He was hurt, badly.

He slowly turned to look at you, the red of his eyes and his dark mop of hair just visible over the curve of his shoulder. You knew that look, it usually didn’t end well for you.

“No, no, no, Jungkook, please!” You whimpered, scrambling backwards.

But it was no use, he never listened to you anyways. He always took what he wanted, even when you had nothing left to give.

He stumbled when he moved but he quickly regained his footing, his black blood stained hands grabbing you by the shins and pulling your retreating form towards him. You fought as hard as you could but you were already weak to begin with.

“Stop it, please!” You begged, but he didn’t listen. He wrapped his arms around you, his grip too tight and utterly uncomfortable.

“Jungkook-”

“Shut up,” He grunted before yanking your head roughly to the side and sinking his teeth back into the scarred skin of your neck. The shriek that left you was borderline inhuman, the building scar tissue made the intrusion all the more painful and Jungkook was not gentle.

And he had already taken so much blood the day before. It wasn’t long before your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you went limp in his iron hold.

That was the first time that Jungkook had given you vampire blood. You had almost died that day, you had gotten so close to finally being free of him and still he wouldn’t let you go. Even death wasn’t a great enough adversary for him.

When you had woken up after that attack, shocked that you managed to survive, you were met with those big, red, frightening eyes. The look on his face was the most serious you had ever seen it before, an odd clarity in his eyes that you were seeing for the first time.

He had been dreadfully quiet since then, speaking even less and shorter sentences than he normally did. You wouldn’t say he felt bad for what he did, but he had become increasingly aware of the inherent fragility that came with being human. He never apologized, but he had fed from you a lot less after that.

You froze mid bite as you felt his icy fingers graze your flesh, the coolness biting your skin and seeping into your veins. His touch was feather light, just barely there, but you went still beneath it anyways. You were incredibly aware of the strength that was concealed in that touch. He appeared unbothered by your response, his thumb smoothing over the curve of your jaw as he leaned in unbearably close.

You flinched at the feeling of cold metal being draped around your throat, his fingers clasping the material at the nape of your neck. It was a necklace. Your chest felt tighter, the food in your stomach quickly souring.

He was doing it again.

You were well aware of Jungkook’s strange and disturbing habit of taking mementos from his victims. His ears, wrists, neck, and practically every inch of his body were adorned with items he had stolen. You noticed he had an affinity for jewelry, but his jacket and boots had been taken from someone’s corpse as well. And, recently, he started bringing them back for you as well.

Your bloody fingers were littered with several rings, a bracelet on your right wrist, and your ears decorated in earrings - some of which he had pierced himself. And now, the necklace.

It left your stomach in knots when he did this, you couldn’t help but think about the bodies abandoned in the woods that he had slaughtered every time the metal glinted back at you. Each piece felt like another shackle keeping you at his side.

The worst part was that you never tried to run. Jungkook never tied you down to anything or bound your wrists or feet. He simply knew that you would never try. It would be idiotic for you to try and run, you knew he was a talented tracker - he would be able to find you within minutes of your escape. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide from him, he would always be able to find you.

And so, you had become his plaything. His dinner and now his doll, a weak body that he could play with and decorate to his greatest desires whether that be with a corpse's jewelry, or a litany of scars.

“Pretty,” He said, his voice deceptively soft as he grazed the skin of your neck, his fingers moving from the clasp of the necklace to trace over the scarred imprints of his fangs and teeth.

You were thankful that he wasn’t hungry.

The odd, calm atmosphere between the two of you was quickly dissipating. Jungkook shifted away, agitation clear on his face as an annoyed growl parted his lips. You flinched back against the wall, scooting away to stay out of his path.

This wasn’t unusual - he had been having rapid mood swings lately.

The few moments of peace the two of you would share were often interrupted by the sudden pained twist of his features - his eyebrows drawing together and his nose scrunching in a snarl. It almost looked like he was in physical pain despite there being no signs of any injury.

And then, the pacing would start. It was like watching a caged lion sweep the perimeter of their enclosure. Back and forth, slow and menacing steps. It was like he was looking for something, or trying to guard the two of you from someone else. You hadn’t dared to ask what he was doing, to be entirely honest you tried your best to avoid initiating any interaction or conversation with him at all. The few times you did speak to him, it was usually to beg for him to leave you alone, pleas that often fell on deaf ears.

You didn’t know what to do with this. When you first “met” him, he had been sadistic, like a zealous child with more power than they knew what to do with. He had wanted to play his sick and twisted games with you and the plan had always been to gorge himself on your blood and leave your mangled corpse deep in the forest to wither and return to the earth. That was what was familiar to you, that was what you were expecting.

You were never supposed to live, that had been an unfortunate circumstance, a split decision he made to prolong your torture and pain. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do with this suddenly quiet, confused, and barely human creature in front of you. One that would rip open your flesh to feed just as soon as he would leave bruising kisses on your lips and throat, painting the flesh a rich red that was left to rust.

You were waiting for him to snap, waiting for it to all finally be over. But that would be luck, luck that you didn’t have. He had promised you, so long ago, that you would never be alone again, that he would keep you. And you have suffered the consequences ever since.

When he said your name you felt your blood freeze over. He had never said your name before, you didn’t even know that he knew it. He had always called you that horrific pet name, his little mouse.

You wrapped your arms around your legs, pulling them into your chest in an attempt to feel some sense of security as he continued to speak.

“We’re leaving soon.” He said, the words simple but the expression on his face ever so complex. Reluctance, frustration, pain, anxiety.

You swallowed, but did not move. The silence was deafening. But, by the look on his face, you knew that he was waiting for your response. You would have to break the stalemate.

“Are you…taking me home?” You dared to ask, your heart thundering in your chest as that predatory gleam returned to those red eyes.

“No,” He growled, his jaw clenched as his fangs ground against his lower set of teeth, “You’re not going back there, ever.”

Your heart shattered.

“I’m being called back to my home.”

His home? This was the first that you were hearing of it, you never stopped to ask yourself if he had a home. You couldn’t picture it even if you tried, it was a puzzle piece that simply didn’t fit. You had always assumed he was simply a nomadic creature that moved as he hunted. And, due to his supernatural nature, it seemed that he never needed the typical human necessities and comforts such as four walls and a roof.

You knew he had some sort of family at the very least. You had, after all, had the displeasure of meeting Hoseok who had referred to himself as his brother. And he had mentioned the name Namjoon, the phrasing suggesting a hierarchical structure. But even the notion that he had a family felt just as mismatched. And how ironic it was that he was returning home to a family he didn’t even want, and he wouldn’t let you go home to the family that you missed so much.

“And that’s bad?” You hesitantly asked, flinching as he growled in frustration.

“It’s worse than bad!” He yelled, his hands sliding through his hair in stress, “It was difficult enough fending Hoseok off, but all six of them? You’re as good as dead.”

Hope.

“Then…don’t go?” You said, although it sounded more like a question. By the way he was acting, it was like returning was not a choice.

“If only it were that easy,” He laughed, the sound bordering on being unhinged. “I can’t ignore it, if I’m called I have to answer. If I don’t it becomes more and more persistent. It feels like a cord that grows tighter and tighter until it pulls and my body moves on its own and takes me back.”

That explained the pacing, the restlessness his body had been experiencing. He had been trying to redirect it by walking the perimeter of the decrepit cottage but it had been a temporary fix to the problem. You could only assume that he was getting to the point now where his body was ready to return against his will.

How horrible it was, to be someone’s unwilling puppet. You knew that feeling all too well.

You didn’t know what you were supposed to tell him. There were no choices to be made by the two of you. He would have to return, and he wouldn’t leave you here on your own as he knew you would be given the greatest opportunity you have ever had to leave him. So, he would have to take you with him right into the lion’s den where you would undoubtedly be consumed.

He was mumbling to himself now, his pacing becoming more frantic and much faster, your human eyes struggling to keep track of him. You were sure that he was moving so fast he would wear down the old floorboards beneath him and the soles of his beat up boots.

You could only assume that meant the call was becoming even stronger. Before - it was asking, now it was commanding.

You had never seen him so frantic before, those wide blood red eyes unblinking and shifting back and forth faster and faster as his thoughts raced. It was borderline demonic, like something you would see during a paranormal movie or an exorcism. It was terrifying.

You began to scoot back as far away as you could until your spine was flush with the wall behind you. You felt better with some part of you concealed from the open, but that did little to calm your racing heart and the creature that raged in front of you.

What was he so afraid of, so panicked by? You couldn’t imagine anything scaring him, not with how terrifying he was on his own. What could be so bad, so scary, that it frightened a monster? You weren't sure you wanted to find out, even if it meant you could finally feel the sweet embrace of death and escape him once and for all.

Jungkook finally came to a stop, his body still but his eyes continued to move erratically. And then they too settled, and a look of deadly calm settled over them. He had decided something, and you were certain that whatever his decision was it wouldn’t be good for you.

“They wouldn’t,” You heard him mutter to himself, “Not if I put a fail safe if place.”

A fail safe?

Before you could even blink he had moved across the room, faster than your eyes could track. Your body had been ripped away from the wall and set in between his legs, your spine pressed against his chest, the both of you seated on the ground.

An uncontrollable wail shook your body, the sound emanating a feeling of pure hopelessness. You had been surprised it came out of you, but you knew why. You were terrified he was going to feed from you again.

His one arm was wrapped around your ribs, his legs tensed and forcing your own to squeeze together. He had immobilized you, there was nowhere else you could go and no way to escape him.

Your entire body shook and heaved with hysterical breaths as you writhed in his grip. “Please, please don’t do it again I can’t take anymore of this!”

He hushed you, his free hand brushing over your hair in a surprisingly gentle manner. It was more like someone who was trying to calm a startled stray animal than anything else. His touch moved to your chin, lightly taking hold of the point where your neck and jaw bone met.

He didn’t say anything, instead he forced you to look at him, turning your face so that he could look directly into your eyes. And then, to your shock and horror, he plunged his fangs into his own wrist and ripped the flesh wide open. A torrent of thick, viscous, black blood rolled down the pale flesh of his forearm. And before you could do or say anything he grabbed you by your hair and jerked your head back before pressing his open wound to your mouth.

You gagged at the smell and taste, tears blurring your vision as you tried to move your head away but he did not budge. His arm around your ribs finally moved but only to help him pry your jaw open and force the blood flow down your throat. He continued to hush you as he forced you to drink, gently rocking your body in stark contrast to the harsh and violent hold he had you in.

“Just relax,” He whispered against the shell of your ear, “The more you struggle, the longer I’ll keep you here. We need to get as much of my blood as possible into your system.”

You were crying even harder now, the salt of your tears slipping between his wrist and your lips and mingling with his blood in your mouth. What had you ever done to deserve this? What horrible thing had you done in some past life to deserve this kind of punishment?

You just wanted to go home. You wanted your mom and dad, your grandparents, and the gentle comfort of your bed in your childhood room. You wanted that life back, and you were never going to have it again.

His harsh grip on your jaw loosened as you went limp in his arms, resigning yourself to your inescapable fate. His hand returned to those soothing strokes against your hair, a low hum in his chest vibrating against your back as he watched you feed from him with a curious gaze. You were such a weak little thing, you needed him more than you would ever understand.

You hiccupped pathetically when he finally removed his wrist from your mouth after what felt like hours. Your lips and chin were stained black from the blood he spilled when you had struggled. He stared at you again, curiosity evident in his gaze, as he leaned forward and licked the flesh of your lips, tasting his own blood.

You shivered as he made a soft hum, cocking his head to the side before doing it once more, stroking over the bitten and chapped skin with his tongue as he transitioned into kissing your battered lips in a grotesque act of intimacy. He laughed against your mouth as you weakly pushed against his chest, he was amused by your pathetic attempts to push him away. It only encouraged him to kiss you harder and deeper, sampling the taste of his own blood straight from your mouth.

Once he was satisfied he finally allowed you to breathe, a devious gleam in his eyes that you had not seen in a long time.

“They won’t be able to kill you for a while now, not unless they want another vampire to worry about.” He said. He was gloating, reveling in the win his family had no idea he had already achieved.

Your blood ran cold, your body freezing at his revelation. The very thing you craved, your own death and by association freedom from him, would be the very thing that would trap you with him for the rest of eternity. If you were killed with his blood in your system, you would become one of them. He truly had taken everything from you, even the dignity of your own death. Your life was his and his alone.

He really was a monster.

His features suddenly twisted in pain, his head jerking to the side as he released a low and threatening growl. The call was becoming even stronger, the most intense it had ever been. There was no more delaying it. They had to go, and they had to right now.

He quickly lifted you into his arms as his body began to move on its own, forcing him to begin to move in the direction of his home. There was nothing more that you could do, all you could do was remain limp in his arms. It was over, there was point in fighting anymore.

He had finally broken you.

When he stepped outside you were shocked by the fresh air and the cold weather. Then again, you always feel cold now. The clouds were thick today, the sun hidden behind their cover. It had been so long since you were outside, and even longer since you had been in the sun - that wouldn’t change in the near future. But what truly shocked you, was that the world went on without you. The seasons continued to change, the flora continued to flourish and then decay. The cycles continued while you were stored away. How cruel the world was to keep going on as you withered away.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, shielding your face from the harsh wind as he began to move faster, running at his impossibly fast pace that no human could ever wish to match. How had so much changed? When did you go from human being to a play thing for a monster like him. You had a life, but now it had become inconsequential, toyed with and thrown away like it never even mattered.

What were you supposed to do now? At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter. He had won, he had played his sadistic stupid games with you, and he had won. He had broken you. You tucked your chin into your chest and like the pathetic creature that you were you whimpered.

You cared about what was going to happen next. If Jungkook had been wrong, then the two of you walking into the proverbial lion's den would end with you turning into one of them, a fate worse than any other that you could imagine. To be tied to him for all of eternity would be your personal hell on earth.

What would they do to you when you got there? Would your death before your next life be slow and torturous, or quick and merciful? Would it be planned and intentional, or accidental?

Jungkook began to slow, his fast pace relaxing into a natural walk. The tension that previously rested in his body had begun to dissipate. You could only speculate this was the relief of obeying the command to return home. His control over his own body was slowly but surely coming back to him the closer the two of you came to his home.

He stopped for a moment, placing you down on your own two feet before he took hold of your wrist and forced you to follow after him. Your knees wobbled beneath your weight, unaccustomed to you standing after being curled up in a ball in that abandoned shack for the longest time. You looked more like a baby fawn learning to walk than you did that meek little mouse Jungkook always thought you were. He, however, paid little attention to you at that moment. He was tense, his body in a state of alert as subtly surveyed the area as you continued on.

He could sense something that your dull human senses weren’t entirely picking up on. However, the hair on the back of your neck prickled and your gut twisted as you felt phantom eyes digging into your body.

Someone, somewhere, was watching you.

A building began to break through the cluster of trees. A modern, contemporary house in the middle of the forest was coming into view. This was the last place you thought of when Jungkook had mentioned his home. In all honesty, you would have been less surprised by a crypt and a row of coffins.

In front of the house, stood a man. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, his eyes that familiar shade of deep burgundy, the same shade the monster’s eyes were when he was hungry. This sent chills throughout your body, your entire being sensing the danger in the vampire that stood across from you.

Those burgundy eyes swept towards you, a look of shock and confusion discoloring their once calm gaze that you speculated was rarely rattled. His features twisted as he took in the state of you, the dried human and vampire blood that coated your body in thick layers, the dirt that was caked into your clothing, your hair that needed to be washed, and the smattering of scars that decorated your body and glistened in the cloudy daylight.

You were barely human anymore, you were a walking corpse.

“You called me home, Namjoon.” Jungkook simply said, his body moving to shield you from the other vampire's gaze.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon said, utter disbelief tinging his words, “What are you doing to her?”

In every possible scenario you had conjured in your mind, this had not been one of them.

Sympathy.

_______

#bts #bts jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #yandere #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #bts fanfic #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere kpop #yandere bts x reader #vampire jungkook #vampire jungkook x reader #yandere vampire #vampire bts #vampire bts x reader

736 notes · View notes

eightmakesonebraincell · 1 year ago

Text

ateez as pirates who fall for you (maknae line)

read hyung line here

genre: pirate!ateez x gn!reader (fem!reader for jongho), fluff, angst, continuation of the pirate trope brainrot (but i must say i went all out for the plots this time)

length: 14.4k

c/w: heavy and mature themes - mdni, explicit language (swearing), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, illegal acts (piracy, attempted murder), alcohol, near-drowning, angst bc i mean angst, specific c/w for mingi’s au: hurt/comfort, allusions to depression

a/n: i’m very sad i never got to use this joke somewhere so - why are pirates called pirates? because they just arrrr 🙈🙉🙊 also to those who like connecting dots and whatnot there are a few easter eggs related to hyung line 🥚 big thanks to yumi @sorryimananti-romantic for getting me through the last three months of trying to work and write bc it’s been a ship time ha ha 😬👍

taglist: at the end

san

pov: you run away with san and the cromer

through your waning breath, you reach a trembling hand up to cup san’s jaw

“s-san, don’t do it”

he lets out a racking sob as he shakes his head, expression marred with agony and torment that you can physically feel in his white-knuckled grasp that covers your own hand

the tears that drip off his jaw become lost to the ground, which is damp from moisture and your blood

you swallow the metallic taste in your mouth, “the cromer isn’t meant for changing fate.” it hurts to take a breath and you wince as you stutter. “it never goes th- the way you want it to…you know that by now”

san’s voice is broken and pained, “i don’t fucking care. it’s not going to stop me from trying”

he grips your hand even tighter when he starts to feel it fall away from his cheek

it’s becoming tiring to keep your eyes open

maybe you can rest…just for a little bit

san will forgive you, right?

you close your eyes

just for a little while

just until the pain stops

faintly, you think you can feel your body being jostled against something warm

but it’s far away

far away

far

san clutches your limp body as he lets out a primal wail of anguish

you cannot die

you will not die

he snatches the glowing hourglass and flips it with desperation screaming in every cell of his body

and then his world goes white.

you don’t notice when the footsteps behind you suddenly fall silent

you’re too busy reasoning with the captain, whose back you are facing as he walks ahead and leads your crew further into the dim tunnels of the cave

“it’s much safer if we go over the mountain. we’ll have the advantage of higher ground to ambush the horizon”

your captain, taesung, doesn’t look at you when he answers over his shoulder, “it’s much quicker through the tunnels. we don’t have the luxury of time if we want to attack their crew before they leave the island”

“and what if they attack - the horizon can easily ambush us as long as they’ve got the cave’s exit guarded”

you immediately turn around to look at san, knowing that he’ll support your argument

only to find that he’s not there

he’s several metres behind the back of the group and frozen to the spot

even in the shadowed darkness of the musty cave, you can clearly see the ashen and shaken features of his face

approaching him slowly, your fire torch held out in front of you, you gently call, “san?”

at the sound of your voice, his eyes lock onto yours

he looks terrified

san is lost in a distorted warp of visions

he can’t make sense of nor connect what he’s seeing

but there is blood

there’s so much blood

it’s everywhere

you’re there

it’s your blood

there’s someone screaming; raw with despair

he’s screaming

the ground digs into his knees and he feels wet and sticky from your blood but also his tears and there are so many tears and the walls are cold from moisture and it’s so dark and musty even with the smell of iron in the air and god you’re dying

you’re going to die

“san?” you repeat, now in front of him and tenderly cupping his jaw

and san has to stop you from dying

his pupils focus on you once again before he desperately tries to gain his bearings

he looks around with increasing franticness

he’s in a cave and the only light he can see comes from the torch you’re holding and the others shared amongst the crew

water drips from the ceiling and along the rugged walls towards the damp ground, filling the cave with a stale and mouldy smell

all his senses scream the same thing to him

it’s just like when you died

his own voice sounds foreign to him when he manages to choke out, “let’s listen to captain”

your eyebrows pinch together at san’s sudden compliance, especially more so when he lowers the volume of his next words so that you’re the only one who can hear his soft don’t argue with him

there’s something about the way he silently pleads with his eyes that makes you nod numbly

you slip the hand that isn’t holding the torch into his and prompt him to walk again with a light tug forward towards the rest of the crew, who are not too far ahead

when the both of you have nearly caught up, san readjusts his hand in your grasp so that his is atop of yours

and so you two walk, san leading you with a sturdy hand; a line of defence between you and the rest of the crew…and the depths of the cave

the thin sheet of cotton that you lay upon does little to soften the discomfort of the cave’s floor as you and the crew prepare for a few hours of sleep, but your pillow makes up for it

your head is cushioned by san’s thigh, who’s seated upright against the wall after offering to keep watch

he’s gazing down at you with a tender smile as he slowly runs his fingers through your hair like a soothing lullaby

your eyes scan his, still trying to catch any changes in his expression that could possibly explain his strange demeanour from earlier

you want to ask him what’s wrong but there’s only so much privacy you can get in a cave with the rest of your crew

instead, you give his hand a squeeze

san’s smile fades a little and you wonder whether it’s the illusion of the light and shadows from the torches that makes his face look so gaunt

his eyes flicker around guiltily and then he looks at you whilst reciprocating your squeeze

he’s mouthing something, you realise

do you trust me?

you tighten your fingers around his in reassurance

with my life

the dimpled caverns return to san’s cheeks, and then he’s whispering to you softly, “sleep”

you don’t recall dozing off, but you must not have been asleep for very long before you’re woken by a light shake to your shoulder

the groggy mumble that starts to leave your lips is hushed by a warm kiss on your forehead

you’re met with the sight of san holding a finger against his lips when you open your eyes and your brain struggles to comprehend what’s happening

there’s a faint glow coming from under his bulging shirt, which could only be one thing

the cromer

as your neurons start firing again, you come to the realisation that apart from you and san, nobody else is awake yet

quietly, he helps you up to your feet

the silent question he asked before you fell asleep replays in your head, and although it does nothing to clear up your confusion, it helps to ease your anxiety because you meant it when you mouthed your response

you trust san with your life

so you turn away from your crew members and start walking, each step deliberate and careful, your hand clutched safely within san’s while he retraces your steps from today

and when san deems you two far enough and out of immediate danger of being caught, he pulls the cromer out of his shirt to use as a makeshift torch

you both make a run for it

when you emerge out of the cave’s entrance hours later, thighs burning from the strain, you almost stumble to your hands and knees from the blinding brightness of the afternoon sun

san tightens his hold on you and urges, “this way, love”

together, you climb the outcrop on the left and disappear further into the mountains because you can’t afford to rest near the cave

few words are exchanged as san nimbly navigates the rickety ledges and overgrown roots, muscles flexing as he pushes forward and helps you with an extended hand

you realise soon after that whilst he leads you two away from the cave, he travels parallel to the edges of the mountain trees - a guideline that keeps the long port of the island just within sight

“san,” you finally break the silence to point towards an overhang you spot, “we should take a break”

he’s sweating from exertion and lack of sleep, so he nods with a grateful smile and leads you towards it

the rock provides a decent amount of shade and conceals you two well enough with the surrounding greenery

only when he sits with a sigh does he finally let go of your hand after hours of holding on

you know that he’s one for constant physical affection, but this…this feels different

it’s like he’s afraid that you will slip away the moment he lets go of you

you turn to look at him

“san, what exactly is going on?”

he’s quiet

he doesn’t know how to tell you - is there even a way to package his next words prettily?

letting out a stuttering breath, san puts it blankly on the table, “i saw you die in my arms”

you’re stunned into silence and your throat feels even drier than before

“was it…” you dare to ask, “was it going to happen in the cave?”

he nods, “i just suddenly saw it and it felt so real. it- it was dark and wet and the smell - the smell was just awful and-”

“hey, hey, san. it’s okay, we’re not in the cave anymore,” you soothe, pressing your forehead to his

you feel him relax under your touch before he tilts his head to kiss your lips

“yeah,” he sighs against you, “you’re right”

when you pull away, the faint glow under his shirt catches your eyes

“why did you bring the cromer?”

if it had only been you and san missing from the crew, taesung might not have bothered going after the two of you

but with the missing cromer too, the captain will spend the rest of his life tracking it down - tracking you two down - if that’s what it will take

taesung isn’t stupid enough to just let go of the cromer and the inexplicable power it holds to travel between dimensions

san shimmies the hourglass out of his shirt and holds it carefully in his hands, “i need a fail-proof safety net, just in case something goes wrong and…i still don’t end up saving you”

“a safety net?” an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, “san? what are you not telling me?”

he runs his fingers along the metal casing over and over again as he avoids looking at you

“i…i’ve used it before,” san finally admits, “i used the cromer to bring you back to life”

without thinking, you blurt, “it’s only meant for travelling between dimensions. nobody knows what the repercussions are if you try to mess with fate!”

“well, i did it.” he snaps, “you’re here, alive, and i would do it again and again to save you”

at his words, you soften

because san didn’t just see you die

he lived through seeing you die

you can’t even begin to imagine if you had been the one to experience san die in your arms

“i’m sorry,” you apologise. “thank you for saving me, and for loving me”

san’s eyes are red when he looks at you, “i’m sorry, too, for snapping at you. i know this is a lot for you to process”

you shake your head with your own watery smile

“i’m alive, and i promise i’ll stay alive”

“and i promise i’ll keep you alive,” he nudges your cheek with a playful peck

you laugh, because san makes you happy even in the most uncertain of times, and you ask, “what’s the plan now?”

“find a ship that’s willing to get us the hell out of here”

he makes a move to stand and you place your hand on the ground to push yourself up to your feet too

except your hand shifts with your weight and you end up cutting your palm open on the sharp edge of the rocks

hissing, you draw your hand back towards your chest

“shit, let me have a look,” san drops to his knees and takes your hand in his

he gently blows away the soil and rubble around your wound as you wince

it’s nothing too serious, but it’s deep enough that blood immediately begins to pool in the broken skin and seep further out onto your palm

the glow of the cromer pulses

“san,” you start when you see the cogs moving in his head

he removes one hand to pull the cromer out and presents it to the both of you

“i’m not losing you to infection from a cut, not after everything that we’ve done so far to get to here,” he quips

there’s only time to let out an exasperated sigh before he’s taking your good hand to turn the cromer together

your world goes white

the next moment when you open your eyes after blinking, you’re still there resting under the overhang in the mountain forest

san’s sitting next to you, the only sign of the cromer a faint glow under his shirt

and your hand…

there’s no cut

your head whips towards san and his eyes widen when he sees the unbroken skin of your palm

san makes a move to stand, but this time, he gathers your hands and pulls you up with him

“it worked,” you breathe out once you’re on your feet

“it worked!” san repeats, engulfing you into a crushing hug

the amount of relief he feels is uncontainable, because the cut is reassurance that he can change fate with the cromer

in high spirits, san tucks it back into the safety of his shirt after wrapping it in a length of sash and then he secures it snugly under his belt

you two need to look the part of inconspicuous travellers, and a glowing hourglass would most definitely draw unwanted attention

you and san cut through the back streets and alleyways of the small village that separates the mountain and the coast, keeping an eye out for not only your crew members - or ex-crew, you suppose - but also the members of the horizon

“remember,” san whispers into your ear as you both approach port, “if anyone asks, i’m your husband and we’re travelling merchants”

you’re too nervous to answer but you nod anyway, letting san take the lead once again

with the confidence of somebody most definitely not lying, san strides up to a sailor who is yelling at his men to load the crates faster and spins a story right out of his ass

somehow, san manages to concoct a convincing recount of how your goods were stolen by thieves, leaving you both without any means of making money, so now you are left with no choice but to go back to your hometown which happens to be on the way to the ship’s destination, which you know because you overheard the sailors talking earlier

when the sailor glances in your direction, you try to nurse your expression into one of simultaneous distress and gratitude in hopes of selling the story even further

he simply stares at the both of you and you think that he’s going to turn down your request, but then the sailor gives a sweet smile and extends his hand out in greeting, “daeho. welcome aboard”

that’s how you and san find yourselves in the ship’s hold, legs crossed side by side on the wooden floor and surrounded by a multitude of crates and barrels

neither of you realise that you’re holding your breaths and it’s not due to the stale air in the poorly ventilated hold

only when the shout of “anchors aweigh” is heard and the ship slowly starts to pull away from the dock do you finally relax, the feeling of hope slowly seeping into your bodies

because all that’s left now is to wait for the ship to dock at the next port and then you and san can disappear and start a new life

at the notion of safety, your stomach finally calls for attention with a grumble

san teases, “sounds like someone needs a bit of food,” just as his stomach answers with a growl of its own

you break out into laughter and pull him up with you to snoop inside the crates for something edible

lifting the lid to one of the crates, you peer inside to find what looks like a layer of burlap

you reach down with a hand to remove the covering and dig deeper, only to jerk your arm back when you feel the burning pain of a cut

“oh fuck, what?” you hiss as you look into the crate again, “why the hell are there so many knives?”

san is beside you within a split second, already turning you around to cradle your hand in his

the cut extends across your palm and there’s something sickening yet eerily familiar about the way the blood rapidly starts to pool and seep past the broken skin

goosebumps spread across your body when it hits you

“san,” you look up at him with a trembling voice, hardly audible over the pounding of your heart, “it’s the same cut”

his eyes bore into yours with reflected horror when your words sink in

because if it really is the same cut, then that means-

san’s attention suddenly shifts to behind you and that’s the last thing you register before your head explodes with blinding pain

your world turns black.

there’s a ceaseless hammering in your skull when you regain some semblance of awareness and it takes all of your willpower not to let the throb drag you back into unconsciousness

you open your eyes with a groan, trying to clear your vision, only to find san still out cold on the floor beside you

you scrabble closer towards him and brush his fringe out of his eyes

“san,” you shake him a little, “san, wake up”

his mouth tightens into a grimace as he’s slowly brought back to consciousness at the sound of your voice

“fuck…they hit hard,” he props himself up with another curse before he asks you in a panic, “are you hurt?”

you start to shake your head but then think better of it, “my head hurts like a bitch, but i’m okay”

san pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms around you

you let yourself sink into the safety of his embrace, pretending that everything is okay even if just for a moment

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry,” san repeats the apology into the crown of your head

you can’t do anything but return hushed whispers of comfort and hug him tighter

a sudden clang draws you out of his arms as you both turn in the direction of the sound

that’s when you realise you’re no longer in the hold

you’re in a cell

the brig of the ship is much darker and the air is suffocatingly musty from the lack of ventilation and the perpetually damp floors and walls

damp from what exactly, you really don’t want to know

you hear the heavy thud of boots amplifying as the person approaches your cell, your eyes straining to make out their face in the dark

they squat in front of your bars

the sweet smile on daeho’s face makes him look crazed now and you shrink back to put some distance between you two

“did you have a good rest?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious

at san’s seething growl of anger, daeho raises his hands up in faux surrender and states, “i just want the cromer”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” san glowers

the other man wriggles his fingers at san’s waist, “you’re not very good at hiding it in your shirt”

almost as if it knows it is being talked about, the cromer flashes from under the layers of cloth

“why didn’t you just take it from us earlier,” you bite out

daeho clicks his tongue with a disappointed smile, “but then where’s the fun in that?”

he stretches a hand out and waits with his palm upturned just outside of the cell bars

“now give it to me,” he demands

san stares in retaliation, not once looking away as he slowly reaches for the cromer

he takes it out of his shirt and unwraps the sash from around it, then starts to extend the hourglass out towards daeho’s hand

as you watch with bated breath, you notice the subtle tightening of san’s grip around the metal casing and you realise he intends to flip it

except you’re not the only one who comes to the same conclusion

you see the exact moment the facade drops from daeho’s face and is replaced by his true derangement

the hand by the pistol at his side starts to move

but so do you

this time, everything turns red as the scorching heat of pain paralyses your entire body

the cromer falls to the floor at the same time as you do

from outside the cell, daeho laughs viciously, but it’s drowned out by the agonising cry that comes out of san’s chest

san desperately gathers you in his arms, hands pressing against the bullet hole to stem the blood flow

but there is so much blood

it’s everywhere

the ground digs into his knees and he’s wet and sticky from your blood but also from his own tears and there are so many tears and even with the pungent smell of iron in the air he can still smell the mustiness of the cell and he can’t get enough oxygen into his lungs because god you’re dying

and he’s suddenly struck with the heart-wrenching thought

did he unwittingly condemn you to your own fate?

or is it like the cut on your palm - is he unable to change fate no matter what decisions he makes differently?

the sob that wrenches itself out of san hurts you more than anything

“i love you,” you say, because your words are numbered and you want them all to be san’s

he shakes his head furiously, “shut up, you’re going to be fine”

your words come out effortfully, “please, i want to hear you say it one last time”

“fuck,” san buries his face in your shoulder, “i love you so, so much. i can’t live without you”

he pulls back heartbroken, “i can still change this”

through your waning breath, you reach a trembling hand up to cup san’s jaw

“s-san, don’t do it”

he lets out a racking sob as he shakes his head again, expression marred with agony and torment that you can physically feel in his white-knuckled grasp that covers your own hand

the tears that drip off his jaw become lost to the damp ground

san’s voice is broken and pained, “i don’t fucking care. it’s not going to stop me from trying”

he grips your hand even tighter when he starts to feel it fall away from his cheek

it’s becoming tiring to keep your eyes open

maybe you can rest…just for a little bit

san will forgive you, right?

you close your eyes

just for a little while

just until the pain stops

faintly, you think you can feel your body being jostled against something warm

but it’s far away

far away

far

san clutches your limp body as he lets out a primal wail of anguish

you cannot die

you will not die

he snatches the glowing hourglass and flips it with desperation screaming in every cell of his body

and then his world goes white.

mingi

pov: you're the crew's surgeon

you have all the time in the world to yourself

the recent raid was successful - the other vessel had surrendered quickly without putting up a fight and your ship is now well stocked up from the loot of supplies

hongjoong has promised the crew shore leave, a vacation of sorts, and so you and the crew are travelling to port malthov, a haven island for pirates

it’ll take about a week to arrive

and without a foreseeable raid or run-in with enemy vessels, there is no need for your medical duties

which is a good thing, really

but it also means that you have a lot of time

and time is your worst enemy

time is time alone with your own thoughts, time alone with your internal demons, and right now, your mind is a sinkhole of them and you are the very thing being pulled into its depths

you’re sprawled out on the upper deck, arms and legs splayed like a physical manifestation of your efforts to reach the edges of the sinkhole and hold on

you think to yourself that it’s reassuring when you can see blood

because it’s visible, physical, and you can fix it

step one, rinse the area with clean water

step two, disinfect the wound

step three, remove any foreign objects or dead skin

step four, suture as required for nastier injuries

step five, wrap a clean cloth over, under, over, under, then fasten

there’s a procedure and it makes sense

but when it’s invisible, what do you do?

there are no medical diagrams, procedures or journals that teach you how to heal your own hurt

you may be the crew’s surgeon, but you wonder how qualified you truly are if you can’t even fix yourself

the skies are clear today and the sun shines down directly on your exposed skin

it’s uncomfortable but you don’t move, limbs feeling just a little too strung tight to cooperate

you don’t think you have the energy to do much more than to just lie there and exist

and the burn of the sunlight is kind of nice

it tells you that you’re still alive - even if the feeling of living is pain

that’s where mingi finds you twenty minutes later, his face upside down as he leans over to look at your face-

only to very nearly drop a block of wood right onto you

“oh, shit,” he fumbles as the multitude of items he is carrying to his chest falls and clatters onto the deck around your head

you jolt up to save yourself from a bruised forehead and eye him, curiosity well and truly piqued

with a huff, he piles everything in front of you, followed by himself as he sits cross-legged in front of you

he looks suspiciously hopeful and expectant

“can you carve me another dolphin?”

months ago, you had tried carving ornamental animals out of small scraps of wood left over from a hull repair

most of your carvings had turned out hideous and you had tossed them overboard, but mingi had not stopped following you and begging until you gave him one

you could barely even call it a dolphin, but for some reason, he has kept it since like it’s something valuable

“i already made you one,” you start

but he protests, “i lost him!”

you blink

nevermind. maybe not so valuable

“...you lost it?”

you’re not sure whether you’re disappointed or relieved that it’s forever gone to the void

“i lost him, yes. so can you please carve me a new one?”

you blink once more and he looks back at you with wide, pleading eyes

“fine, pass me the knife,” you finally relent

he grins, handing something that feels quite familiar into your outstretched hand

“are these my scalpels?!” you clutch them defensively to your chest. “mingi, i am not carving wood with these”

mingi breaks out into pleased laughter, crescent eyes and gaping mouth as he produces a pocket knife that you can actually use

“you’re ridiculous,” you tell him, setting your medical instruments safely to one side, but you don’t really mean it

you bring the blade of the pocket knife to the edge of the wood and start whittling away

you expect mingi to get up and leave you to your devices, except he doesn’t

he stays and asks you question after question about the carving

which part are you working on now?

how do you shape the tail?

what was the first thing you tried to carve?

if you could carve something else after this, what would it be?

and it goes on for hours - as the wood gradually takes shape of the animal, as the harsh sun lowers and is replaced by the cool breeze of evening

…as mingi fills up your sinkhole and you are no longer grasping at the edges to stay afloat

it happens without you even realising, but he lets you take refuge in him from your own thoughts

and later that night, when the crew are preparing to sleep for the night, mingi will place the newly-carved dolphin at the head of his hammock

he will itch to rummage through the small chest that holds his personal belongings and treasures

he will want to unwrap the small object he has hidden away at the very bottom of his chest and put it side by side with the dolphin

but he won’t, because otherwise you’ll see the two dolphins and realise that he was lying about having lost the first one, so he’ll opt to keep it hidden

mingi thinks that he might even ask you to carve him something else tomorrow

he’ll say that his dolphin needs somebody by its side

what he won’t say though, is that he knows you need somebody by your side

and if he can offer you a few hours of mindlessness while you carve with him beside you, then he’ll ask you to make him a whole aquarium of animals

but that’s tomorrow

for now, he lets you rest on him, and you find that it doesn’t seem quite as hard to exist anymore

because sometimes, even surgeons need their own healers

you don’t have another bad day that week

technically, they’re all still bad days, but they aren’t as bad

but as it is with your luck, it all comes back to drag you underwater when the arriba pulls into port malthov and lowers its anchor

of all days, your head feels foggy, your body feels empty and your lungs feel laboured

you’re not even sad

you’re just…hollow

and the worst part is that you have absolutely no reason to be feeling this way

being up in the crow’s nest for once has given you the perfect vantage point to watch as the majority of the crew precariously run off the gangplank with whoops and hollers, splitting off to explore the town

their excitement is infectious - to everybody but you

instead, you had offered to take over yeosang’s lookout duties so that he could go to the town’s tavern

you’ve already rotted the morning and most of the afternoon away and your stomach grumbles in protest at having skipped both meals

it knows that you probably won’t be eating dinner either

“y/n,” a voice calls out to you from the deck, “are you not going into town?”

you peer over the edge of the nest and find mingi’s small form, his head craned upwards in your direction

“lookout duties,” you simply say

but mingi calls your bluff

“the whole point of shore leave is that we all get time off. captain’s still on board to make sure our ship doesn’t catch on fire or some shit, don’t worry”

when you still don’t make a move, mingi starts to climb up the rigging and you startle to your feet

“heavens, okay, i’m coming down”

he’s banned from rigging duties for a reason

when you land on the upper deck, he looks awfully smug with himself

he asks, “can we go eat seafood? not fish, but like the good stuff”

“since when did you like seafood?”

“always?”

mingi did not always like seafood but you let it slide

he guides you across the gangplank and towards the bustling streets of the town, keeping you tucked closely into his side

almost like he knows you’re feeling more fragile than usual

you two come across a market and he tells you to find a table in the outdoor seating area

when he returns to you after a while, both his hands are stacked with platters of shrimp, some crabs and even a lobster

“mingi, what-?” you break out into an astounded laugh

you can’t even find it in yourself to finish your sentence because it looks like he’s bought enough food to feed half your crew

he sets the plates down in front of you, one by one, until you can barely see the table itself

and you watch, still incredulous, as he picks up a steamed shrimp, meticulously peeling off the shells that he discards onto his plate

…before placing the peeled shrimp onto the plate in front of you

“eat,” he encourages

mingi picks up another shrimp to peel, looking away from you so as not to pressure you

but he can’t help but look and smile widely when you do eventually bring the food up to your mouth and take a bite

it tastes good

shrimp has always been one of the things you miss the most when you’re sailing and as the salty taste of the ocean spreads across your tongue, you start to feel your appetite returning

by the time you’ve swallowed, there’s already another shrimp on your plate, peeled and ready for eating

mingi smiles knowingly when you groan around your next bite

the sun may have already started to disappear into the horizon, but right now with mingi’s plate piling up with discarded shells and yours with juicy shrimp meat, the hollow cavity in your chest slowly filling with warmth, the sun is only just starting to rise for you

and mingi will keep filling your plate until your sun has fully risen into the sky

because sometimes, healing needs the help of an extra pair of hands

the day before your crew is scheduled to leave port malthov, you find yourself sitting on the sandy shores of the coastline, far away from where the arriba is docked

the wind tugs at your hair and the hems of your clothing in the direction of the ocean

you wonder what it would be like to just let yourself go and float along with the wind

your thoughts are interrupted by the soft squeaks of bare feet in the sand approaching you and mingi lowers himself down to sit by your side

no matter where you hide, he somehow always finds you

you give him a small smile when he calls your name in greeting, but it’s all you can really manage to do

it’s hard for you to talk today

but he already knows that

“can i tell you a story?” mingi isn’t really asking you

without waiting for a response he knows you can’t give, he starts to talk

“i don’t think i’ve told you about the time when yunho and i went skinny-dipping at night. i swear we saw the kraken that night”

he has told you this story before

more times than you can count on your fingers and toes combined - to the point where you have some of his exact phrases and expressions memorised

mingi knows he’s told you this story before

but he drones on anyway, adding his usual touches of dramatic flair and exaggerated details - words that he hopes keep you grounded to the spot so that you don’t disappear with the wind

(“did you know that yunho’s chest goes red when he screams in fright?”)

you want to make silly little comments about his silly little story

you want to laugh in harmony with mingi’s own rumbling sounds

except you can’t

it’s like whatever you want to say goes through a paper shredder right before it comes out of your mouth

and mingi knows

but he is willing to take all the time in the world to tape your words back together, shredded piece by shredded piece, until he can make you feel heard and seen

and even if you don’t talk, he is there to do enough talking for the both of you

some things don’t need to be said - he understands either way

because sometimes, healing looks like walking backwards on any progress that’s been made and that’s okay

after all…mingi’s been there before, too

the arriba sets sail again and hongjoong allows the crew one last night of rest before your usual duties resume

the stock of fresh produce and meat won’t last for longer than a couple of days anyway, so you all feast your stomach’s fill of food and alcohol

someone brings out an accordion and you all gather together on the upper deck as jongho sings to the music, background filled with the lively rattling of shared plates and mugs being passed around

the air is chilly but it’s crisp and fresh whenever you take a breath of it into your lungs

where being with the multitude of your crew usually makes you feel lonely, tonight, it feels okay

and from beside you, mingi sings along quietly to the music

his voice is not like jongho’s, which is soulful, emotional and powerful

mingi’s voice is deep, honest and raw as he sings the lyrics to the song of a man who is drowning and yearning to be saved

he looks at you during the last bridge, when the key changes from sorrowful to hopeful and the words tell of a man who is saved by his lover

you smile back at him, genuinely content in this moment

and even if it is only briefly, even if you will still have bad days in the future, you think that today is a good day

because healing takes form in all different ways, and being loved is one of them

maybe one day, mingi will be able to confess that he loves you

when he’s confident that you’ll be able to accept his love

not in the way where he expects you to reciprocate the same feelings for him, no

but in the way where you are able to accept the fact that you are worthy of being loved

there are no medical diagrams, procedures or journals that teach you how to heal your own hurt

but you have mingi and he is making one for you

it’s written with the ink of love on the very pages of his own heart and he will not stop writing until the day you are well and truly happy

and even if it takes forever?

well

mingi’s got a huge fucking heart

and it’s all yours

wooyoung

pov: you find a stowaway on your ship

“we’re headed off course again”

“again?” you look at your helmsman with furrowed brows

yunho nods, sighing out his next words, “i can’t get a read on north. the needle keeps flickering”

you look at the compass that’s mounted at the helm and true to his words, the tip of the arrow seesaws back and forth over the cardinal point

a quick glance down tells you that the newer compass you’ve got in your pocket is also behaving in the same manner, needle twitching despite the practised steadiness of your hands

so you know for sure that it’s not a fault in the instrument at the helm itself

but even if it were to be faulty, you would never replace it

not when it’s one of the only things you have remaining of your parents after they perished at sea

“maybe we should ask him,” yunho suggests, beckoning his head towards the deck

although seonghwa hums thoughtfully, having joined you both at the helm mid-conversation, you look at him incredulously

“you trust that person?”

yunho shrugs, “it’s not like he’s given us a reason to not trust him”

well

considering said man had been found stowing away in the cargo five days after your ship had left alcarres, who then also tried to plead for mercy by reasoning that he was ‘valuable’, you think that there’s plenty of reasons to not trust him

yunho rectifies his argument once he sees the pinched expression on your face, “as in, since we’ve found him on board”

you close your eyes and exhale

admittedly, yunho has a point

and there’s been one too many times where the man has flippantly suggested navigational changes or casually observed shifts in the winds and waters - which all turned out to be accurate - for it to be sheer luck

you open your eyes and call out to the upper deck

“stowaway”

yunho winces as seonghwa chides you with a slight elbow to your side at your choice of name, or lack thereof

said man looks at you from where he’s helping san and yeosang swab the deck, mouth tightening with wariness

the last time you had spoken the same word, it was along with an order to throw him into the brig with his wrists bound behind his back

but considering that that was the extent of his punishment for stowing away on your ship and he is now mingling amongst your crew with minimal security measures on your orders too, really, he’s gotten off scot-free

the stowaway approaches the quarterdeck with hesitant steps

you jerk your head towards the helm, “help yunho navigate the rest of the way to vlasgar. just until we can dock and work out what’s wrong with the compasses''

despite the curtness of your order, his face scrunches up into an enthusiastic grin

“of course, captain!”

you’re taken aback by his demeanour because you’re trying to find a reason to distrust him

but he’s not giving it to you

you watch as the stowaway makes himself comfortable against the helm rails and easily slips into conversation and banter with yunho amidst intermittent pointers to adjust the rudder

seonghwa nudges you from behind, “give him a little credit”

you scratch your neck awkwardly before calling out to your helmsman

“keep me updated on the ship’s course”

yunho nods and then you clear your throat, quickly glancing at the stowaway

“and thanks…wooyoung.”

you turn and leave the quarterdeck before you can fully catch a glimpse of the delighted smile the man beams at you

because if he’s not giving you reasons to dislike him, then you’re going to ensure he doesn’t start giving you reasons to like him

except…wooyoung attacks when you least expect it

it’s the night before your crew reaches vlasgar, and true to his claims when he was first discovered onboard, wooyoung has proven his value by navigating your ship through the waters without the aid of the malfunctioning compass

his innate sense for shifts in the wind and waters, combined with his understanding of celestial navigation and use of dead reckoning has meant that he is extraordinarily precise with his route

honestly, he’s freakishly accurate to the point where it’s a little unsettling

at least that’s what you tell yourself

you and hongjoong have given the crew the night off from their usual duties in preparation for a few busy days of maintenance and intel-gathering once your ship docks at vlasgar

wooyoung offers to cook in the galley and whip up a meal as fancy as he can from the select ingredients on board

you don’t have a good reason to deny him, not when the rest of your crew looks at you with eager faces at the thought of a meal that isn’t just the usual salted meat, so you send mingi along to help him locate the ingredients

also to keep an eye on wooyoung to ensure he isn’t using this as an opportunity to poison your crew, but you’re not about to admit that aloud

and that’s exactly when wooyoung chooses to attack

he attacks your heart with his cooking

granted, the standards are rock bottom, but wooyoung utilises a deadly combination of rosemary, thyme and bay leaves to prepare a hearty broth with preserved beef

he serves hardtack on the side to be softened and eaten with the broth, and jongho even manages to catch a few fish that wooyoung then scores and grills with lemon slices over the fire

mingi must also be in good spirits because he takes out the reserve of dried fruits and nuts that he’s usually pedantic over and allows wooyoung to arrange them artfully in a wooden bowl as nibblers to go with the profusion of rum that will inevitably be downed tonight

the impressive spread of food is placed on the upper deck where the entire crew sit in a rough circle together

you take one bite into the beef and curse without realising

“fucking hell, what did he put in this?”

wooyoung freezes mid-spoonful across from you in the circle

realising your words sound petrifying without context, you awkwardly amend them with your eyes glued to your bowl, “i could eat this every day,” before shoving another spoon of broth into your mouth to shut yourself up

there’s a chorus of teasing oooh’s at your words and somebody sing-songs, “captain likes youuu-r cooking”

“i don’t,” you scoff, completely ready to bite the bait and engage in this childish argument

but it’s him who comes to your defence

“it’s not my cooking, it’s just the spices that make a difference,” wooyoung insists

then he’s gesturing to the grilled fish and telling everyone to try, diverting the attention away from you

you accidentally make eye contact with him and initially flicker your eyes away out of embarrassment, but when you chance a peek back at him he’s still looking at you, his expression uncharacteristically calm and gentle when usually all you can hear these days is his raucous laughter bouncing across the deck

…not that you can recognise his laughter or anything

you stare at each other for a few more seconds before you lift up your bowl of beef broth and give him a little smile

you leave it up to him to interpret it however he wants

and just before you look away, you see the apples of his cheeks rounding with elation

wooyoung’s potentially earned himself a few points with his cooking (and perhaps with his unfailing happiness too), but maybe you’re just looking for excuses as to why you’re allowed to like him now

when you decide to take a walk in town long after midnight, your quarters having felt stuffy ever since you’d docked at vlasgar, you’re surprised to find that you’re not the only one still awake

“i’m going out for some air and maybe a drink, did you want to come?”

hongjoong shakes his head, “hwa’s gone out too, i’ll stay behind”

you pause, wondering whether it’d be rude if you didn’t extend the invitation to wooyoung, considering he’s literally two feet away

“what about you?” you end up offering

wooyoung excitedly hops up to his feet, “yeah, i’ll come with”

to your own surprise, you find that you’re not particularly disappointed by his response

the streets of vlasgar are empty, considering the late hour, and your leather shoes clack in unison against the cobblestones as you walk together

you’re not really sure what to say to fill the silence but wooyoung easily talks about anything and everything and you’re content to just listen

your feet eventually take you towards a small alehouse and you both settle down at one of the tables further away from the live music playing

the oil lamps flicker dimly along the wall, casting small dancing shadows on the surface of your mugs of ale

“my father never liked the taste of ale,” wooyoung suddenly muses after a swallow

you note the use of past tense

“is he…still around?” you ask tentatively

he makes a noise of refutation, the quietest he’s been tonight, before he reveals, “he took his own life”

“oh, wooyoung,” you breathe out

he curls his hands around his mug, “it’s already been two years, but it still hurts”

in a moment of empathy, you gently place your hand over his

your tone is bitter when you reply, “time doesn’t mean that it hurts any less, it just gets easier to pretend that it doesn’t”

he looks up at you, surprised by the touch of your hand but also by the sorrow reflected in your eyes

“have you also lost somebody?”

you nod at his question

“my parents,” you hesitate before adding, “their ship got swept under a rogue wave, the same night it turned into a tidal wave that destroyed the city of light”

wooyoung looks at you with wide eyes, “the one along the north coast? six- no, seven years ago?”

there’s not a single person who doesn’t know about it; when an apocalyptic wave had wiped out an entire city overnight

he places his other hand over yours when you nod again, creating a sandwich of comforting hands in the shared experience of loss and grief

you smile wistfully and he returns it

“well now that we’ve exchanged childhood trauma, care to tell me the real reason why you were on my ship, stowaway?” you half-joke

wooyoung laughs, each breath a pronounced cackle of joy, and you find the corners of your lips pulling themselves upwards too

“i’m being chased by a lunatic who��s out for my blood,” he deadpans

“that would have been nice to know before i let you join my crew”

wooyoung grins wickedly, “i’m part of your crew?”

“i’m definitely rethinking it,” you banter before you add on seriously, “only if you want to be”

he pulls his hands back to salute you loudly, “it would be my honour to be your human compass! jung wooyoung at your crew’s service!”

“shut the fuck up!” you hiss in embarrassment, but there’s no bite to your words and you’re laughing into your own hands

you tip back the remains of your ale and then beckon to wooyoung, “let’s head back, shall we?”

“yeah,” he gives you a dazzling smile

he pushes his chair back to stand up and you head towards the doors together

just as you walk past one of the tables, a man abruptly stands up and knocks into wooyoung’s shoulder harshly

your hand flies out to steady him as the man stares at wooyoung, then turns to leave without another word

“what’s his problem,” you mutter angrily. “are you okay?”

wooyoung reassures you with a placating squeeze to your arm before leading you out of the alehouse

as you retrace your steps back to the ship, you pass by a rickety stall that makes you falter

the wood of the table is rotting and standing on its last legs and there’s a roughly thatched roof propped up above its goods

even though the stall is enshrouded by the shadows of the clouded moonlight, you still wonder how you missed it on your way to the alehouse, considering it’s the only stall along the empty street, and with a vendor, no less

there’s an old woman bearing the burdens of living across her skin and in her posture, sitting hunched on an equally as weathered crate beside the table

you’re drawn towards it - by its ambience, seller or the familiar instruments lain on the table, you don’t know

the woman’s head is covered by a dusty shawl but you don’t miss the way her eyes bore beadily into wooyoung as you both approach

you reach out and skim your fingertips across the cool brass of the compasses on the table

a frown adorns your face when you notice there’s something strange about all of them

like the compass in your own pocket and the one mounted on your ship’s helm, the needles all swing indecisively over the north point, as if some unknown force is meddling with the magnetic field of the earth itself

you let out a little scoff of disbelief, “they’re all useless”

with a final glance at the table, you and wooyoung start to walk off

but then a raspy voice beckons at your backs, a ghost of a hand that tickles the hair on the nape of your necks, “the only time a compass is useless is when you have something better nearby”

unable to ignore the sensation, you look over your shoulder, “what do you mean by something better?”

a toothless smile; one that appears to know a secret that it doesn’t want to let you in on

“true north”

her cryptic answer alone is enough to tell you that you’re wasting your time

she doesn’t say anything else when you walk off for good this time after bidding her a tight-smiled farewell, not that you would have stopped either way if she did

wooyoung hurries to catch up to you

as he falls into step with you, he asks, “do you believe what she’s saying?”

“of course not, it doesn’t make any sense,” you glance at the tavern you’re walking past, telling you that the port is close now. “how can you have true north?”

wooyoung’s brows knit together, “well, there’s that old legend that says true north isn’t actually a direction, but a-”

he’s cut off by an amused voice behind you both

“so it really is you…jung wooyoung”

when you turn around, you’re met with the sight of a man donning a long, velvet coat and buckled shoes - articles of clothing very obviously pirated from the wealthy

it’s evident that he and wooyoung are acquainted in one way or another, but from the way wooyoung’s face loses its colour, they’re acquainted in a bad way

immediately, your hackles are raised

the man’s tone is saccharine as he continues, “when one of my men said that they had spotted you, i didn’t believe him”

“what do you want?” you snarl at the same time wooyoung murmurs next to you, “it’s the lunatic. jang hyunsoo”

hyunsoo cocks his head as he stares you dead in the eye, “i want him. dead.”

your face darkens, unwilling to back down, “and why are you so intent on killing him?”

“oh?” he raises an eyebrow in delight at your answer. “you must not know who he truly is”

sick of his bullshit, you reach down towards your belt to unsheath a throwing dagger and hold it in front of your body, “i don’t care who the fuck he is. he’s my crew member and that’s all that ma-”

“he’s the man that the legends speak of. blessed by the sea gods, bearer of the oceans’ wisdom - jung wooyoung is true north”

those two words again

you don’t understand why everyone you come across today seems to be so fixated on the idea of…

suddenly, you remember.

legends tell a story of true north - not a direction pointing to the earth’s axis, but a person

a man blessed by the gods of the sea with the power to be all-knowing when it comes to the waters

he possesses the innate ability to navigate without use of any instruments or celestial bodies; the wisdom of which passageways and courses to sail; the subconscious understanding of mother nature and her elements

the powers are passed down through his bloodline for generations, but the blessing does not stay sacred for long

human greed and coveting eventually lead to the murder of the bearer of true north at the time, and the powers are transferred to the murderer, permanently staining the bloodline and commencing the paradoxical cycle of sinning for a blessing

however, this does not go unpunished

the gods of the sea are enraged and in their uncontainable wrath they cause-

your memory ends there no matter how hard you try to recall the rest of the legend

wooyoung interrupts

“if you kill me, there’s no guarantee you’ll survive the consequences,” he tries to reason with the other. “just have a look at how close we are to sea”

you’re lost but hyunsoo sneers, “it’s not your power that i’m hungry for. it’s only fair that i spill your blood, after your father spilled the blood of my family”

at the mention of his father, wooyoung growls, “what the fuck do you think you’re saying”

“how do you think your father became true north? or better yet, let me jog your memory,” hyunsoo’s expression becomes hauntingly blank, “what happened seven years ago that wiped out a whole city because the sea gods had been angered?”

your breath hitches as you involuntarily whisper, the remaining piece of the puzzle slotting into memory, “...a tidal wave”

“yes,” he acknowledges your words but keeps his eyes drilling into wooyoung, “because true north - my father - was killed”

as were your parents by extension of the consequences

“killed by my father,” wooyoung concludes, voice frail as everything rapidly starts to reveal itself

one more revelation makes him look at you with a face of horror and remorse, “y/n…your parents…”

without hesitation, you push aside your own anguish for him

“wooyoung,” you warn, “it’s not your fault”

because you see it

the very moment his eyes start clouding over as he willingly takes on the burden of guilt wrongfully left behind by his deceased father - the same guilt that eventually took the man’s own life

wooyoung, who, with a heart and soul too pure, would rather take the blame himself than to push it onto somebody else

you step in front of him, knife raised in protection

because despite your best efforts, wooyoung had not only secretly stowed himself away on your ship but has also secretly stowed himself away in your heart

“what are you doing?” he tries to tug you behind him

there’s a teasing lilt in your voice as you stand steadfast, “stowaway, you’ve ruined navigating for me now - made it too easy for me and the crew. so you better fuckin’ take responsibility and be my compass for as long as i sail”

“how touching,” hyunsoo coos patronisingly before he draws the cutlass from his sheath, “looks like i’ll just have to kill the both of you”

you don’t stop wooyoung this time from stepping up to stand by your side, his own hands armed with dual daggers and his demeanour now iron-willed to fight

because if you’re prepared to fight for him, then wooyoung is prepared to fight twice as hard for you

tonight, either hyunsoo dies, or you both go down trying

the tension in the air is punctuated only by the slight scrape of your soles as you and wooyoung lower your stances and shift further onto your front feet

you had never believed in the sea gods until now, but you pray that they’re watching over you both

and indeed they are

they answer your prayers in the form of a deafening gunshot in the nearby tavern

hyunsoo flinches at the sudden commotion - only slightly, but the distraction in attentiveness is more than enough

now.

as you and wooyoung leap forward together in unison, weapons raised, the needles in your hearts’ compasses waver for one final time before they settle and point resolutely in one direction

your needle at wooyoung; wooyoung’s needle at you

because compasses will always point at true north and that’s exactly what you are to him and him to you

each other’s true north

jongho

pov: you're a mermaid who saves him

you follow the shadow of the ship’s hull, gliding effortlessly through the waters

you know that you shouldn’t be following so closely but it’s hard to refuse the temptation that comes hand in hand with storms

there’s a chance that vessels will toss cargo overboard as a last-ditch effort to save their ship from sinking

and if you’re really lucky, the vessel might sink entirely and you’ll be able to spend the next few days rummaging its ruins, scavenging for shiny treasures and intriguing objects

besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

no sailor or pirate in their right mind would think to cast a fishing net in this weather

you only have your carelessness and recklessness to blame, but regret won’t change anything about your current situation

you feel the strange lurch in your stomach as the fishing net you’re trapped inside is pulled out of the water, up along the side of the ship’s hull, until it levels with the gunwale

there’s someone standing there waiting

his face is still rounded and limbs still gangly with the telltale signs of youth

the fish around you jerk around desperately, a physical manifestation of your terror, while you lock eyes with the young teenager and grip at the net with white-knuckled fists

you are at his complete mercy

he stares in shock at your form, until you beg a single word

“please”

immediately, he draws a small pocket knife and starts to frantically cut through the net

there’s another questioning voice from somewhere on the deck that you can’t make out the words to, but from the way the boy in front of you picks up speed, you’re seconds away from being discovered

“come on, come on, come on,” the boy mutters through gritted teeth

there’s a slight jerk as he cuts through the strands of flax and a few fish slither their way out, the hole starting to become bigger

he lets out a hiss of pain when he accidentally slices through his own hand in his haste

but even then, he does not stop or falter

and then you hear it

the ripping of the material when the weight of yourself and the other fish tear the remainder of the net

you plummet into the ocean

and the last thing you see before the world above becomes blurred by the waters is the boy’s wide eyes peering over the ship’s edge as he watches you fall

jongho struggles to adjust his centre of gravity as the ropes stutter underneath him

he chances letting go of the rigging briefly with one hand so that he can wipe the rain out of his eyes, which is pouring down incessantly and obscuring his vision

overhead, the top sail continues to billow and flap in an angry dance as the rapidly shifting winds tangle it further

he swallows thickly and grips the rigging once again

he needs to climb up and untangle the damned sail, fast

one hand extending outwards to grab the running rigging, jongho supports himself on shaky legs so that he can unfurl the twisted edges of the sail from around the ropes

it’s difficult enough having to chase the mocking flits of the canvas in the gale, but it’s fucking hellish with the added lurching and pitching of the ship as it’s battered by the swells of the sea

he finally manages to get a good grip on the sail and tugs hard, feeling it give way and flush full as it catches the wind properly now that it’s free

except the force of it sends the material swelling right in his face and he slips

by some saving grace, the combined movement of another colossal wave sends his body careening through the air in a wide arch

he does not land on the upper deck in a heap of broken bones

instead, he plummets into the ocean

and the last thing jongho sees before he loses consciousness is the shimmer and flick of a tail

your body reacts instantaneously to the sudden intrusion of something plunging into the waters in front of you, your tail swishing to increase your distance

for a brief second your heart seizes up in fright at the thought of a harpoon

but then you see it - see him

apart from the young teen who had freed you years ago, you have never seen a human up close before

and certainly not one in the ocean; in your home

there is something about the man before you that is beautiful yet haunting

it is as if time and gravity have warped his very existence

you see a weak flail of legs, a desperate hand reaching for the surface, floating tendrils of hair, but even in the face of approaching death, his movements appear slow and graceful in the water

as the pockets of air and bubbles of foam dissipate from around him and cruelly escape upwards without him, the man stills - grand and slow as his form steadily starts to make a descent towards the sandy bottom of the ocean

in folklore amongst your merpeople, humans are as swift, sure and savage on land as they are aboard their monstrous vessels

and yet, watching the ethereal existence of this man before you, you realise that once humans are underwater, they are at the complete mercy of mother nature and her beings

you gingerly swim closer

when you wrap your arm around the man’s limp body, his skin is warm under your fingertips

you’re reminded of the fact that he is at your complete mercy

and so you swim.

the moment jongho regains consciousness, his chest involuntarily contracts in an attempt to take a huge, stuttering breath

he curls onto his side instead, one hand scrabbling in the wet sand and his other arm crushed between the ground and his upper body as he hacks up his lungs with retching motions

the salt water burns even more coming back up than it did going down and his eyes sting with tears

when the convulsions cease, jongho closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the cool sand, trying to regain his breath-

and bearings

the jarring clarity has him sitting up abruptly as he tries to recall where he is and what he’s doing

there was the storm

the tangled sail

him climbing up the riggings

falling down, down, down

and then…

you

your eyes widen when the man’s unfocused gaze suddenly sweeps the waters and lands on the small part of your face that is exposed and peering at him

instinctively, you duck underwater, the notion of hiding your existence from humans ingrained into you

but even though he only sees a glimpse of you, jongho would recognise you from anywhere

it’s hard to forget when he’s kept his eyes peeled on the waters since that day, hoping to see you once again

he can’t believe that the mermaid he once saved would end up being his saviour

but he guesses that’s what people call fate - an alignment of miracles

he glances around at his surroundings to find himself in the safety of a small cove

you dare to emerge your curious eyes again when you see the form of the man stand up with his gaze on the sand, seemingly in search of something

he fumbles along the edge of the coast, reaching down several times to grasp things too small for you to discern

it seems that he becomes satisfied with what he has found, because he then sets them all down in the wet sand - right where the tide kisses the shore in a teasing game of chase - and takes several steps backwards so that he is no longer close to the waters

the man scratches the back of his head as he gestures vaguely to the pile, appearing to want to say something before thinking better of it and turning around to pick at the driftwood further inland

you wait, trying to gauge his actions

but when it becomes clear to you that he is not attempting to catch you off guard, you cautiously swim closer to shore

you are able to rest your forearms comfortably on the shoreline’s sand from how close you get

and then you see it

a small pile of glossy pebbles and patterned shells

a peace offering of pretty things he could find that he thought you might like

you duck under the water again, but this time to hide your shy smile as opposed to an act of instinctual self-preservation

jongho looks at the hefty pile of dried wood that he has gathered in the meantime, deeming it enough to keep a fire going for the inevitable night he will have to spend at the cove

he’s tried his hardest not to look out to the waters, wanting to gain your trust

but he can’t help it this time when his eyes are drawn to the little mound of his sincerity in the sand

…only to find it untouched, and you nowhere to be seen

he tries not to feel disappointed

after all, you have no reason to trust him

so he sets his mind on starting a fire before the sun sets completely instead, trying to ignore the growing dryness in his throat

when he finally nurses a spark into a flame an hour later, jongho almost misses it in his fatigued state

but it’s unmistakable when he walks closer

gone is his own pile of pebbles and shells

in its stead is a jumbled collection of broken combs, rusted locks and a glass bottle

a peace offering of peculiar things you had found that you thought he might need

jongho doesn’t know it, but as he bends down to carefully gather every gift and safekeep them closer to his fire, he is not the only one with a bashful smile on his face

you tell yourself it’s purely curiosity and displaced familiarity that makes you linger and return to the cove the very next morning

you’re well aware what the risks are if you fall in love with a human

how many stories have you heard of mermaids and mermen alike, falling for a human, only for their love to be unilateral or rejected?

their tails slowly lose their lustre as gradual paralysis takes over until they lose complete control

quite literally drowning within their own body, they eventually sink to the bottom of the ocean to perish with the decaying wreckages of sunken ships…

and the countless corpses of sailors, pirates and other unfortunate souls alike

it’s ironic

no matter how much folklore makes out humans and merpeople to be different, you all end up the same in the face of death; buried in the soil of the earth or buried in the sand of the ocean bottom

side by side

jongho stands in that very ocean right now, sleeves and pants rolled up to keep them as dry as possible as he crouches over with the water up to his thighs

he would try to fashion a fishing hook or harpoon of some sort, but with the possibility that you may be close by in the waters, he doesn’t want to risk using anything that could hurt you

so he resorts to using his bare hands

you’ve been watching from the safety of the water for well over half an hour now, curious and slightly endeared by his clumsy attempts to grab at something

you’re not sure what, but you can see the fish as they dart teasingly through his legs and from out of his reach

for beings that are supposedly apex predators, this human doesn’t seem intimidating at all

so, very cautiously, you swim up closer to him

jongho feels himself freezing at the sight of you approaching - not because he’s afraid of you, but because he’s afraid he’ll scare you away

he holds his breath as you hesitate and linger just out of his reach, then swim up and bump his leg playfully with your tail as you circle around him once

he’s reminded of a puppy wanting to sniff out somebody unfamiliar and his eyes follow your form with rounded fondness

“hi,” he breathes out softly, “i’m jongho”

your tail swishes with sudden movement, splashing him with water and he giggles

you can hear it clearly even from under water and your heart nearly stops

if this man - if jongho - was a siren, the sounds of his happiness would be his song of calling

you want to hear it again

jongho sucks in a breath when you dare to emerge from the water’s surface, presenting him with a fish held carefully between your lips and one more in each of your hands

he’s a little dumbfounded at how easily you managed to catch them as he gently takes the one from in between your teeth

the still-flailing fish in his hands is peppered with two tiny neat rows of puncture holes where you had carefully bitten into it

he finds it so fucking cute, especially when you continue to peer up at him with expectant eyes, wanting to know if it was the fish that he was trying to catch this whole time

he wants to thank you, and not just for the fish

so he fumbles through his words when he asks, “would you like to eat with me? unless…” he trails off, “unless you don’t eat fish because…”

are mermaids technically fish?

did he really just offer you the mermaid equivalent of human flesh to eat?

before jongho can panic and try to salvage the situation, you give him a shy smile and nod

jongho makes a fire as close to the shore as possible without the wood at risk of becoming wet

as he spears the fish onto sticks so that he can hold them over the flames, you gather the courage to slide out of the shallow waters so that you can lay on the damp sand closer to him

whilst you can for short periods, you rarely ever fully emerge out of the waters because you leave yourself vulnerable without the full mobility of your body

but jongho makes you feel safe enough to do so

and he must at least partially recognise the amount of trust you are placing in him because he looks at you in awe, the unveiled beauty of your tail now in full display

your scales are a kaleidoscope of cerulean, mauve and periwinkle, reflecting onto the sand below you in a magical dance with each of your slight movements

he notices that the gradient peters out into shades of salmon and coral the closer the scales are to your waist and he cannot tear his eyes away from you

jongho thinks to himself that you were created by the hands of the sea god, who then named the word beautiful after you

and even then, the word does not seem to do you justice

“why are you staring?”

your voice is simultaneously bashful and teasing, yet jongho is utterly mortified that your first words to him are ones exposing his smitten behaviour

his brain kickstarts in panic and he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind

“if your tail gets too close to fire, will you start smelling like grilled fish?”

for a split second, your expression contorts into one of pure horror, before the absurdity of his question breaks down the remainder of your reservations and you lose yourself in laughter

a pretty blush settles over the round of jongho’s cheeks and then he is also laughing with you

together, where the land and sea unite, the sounds of your shared happiness fill the air

his song of calling chimes melodiously in your heart even as you swim away for the night

but the dangerous thing about a siren’s song is that you don’t realise you’ve become captivated…

until it’s too late

you’re looking down at the object in your hands as you swim for the cove

it’s cream-coloured and smooth to touch, with several blunt tips extending from one side

you’ve always wondered what it is and so you decide to see if jongho will know

you don’t notice the large rock formation jutting out of the seabed until it’s almost right in front of you and at the last second, you flex your tail to manoeuvre yourself around it

except you must miscalculate your distance because you end up grazing yourself on the sharp edges of the rock

it doesn’t puncture your scales but it certainly catches you off guard - your organs and senses work in a way that ensures you never collide into anything so long as you are underwater

so then, why?

you look down and your heart drops

tentatively, you spin around once, eyes never leaving their focus

you realise it’s not a trick of the lighting or the water

your scales have started to lose their shimmer

jongho is beginning to think that you won’t show up today when you finally do, one of your treasures cradled in your hands and a smile on your face that doesn’t quite reach your eyes

(you weren’t going to show up, not after realising that you need to stop yourself from falling further in love with jongho if you want to live, but you decide to be selfish one last time and say goodbye, even if you’re the only one who knows it’s a goodbye)

“what’s that?” he gestures towards your hands with his chin as you slide your upper body out of the shallow waters, leaving your tail to be submerged when the waves come in

you uncurl your fingers with a shrug

“it’s a comb,” he answers his own question as he turns it over in his hand, “made out of animal bone, i think”

you look at him curiously as he sits down, unbothered about wetting his clothes, and you ask, “what’s a comb?”

jongho brings it up to his head and pretends to move it up and down

“you run it through your hair to untangle it”

he pauses as his eyes flicker to your hair then back to your face

“i can…show you how to use it…if you want?” he offers

just once, you’ll allow yourself to get close to him just this once

when you nod and sit up, jongho shifts himself so that he is behind you

you try not to shiver when you feel the heat of his chest enveloping your back as he reaches forward to gently gather the hair from around your face and neck

he steadies your head with one of his hands, the other bringing the teeth of the comb through the slight waves of your hair

his touch is soft and loving in the way he tries not to tug too hard when he encounters a knot

his fingertips skim against you intimately but with an innocence that betrays the fact that he has never brushed somebody’s hair before

you feel your shoulders relaxing into his touch and your eyes close, blissfully - and perhaps deliberately - ignorant to the fading radiance of your body

“are you feeling okay?” jongho’s voice sounds even more alluring when it’s right next to your ear and you can’t help but shudder this time. “you seem paler than usual”

he brings a hand down to your waist and turns you towards him so that he can see you better

you try to formulate an answer, “i…”

i think i’m in love with you

of course, you would never tell him that

but before you can tell him that you’re fine, you become distracted by the glimpse of something on his hand that’s still resting on your waist

a scar

“is that- how did you get this?”

you run your thumb lightly over the taut, white line that runs from his wrist to the knuckle of his index finger

as you’re suddenly reminded of the familiar memory of a teenager with rounded cheeks and gangly limbs, the man beside you with those very same eyes looks at you fondly

“i cut myself trying to free a mermaid from a fishing net”

your gaze is unfocused as you process the information

the effects of the shattering revelation are immediate and a terrifying numbness starts to creep up your tail

because what you didn’t know - what nobody in folklore knew - was that the effects of paralysis and onset of death are accelerated when you fall in love with someone again for the second time

years ago, your heart had been claimed by the young man who had freed you at his own expense

you had managed to survive the heartbreak due to the briefness of your encounter, your paralysis fading and tail regaining its beauty when you never saw him again

but the effects of your unilateral love have not vanished entirely as you and your merpeople have believed it to

they have simply lay dormant like a disease, waiting for the right time to resurface when your feelings are rekindled

and so now it snowballs and gains traction at a speed that cannot be stopped, racing to catch up on the numerous years that you have cheated death where you thought you did not love jongho

“why is your tail turning grey?” the voice of the man you love is pinched with muted panic

you never thought you would ever be afraid of your own tail; your own body

yet, when you look down to see the monochrome advancing up each layer of your scales, you are absolutely petrified

your tail is starting to look like a stone statue and you know it won’t be long until that’s exactly what you become - motionless and unmoving

“y/n! why is your tail grey?!” jongho repeats with a shout, in full blown panic due to your lack of response

you can’t- won’t die in front of him

your lower body is almost deadweight with immobility and you bite back tears as you’re forced to crawl pathetically towards the water with your arms

jongho scrabbles to his feet as he hovers next to you, hands wanting to help but not quite touching you because he’s not sure what’s happening and he doesn’t know what he can do for you and you look like you’re in pain but he doesn’t know why-

“don’t!” you bark out sharply

he freezes in shock

you’re frightened and angry and you want to yell at something, someone, but…

you could never yell at jongho

with a much softer, albeit shaky voice, you tell him, “don’t look for me”

and before you can hear the pained noise that escapes jongho’s lips, you drag yourself back into the water

except a few metres after you’ve submerge yourself, the unthinkable happens

you. cannot. breathe.

you’re drowning.

jongho doesn’t care if you’ll hate him forever, doesn’t care if this is the last time you’ll choose to see him, but he will not just stand and watch when it looks like you are leaving to die alone

his body moves with the decisions of his heart before his mind tells him otherwise

he dives into the water after you

the world distorts around him; a moment of weightlessness as the waters easily shift to accommodate his body; the bubbling sound of air pockets reverberating inside his very skull; the shock of cold that overrides every other bodily sense

jongho forces his eyes open with numerous blinks until he can see you

your form is eerily still, and yet, you remain bewitching

he kicks his legs desperately with one arm outstretched and as soon as you are within reach, he tugs you into his chest

you’re limp to touch, lips slack and parted as if the very essence of your soul is escaping through your mouth

jongho will not let you die

lungs starting to burn and heartbeat pounding in his ears, he presses his lips against yours

a kiss of life-

he closes his eyes

-and love

but you don’t respond

jongho ignores his instincts even as his body screams to part from you and kick upwards for a breath

instead, he moves his jaws to kiss you even harder

and then he feels it

he almost sobs into you when your lips twitch weakly against his

with renewed vigour, you’re sealing your mouth around his bottom lip as you respond, capturing him in a real kiss

below your joined lips, your scales start to bloom with their full brilliance once again

your tail shimmers brighter than before, reflecting intricate patterns of fractals with each slight ripple of the water as you open your eyes to the sight of jongho’s face, beautifully swathed in the incandescence of the rainbow

you can move again

you flick your tail, jongho’s arms still firmly around your waist and you both burst upwards, breaking the water’s surface with spluttering breaths

he desperately treads you both backwards towards the shore even though you can easily hold your own now

“jongho, you-”

he takes one look at you before he cuts your words off and plunges himself back underwater, stunning you into stupor, until he re-emerges with another splutter

“your tail!” he yells with overwhelming relief, face still scrunched as he tries to sweep his fringe up and wipe the water from out of his eyes

“yeah…” voice muted as you process the fact that you’re still alive, “my tail…”

“fuck, you scared me”

jongho’s eyes are bloodshot as they stare into yours, and you know for a fact that they aren’t just red from the irritation of salt water

you bring up a hand to rest it on his chest, right where his heart still thumps rapidly under your touch, and you apologise with a small smile, “sorry…i scared me, too”

he huffs a little before looking at you earnestly

“don’t ever do that again”

the water is now shallow enough that jongho can stand, but it’s deep enough that you can still drift effortlessly

it’s the perfect harmony where land and sea unite; where a human and a mermaid interact

where you, the enchanter, and jongho, the enchanted, find a balance of love

“i won’t,” you promise

on land, humans tell a story of a mermaid who falls in love with a man

a mermaid who is ready to give up her voice in exchange for her happily ever after

but in the sea, merpeople tell a story of a man who falls in love with a mermaid

a man who is ready to give up his life in exchange for his happily ever after

taglist | unable to be tagged check your visibility settings ♡

@thecarnivaloflies @binchanluvrr @ppprimary @hwas-housewife @itza-meee

@lavishloving @okshu @alexwritesfics @ayytease @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@hongjoongsprincess @booyoungie @green-agent @darkmentalitystarfish-blog @taytayy178

@taechwitaaaa @babymbbatinygirl @oddracha @sourkimchi @sinemm

@kibs-and-bits @mlysalt @jjoongstar @aaa-sia @nollamuumialaaksossa

@skz1-4-3 @minkilicious @ddeonghwva @delulu18 @elaichi-chai

@dinossaurz @icarusignite

2K notes · View notes

just-some-random-blogger · 5 months ago

Text

Sweets & Sweeties

You opened a bakeshop called Sweets & Sweeties which was just beside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and one day you accidentally lock yourself outside.

George Weasley x Reader (x Fred Weasley) | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, Murphy's law, fred lives stfu, fluff, rizzler!Georgie, typos, etc.

A/N: i have this fic called tormented spirit and its fucked me up cos of how sad it is HAHAHAH i need a break and thats coming from someone who LOVES angst. ALSO i was never super into Harry Potter so idk lore™ but I've been watching the phelps twins and their baking show related content and i'm just so endeared by them AHHHHHHHHH. please leave comments/reblogs because this feels a bit mid cos i havent written fluff in 100 years T_T cross posted on ao3 | continuation fic

@pendragora if i have to suffer, you have to suffer

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was always busy. Everyday, there were children and children-at-heart going up and down the block, eager to buy themselves trinket or treat to promptly cause mischief.

Because of the shop's success, your own shop also benefitted from it. Sweets & Sweeties was your dream come true. As a child, you loved sweet treats, and you would grow to learn you loved making them just as much.

You hadn't expected to sell out as often as you did, and you knew it was all thanks to the fact the establishment next door brought as many customers as they did, who then became your customers.

You were extremely grateful, and tried time and time again to show it through a simple gesture of a gift. It was rather hard to find the time to do so however, as the neighbor establishment was constantly packed. The first time you saw the owner of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, he had introduced himself as: "George Weasley," he says, dusting off his hands before reaching one out for you.

You merely stare at him, your smile flattening slightly, only to grow wider as you chuckle. Both of your hands held a tray of cake, and it was quite a weighty cake at that, "I-"

"Right," he brushes his hands on his trousers, "right. Sorry, let me help you with that."

He takes the cake from you and ushers you deeper into the store. You gasp when a small child runs across him, unfortunately bumping into his side. Thankfully, George manages to lift the cake, evading the collision. The girl who bumped into him looks up, eyes wide, hands clutched, looking rather guilty, "s-sorry, Mr. Weasley."

The tall man's brows furrow as he looks down. He whines, "s'not Mr. Weasley, it's George."

The girl stares at him for a moment.

"Say it with me: George."

She clutches her chest and mutters, "Georgie?"

George purses his lips together in a soft smile and nods, "Georgie it is then."

Your hand comes to your mouth as you chuckle and follow after the red haired man. He leads you into the back office and you gasp yet again, this time, because of the photograph on the wall. It was a family portrait of a myriad of other red heads breaking into a wide grin.

"There's two of you!" you point.

George sets the cake down on his desk and crosses his arms once he's besides you, "nah. There's only one person in the family as good looking as me," he turns to the photograph, "that's my twin brother, Fred."

"Oh," you turn to him, taken off guard by how close he was, "is..." you casually take a step back, "he around?"

"Yeah," he shrugs, "probably showing the customers how to use the thingamabobs."

You chuckle and nod, "well," you motion vaguely, "I know you're very busy, so I won't take any more of your time."

The man tilts his head, lips curled into an soft grin as he shrugs, "you don't hear me complaining, love."

You aimlessly look off to steel away the giggle that threatened to leave your lips, "right," you clear your throat, "ehhh, do tell me if the cake is to you—"

Before you can even finish your thought, George is back at his desk. He swipes a dollop of frosting and tastes it.

"—r... liking."

He raises his brows as he nods, "it's to my liking."

The both of you just stand there for a moment, staring at each other. You're now rather painfully aware of your breathing.

You start when the office door bangs open and a near exact replica of George comes walking in, "you would not believe what just—"

George's eyes are on you as you turn to his twin. You raise your hand, "hi... I'm-" you point to nowhere, "-the baker next door."

He turns to George, then back to you, reaching out his left hand, "Fred Weasley."

You smile and shake his hand, speaking your name in return.

"Hey!" George walks over, reaching out a hand, "I didn't get a handshake!"

You turn to George and his outstretched left hand, about to shake it, but Fred does not release you, and only turns to his twin.

"Fred-"

"I'm not done."

George watches Fred shake your hand, "well that's more than enough."

"Not really," Fred shrugs.

You chuckle softly, making them turn to you. You then offer your other hand to George, crossing your arm over the other, "here."

George looks at it and takes it with his right one. The three of your shake each other's hands for a questionably long time.

When you're finally released, you hold back a laugh and rub your palms on the side of your hips, "right... it was a pleasure to meet you both."

They nod in sync, "the pleasure is ours."

You giggle and raise a hand in regard, "come by my shop sometimes."

They wave back at you as you head for the door.

"I'll make you both a cuppa."

They smile as you exit their office. Once you were gone, the brothers instantly turn to each other.

Fred says, "she's cute."

"Yeah, I saw her first," George counters.

"Pfft, so what?"

"So, everything."

Meeting them was so... notable, that you thought about it the entire day. You found yourself giggling about the handshake for the nth time as you closed up, and right after you heard the door click, you whip your head back in realization that you'd left your bag in the counter, along with your keys.

You shake the doorknob, trying to will the door open, though you knew it was pointless, "no, no, no, NO!"

You step back and stare at the windows of your shop. You ruffle your hair and huff as you debate how bad the idea of breaking the glass with the rock would be.

You stare that your sign that read Sweets & Sweeties, feeling taunted by it so suddenly, and then you remember you forgot another thing. The window on the rooftop was surely open from when you opened it to let out some steam. What's more, it looked like it was about to rain!

"Oh," you groan and wrap your arms around yourself, "thank goodness I left my brolly too."

You crouch in front of your unlit shop, feeling rather helpless.

You hear a bell ring and turn to the shop next door. Out comes George and Fred, much wiser than you, with their brollies and suitcases in hand. They call your name in unison and you sigh as you come to stand.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" one of them says.

You freeze at the pet name, and he seems to catch on. He points upward, "sweetie."

You turn to your sign and feel bashful. You awkwardly chuckle, "right, I-"

"You alright?" another asks.

You look between them, "yeah," and shake your head, "no, ehhh, sorry... I... which is," you point in confusion, "which?"

"George," the one to your right raises a hand.

"Fred," the one to your left raises a hand.

"Right," you lower your head as you shake it, "sorry, I don't-"

"You'll get used to it," they say in unison.

You huff as you look back at them, both of their lips are pursed, "right..." you turn to your shop and point, "I, eh... locked myself out."

They turn to where you did.

"And I left my bag..."

They turn back to you.

"And my keys."

They make a face.

"And my brolly," you turn to you feet for a moment, "and the window in my roof open."

"Oooh," they say at once. George bares his teeth, "bad luck."

"And," Fred adds, looking up, "it looks like it's about to rain."

"I know!" you gasp, placing your hands on both sides of your head.

For a moment, the three of you stand there, soaking in your misfortune. A moment later, George turns to his brother and says, "hang on."

Fred turns to him.

"Don't we have a window in the roof, Fred?"

Fred turns to you, "that we do, George."

George turns to you too, "how are you with heights?"

"Ehhh..." your lips part, "....fine?"

With that, the twins head to the entrance of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, beckoning you over. They reopen the lights, leave their things by the door, and lead you upstairs.

"Now," George (you think) says, "I'd like to think our roof's pretty sturdy, but," he pulls out wand from his coat jacket, "I can always do a good ol' Levioso if anything goes awry."

You are comforted by the thought and nod as you make your way up. When you get to the top, you see a singular tiny window by the side of the roof and you momentarily wonder if this was a good idea.

"D'ya know what," George (you think) says, turning to his brother, "you should go down and watch her as she crosses, so in case anything happens," he points, "you can make sure she doesn't fall."

Fred (you think) shakes his head, "why me?"

"Because it was my idea to cast Levioso, Fred," George (you were right) retorts.

"Then you go down!" Fred whines.

"I'm not going down," he crosses his arms, "I just got here."

"Yeah, so did I—"

"SCISSORS, PAPER, ROCK!"

You watch to the instant match the twins have, finding one rock and scissors at hand. George grins, raising his winning fist. Fred rolls his eyes and sighs. He turns to you before going down.

George smiles and motions with his head, "come on then, I'll help you up."

He drags a box towards the window and reaches a hand out to you. You take his hand and step up, then reach for the sides of the window, pulling yourself up to get on the roof. You are glad their window was right in front of yours and that it wasn't a far walk at all.

Fred, who just got outside, catches his breath before cupping the sides of his mouth, "careful!"

You turn to him from below and call back, "trying!"

George watches you closely as you cross to the other side. He probably shouldn't think the wobble of your limbs endearing, but he does. The moment reach your window, he claps, "aye!"

You are quick to jump down, grunting as you do so. You turn around and smile at George who was already smiling back at you. He raises his hands, "you did it, sweetie!"

"I did, wheezing wizard!"

"Well," he tilts his head, "it's Wizard Wheezes but..." he shrugs, "you can just call me Georgie."

You raise your brows.

"I- I mean George."

You chuckle and purse your lips as you shake your head, "too late, Georgie."

"Now, hold on-"

"See you downstairs, Georgie!" you give a toothy grin as you close your window. You bite your lip and giggle to yourself for a moment, "cutie."

Georgie clenches his jaw as he stares the window. He sighs and kicks the box away before closing it, "damn."

689 notes · View notes

kitts-mechanix · 5 months ago

Text

I just had a huge realisation yesterday and I wanted to share this after going through some pretty horrible stuff over the weekend: Something I've always asked myself ever since getting into G1 Transformers was "why do you like Starscream so much even though he's a narcissistic bully? Why are you, someone who is a victim of narcissistic abuse, taking comfort in a narcissistic character?" Well, I think I finally figured it out. Because Starscream is also a victim of that very same abuse. I mean, he's beaten, called names, bullied, unappreciated, abused, and put through the wringer…and he internalised all that abuse because he knew no other way. He had no one to turn to, and the few bots who did support him, he treated like dirt. Once he had that freedom and power, he abused it and became the very thing that abused him. I have no doubt he was always self-centred, selfish, had a huge ego, etc. before all that but honestly? I think Megatron's abuse caused him to turn out the way he did. I could have turned out that way and it's a little scary, some of the parallels I'm drawing with him.

@ichbinmeltdown wrote a great analysis on Starscream that I want to share here:

"Megatron was abusive as hell to Starscream. He treated him horribly, and I legitimately almost cried a few times watching it. There's an episode called Starscream's Brigade that introduces the Combaticons, and I think that perfectly demonstrates the cycle of abuse. The entire world is against Starscream at pretty much every turn throughout the series, but none more so than Megatron. Every word out of his speech synthesizer to Starscream is to berate him, and he's constantly throwing him around, beating him, even ripping out his speech synthesizer in a scene from a previous episode (Hoist Goes Hollywood, IIRC). His own teammates don't like him, and even his brothers- Skywarp and Thundercracker, going off of the idea they're brothers- just... allow Megatron to abuse him. (Not to get into headcanons here, but I personally believe that Megatron's abuse fractured the Elite Trine's family dynamic. They are still brothers and love each other, but they're all too afraid of Megatron to really... stand up for each other as they did in the past.) And Starscream seemed to just snap in this episode. He treated the Combaticons poorly, and even when teaming up with Shockwave, he subjected him to a lot of the same ridicule and torment that Megatron put him through. He failed to realize Shockwave was the one of the only bots who would give him a chance- and unfortunately lashed out at him, which ruined his chances of Shockwave ever being a true friend and ally to him. Once Starscream had finally gotten a taste of power and not being under another bot's boot, he too became the very thing that he lived in fear of. And that really is how the cycle goes- when you're finally free from abuse, it can be tempting to overcompensate and take back all the power you were robbed of, at any cost whatsoever. Starscream, like D16 in Transformers One, snapped up this opportunity."

And the sad thing is, I've seen this in real life and I've internalised some of the abuse I've dealt with too. I'm not proud of it. Like the Seeker Trine, my own family dynamic has been fractured by similar abuse. I know there's traces of narcissism in my behaviour too, and I'm NOT proud of it. Maybe this is why I can forgive Starscream for being a narc, because I can see a little bit of my own personality/attitude/behaviour in him. Maybe it's because I know where it came from, I get why he acts that way and it's not just random and out of the blue. Maybe it's because--and I know this is a bold statement--I don't think he would do some of the stuff my own family did to me (blah blah blah he's a fictional character).

I didn't mean for this to turn into a long rant, so

TLDR: I finally figured out that part of the reason I love and relate to Starscream so much despite him internalising some of the abuse I went through, is because he was the victim of that same abuse.

#transformers #g1 transformers #starscream #g1 starscream #seriously I just wanna give him a hug and tell him I love him #I know I know he's a villain #IT'S COMPLICATED OKAY #1 AM rambles

379 notes · View notes

downinthevoid3 · 1 month ago

Text

Anyone else remember those interviews Vessel did in 2017-19? Did you know those essentially disprove the existence of Sleep as a deity?

Don't get me wrong, this fun theatrical story of a deity and his torment of a person he uses to spread his message to the world is very interesting to think about but I constantly find myself stuck on certain details. Things just don't line up, you can't exactly create a coherent story without having to create part of it yourself or heavily infer major parts of the story. This alone has led me to creating a Google Doc to analyze the lore of this band and digging much further into the band. While working on a section dedicated to explaining the complicated existence of this deity, I came across old interviews with Vessel that fully disprove the entire idea of Sleep.

“He is the oldest God, a primal majesty that has endured the ages unperturbed by the mortality of a flawed and chaotic human race… He is everyone. He is you. There’s a power in music that binds us all, every note relates to another. He showed me a vision of a world filled with depth and texture.” (Metal Hammer, July 25, 2017)

“There exists a considerable body of art that explores the deeper recesses of the human mind… Sleep Token serves as a means to explore this on an individual basis. The music is a representation of one individual’s deepest and most fundamental emotions and desires. This is what people connect to. They see themselves in this individual, and the music becomes about them.” (Metal Hammer, August 1, 2018)

Between both of these quotes, we can gather that Sleep does exist but isn't the deity everyone thinks he is. Rather Sleep is a personification of how one's emotions and desires push them in life.

#sleep token #sleep token band #sleep token analysis #sleep token worship #feathered host #house veridian #even in arcadia

275 notes · View notes

ancientnapdragon · 10 days ago

Text

I think that trying to expand on or explore Yue Qingyuan's or Shen Jiu's parents could be really fun. Espeeeecially SJ. Like why were these two poor kids thrown in the dirt?

Like yeah I know tragedy and storytelling and blah blah blah but lemme just squish them.

Anyway so I had another random idea, feel free to use as always, involving our special boy Shen Yuan. Basically he is a half demon (what flavor is up to you, but I was specifically imagining some type of bug 🐛). He is this very pretty little thing who lives in the demon realm with his Cultivator mom, except they're both like basically kept/imprisoned in this Demon Lord's compound.

His mom always told him about how she used to be in love with this other Cultivator and they had another son together. But shortly after he was born the Demon Lord like killed the dad, stole the mom, and threw the baby in a ditch. She's a real peerless beauty type. SY has always mourned for his older brother he never met and for how much his mom hates it here, even if she's done everything in her power to love him and teach him cultivation.

SY is also a super pretty boy and he's like? 11 or 12 or so? And his dad decides that since he's kinda useless otherwise he's gunna marry SY off. His mom helps him escape before that can happen and he swears to get enough power to free her someday.

Cue like a big chase but he makes it out of the Demon Realm and into the Human Realm. By complete coincidence he ends up running into like 9 y/o Binghe while his mom is super sick. Even the he can't do much he uses some of his demon powers and like heals her! But she's still really weak. And helps take care of SY for a bit before he encourages the two of them to go to CMS to be Cultivators. (She doesn't know that SY is a half demon, neither does LBH.)

They leave together and SY like admits that he wish he could save HIS mom and gives LBH a censored (of the demon stuff) version of his own mom's story. LBH promises to get super strong someday so he can help SY rescue her and SY is touched.

Anyway they do the hole digging and there is one set of eyes like LOCKED on SY the whole time. SQQ can see that FOOL making sopping eyes at the dirty little kid who looks like a younger version of himself. Before YQY can pick him, SQQ does and is so mad he like leaves the rest of the selection.

(LBH Still gets chosen! By YQY!)

Cue a lot of SQQ being a dick but over time like weirdly protective of the sassy, spitfire kid who is his little clone. SY is glad he saved LBH from a future of torment at SQQ's hands even if he brought it on himself instead. And SQQ over time is kinda... well, not nice. But he's not as bad as PIDW always talked about. Too bad he can't focus on that AS much when he's trying to keep his demon parts hidden!!

Eventually, like after SY has been there a few years, SQQ would find out the story about SY's missing older brother. And even tho he's probably been convinced it's just a passing resemblance, alarm bells start going off in his head. Some Airplane Flavored Bullshit would happen and would reveal the two of them are actually related by blood, too.

SQQ demanding to know what happened to their mother (since he knows his dad's fate :( ) and SY reluctantly telling him. OG Story just off the rails at this point. LBH is like 17 and has become YQY's head disciple and is living his best life with his depressed Shizun.

Not really sure where it would go from there tbh. But SY/SJ's mom would be rescued and I think she deserves to be in lesbians with LBH's mom. As a treat. Maybe they could do some shit with TLJ some the plot is so bad cause the demon lord was the one who half took his place after TLJ was sealed? Like, enemy of my enemy is my friend kinda shit to take out the demon lord properly. Ideal is we somehow bring back SYX and then the 4 parents form like a polycule. Big "Gee, TLJ! How come the author lets you have THREE hot wives??" Energy.

Anyway happy mother's day

#svsss #shen yuan #shen jiu #luo binghe #the chronic illness has taken me like all day today so this is what i came up with #ignore typos im on my phone #i dunno what pairings this would have feel free to impose your own #actually as an aside i think that aus where lbh go to yqy's peak are a fun concept #put his powers of manipulation to good use #he would be fucking unstoppable #plus like imagine whatever weird relationship he would have with yqy #do you see my vision

152 notes · View notes

gallusrostromegalus · 9 months ago

Note

I like the concept of American hybrid yokai, like a tanuki-raccoon or kit fox-kitsune or pine marten-kamitachi mix. As someone more familiar with east coast wildlife do you have any suggestions for “weird little beasts that torment the neighborhood at night”

So there is an actual running joke in the later part of AIEWAM that a Tanuki and a Raccoon are very much not the same thing (Tanuki are extremely closely related to foxes), and while one is a fun-loving guy with a penchant for alcohol and testicular humor, the other one is a sleeby shithead who will rob you at knife-point.

I am more familiar with western us animals bc I'm from CA and CO, but I have a broad idea of what lives back east. IDK enough about Japanese mythological critters to be able to match up things exactly, but I'd be stunned if there were not:

Hybrid animals like woppeltingers and jackalopes. Or messed up hares in general.

Pretty sure some Bakaneko lore maps directly onto cougar behavior

Tsukinoko REAL and it's a fat old diamondback rattler.

Does Japan have messed up horses? Everyone has a messed up horses. We should start a breeding program for The Worst Possible Horse. We can start with the Mustain't.

Kappa, but it's a beaver.

#aeiwam #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic

329 notes · View notes

g00seg1rl · 26 days ago

Text

Remain

Pairing: Azriel x Eris Vanserra

Summary: Haven’t we all wanted someone to just.. yanno.. sleep with It inside? Eris relates. Az and his large wingspan provide.

A/N: hi loveys, below the divider is 750 words and they are all horny (okay some of them are just bratty and it’s all Eris’s fault 😇)

Biceps strained as Azriel caged Eris’s head with his forearms, his fists dipping the mattress as he rammed his cock forward, hips pistoning powerfully. The angle tormented Eris’s prostate relentlessly. Eris’s unnaturally hot, clenching channel was milking Az for all he was worth, each stroke more pleasurable than the last.

Only a few more thrusts and they’d be wrecked. Four rounds would overwhelm the functions of even the most ethereal fae. He was currently having Eris in a somewhat lazy position, laying his damp ginger hair against silk pillowcase and doing all the work after his beloved had nearly done ballet on his dick for at least two of those undoings.

“Haa- fuck, Eris, coming,” he bit out against Eris’s glistening temple.

“Yes, yesss, come for me Az, give me, harder, more, so good,” Eris goaded Az’s orgasm as if his ass wasn’t heavenly enough to elicit it on its own. A bit overkill really. But eris had always been extraordinarily sensual.

“With me, come with me Eris- fuck, please,” he groaned, trying to prevent post-nut guilt of coming first– or fifth?

“Well, how can I say no? You sound so pretty begging, baby,” Eris praised far too coherently for the position he was in.

Azriel buried himself deep inside Eris’s fluttering hole, his balls slapping almost painfully against Eris’s. An anatomical inconvenience. Worth it.

He spilled, letting go and releasing with Eris’s name on his lips. Eris came with him, painting Azriel’s lower abs in sweltering cum, rarely following an order.

“Fuck- that was…” Az lost his vocabularic reach and began pulling back. The heavenly sight of watching his come drip from Eris’s ruined rim was robbed from him as Eris’s hands pulled on Az’s lower back, grounding him further inside.

“Don’t– don’t leave, not yet, please?” Eris asked, a bit shy.

He stopped his retreating hips, brows raising. “Why would I leave? I’m tired.”

“No you dunce, don’t pull out, I want you to stay inside,” Eris dumbed it down a bit.

Look, it wasn’t Az’s fault his brain was no more than a marsh.

Azriel felt his jaw go slack, huffed through his nose. They’d been doing the debaucherous tango for centuries, why the fuck was this the first time Eris had asked?

“What?” Eris complained, forcing an uncomfortable awareness of how long Azriel had been looking at him like he was crazy for not asking previously. How long had he wanted this?

“What happened to me feeling perfect? You were screaming that earlier–” Ah fuck, he should really say something already, but how could one phrase I want immortal lifetimes marinating inside you without sounding like a freak?

“Of fucking course.” He settled his weight down, melting contently and calling upon the shadows to soften his landing and provide a small cushion, even as he taunted, “But when you wake up to me fucking you, I want a thank you, no whining about being crushed all night.”

Shadows snickered at his posturing as they helped heft him slightly up, still sleek and thin enough for Azriel to feel Eris’s heart thump in time with his, their chests giving and taking space as they breathed each other’s air. Dizzyingly close, or maybe it was the sharing breath thing–

POV switch teehee

Eris woke to soft grunts and shallow thrusts, pleased that Az had stayed and also because he was being fucked. This was hardly the time for differentiating thoughts.

“I know you’re awake, can see you smiling,” the spy astutely observed. Eris beamed brighter as he opened his eyes to a pretty, haughtily grinning Shadowsinger.

“You caught me, spare me the handcuffs please, m’still rather tired.”

“I’ll have to save that for later then, but I was very much looking forward to a thank you after all those pleases last night.”

“You can have your thank you when you make me come again,” Eris reasoned, closing his eyes and giving in to the smile betraying his brattiness. It was quite difficult to seem nonchalant when he could practically hear Az’s eyes rolling. His hips rescinded before slamming back in, and Eris gasped, hands clinging around Az’s neck, bracing for more.

“Conditional politeness, how very you of you,” Az husked, setting a pace competing with a sexually frustrated sprinter.

“Hnmn, fuck fuck fuck, hng, earn it.”

And he did, fucking Eris into the headboard until they were both moaning hoarsely and Eris may or may not have screamed THANK YOU like a banshee.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed !! Thank you @the-darkestminds, I am so so grateful for you, love u mami 😘 and thank you @astro-h0e-4azris for sucking off my ego 😏

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💗

My Azris babes, @nus4y @jules-writes-stories @fourteentrout @mudandmire @queercontrarian @mistandmemories @iftheshoef1tz @nightsandflamess @chunkypossum @brunetterebel010 @icey--stars @irithiadourden @3xolara @sunstar-drabbles @missblackstar @wovendreamscapes @neciebee @fingerpoppingood @wrraccountant @talibunny30 💗💗💗

#azris #azris drabble #azris smut #acotar drabble #smut

97 notes · View notes

freyito · 2 years ago

Note

Can you do Smoke and Reptile, sfw, them burying their face in readers boobs, using them as a pillow and how they’d react to reader to reader doing it back to them? You could do somthing suggestive.

I'm curious also, besides Kenshi and Kuai Liang who else are you a fan of?

imma be honest anon, this is such a fire idea. when i was at this a7x concert me and my friend saw a guy with double ds. like. BODACIOUS bro. that was the first thing our eyes went to. he looked like jesus christ brother. he spoke like he had a message from the gods.

anyways. to answer your question. sentimentally i'm very attached to Kitana and Scorpion in general, i played Kitana when mk9 came out (i was 7, my dad let me play mk when i was SEVEN) and my dad played Scorpion and i always got my ass handed to me. but he worked a lot and playing mk9 was the only time we really got together when i was a kid. with mk1, we've been able to play a lot more together and it reminds me of those times, it's really fun. now i win about half the matches we play, but i just don't play Kitana anymore. i really do prefer Kenshi.

I am actually married to Johnny Cage and Kenshi, soooo Also, to be honest, the first characters to draw me into Mk1 were Smoke & Sub-Zero. Hadn't really been a big Sub-Zero fan beforehand, not of Bi-Han or Kuai Liang. So it was fun having that revelation. And Tomas is just super cute, I actually love that he's Czech. We're not the same, but hey, we're atleast both slavic. I dont know why, I just love finding Slavic characters cause more often then not I end up relating to them. Sorry for the monologue, anon. Here's your boob request :P

cw: gn reader cause everyone can have boobs brother, bonus character!, proofread

"ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴘɪʟʟᴏᴡꜱ" || ᴛᴏᴍᴀꜱ & ꜱʏᴢᴏᴛʜ

-Tomas Vrbada

Tomas loves nothing more at the end of the day than getting to bury his face in your chest. As long as you two are in private, he'll wiggle his way into you somehow.

Half the time you two have together, he's face down in your chest, it is a regular occurrence and will stay a regular occurrence.

Does he do anything other than that? No. He's planking. He's in love, man, you can't blame him.

So, when you find him laying on the bed that one fateful night, defenseless, you give him the same treatment. You climb onto the bed, and slink your way into his arms.

He reaches out for you absent-mindedly, running his hands through your hair. Then you strike. You plank right into HIS boobs. He hasn't even registered yet. But you understand why he does it to you. Even if you can't breathe, it's somehow euphoric.

Tomas pauses, looks down at you. And his face flushes. You can feel his body temperature rise. He doesn't know how to react, he's been caught in just an inconvenient situaton.

He doesn't complain, though. He's just flustered. Real flustered. He holds you close after he can find his composure, still unsure but grateful of your touch.

-Syzoth

Syzoth almost always makes a dive for your chest when you two are cuddling. He'll be tangled up with you- quite literally, the man really enjoys being as close as possible- and still find a way to bury his head into your chest.

Doesn't matter how much you dodge out of it, he's going to wrap himself around you and find your chest somehow, someway.

But, he thinks he's free of this torment. He gets to lay his head in your chest, and run off freely. He does it when you two nap, when you cuddle, wherever, whenever.

You find him one night, after a long day and seize your chance. And your boyfriends boobies. Without a second chance you throw yourself at Syzoth, aiming directly for his chest.

You can see him realize in that moment what's happening. And you can see the exact look of 'awh fuck', almost as if in slow motion. And when you finally get to lay your head onto his sweet, sweet, pillows, he gives up right then and there.

Syzoth accepts the love, completely. He might act all pouty because you robbed him of his favorite thing to do, but secretly he loves it. You can almost hear him purr.

-Bonus Points! Bi-Han

Bi-Han doesn't really find himself buried in your chest too often. Mainly because he feels like he's controlled for that. He's thought about it, but refuses to do it.

But let's be honest, how can you not shove your face in his tits? They're massive, H cups AT LEAST. So you stalk your boyfriend, until you can find a private moment between you two.

He doesn't know your game, but he does know you've been following him. He's not annoyed, he's simply confused as to why you won't directly approach him.

So, when you ambush him, he's only slightly prepared. You go straight for his boobs. And you land directly in between them. Silence washes over you two.

Bi-Han doesn't understand. Part of him doesn't want to. So he simply wraps his arms gently around your waist and pulls you closer. He kind of thinks you're in need of comfort.

#*ੈ✩ freyito #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #smoke x reader #tomas vrbada x reader #sub zero x reader #bi-han x reader #reptile x reader #syzoth x reader

1K notes · View notes

fizzyboy · 12 days ago

Note

hey i just read the blot entry for the "Goofball" and i really love the idea! (tho now im curious if other toons can use toon physics to there advantaged. [like say they have to cross a large gap to a building's roof...so they just close there eyes and just Book it to the other side ..all the while resisting the overwhelming urge to look down..and presto there on the other side] ..or if they cant quite do itat the same level as a goofball..) but then i saw this little sentence "Let me tell you, Rodger hates these types." then a thought hit me...wouldn't be funny if Rodger has a particularly persistent Goofball as a nemesis..and the Goofball isn't even harmful or dangerous (in fact it sometimes helps out Rodger's group when they run into each other). it just loves pissing of Rodger using classic gags! (like the classic pie to face or banana peel) and Rodger cant do anything about...he cant even try to strangle the annoying pest because it doesn't even have a neck!. (also while Vee will never say it out loud..she has to admit it is funny seeing this oddly friendly Goofball getting on Rodger's nerves...plus it HAS helped them in the past..so it cant be that bad...despite the fact Rodger paints it as a evil Imp for all the toon gag related torment it subjected him to......also it gives Pebbles a comically large cartoon bone as treat for the puppers..

It's all for the love of the game.

They are one of the very VERY few blots that emit and have their own magic. Said magic influences the area to follow their logic or lack thereof.

Everything adjust to their presence, for better or for worse, as long as their in the area. There is a radius and a limit. The reason Rodger hates them so much is because of said logic and how he just doesn't try to work with it. He's all about efficiency, and that's just not gonna happen with Goofballs.

It's very easy to befriend a Goofball if you just vibe with it, even for humans. They just never stick around if you don't have anything interesting going on.

#dandys world #dw #dandys world au #dandys wasteland #ask response

98 notes · View notes

dead-inside-demiboy · 5 months ago

Text

While I have no hate towards the relatability that people with bipolar have with Gangle this episode, I would also like to point out some love to the idea of Gangle having BPD instead and some of my reasonings as a fellow borderline myself.

The main difference between bipolar and borderline mood swings is the amount of time they last. Bipolar typically lasts weeks to months. What we see with Gangle is way more similar to BPD where the mood swings last for a lot shorter of a time period, typically from several hours to several days.

Secondly, how said mood swings are triggered. Bipolar mood swings tend to be a case of adding up factors but the actual turning point is pretty random. BPD on the other hand is triggered by feelings of rejection. And when do we see Gangle's happy masks commonly falling off? When shes getting shit from the others!

Then, Gangle's manic episode. It was an amazing portrayal of a manic episode, and was scarily relatable to my own experience (with manic-like BPD mood swing symptoms) . I love how this episode shows how people don't give as much sympathy to those with mental illnesses when symptoms can no longer be romanticized or hidden away. I also think that this is especially prominent for those with cluster B personality disorders, where your mental illness is constantly demonized.

And then there are so many scenes and moments that Gangle had that are just...textbook BPD symptoms. Examples of these are:

the dissociation episodes, those are incredibly common with this disorder and they happen at the peak of mood swings too and they are INTENSE.

The constant masks. Gangle has a very interesting character symbol where no matter what, they are wearing a mask, for the sake of there isnt a real face. It is really relatable to the depersonalization that a lot of people with BPD experience where it feels like no matter what you do you are just putting on a new mask.

Not as bad as Ragatha, Gangle is a people pleaser, you see that whenever they get tormented, she never once defends herself

And finally, the fear that everyone hates you once your episode ends and the belief that you don't deserve any good friends or close relationships that leads you to self isolate and not reach out. (Fuck man props to Zooble I dream of a friend like that)

#demy speaks #the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc gangle #the amazing digital circus gangle #tadc zooble #the amazing digital circus zooble #bpd #borderline personality disorder #Any hate towards ANY disorder on this post will get insta-blocked

167 notes · View notes

batsandbirdbrains · 27 days ago

Text

The one where Artemis is a Schoolyard Bully

This one’s not actually all that specific I just had the idea of Dick slowly but surely realizing that Artemis is, in fact, bullying him while they’re both at Gotham Academy. She has no clue Dick Grayson and Robin are the same person. It’s still season 1 of young justice and Dick just keeps having a harder and harder time being nice to Artemis when they’re at Mount Justice or training or on a mission, because for whatever reason she has latched onto Dick Grayson and tormented him pretty much every day for months now.

The only consolation is that Robin consistently kicks Artemis’ ass during training and it’s so intensely satisfying knocking her on her ass when she called him a circus freak and threw peanuts at him in the hallway not three hours prior.

He doesn’t know why she doesn’t like him. He’s 13, he skipped a grade, he’s a freshman, he has almost no interaction with her. They’re not in any of the same classes. Their lockers are nowhere near each other. Sure, he took a silly photo with her in the first day of school, but that shouldn’t have led to her singling him out as her new victim.

But then eventually she moves on from just mocking him and his dead parents and his “sugar daddy Brucie Wayne” (and that last one almost made him actually puke bc ew gross) and now she’s getting physical. Throwing things at him in the halls. Shoving his head into the side of his locker. Knocking his backpack or his books down onto the floor. Throwing a sandwich at his head. The peanuts are her favorite though, probably because they’re circus-related. And it makes his blood boil that she talks shit about the circus and his parents but he tries to remain level headed and tell himself that she must be going through a lot in her personal life and that’s why she’s being so mean.

Except she’s perfectly fine at the mountain with the team. He tries not to analyze it too much.

But then one Friday, Robin doesn’t show up for training after school. And the next day, he’s clearly pissed as he slips into the living room area where everyone is lounging before training. He has a sleek black cast on his right arm, from his knuckles to just above his elbow, a sling around his shoulder.

“What happened to you?” Wally asks, rushing over to him.

“An asshole happened,” he says through clenched teeth. “Leave it alone.”

“Dude, are you okay?”

Dick just wants to get this training shit over with. Bruce has been busy coordinating with the Gotham Academy dean of students, trying to figure out what happened to Dick and reviewing security footage.

Everyone else seems to notice his new accessory, and Dick almost screams in pure frustration when Artemis actually looks concerned. Of course she would. Why would her friend and teammate be the same kid she pushed down the stairs not even 24 hours ago?

“Jeez, what happened to you, Boy Blunder?”

Her voice grates in his nerves.

Also do I wanna add Donna to this fic? I think I wanna add Donna. Dick needs his wonder twin in the situation I think that would be fun.

Because Donna is one of the very few who knows Dick and Bruce’s secret identities, and she’s glowering at Artemis when she gets too close to Dick. She knows all about how Artemis has been bullying him all school year, and now he’s actually gotten physically hurt because of it and she’s pissed.

“Why don’t you just leave him alone?” She snaps at her, putting her arm around Dick’s shoulders and guiding him to where they’re going to all meet up with Black Canary for training. Not that Dick can do much, but you know, he has to make an appearance and all that.

Everyone thinks Donna is just being protective of him because he’s hurt. It’s not entirely wrong.

Dick and Donna remain separated from the group for a few days, the two of them having started pulling away from Wally a bit when he started dating Artemis. Dick didn’t want to tell Wally about the school bully shit, but he can’t be around him when he won’t stop talking about how amazing Artemis is. It’s makes him wanna gag.

Then the next Friday, after a week of Artemis still poking and prodding at Dick at school even though she knows she broke his arm and dislocated his shoulder, Dick feels like he’s going to explode when she’s been cracking jokes all evening long.

“Let’s have a sleepover or something, you can show me that dumb video game you want me to play,” Donna suggests quietly, a hand on Dick’s good shoulder and her other hand tucking his hair behind his ear.

But Conner hears it, and he starts questioning them on why Donna seems to know Robin outside of the mask. A couple of the others chime in too, and suddenly everyone is surrounding the two of them, and Artemis loudly complains about Robin not trusting them.

“Oh fuck off,” he scoffs. Then he says in the most mocking tone he can muster, “Suck my dick.”

Donna snorts, and she tries so hard not to laugh too much, but she can’t get over the pun and how he’s shoving his real name in their faces, especially at the way Artemis scowls.

But then they’re interrupted when Artemis’ phone rings, and it’s her mom, and suddenly she’s yelling and freaking out because her Wayne Foundation scholarship just got revoked and she’s been expelled from Gotham Academy. Donna smirks at Dick, the two of them sharing a silent little victorious moment, until Artemis gets off the phone and lets out a shaking breath and tries to explain to her friends why she got expelled (she’s leaving out all the real details, not that Dick or Donna are particularly shocked).

“Oh no,” Dick says with overly feigned sympathy. “That must be so hard for you. Can’t imagine what must’ve happened. I’m sure you’ve never done anything wrong ever to deserve such a thing.”

And Artemis still hasn’t figured out that Robin is the boy she’s been bullying for months, and Robin just scoffs. Then Donna pulls him towards the zeta tubes and they go back to the Manor and Dick shows her a video game he’s been wanting her to play for a while now (it’s single player, so his lack of use in one of his hands is fine because he’s just watching her play and giving her tips and laughing at all the antics she’s getting her player into).

Idk when he’d finally tell her he’s Dick, if he ever wouldn’t this situation, but it’s a fun angsty AU to think about.

#dick Grayson #Donna Troy #robin #young Justice #fic ideas #I like putting dick in Situations #I said it wasn’t that specific and then I got very carried away #anyway we were ROBBED of dick and donna wonder twin content in young justice!!! ROBBED!!

104 notes · View notes

loneberry · 17 days ago

Text

“To belong is synonymous with banality.” —Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet “I could have had a father, a mother, brothers, sisters, an astrological sign, a life line on my palm, an Ayurvedic type, a blood type, a religion, opinions, I could have had a favorite color, I could have had a lucky charm, a talisman, icons, idols, I could have had wounds, longings, complaints, regrets, I could have said I’m from a generation, a country, a city, an era, a class, I could have laid claim to a gender or a sexuality, I could have sought a way to define myself, I could have believed in identity, or gone in search of my own, I could have been a victim or a culprit, I could have said J’accuse or Mea culpa, I could have looked for my roots, a reason, a why, I could have believed in genealogy, in sociology, in DNA, gone looking into the rabbis, the noblemen, the Basques, the ministers, or the junkies, I could have believed in all of that…” —Constance Debré, Name “Origins should always be betrayed. To accept them is to compromise; give in that very first time and all the other times are made possible. It’s the primal act of complicity, of cowardliness, the first humiliation too. Whereas refusing origins is the first interruption; it then becomes possible to go on refusing.” —Constance Debré, Name “There is no belonging that doesn’t exclude someone.” —Todd McGowan, Why Theory episode on The Public

I used to read narcissistically. I wanted to see myself in what I read. I wanted to find my tribe, my niche identity group. I had an anguished relationship to my mongrel identity, feeling neither authentically Chinese, American, and god knows, definitely not Italian. But something happened maybe 9 years ago—I became completely at peace with my non-belonging, or what Lacanians would call my constitutive lack/alienation. I shed the defensive part of my personality and grew curious about the world. Now difference interests me much more than sameness. I'm not tormented by the question of home, I don't waste energy on feeling out of place in the academy, out of place everywhere. I used to feel like I was chafing against every context I was in. Now I'm just interested... I can get interested in almost anything—the history of Portugal, the arcane technicalities of finance, Persian poetry, bone collector caterpillars, Soviet cinema, whatever. Once I let go of the aspiration for belonging I could relate to the world more freely, for something's relevance to me personally no longer mattered.

#fernando pessoa #constance debré #todd mcgowan #literature #theory #non-belonging #belonging #identity #anti-identity #alienation

77 notes · View notes

sunlight-shunlight · 2 months ago

Text

i realized i may be one of the only people on this webbed site who played both earthdawn and dragon age, so i thought i should share haha, i've never seen anyone else talking about the similarities.

earthdawn is: a tabletop rpg initially developed in the 90s and still publishing to this day. david gaider mentioned playing/running some campaigns of it. and the similarities are... very extensive and funny. let me go over them:

earthdawn is an apocalyptic high fantasy setting where every few thousand years, there's a cyclical, catastrophic event where monsters (both physical and astral) unstoppably ravage the world for centuries. this has led to loss of entire civilizations, and vast areas that are permanently tainted by their effects and are uninhabitable.

there's a small order of distrusted, secretive people, who take on an aspect of the monsters they're hunting, in order to more effectively track and kill them. this connection goes both ways, and the monsters can find and torment them in turn. regular people find this a bit scary. members of this order tend to not live very long (not like a physical limitation in their case, they just usually die on the job before they get old)

great dragons are very magically powerful, the oldest form of sapient life, and used to rule the world in a very bygone past era. they created immortal elves as servants, went into hibernation, and then their disaffected immortal elf lackeys rose up and killed some of them off to create their own civilization instead. there are some remaining great dragons, but they're reclusive. if needed, they can take on a humanoid form and blend into society and pull strings to influence various cultures. there are a few groups of people who live near the dragons and worship them, and the dragon protects them in return. there's also a bit about dragons possibly feeding people their blood in rituals as a way to create servants, or imbue people with power/greater lifespan, and thus influence entire noble lineages descended from there.

magic used to be far more powerful and prevalent, but has declined somewhat. there's an astral plane that reflects the real world. it's only easily accessible by mages, and can be entered physically, but that's very dangerous to the point of being usually fatal, and generally the astral plane is only perceived mentally while staying in the regular world. the astral realm is corrupted and dangerous, while also containing some neutral/friendly spirits. unwary mages can get possessed or killed by the monsters in the astral plane. spirits can manifest out of the astral plane and into the physical world voluntarily, or be summoned or bound for various tasks. this is controversial in the setting, as some people see it as fine, and others see it as forced servitude. some spirits are old and complex enough to clearly communicate with people and have their own full blown agendas and personalities, some are much simpler and only focused on a small domain of influence relating to a single trait they have.

blood magic is not as common in the area where the game is set, but...

there's a huge, decadent, ancient byzantium/rome themed blood magic empire, that runs on slavery and sacrifices. it used to have control over the entire map, but it was weakened by the apocalyptic event + various uprisings, so now its sphere of influence is much smaller. it still maintains slaving raids and tries to expand back into its old provinces. it was influenced very early on by weird shady mages who left the elven empire, and had convenient knowledge of the apocalypse before it happened. the empire has a much better scholarship around magic in general + the apocalypse than others, as well as a more "magic is indistinguishable from high tech" vibe to its standard of living. it has floating castles and fortresses that protect its nobility/can be deployed in warfare.

there's one underground dwarven kingdom remaining out of a few dozen that used to exist - all the others fell to infighting or the apocalyptic monster hordes. at the time of the setting, this kingdom is having a bit of a succession/legitimacy crisis with its monarchy. the dwarves are also a hub of trade and commerce bc their city was well-shielded from the apocalypse, so their language is the base of the common tongue and writing system everyone uses.

there's also an ancient elven empire that used to exist, but was also mostly lost in the apocalypse. currently, elves are mortal and about as magical as everybody else. there are some elves who are fully immortal, and still walk the earth - either gaining power and going through false identities to pose as normal rulers and maintain a vice-grip on elven society, or doing magical research and stuff to stave off more of the apocalypse, or doing centuries-long shadow warfare against each other/the dragons by using mortal kingdoms as pawns.

there's an elven pantheon of gods that everyone else adopted when the elven empire was bigger - it included a trickster deity who sealed themselves + two other gods into the Apocalypse Juice to try and partially nullify it, thus preventing the apocalypse from running over the whole area. unfortunately, this has corrupted all 3 gods who are marinating in that Juice, and now they generate madness and violence and despair in people they connect to.

#dragon age #there are probably even more similarities but i forget now honestly #anyway people talk about the witcher/asoiaf influences and those are there in the general tone #but earthdawn is like #the building blocks of the setting i think haha #it's a very underrated and cool setting BUT. with some of the most goofy rules known to mankind. i am not joking.#you need a spreadsheet.#i don't know what they were doing in the 90s to think of mechanics like that but it was bad.

89 notes · View notes

thewertsearch · 10 months ago

Text

@relaxxattack asked: hi, maxx the troll romance guy again. ₊ ⊹ ☆ it’s finally my moment for me to bust out my big quadrant talk! as in, i had the time to sit down and write this. (and apologies in advance for subjecting you to this much nerdiness. hopefully, it’s at least somewhat illuminating, to make up for that). i’m not sure what your current opinions on troll romance are, but i wanted to discuss the idea that kismesissitude is inherently unhealthy / impossible to achieve by teenaged trolls. lots of people who read homestuck get very stuck on the idea that kismesissitude is a feeling of hatred. they run with their human assumptions of this word, imagining that a kismesissitude is an angry, horrible relationship of abuse and hurt. but, if you’ll bear with me, it’s actually shown throughout the comic that this is completely untrue. trolls do not use the word hate the same way that we do. in fact, this is pretty obvious, because they also continuously use the word “pity” in a completely different way than we do. each of these are actually more related to a completely different word: LOVE.

you can see, in this initial conversation surrounding quadrants, that trolls consider hate and pity to actually come from the same exact place (though they consider that a negative thing). you can also see in that conversation that you need a good mix of both for any of the quadrants to work. karkat calls vriska out on supposedly “hating people too much” in a way that would “make her a bad kismesis”. this tells us almost immediately off the bat that A. even other trolls consider vriska and tavros’s relationship unbalanced and unhealthy! and B. each quadrant needs a proper mix of emotions for a proper relationship. a lot of people assume that kismeses are “supposed” to kill each other, mainly because of the fate of jack noir and the queen. this, too, is a misunderstanding. jack noir and the queen, like mom and dad who they are explicitly paralleling, are meant to be regarded as tragic. both couples end in tragedy, as expected for almost every “parental figure” in homestuck; this is unrelated to their kismesissitude.

in fact, in this conversation eridan has with kanaya, it is stated that a kismesissitude that ends in deaths is an extremely rare, powerfully tragic romance that happens “once in ten thousand years”– and immediately after, it is stated that a kismesissitude that might become like this needs an auspistice. that’s right, trolls are so committed to healthy kismesissitudes that they have an entire system in place to stop them from becoming toxic. the vriska/kanaya/tavros auspisticism, while a failure on every conceivable level, was born out of the necessity that the other trolls considered vriska’s torment of tavros unhealthy. even among her fellow trolls, in a society that explicitly encouraged casteiesm and ableism, vriska’s treatment of tavros was still considered too toxic for a proper kismesissitude.

vriska and eridan, who were in a kismesissitude before vriska became bored of eridan, were allies in their roleplaying games. much like the ancestors they were emulating, (who even supposedly “cherished” their own black relationship!); they explicitly traded and shared their rewards and goods with each other because of their romantic relationship with each other, and were said to work together in flarp well enough to be feared by others. of course, they also competed with each other to be the best– because they are rivals– but rivalry does not constitute toxticity. they called each other “allies” and “competitors”. not enemies. though perhaps being enemies would be an interesting kismesis slowburn; in the end, two kismesis should not kill each other. they are on the same team. how could they not be, when trolls believe in one troll who is literally destined to be their perfect rival, a life partner who they must have a long-term relationship with in order to properly meet the alternian drone rules? killing each other makes no feasible sense.

as vriska and eridan talk about here, a rivalry between trolls is something fun for both of them. that is why they must hate each other “equally”-- they need to feel on equal footing, so that they can both have fun. that’s what a rivalry is for trolls. it’s fun! (fun fact: another definition of the word "rival" is "an equal"). (eridan’s pitch solicitation towards sollux is absolutely laughable in comparison. he throws meaningless, casteist insults, and sollux does not give a single fuck about him. as other trolls mention; this is very obviously fake. they are clearly not feeling anything mutual or respectful for each other. he merely is trying to goad feferi into an ashen retaliation with his shitty pitch advances, and it’s not even working.) and that brings me finally to john and karkat. i remember seeing confusion on this blog about the nature of karkat’s feelings– 'why is he helping john? doesn’t he ‘hate’ him? he must not REALLY feel pitch romance for him, and he’s just confused.' well you see, that’s the thing. the reason karkat’s first message to john was a love poem is because that is what kismesissitude is. it was karkat’s way of saying; “you’re special to me. i would like to bug you to see if you feel the same way.” it’s not as if strangely romantic healthy rivalries between teenagers are even an unheard of or new concept. they’re fairly common in television shows and anime; hell there’s even multiple tvtropes pages for them! it’s not impossible that two people in a story could have a healthy rivalry fun enough that they both end up missing it should it be gone. (looking at you, perry and doof.) it’s even more likely that teenagers, as vibrant and strange as their many emotions can be, could pull this off. of course, they make lots of mistakes. they’re young teenagers raised on the murder ableism planet. of course most of the shit they try to do is unhealthy. they make just as many earth-like mistakes with their hearts as they do with their spades. that doesn’t mean it’s impossible for them, or bad for them to try. especially since pairs like vriska and eridan seem to have even pulled it off! basically, what i’m saying is, they’re like sasuke and naruto (reference). let teenagers have hatecrushes! it’s cuter than you think! :P [if it isn’t obvious, this is all super lighthearted and silly. unfortunately it’s my brand to be the guy who’s REALLY passionate about troll romance. i sincerely hope this wasn’t too hard to read, and i’m really sorry about submitting such a long thing, but i couldn’t manage to cut it down any further 😭 have a great rest of your night/day!]

(Images added by me - partially for illustrative purposes, and partially because Tumblr tends to complain when a single block-quote is that large.)

Love love love this detailed breakdown. It outlines a blackrom framework which is a lot more nuanced than the infodump's original description of kismesissitude. There's a lot of really interesting stuff here, and I've actually been working on this response for the past week, while AFKing on my Minecraft server.

As you can imagine, I agree with many of the points raised here, and disagree with others. I think the best approach is to go through the essay point-by-point, and break down my thoughts.

lots of people who read homestuck get very stuck on the idea that kismesissitude is a feeling of hatred[...], imagining that a kismesissitude is an angry, horrible relationship of abuse and hurt. [...] it’s actually shown throughout the comic that this is completely untrue. trolls do not use the word hate the same way that we do. [...]

This one I just fully agree with. The Alternian concept of 'hate' isn't equivalent to ours, and they'll often use it in ways that are completely incompatible with our definition.

When Karkat 'fell in hate' with John, his actual antagonism was very obviously performative. As you mentioned above, several parts of his original rant wouldn't look out of place in a love confession.

Karkat doesn't just message John out of temporal obligation. There's a clear sense, even in their early conversations, that he's enjoying their interactions on some level. If his feelings here really are black romance - and there's no textual evidence that they're not - then this alone is enough to prove kismesissitude isn't true human hatred.

The trolls also use 'hate' in the human sense, too, which muddies the waters a little. It's even highlighted as a problem in-comic, with trolls having to disambiguate their hatred in conversation in much the same way humans disambiguate between platonic and romantic love.

they also continuously use the word “pity” in a completely different way than we do. each of these are actually more related to a completely different word: LOVE. you can see, in this initial conversation surrounding quadrants, that trolls consider hate and pity to actually come from the same exact place (though they consider that a negative thing).

As for pity, I'm still not entirely sure what it means to trolls. Unlike hate, it's only been brought up once, by Karkat.

His 'hate and pity' dichotomy isn't referenced anywhere else in the comic, and it's unclear whether he's describing an accepted fact of life, a sociological theory, or a trope from his beloved romcoms. I don't really have enough data to speculate.

you can also see in that conversation that you need a good mix of both for any of the quadrants to work. karkat calls vriska out on supposedly “hating people too much” in a way that would “make her a bad kismesis”. this tells us almost immediately off the bat that [...] each quadrant needs a proper mix of emotions for a proper relationship.

I believe your assertion here is that each quadrant requires both hate and pity. While definitely an interesting theory, I wasn't able to find canonical evidence that a healthy redrom requires hatred, or that a healthy blackrom requires pity.

I meant what I said, though - it is a compelling theory. If we do read troll 'hatred' as a type of friendly rivalry, then maybe it is important in redrom, serving as the 'spark' that keeps things fresh. Furthermore, if we read 'pity' as something bordering on affection, then it probably is necessary for a healthy blackrom.

I really like the space you're playing in, here. There is something to this idea, and I'd love for Karkat to elaborate on it.

[...] even other trolls consider vriska and tavros’s relationship unbalanced and unhealthy!

Text it! If the full Vriska/Tavros mess was public knowledge, basically everyone would consider Vriska's behavior beyond atrocious, blackrom or no blackrom. I'm not even sure if Eridan would be OK with it - and Gamzee, of course, is currently excluded from this discussion.

If the Veil's trolls are a representative sample of Alternian culture, then Vriska's 'blackrom' with Tavros is just as abusive there as it would have been on Earth. Even Alternia has limits.

a lot of people assume that kismeses are “supposed” to kill each other, mainly because of the fate of jack noir and the queen. this, too, is a misunderstanding. jack noir and the queen, like mom and dad who they are explicitly paralleling, are meant to be regarded as tragic. both couples end in tragedy, as expected for almost every “parental figure” in homestuck; this is unrelated to their kismesissitude. in fact, in this conversation eridan has with kanaya, it is stated that a kismesissitude that ends in deaths is an extremely rare, powerfully tragic romance that happens “once in ten thousand years”

This tracks, as well. If blackrom was allowed to end with murder, then there'd be a lot less soldiers being ferried off the planet every year. Alternian children are a resource to the Empire, and more murder-couples means less murder-platoons.

Vriska does think it would be acceptable for her to murder Tavros, but she frames it as a consequence of classism, not blackrom. This would be much more acceptable to the Empire, as a blueblood like Vriska is destined to be a high-ranking officer. She's not killing a partner, here - she's punishing insubordination.

– and immediately after, it is stated that a kismesissitude that might become like this needs an auspistice. that’s right, trolls are so committed to healthy kismesissitudes that they have an entire system in place to stop them from becoming toxic. the vriska/kanaya/tavros auspisticism, while a failure on every conceivable level, was born out of the necessity that the other trolls considered vriska’s torment of tavros unhealthy. even among her fellow trolls, in a society that explicitly encouraged casteiesm and ableism, vriska’s treatment of tavros was still considered too toxic for a proper kismesissitude.

I won't second-guess the utility of auspisticism in situations like this. It makes perfect sense that the role exists, and it certainly does an important job.

However, once again, I really don't understand the monogamy aspect. Helping a loved one escape a toxic or abusive relationship should not be a one-person job, and enforcing that requirement serves to sabotage what could have been a much more effective social role.

Like - imagine that, upon becoming VrisTav's auspistice, Kanaya's first action was to call for backup. If she was allowed to introduce additional auspistices to the situation, such as Aradia or Terezi, then Vriska wouldn't have been able to continue tormenting Tavros as soon as Kanaya turned her back. It takes a village, guys!

vriska and eridan, who were in a kismesissitude before vriska became bored of eridan, were allies in their roleplaying games. much like the ancestors they were emulating, (who even supposedly “cherished” their own black relationship!); they explicitly traded and shared their rewards and goods with each other because of their romantic relationship with each other, and were said to work together in flarp well enough to be feared by others. of course, they also competed with each other to be the best– because they are rivals– but rivalry does not constitute toxticity. they called each other “allies” and “competitors”. not enemies. [...] as vriska and eridan talk about here, a rivalry between trolls is something fun for both of them. that is why they must hate each other “equally”-- they need to feel on equal footing, so that they can both have fun. that’s what a rivalry is for trolls. it’s fun!

Eridan/Vriska is a relationship I wish we'd seen on-panel, because this one is really hard to picture. Eridan's personality doesn't feel at all compatible with Vriska's, and I don't understand what she saw in him.

Vriska is one of the smartest, most resourceful, most dangerous trolls around, and there was apparently a time she thought of Eridan as a rival. As an equal. All he really has to offer is an overpowered weapon, and Vriska's already got one of those.

Sure, she got bored later, but unless Eridan has some extremely hidden depths, she should have been bored from day one. How did their rivalry even work?

I think the problem here is that we haven't seen any non-toxic kismesissitudes. Vriska/Tavros is a nightmare, Equius/Aradia was mind control, Eridan/Vriska happened offscreen, and John/Karkat never happened at all. It's difficult to extrapolate what a non-awful kismesissitude might look like, when we've only seen the worst the quadrant has to offer. Actually seeing Vriska's spades with Eridan, instead of having it described second-hand, might help to clear this up, but that seems fairly unlikely at this point.

This, at least, is a problem that might solve itself. We've still got a lot of comic to go, and the passion its fandom has for the quadrants makes it clear that they're not going anywhere. I don't think I'll be able to pass my final judgement on kismesissitude until we've seen one that actually works. I really like the idea of a romance centered around friendly rivalry - I just wish the comic would show me one!

and that brings me finally to john and karkat. i remember seeing confusion on this blog about the nature of karkat’s feelings– 'why is he helping john? doesn’t he ‘hate’ him? he must not REALLY feel pitch romance for him, and he’s just confused.' well you see, that’s the thing. the reason karkat’s first message to john was a love poem is because that is what kismesissitude is. it was karkat’s way of saying; “you’re special to me. i would like to bug you to see if you feel the same way.” it’s not as if strangely romantic healthy rivalries between teenagers are even an unheard of or new concept. they’re fairly common in television shows and anime; hell there’s even multiple tvtropes pages for them! it’s not impossible that two people in a story could have a healthy rivalry fun enough that they both end up missing it should it be gone. (looking at you, perry and doof.)

Like, this sounds cool! You're describing a really fun version of kismesissitude, here - one which brings to mind Wright and Edgeworth, Sonic and Shadow, and a dozen other popular couples.

This interpretation would be less dangerous for teenagers - it certainly worked for Lumity - and again, I just hope we eventually see something like this on-panel!

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #asks

252 notes · View notes